Why I Am Not Episcopalian

Or Methodist, or PC(USA), or any other denomination you are sure i'd love!

If I weren’t me, I’d probably be in an Episcopal church right now.

I’ve said that sentence more than a time or two over the last several years. The denomination, along with a handful of a few mainline protestant others, has always felt distant enough from my evangelical upbringing and foreign enough from it’s often toxic culture that it always felt like a safe option for me and others still looking for a healthy faith-based community to land. Even today, as I have found myself more so on the outskirts of traditional church environments, often screaming loudly about one church issue or another, the Episcopalians and maybe a United Methodist or two are quick to jump in with a hardy, “not here!"

And in many cases, they are correct. Most of the toxic and unhealthy patterns of leading, operating, and organizing I critique about churches today does largely revolve around more evangelical beliefs regarding the interpretation of scripture, church planting, service, charity, and justice. In fact, much of my growth and shift in perspective when it comes to each of these areas has come from reading and learning from far more mainline protestant and even Catholic wisdom.

And yet, I do not currently find myself within a mainline church. Why?

Because I know I still wouldn’t belong there.

I know I am still far too apostolic, demanding, change-oriented, and future focused that I would drive a 230 year old denomination mad. I know I would be content, feel welcome, at home and healed for all of about 3 months before wanting to meet with the nearest archbishop to talk change, strategy, and organizational creativity. I have far too many ideas and not near enough patience for “the way things have always been” to feel fully myself and free within environments so dedicated to the preservation of the past. And while I remain eternally grateful and indebted to those who are called to such preservation and protection of these traditions, liturgy, and practices that literally saved my faith, I know I do not share in that call, at least not to the same degree or in the same way. It’s taken a lot of learning the hard way, and therapy, and prayer, and a few silent days of reflection spent with some nuns to come to accept such a conclusion. But here we are:

If I weren’t me, I’d probably be in an Episcopal church right now.

But I am me. And as free from the stains of evangelical culture many mainline denominations appear to be, people like me still don’t really fit there. No matter how much we deeply desire to. And so from me to you, my mainline, finally church cozy, marked safe from the implosion of your faith friends— can I ask you something from the depths of my heart?

Please don’t forget about us.

Please don’t forget that there continues to be so many of us who will not be healed, whole, nor content by simply joining our nearest episcopal, methodist, or *insert denomination you love so dearly here* church. That there are many of us whose implosion of faith revealed layers of realities still ever-present in the structures and systems of most churches today, even the ones that feel safest to you. And please remember that finding individual safety, peace, and contentment within a house of worship isn’t the only goal of healing church hurt. If our systems, structures, and institutions at large do not continue to seek and work toward healing too, none of us is truly safe for long.

So please don’t forget to keep healing with us.

I am so deeply grateful that so many of my hurt and grieving friends are finding places of safety and belonging within a whole variety of different types of churches right now. My prayer and my hope is that the lessons they learned in the depths of their own isolation, loss, and spiritual free-fall would continue to impact those churches. That they would continue to change them and embolden them into places that are truly safe and just for all. That we would continue to see masses of voices from and within every sphere possible of this collective body of Christ, all advocating for a future where hierarchy is not the norm, where patriarchy is not the collective foundation we are all built upon, where new ideas based on old traditions can flourish, and where fresh expressions of marginalized and forgotten communities can be supported.

We need each other. The denominationally rooted and the crazy, locust eating, wilderness nomads who are hell-bent on finding new and creative ways forward. We have far less funding, connections, and vestments out here. But what we do have is a whole lot of freedom, creativity, ideas, and grit. So i’ll trade you some organic structural strategy for some incense and the lectionary and we can both keep rooting for each other and for the Bride of Christ we love so dearly, together. Sound good?