Becoming Episcopalian

I am officially becoming part of the Episcopal communion on Sunday and I assume that many people are curious about this new development in my life.  Why on earth am I leaving the United Methodist Church and becoming Episcopalian?  Am I really making the right decision? First I'd like to say, I've asked myself those questions over and over again.  They make me stop and ponder what it is that God is doing in my life right now.
I guess I always assumed I'd be United Methodist forever.  I was a third generation United Methodist, it connected me to my grandparents on both sides, and I was proud of that fact.  I was an active church member, I was an intern at my church, I served my Annual Conference, I was a leader.  Why would I leave something I knew so well and had a passion for?
I can say this: I'm not leaving because I have a major problem with the church.  There were no fights, no heated discussions that turned me away.  I am not leaving out of anger or malice.  I'm leaving partially because I think the denominational structure is too big. I love the congregation I was a part of and the Annual Conference I was a part of, but I disagree with having large overarching structure that puts out a Book of Discipline and tries to run an effective and efficient church in that manner.  I think that the system has become cumbersome and has held back church progress.  That's not to say that I don't believe that churches should be structured and organized, I am after all joining a church with bishops and a loose national structure, I just think the global structure of the United Methodist Church is too rigid.  It doesn't allow for regional differences in belief systems within the global church.  Who is to say that rules about how to structure your church that comes from white middle class Americans really works for the African church? As I looked more into the structure and system of the national and global United Methodist Church, I began to seriously question whether following one Book of Discipline was really something that was best for the church.  I began to also seriously doubt if I could connect myself with the Book of Discipline in my own personal ministry life.  There were some rules that I simply did not feel comfortable with, and I am not going to go against rules and regulations set out by my church.  I am not a rebel, I cannot knowingly break rules.  It makes me uncomfortable and makes me feel guilty. And I kept thinking questions like, "What if one day my friends want me to officiate their wedding and I have to say no because they are a same sex couple?" It would break my heart and I questioned whether I could stand in a United Methodist pulpit after something like that happened.
All that being said, those are the reasons why I began to question the United Methodist Church.  They are not the reason why I'm becoming Episcopalian.  That was a much more natural thing, something that began the first week of seminary and has progressed since then.  It all began the first week of orientation with a friendship. Since I have not asked his permission to mention him on my blog, I shall call him "D".  D is an Episcopal Studies student and we became close friends fast.  One Sunday he took me to his favorite Episcopal Church in town, and I was struck by the liturgy and the emphasis on Eucharist.  I enjoyed the service.  So when D asked me if I wanted to go to the Evensong service at school, of course I said yes.  Things progressed and soon I was hanging out with Episcopal students and Br. K, the abbot of an order of monks in town invited me over to the monk house.  As soon as I started doing complines with the monks, I was sold.  I loved how everything was so scripturally based and so meaningful.   I of course resisted the idea of becoming Episcopal every step of the way.  I was United Methodist, it was part of my heritage.  But the more I was at Episcopal services and doing the daily offices, the more I needed it.  The liturgy and eucharist soothes my  soul. The use of scripture in almost every aspect of the service is enriching and enlivens me. I walk away nourished.  When I talked to one of the Episcopal bishops, I learned about a church that isn't as structured denominationally and has a lot of leeway and freedom within each diocese to do as they see proper within their context. This both terrifies me and excites me. So I'm joining the Episcopal Studies program at school and I'm joining the Episcopal church.  It's honestly one of the scariest decisions I've ever made, but I am so happy with it.  I can't wait to be a priest, to preside over the table, to lead people in morning prayer.  I am free to be me, and I am in a church structure that supports me.  That's why I'm becoming Episcopalian.

