A Step

One of my intentions for this new year is to set aside time for journaling and reading. This entry is another effort to tease out my thoughts on my experiences with His Church and His church. 

I continue to visit our downtown Episcopal congregation. After running from my often rote and nominal Catholic upbringing, it's not where I thought I'd find myself at 53.  But, here I am. 

Because Briggs is actively angry at the visible church, he doesn't want to visit any churches right now. This is fine by me--it leaves me free to process things and worship without having to consider how he's processing things and worshipping. It's less complicated in an already complicated season of faith.

He recently asked me what I liked about the Episcopal congregation I'm attending though--why I chose it from the dozens of churches I could attend. This entry focuses on my answer to him more or less.

Why?

First--I feel like I can go there and focus on God, bring my whole self--body, soul, mind--to this physical place as a way of offering my heart, voice, thoughts, hopes to Him. I can bring all this on Sunday mornings to express a desire and attempt to reconnect formally with His church on earth, in Asheville.

Second--I feel relatively safe emotionally while attending.  I know this sounds a bit bizarre, but with all well-meaning intentions, the church can feel like a sales pitch. On one hand, it's always nice for people to notice you as new or unfamiliar.  It shows that people think outside their circles and of others.  The downside of this is that you can feel like someone's religious project.  I've seen too many surface smiles that don't carry into more authentic conversations or a consistent working out of faith in others' lives.

I don't want another spiritual project (sorting through all that) nor do I wish to be another person's spiritual project in this way.  And, I'm sure some of these feelings need to be cleared away or refined, but right now, I just want to sit in a solid pew in the corner of a beautiful santuary and connect with the liturgy.  This feels restful and restoring to me in a way that I've been longing for.

How?

I came to this congregation by happenstance and through research. At first I confused it with another downtown congregation that has a camilia bush and a pastor I knew through my Woodcock Johnson testing.

It may yet have that camilia bush (I haven't  for it!), thought to look for it, but its rector is definitely not the one I met, who is actually lead of the Presbyterian Church right next door. 

This confused connection landed me on their webpage, but after that, other things drew me further, such as:

*Their advent devotion was a selection of thoughts from members of the church. I love the thought of valuing communal expressions of faith in this way.  This alone prodded me to further investigate a church and denomination that I would knee-jerk say is not a good fit for me.

*Viewing their service online was initially a negative--too much Catholic PTSD.  However, I was encouraged that there were more bodies in these pews than in either of the other two downtown congregations on Church Street.  I'm not after a popularity contest, but I am interested in finding a congregation that is not breathing its last gasp or consumed with drumming up new members or fiancial congregatons.  I am looking for stable, established, living.  

To elaborate more---I am too weary and protective of my spirit to engage in an upstart, new church, dying church, mortally crippled church congregation.  And, I cannot imagine stepping into another Southern Baptist affiliated congregation, nor a Pentecostal denomination. Even "non-denominational" feels emotionally exhausting to me---because I've learned that this is a blanket term for many things. "Non-denominational" sounds like a great compromise and way to seek unity with the larger Church, but after being a part of a non-denominational church, I've learned it can mean too many things or nothing at all.  The categorization can be a way to hide from the negative baggage of the Baptist faith. It also usually means that the emphasis of that congregation will be determined by the pastor--or elders'--preferences. It may cast a broader net of congregants by nature, but in the end, someone or some group, healthy or unhealthy, is shaping the undergirder of that congregation. All things on earth are unstable, and all chuches are full of sinnners--this is Christianity 101--but I find that construct leaves too much undetermined and open to flux and error.

*Despite being turned off by watching a service, one morning I found myself visiting anyway.  It felt solid, safe, old, peaceful. I could relax and take in the organ prelude, the arches, the stained glass. I could feel anonymous enough--though among others--the congregation is large enough and formal enough that I could sit and take it all in without bracing myself for being welcomed and urged to attend a more intimate function.  I could be among others and yet self-contained mostly.

Since my first visit, I've developed other reasons to continue visiting--maybe I'll elaborate in another post as I try to sort it all out. Mainly though, I watch for "deal breakers" not "deal makers."  I realize it's an odd way to phrase it, but in my faith journey, I've learned from experience that it takes a long, long time to get to the middlish, not even bottom, of the spirit and outworking of a congregation and its staff.

Religious folks tend to pad up and compartmentalize themselves even to themselves. The healthier ones share some of their underbelly over time, but it takes time.  In fairness, I'm no different as a visiting congregant.  Admittedly, I'm polite but skittish.  I'm not staying for coffee after church. I'm not attending smaller or larger groups outside of the main worship service.

For now, it's enough.  It's an offering.  A step toward His bride. I'm not running away, but I'm not running toward either.