God of diversity and difference

When I was at Province IV Synod at Kanuga a few weeks ago, I scribbled - middle school note-passing style - the following comment to a slightly older and much wiser member of Lexington's deputation:

"I think that members of other, more charismatic Christian churches are far more accustomed to speaking openly about their faith and a transformational experience of the divine than Episcopalians are."

She agreed. We had just begun training for our Province's Public Narrative discussions, and the process was being met with some resistance. In the end, my Public Narrative experience at Kanuga (I was a coach for the Diocese of East Carolina - a wonderful group with lively and passionate stories and discussion) was uplifting and encouraging - a great way to get to know people and find commonality through our different experiences of call to mission.

I offer this memory by way of addressing the events of my day, which were highly emotional, intense, and new. I didn't observe the personal "testimony" (public narrative) of a member of a charismatic congregation, but I feel as though I witnessed the unspoken "Public Narratives" of a whole family. Today I attended the funeral of a dear friend's aunt, and I am now sitting in my darkened living room processing the experience and my thoughts.

The church was a small, bare-walled and sparsely decorated building - a simple meeting house. The congregation was large - large family and an incredible number of friends and community members. I sat amidst the family, who, to set the stage a little more, had experienced another loss just a few year's prior. They have experienced a great deal of grief, an unfair and unnecessary amount. It was moving to be with them, knowing a little of the great sadness they have lived in the last decade.

To turn to self-analyzation, however, the most moving and extraordinary part of the day was the realization of the love and warm welcome the family has given me over the last few years, despite our differences. The religious heritage of my friend's family is Bible-based, charismatic, and highly emotional. This spiritual tradition is visceral, impassioned, overwhelming and powerful -- wholly different from the liturgical, structured rubric of Episcopal worship. The language of today's eulogies, sermons and prayers could not be more different from that of the Episcopal church's scripted homilies and cool and calculated Book of Common Prayer. I was a fish out of water, keenly aware that I may not have bowed my head deeply enough or displayed enough faithful fervor. Thank God no one seemed to notice and while I felt that at any moment someone might ask if I had been "saved," I continued to feel welcome nonetheless.

In my Episcopal upbringing, never was I introduced to the concept of being "saved." I heard about "saved-ness" on Adventures in Odyssey audio tapes, which my mother bought for me at the local Christian bookstore, but I think I separated that experience of Christianity from my Episcopal experience, even as a young child. Episcopalians just don't talk that way; we are grafted onto the body of Christ at baptism and reaffirm our membership in Christ's body at confirmation, not to mention at regular eucharists. We don't have a "saved" experience; I guess we just realize that we are.

So today, while realized that I was very different because I wasn't necessarily "saved" per the understood definition of the members there present, I also recalled my formerly acute awareness that for members of churches where being "saved" is paramount, the Episcopal Church, with its very calm and collected manner of prayer and worship, is suspect and even downright un-faithful. As foreign as today's unscripted sermons and prayers were to me, I was struck during the funeral service how alien my "brand" of Christianity might be to these worshipers. I have existed for several years in an almost entirely demythologized world, having removed all the fantastical faith stories from the core of my spirituality and concentrating solely on here-and-now based calls to live out by Baptismal Covenant. (I think this might be common for many Episcopalians and other "progressive" Christians). Today, however, I was reminded of the New Jerusalem, of the very deep and wide river of stories and experiences that have grounded me within the Christian tradition, and have allowed me to understand - in a small way - the religious experiences of those who span the whole Christian spectrum. I understand my role in the ancient-to-modern flow of Christianity in a unique way, but I quietly and privately reaffirmed the importance of Biblical stories to my faith life. I feel invigorated by this renewed commitment to living within the religious heritage of the Bible - of the ancient Israelites, early Jews, early Jewish-Christians, and Pauline Christians.

This family's hope in the saving power of God in Christ is staggering, their ability to live through sorrow and overcome it with an increasing love of God, an ever-growing belief in His goodness, and a heightened sense of compassion is positively astounding. I am humbled by their faith, dumbfounded by their resilience.


Moreover, I am unbelievably thankful for the work of God's hand in my life - for the people He has put in my path to form me, shape me, and change me. I am undeserving, and overwhelmed by grace. These are things I might need to get more used to saying - for years I have avoided the term "grace."

I pray for the Episcopal Church and the deputations at Convention - that we may find cause to welcome each other (including all the baptized to all the sacraments of the Church) in Christian love. If I learned anything from today's events - from the funeral service, from the preacher, from the family - it is that our differences are NO excuse for a lack of compassion, understanding, love, or welcome.

Heavenly Father,
May the Episcopal Church learn to welcome and respect the dignity of all people. May we learn to love and serve those whom we perceive as different from us. May we discern the will of the Holy Spirit as it moves at Convention and in our lives.
May all that we do be to pursue Your will and Your love.
Amen.