Clinging to the Creator

I've been doing a lot of soul searching and questioning recently.  My question to God always remain the same, over and over I ask, "Where are you leading me?" and I get brief glimpses, but I'm really not sure where my life is headed.  I cling to my creator.
  I've noticed that in times when I'm really lost, really wondering what is going on, I tend to cling extra hard. The music in my car changes from today's hit music to Newsboys and Aaron Schust, I search diligently for a decent Christian radio station.  Prayer time becomes not only necessary, but increasingly more frequent.  It's not enough to read scripture and pray once a day, I need it several times a day.  If I can go to a worship service, I do, and I fret on the days when there's not one available to me, wishing and hoping for community and guidance.  I just can't get enough.  I'm at one of those places right now, where I just want to take in Christ and find some sort of answer.  I search diligently for guidance, I long for it.  I can feel Christ's presence, but I can't find a firm answer. It's a weird mixture of comfort in the creator and dis-ease in my spirit.  I search, I hope, I long.  I wait.  And I wait.  I know the answer will not come tomorrow, I know it will not come the next day, so I cling with all my might to my creator, redeemer, and sustainer.  I cling, and I wait.
It's a hard lesson, learning to wait, learning to find comfort in the clinging.  I pray for some voice of revelation, something that will make my path clear and fill me with renewed vigor.  But right now, I must cling.  I must hope.  I must search. Someday my path will be made clear, but it will not be today. It will not be tomorrow.  It may not even be next week, next month or next year. I must simply learn to use all my spiritual tools to cling to my creator, for I am not abandoned, my prayers are heard, they are simply answered with, "Patience my child, cling a little longer."

Patterns and Well Worn Tapes

I've been spending a great deal of time around the monk house recently, and I've noticed my old thought patterns have started to pop up.  Pulling up to the house today, I thought, "Maybe I'm spending too much time here...Maybe they don't really like me that much...Maybe I'm a burden to them..." Thoughts like this were once part of my daily life, something that even a year ago would keep me from asking a friend to hang out or going to an event.  They were never debilitating thoughts, I still had friends and connections, but I would never spend more than a few hours a week with any given person.
Now I'm spending quite a bit of time  around the same people, and the thought patterns have started playing again in my mind. They are the well worn tapes of a person who spent a good chunk of their life distrusting their self. I don't pay them much credence anymore, but they still echo in the back of my mind.
I wonder what it would be like if they were not there.  Who would I have been closer to if it were not for these tapes? How would my life be different?  But then I realize that there is nothing wrong with my life now, that I have been brought by the grace of God to the place I need to be.   I just have to keep remembering that the tapes of my yester-years are not the tapes I choose to play today.  They echo, but they do not define.  Instead I set my life to a new tune, a new tape that I hope to etch into my brain, "You're a good person.  Trust yourself."

Deny Youself

I was at a meeting at the monk house the other night, and as we were discussing the Philokalia, a Bible verse popped up that had always bothered me.  It was Matthew 16:24, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
In the past I felt that this verse was convicting me to deny and give up parts of myself that didn't fit into societal expectations to better follow Christ.  I took the parts of me that didn't seem acceptable, and tried to hand them back to God.  I ended up damaging myself because the personality traits and quirks that I didn't think I should have really didn't go away, I just began to shove them under the mask of a "good Christian".  Nobody said I had to do this, or that it was best to be a certain way, I was just uncomfortable with me.
I shared this, and then my friend began to share this verse in a way that was brand new to me.  He started at the point, "take up their cross".  Our crosses are the selves that God has gifted to us.  They are our unique personalities and convictions.  They are the people God made us to be.  Jesus didn't die on the cross because he was the perfect model Christian, he died on a cross because he refused to give up the person that God made him to be.  He was authentically himself to the end.  In the same way, we should take up our crosses, refusing to be any less than the people God calls us to be.  We are to remain true to ourselves and our God to the end.
The phrase "deny theirselves" or more personally, "deny yourself" then is not about giving up your personality that was given to you.  It's about stripping off the masks, about releasing those things that hold us back from being kingdom builders for our creator.  It's about refusing to simply try to fit into what society tells us we should be.  We have to look to God and wrestle our demons, we have to fight for our authenticity.  We have to deny the trap of trying to become who we "should" be, and instead strive to become who we were created to be. "For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?" (Matt 16:26)
This was a healing moment for me.  I was brought into a text that I had used to wound myself before and it became a text that I could embrace.  It became something that spoke to my experiences and my hopes.  I have been striving to truly find my authentic self and speak to my truths, and while God has always been a major part of that journey, I didn't have a sense that Jesus had ever really talked about this.  Now I can look to the Gospels and see Jesus speaking these words as well as others to me. It brings me closer to Christ.

