How I became an Episcopalian.

There is a time in a person’s journey through life that what matters most becomes clear. Some may call this an epiphany or a moment of great revelation. Others experience this clarity in a subtle, almost unperceived way through evolution of thought. For some, this may never happen. For me, this understanding began with the passing of my mother after a three year battle with cancer. All the challenges, hardships and trails of my journey through life were made trivial as I cared for and watched my mother slowly succumb to cancer.

Here my story of renewed faith begins.

Some years ago in my early twenties, an elder in the congregational church where I attended services preached a message of hate and intolerance. His message didn’t seem very Christ-like to me, and the elder ended with an admonition for those who disagreed with him to leave the church. I was dumbfounded at his message, and I couldn’t reconcile it with what I knew of scripture. That is when I stopped attending church services, and I began to question my religion.

At the same time, my professional life began to accelerate, and I was working long hours often six days a week. My Sundays became for me a day for catching up on household tasks, running errands, and otherwise occupying myself with life’s chores.

Just before Christmas in 2001 I received a phone call from my mother. Through her tears and mine we talked about her diagnosis of cancer. We talked about treatment options. We discussed the plan to attack the cancer and how it could save her life. She was too young to die. We prayed for a miracle.

My mother did well enough for nearly three years as the treatment weakened her body, but fought back the cancer. Then she became quiet. Her body was drained of fight, and she knew her time was short. She silently prayed for peace. Although she was baptized, she still feared death. We cried together, and her reassurance was reading the Word and listening to hymns of praise.

My mother died.

Everything else that seemed to matter to me – career, income, objects – now seemed so trivial. All the challenges, hardships and trials of my journey were nothing compared to the anguish that my mother had faced. In my quiet moments, I found myself praying for her. I found myself praying for me. My comfort was once again found in Christ, and I realized how my soul ached for a reconnection with worship. My soul felt like a cracked, barren desert devoid of life and thirsty for drink.

As I was driving home one day I passed an old stone church. It wasn’t like the congregational church I’d attended years ago. Rather than being austere and somber, it had beautiful stained glass windows and gardens for meditation. It was Emmanuel Episcopal Church. I emailed and then talked with the pastor, who I found was a priest. Robert is his name. He offered a kind voice and encouragement to me. He invited me to visit the church and enjoy the love of Christ once again. It was the invitation for worship I had longed for these many years.

Nervous as I was because Episcopal worship was so unfamiliar to me, I went to the service that Sunday. I was welcomed by two people who greeted me with smiles and shared some basic hints about the way of worship. It was so different from the congregational church I had attended in my youth. It was a beautiful place surrounded by scenes of holy events embodied in stained glass. There was an altar and an organ. Candles glowed and the choir sang. And for the first time in my life I actually felt the Divine Presence during worship. My heart swelled in my chest, and as I left after the service Robert hugged me. He was glad I was there, and he hoped I would come back.

I found a new home in the body of Christ that day.

In the months that followed, my soul felt renewed like a lush, green field refreshed by cool rain and sowed with the seeds of life. There was Inquirer’s class I attended followed by a Confirmation class. Then there was Confirmation.

The Holy Spirit came to me in my life's journey.

I went with friends to the Episcopal Cathedral in Atlanta. I’d never been to a church that large, that grand and that awesome. It was most exciting, and I felt the energy and enthusiasm of those with me from my parish. As I knelt at the altar and Bishop Neil laid his hands upon my head, my mind emptied of all thought and was silent. His voice echoed in my mind as Bishop Neil spoke, and I felt the very real presence of the Holy Spirit come upon me through the laying of his hands upon my head and the echoing of his words in my mind. For the first time in my life, I was fully present and fully aware of a moment in time and in doing so opened myself to God's love.

My journey continues, and my faith has been renewed. My spiritual life has been reinvigorated. The Holy Spirit moves me in my life towards opportunities for service to the church and beyond. The glorious gift of God’s grace reassures my soul.

With each day, I pray for my mother. I thank her for helping me understand that all the challenges, hardships and trails of my journey through life are in fact trivial when compared with the opportunity of everlasting life through Christ.

When I talk with friends about life, sometimes we find the chance to talk about faith, worship and religion. I ask them if they’ve had a bad experience in a church or if they’ve found worship titular and empty. I ask them if they live a high pressure life that begs for Sunday morning in bed. I ask them if they feel uneasy walking into a building and sitting in a crowd of people where you don't know a soul and don't know when to stand, sit, kneel, or sing.

Then I share my story and an invitation. Thanks be to God for Emmanuel and for Robert's invitation to me.