When Karl Liu speaks of his journey to Catholicism, he does not begin with Rome. He begins with a pause. Not merely the pause of ritual, but the aching silence of questions no one around him could answer.
“Where did I come from? Where am I going? Who am I?” These were the questions that haunted Liu as a teenager growing up in China. He tried asking around. He searched in philosophy. He asked others. He turned to science. None offered satisfying answers. None could explain why he longed to be a good person but couldn’t seem to do it on his own, or why suffering felt so inescapable and unbearable. Eventually, Liu came to believe that only God—one who sees, hears, and loves—could answer such questions. That belief became the first step on a long journey: from atheism to theism, from theism to Protestant Christianity, and finally, from Protestantism to the Catholic Church.
A Faith First Kindled in Protestant Community
Liu first encountered the gospel through Protestant Christians while studying at a Christian college in Texas. It was a season of deep searching—and the Protestant faith answered with warmth and clarity. He found a church community that embraced him, a mission worth living for, and a newfound intimacy with Christ through Scripture and prayer.
He remains deeply grateful for that season. “Protestantism led me to Christ,” he says. “It gave me purpose and the joy of fellowship.” But over time, questions emerged—not about Christ, but about the shape of the Church and the meaning of worship.
Wrestling with Division and Longing for Unity
What troubled Liu most was fragmentation. “Everyone could interpret the Bible differently, and no one had the final say,” he reflected. Disagreements over Scripture interpretation, worship styles, and theology sometimes split churches apart. “It felt like there was no arbitrator,” Liu said. “Just more voices.”
He was drawn to the Catholic Church’s sense of order and unity—rooted in what he came to understand as the Magisterium, the Church’s teaching authority. For Liu, this wasn’t about control but coherence: a body of believers speaking with one voice on essential truths, grounded in a tradition stretching back two millennia.
But it wasn’t only theological division that stirred his unrest. Liu also struggled with what he saw as a superficial or transactional approach to faith in some Protestant settings. “Among many Chinese students I met in the US, belief in God often started with practical needs,” he observed. “They were praying for things like grad school admission, green cards, jobs, relationships—and when those prayers were answered, they believed God must be real.”
Liu was not dismissive of such experiences—he, too, first came to believe in God through personal need. But over time, he began to feel that this kind of faith was not enough. “It started to feel no different from folk religion, where people worship idols to gain material blessings,” he said. “I wanted something more—not just help from God, but to truly know who God is.”
In his view, faith had to go beyond asking God to arrange a good life. It had to be about holiness. About transformation. About being drawn into the mystery and beauty of God, not just his provision.
Encountering God in the Liturgy
The turning point came during a Catholic Mass. “It wasn’t just the music or the message,” he said. “It was something more—something sacred.” He recalls his first experience of Communion not as a symbolic act, but as an encounter with Christ’s real presence. In that moment, faith became more than emotion or intellect. It became incarnate.
The Sacraments, especially Confession and the Eucharist, transformed his understanding of grace. As a Protestant, Liu was often told that if he sinned, he could simply ask God for forgiveness. But he confessed, “I always wondered—had God really forgiven me?” He longed to speak to someone about his inner struggles.
“After I became Catholic, I received the Sacrament of Confession for the first time,” he said. “To hear the words ‘You are forgiven’—spoken aloud by someone representing the Church—was deeply healing. It wasn’t just me and God in my head. It was tangible grace.”
Beyond forgiveness, Confession became a spiritual tool for transformation. “It helped me confront and overcome my old self—my sinful nature,” he said. “It not only freed me from guilt but awakened in me a deep love for holiness and a longing to pursue it.”
Looking back, Liu sees his Catholic journey as a shift away from a faith centered on outcomes toward one centered on God himself. “I didn’t want to treat God like a helper for my goals. I wanted to know who he truly is—not just what he can give me, but who he is in himself.”
The Cost of Conversion
Liu’s decision to become Catholic did not come without cost. For reasons he still reflects on, he gradually distanced himself from friends and mentors of his Protestant past. “Maybe I was afraid they wouldn’t understand,” he said. What he experienced was what he now calls “the pain of division” within the body of Christ. “It’s not just theological,” he shared. “It’s emotional, relational. You lose people you love.”
And yet, there were surprises. His current girlfriend, a Protestant pastor, respects his Catholic convictions. “We’ve learned from each other,” he said. “She knows the Bible deeply. I can support her calling.” Their relationship, built on mutual faith and love, has become its own quiet testimony to unity.
Back in China: A Changing Landscape
Since returning to China in 2017, Liu has observed a noticeable shift. “More Protestants are asking about Catholicism,” he said. “I’ve seen this trend in both the US and China.” While each individual’s journey is unique, he believes there are some common threads. “There’s something universal beneath the personal reasons,” he reflected. “Many are searching for a return to something older—something rooted, ordered, and certain.”
In fact, after converting to Catholicism in the US, Liu once considered staying and becoming a monk. But he ultimately felt a deeper responsibility. “I realized I had to do something for the Church in China,” he said. “You only live once. When you’re faced with a finite life, you have to prioritize—what truly matters, what matters less, and what doesn’t matter at all.”
In his view, one major factor drawing others to Catholicism is the perceived lack of spiritual depth in many Protestant communities. “The spiritual tradition feels thin,” Liu explained. “There’s too much emphasis on personal experience and not enough on something objective—something communal and grounded.”
He also pointed to the sheer diversity and fragmentation within China’s Protestant landscape. “There are so many churches, so many streams of thought. It can feel chaotic. People are often left confused—unsure of what to believe or who to trust.” That confusion, he noted, can open the door to more serious challenges—such as heretical teachings or even cultic movements, which have long been a concern in parts of China. In such a setting, where doctrine and practice often depend on individual interpretation, many begin to feel adrift.
“When faith becomes overly subjective and unstructured,” he said, “it’s easy to lose your way. People start to wonder: Where’s the authority? What’s trustworthy? What’s consistent?” For some, the Catholic Church—with its historical continuity, doctrinal unity, and visible authority—offers a kind of refuge. “It provides something that feels stable, something not dependent on personal charisma or shifting trends.”
“Confusion drives the search for clarity,” Liu concluded. “And when faith feels too fragmented, many start looking for something with deeper roots and more coherent structure.”
At the same time, he recognizes the limitations within the Chinese Catholic context: a sometimes passive role for laypeople, limited channels for sharing ideas within a hierarchical structure, and ministries that focus more on charity and cultural activity than on introducing people to Christ. “We need to empower the laity,” he said. “And return to the core mission of proclaiming the gospel.”
A Vision for Unity, Not Uniformity
Despite everything, Liu resists the idea that one tradition holds all the answers. “What unites us is far greater than what divides us,” he said. He dreams of deeper dialogue between Protestant and Catholic believers—not to convert one another, but to listen, accompany, and pray together.
“Christians in China are often few in number,” he noted. “We need each other.”
When asked whether he feels at home now, Liu pauses. “I don’t think I represent most Chinese Catholics,” he admits. “Sometimes I feel lonely.” And yet in that quiet space, he has found clarity—a deeper trust in God’s timing, and a quiet calling to bear witness to a faith both ancient and alive.
Editor’s Note: Liu’s story is one among many. At ChinaSource, we do not promote one tradition over another. Rather, by listening to testimonies like his, we hope to foster understanding across the body of Christ and invite reflection on what it means to follow Jesus—across boundaries, through questions, and toward grace.
