“I am an atheist,” declared one of my classmates. Each student in my college history course was asked to introduce himself. I had met a few atheists before, but this comment surprised me because I was at a Catholic college and atheists do not usually enroll in a course called “Monks, Mystics, and Madmen.” (Well, the “madman” was for alliteration, but we did touch on Martin Luther.) At the very least, this course was the most “Catholic” course I took at St. Ambrose University in Davenport, Iowa.

When I heard the words “atheist,” the Lord put in my heart a great desire to pray and fast for my classmate. My classmate did not profess his atheism in a prideful way — rather, I sensed someone who was seeking the truth despite walking in the darkness of error. My classmate’s comment challenged me. A year earlier I had read The Story of a Soul by St. Thérèse of Lisieux and I was convicted by her desire to pray for the conversion of Henry Pranzini, who had murdered three women. St. Thérèse even had a Mass offered for his soul. Henry kissed the priest’s crucifix three times before his execution.

And so, I made it my mission for that spring semester to ask God for a miracle. Only a few miles from my campus was a perpetual adoration chapel at Sacred Heart Cathedral. This adoration chapel was attached to the left side of the cathedral and had its own entrance. Since the chapel did not have adorers at every hour, the monstrance was on a turntable. When you walked in, you saw a crucifix.  But if you walked behind the altar, Jesus was in a monstrance. So If you wanted to see him, you went behind the altar, climbed a little step ladder, and turned the table so that the monstrance faced the group of pews.

Every Friday afternoon during that Spring semester, I made a visit to the chapel to pray for my classmate. Since both my atheist classmate and I were commuters, I rarely spoke with him, but we did exchange occasional smiles and greetings. I wanted him to know that I genuinely cared about him.

Week after week, I would stop by the perpetual adoration chapel. Most of the time, someone was praying. It was usually a devout grandmother, clinging to her rosary beads, likely storming Heaven for a fallen-away child or grandchild. But one Friday, things felt different. Why is this so? I asked myself as a cloud of oppression and darkness pervaded the chapel. Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Normally, every time I stepped into the chapel, I felt the most peace I’ve ever had in my life. But not this time. The chapel was dark and felt cold.

As I slowly made my way to the back of the altar to see my Lord and turn his face toward me, I stopped dead in my tracks. A middle-aged woman dressed all in black was on the floor. As our eyes met, I noticed a woman who looked as If I had caught her doing something she should not have been doing. Within a matter of seconds, she bolted out of the adoration chapel, never to be seen again. I immediately looked up at the monstrance and saw Jesus was there, unharmed. At first, I thought she was a woman in distress, begging the Divine Physician for help, so I didn’t suspect any foul play. I also never saw that lady again, though I did watch for her.

I didn’t think much of my mysterious encounter with the lady in black until a year after graduating from college. At this point, I had moved to another state. A friend informed me that an exorcist had been called to the adoration chapel. My friend told me a bat was attacking people, striking them in the head as they prayed. Once the exorcist was called in, the bat was gone.

I still don’t know why the lady in black fled the adoration chapel so quickly, or whether the bat incident was natural or preternatural. But during this time of Eucharistic revival, we ought to be reminded how much Satan trembles at the reality and power of the Holy Eucharist.

The simple reality is this: The world is full of persons, human and otherwise, who would seek to destroy our Eucharistic Lord like King Herod did 2,000 years ago.

In his latest bestselling book on the Holy Eucharist, 30 Day Eucharistic Revival: A Retreat with St. Peter Julian Eymard,  Father Donald Calloway mentions the role of the devil:

Yet, to this day, it’s only Catholic churches that Satanists seek to steal a Sacred Host from when they want to desecrate and commit a sacrilege against God. Why is this? Well, even the devil knows where Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist.

If only we Catholics made the Holy Eucharist our greatest prize! If only we knew what the devil knows — that by Our Lord’s real presence in the Holy Eucharist, Christ continues his mission to “draw everyone to myself.”

Which brings us back to my atheist classmate. “I need to talk to you after class,” were his words following Easter break. I knew exactly what he was going to say.

“I want to be a Catholic.”  I could not cease praising God. As I inquired about the reason for his conversion, he said he was in Croatia visiting his girlfriend when Pope St. John Paul II died. As the people from her town went to pray at the local church, he received a grace to know that God was real and that God wanted him to become Catholic. I believe it was among the first of Pope St. John Paul II’s posthumous miracles.

One year later, my classmate (and now friend) entered the Catholic Church. And I was blessed to be his sponsor.