Why the Church Feels Slow—And Why That Might Be Okay

Subjects Covered: Catholic conversion, waiting for sacraments, OCIA experience, faith formation, Catholic patience

There’s a common ache among adult converts, especially those of us coming from high-energy Protestant communities: Catholicism can feel slow.

The parish calendar moves at a different pace than we’re used to. Discernment takes months or years. Sacraments unfold slowly, often through complex processes. It’s not unusual to feel like you’re endlessly waiting—for clarity, for paperwork, for permission, for someone to see how ready you are.

And in that waiting, it’s easy to feel forgotten.

But what if that slowness is part of the Church’s fidelity, not its flaw?

The Fast Church We Left Behind

When my husband and I began this journey, we brought with us years of experience in fast-paced ministry. We were used to momentum. We were used to altar calls that pulled you forward in a rush of emotion. We were used to communities that equated movement with faithfulness.

So it felt disorienting to sit in stillness.

We weren’t used to spiritual growth unfolding over liturgical seasons. We weren’t used to waiting months just to complete paperwork, or discerning vocation over a yearlong timeline. We had to learn not to interpret that stillness as a lack of care—but rather, as care of a different kind.

It’s not that we stopped growing. It’s that growth was happening underground.

Many of us came from faith traditions that moved fast. Worship was emotionally charged. Decisions were made quickly. You could declare yourself saved, step forward at the altar, and be baptized on the same day. The response was immediate, the energy was tangible, and the sense of spiritual movement was constant.

That rhythm shaped us. It taught us to expect transformation in real time. To expect quick answers. To equate spiritual aliveness with visible activity.

So when we land in the Catholic Church and are asked to slow down—to submit to long processes, to wait for seasons to change—it can feel like we’ve hit a wall.

Slow Isn’t the Same as Cold

If you’ve ever felt like no one sees how urgently you want to belong—you’re not imagining it. But you’re also not alone. Many converts feel that ache.

But the Church moves slowly because she takes sacred things seriously. The Catechism teaches that the sacraments are not private declarations but divine actions that configure us to Christ (CCC 1116: Sacraments of the Church). And divine things—like Eucharist, reconciliation, and confirmation—require preparation, not performance.

The Church is not being dismissive. She’s being faithful. Slow grace is not lesser grace. It’s the kind that settles deep, changes your instincts, and shapes you for the long road.

But here’s what I’ve learned: the slowness of the Church isn’t apathy. It’s reverence.

The Catholic Church doesn’t rush because what she’s offering is real. Sacraments aren’t symbolic—they’re embodied. They do something. And anything that sacred is approached with caution and care.

It may feel like people don’t understand your urgency. But what’s actually happening is that the Church is choosing formation over transaction, discernment over impulse, and depth over spectacle.

The slowness is deliberate. And sometimes, it’s a mercy.

It’s Okay to Feel Impatient

I’ll be honest—there have been moments when I’ve felt the ache of waiting. While our own OCIA team has been deeply kind and attentive, the larger systems—like the tribunal or diocesan offices—sometimes moved at a pace that felt glacial. In those quiet, uncertain stretches, I occasionally wondered if we’d slipped through the cracks.

But every time I brought that ache into prayer, I heard something quiet and unshakable: This is forming you. Not punishing. Not sidelining. Forming.

The slowness forced me to listen more. To reflect more. To dig past emotional surges and ask deeper questions about faith and trust.

The USCCB reminds us that formation is not just intellectual—it’s personal and relational (source). What feels like delay is often invitation—into deeper knowing, deeper surrender, and deeper communion with the Church herself.

Still, the struggle is real. It’s okay to feel frustrated by the pace. It’s okay to feel restless. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.

There’s a sacred tension between the fire in your heart and the pace of the institutional Church. Hold that tension gently.

You’re not alone. Many converts walk this same path—eager, uncertain, wondering if they’ll ever feel fully caught up.

But over time, that slowness becomes something else. It becomes rhythm. It becomes rootedness. It becomes space to breathe.

Catholic Devotional Tools for Trusting the Wait

Sometimes what we need most in the waiting is a physical reminder to pause, breathe, and trust. That’s where sacred objects come in—not as magical solutions, but as gentle anchors.

I keep a Tiny Saints St. Monica Keychain on my bag. It’s a cheerful little reminder that patient, faithful waiting can be powerful—because St. Monica waited 17 years for her son’s conversion. And her persistence bore fruit.

On my desk is a small Saint Elizabeth (Mother of John the Baptist) figurine. She reminds me that joy sometimes arrives late—and that unexpected hope is holy, too.

If you’re navigating a season where grace feels slow, surrounding yourself with reminders of saints who understood waiting can be quietly transformative.

Final Thought: Embracing the Slow Work of God

If you’re in this in-between place, I want you to hear this from someone walking it with you: You are not behind. You are not forgotten. And you are not disqualified because the calendar hasn’t caught up to your heart.

You are becoming Catholic in the marrow. You are participating in the Church’s slow grace. And that counts.

If you need a place to feel seen in the meantime, we’ve built Converting to Hope for you—for all of us—who are finding holiness in the hesitation. We are your companions in the waiting, not because we’ve finished it, but because we’ve chosen to stay.

Take heart. The slow Church sees you. And so does Christ.

You may feel stuck, but you’re still becoming.

God’s timeline is not dictated by parish schedules. Your growth is not stalled because someone forgot to call. Every moment of waiting can still be infused with grace.

And maybe, just maybe, the slow Church is exactly what our fast hearts need—to breathe, to heal, and to deepen our faith through real Catholic formation.

If you’ve found comfort or companionship in this reflection, consider supporting our mission or exploring our other resources at ko-fi.com/convertingtohope. Your presence helps us continue building a community where waiting is honored, and faith is formed slowly, together.