Lessons in Community

When I moved to Lincoln, I knew what I wanted.  An education, of course, but more importantly I wanted to reboot my life, to find myself, to become comfortable with who I was and where I was headed in life. I accomplished a lot of that in my three years there.  I left with a new life and a hope that I would not crumble as I stepped out into the unknown territory of Atlanta, Georgia.
I am still not 100% certain why it is that I had to move to Atlanta though.  I don't know exactly what drew me to this place.  It was the silent tug of God that brought me here, and even though I fought it, I'm glad I'm here.  But I've been trying to figure out what it is I'm supposed to learn here.  What great growth spurts do I have to go through?  I know I'm here for an education, but I am in this specific setting for something bigger.
 I'm starting to think that maybe God is teaching me about community.  I laugh now, but I was scared to death when I moved here.  I was afraid I wouldn't find a support system, that I would be alone in a strange land with no one to care for me.  Instead, I have found more support and love than I even thought imaginable.  I am surrounded by people who love me for who I am.  I know I had community like that before, but I was too broken to realize it was there or trust that it would really help me in my time of need.  I had felt like an outsider within my own friend groups before, and now I feel like a full member.
Recently I have been hanging out with a group of Anglican monks and they are teaching me a lot about what it means to be in Christian community.  I see the bonds that have formed through living life together. There is a connectedness in that group.The morning and evening prayers I have experienced in their house have been some of the most intimate moments that I have had with God since I got here.  They have been two or three brothers and myself in the altar room of their house, but I have felt the touch of God in some of those moments, the connection that brings all life together and unifies us as siblings in Christ.  It has begun to help me see the communal identity of the body of Christ.
While the idea of the communal body of Christ might seem high and lofty, something idyllically beautiful, it's really just sharing life together.  It's opening up a little bit when you've had a bad day, it's sitting in silence and studying together, it's laughing and sighing as someone breaks yet another dish.  It's letting everybody be themselves, and letting each person's gifts  bless community as a whole.   That is communal life, and that is a beautiful life.
I can only hope and wait to learn more about community and life together as I grow over the next few years.

Numbers Don't Make You

We got back our Old Testament tests today, and I must say, I'm not used to seeing that low of a score on a test.  It threw me for a bit.  My classmates starting comparing scores and looking over what they can improve on together in community, and I had to step away because it's still a little raw. I started wanting to judge myself based on my other classmates' test scores.  Why didn't I do what this other person did?  What did she do that was so much better than me? I felt compelled to start judging myself based on a number.  So I drew back, and I came into a holy space away from the crowd.  I stopped and just let God embrace me.  I am worth so much more than a number, and truth be told, this number will not kill me, it will not make me lose my scholarship, it's just a number.  I am more than a number, I am a beloved child of God who has come to this school to learn more about how to engage with my creator and with the communities God lovingly places me in.  And when the numbers aren't what I hoped they would be, when I am not a perfect scholar, I just need to step back and remember that numbers don't make you. God makes you.

My Week

My pastor called me today and made me think about everything that has been going on in my life recently. It's really quite fascinating how my life seems natural and normal, and it's really profound.  Just this week I've hung out with Anglican monks, learned about Hebrew adjectives with my favorite study buddy, done my chaplaincy at a geriatric hospital, read the entire book of Exodus, worked in the community garden, met some really cool students from other seminaries in the city, and relaxed with other friends.  I've laughed, I've sobbed, I've gotten mad at God and I've deepened my love and appreciation for my LORD. I also finally shaved my head. That's a lot of things, and I know that tomorrow and the next week will only bring more.  I am blessed beyond measure.