Finding Home
How does a Baylor Bear with Baptist roots find his way into the Episcopal Church?
It was a question asked by a few of you, probably sparked by the Baylor references from last week’s Spirit Shot. It is a good question, one worthy of an answer, but since this is a Spirit Shot and not a 50-page essay, I’ll try to answer with brevity.
Be it the small Baptist church in Texas City that I went to with my grandmother as a baby, or the Baptist church in Arlington that I went to throughout my grade school years, it seemed like I was always at church.
At Baylor, I continued to go to church and eventually decided to go to seminary to become a Baptist minister.
After finishing undergrad in 2004, I went straight to seminary bright-eyed and ready. But, during my third semester, after a string of unfortunate events (many of which were due to bad decisions on my part), I found myself questioning my faith and leaving seminary.
Worse than the shame of dropout status was a haunting question that grew louder and louder:
Did God still love me?
I was a seminary dropout; a Christian not going to church and not praying, none of it.
Nearly three years after dropping out of seminary and with little desire to return, it felt as if ordained ministry was in the rearview mirror. That feeling was challenged by a friend and Episcopal Priest that I met during that season in my life. It was with him and through our friendship that I attended my first Episcopal service.
I remember fumbling with the Book of Common Prayer during that service as I tried to navigate its’ unfamiliar waters. I stood when others kneeled. I nearly poked my eye out as I attempted to cross myself like I saw others do so gracefully and effortlessly.
I was 26 years old and had avoided alcohol, and now there was a minister in fancy decorative robes inviting me to drink wine during a church service! I was indeed a long way from my grandma’s Baptist church in Texas City.
Amid newness, missteps, and awkwardness, I felt immensely drawn to the Episcopal Church. I was at home, just not quite familiar yet.
After a few years of sacred wandering, my heart found peace in the Episcopal Church. I became more adept with the Book of Common Prayer. Kneeling became a preferred way to prepare my mind, body, and soul for worship. Encountering the Eucharist enriched my spirit and became an intricate part of the way I experienced God.
By the tender grace of the same Jesus that I met while growing up in the Baptist church; I now see all of my time in the Baptist church as the beginning moments of a life of faith; possibility starting to unfold in a way I could have never imagined, all of it leading to me finding a home in the Episcopal Church.
God is never surprised or caught off guard by our stories. He is perfectly always there, inviting us to a lifelong, prayerful endeavor of coming home to Him, coming home to the One who has loved us since the beginning.
With God, each one of us is welcome and always right at home.
You each have your own story of how you have found a home in the Episcopal Church. I am grateful that your individual story has brought you to Holy Spirit.
Korey+