When I started getting serious about faith at the tender age of 24, I knew the most important thing obviously was theology. If you don't know the how and the why, it's hard to accept the way and then believe in the Whom. Makes sense.
So in short order I started off on the basis that the Catholic Church is full of wackadoo teachings that aren't worth listening to, they're off the reservation about basically everything and I should just move on.
As I've written before (again, here), I'd long been interested in Anglicanism. It's kind of like Catholicism, but less so; all the ritual, half the guilt, none of the Popes. What's not to like?
The issue there is that the Episcopal Church USA was a mess. Now, to be fair, there's never been a moment in my life when TEC wasn't facing some crisis or another. I was born only a couple of years after the Anglican Communion decided, oops, you know what? Women can serve in the priesthood after all! It really has been downhill for them ever since.
By 2006, when I began casting about for a denomination to call home, I was faced with the choice of entrusting my soul to a group of weirdo Episcopalians who didn't even seem to have a basic understanding of the clear teachings of Scripture. Female presiding archbishops, gay priests, transgendered bishops; what a mess!
So, with regrets, I ventured into Southern Baptist Land and didn't come up for air until about five or six years later. Still, I had a spark of interest in liturgy and formal worship. A liturgy that's been refined over the centuries just seemed more trustworthy to me than some dude who graduated from "Bible college" up there extemporizing.
Besides, on a practical level, I never appreciated the emotional and/or responsive manipulation of a lot of Southern Baptist worship. A good example of what I mean is Jonathan Stockstill's song "Let the Church Rise". The lights go down, the "worship team" (can't call them a choir, no no, that'd be BAD!) begin the song softly and right as they build to a rousing crescendo with the chorus, the lights come back up, which is your cue to rise (heh, get it?) to your feet.
And whatever, there are people out there who get off on manipulative nonsense like that. Far be it from me to judge. I'm just saying I found it shallow and almost offensive.
But, and here's the odd part, Southern Baptists are not at all averse to more atmospheric things like darkened rooms and candles. They simply always remember to plug in their electric guitars. So it felt, at once, kinda sorta formalized but with just enough informality to appeal to... actually, I'm not sure who's supposed to be interested in that neurotic presentation. But their churches are packed every Sunday so what do I know?
All I can say is that I tolerated that stuff because I had responsibilities at SB Church #1 by that point. Originally it was editing, mixing and then uploading the podcast of the pastor's sermon each week. Then it was taking attendance for my small group of 20 and 30-something singles. And ultimately it was teaching that small group.
So as I say, the worship "praise section" didn't interest me much but I didn't feel right about turning my back on people who needed me.
Oh, if I knew then what I know...
But I didn't, that's the point. Anyway, but becoming a small group teacher requires you to learn and study a lot, which is how I became more deeply entrenched in "reformed" theology. And as I did so, I reached the conclusion that there was no unity here. None.
Now, in today's post-evangelical world, that word needs some definition. What I mean is that no two Protestants agree on the meaning of any given verse in the Bible. The joke I always heard (and never found funny) was that if you get five Southern Baptist pastors into one room, there'll be nine opinions. Apparently we're supposed to find the lack of unity amusing.
It may seem like a small thing but think about it for just a minute. To a man, they all believe in Sola Scriptura. Which is to say that the Bible is the first, last and only infallible source of authority man has access to. I've poked holes in that before so need to do it again. But teaching this small group was my first real look at how little Protestants have in common even with each other.
I think it can fairly be said that there's no single doctrine or interpretation of Scripture that all Protestants would agree about, up to and including the Messiah's identity and relationship to the Father.
That alone suggests that there's something very severely wrong with the Sola Scriptura doctrine as the Bible is made up of God's Word, God's Word is made up of individual testaments, those individual testaments are made up of individual books, those individual books are made up of words and words have meaning. "X" cannot be "X" and "the opposite of X" at the same time and in the same context. Words have meaning because the Author wants to convey an idea. It's crazy to think that He'd long tolerate such wasteful disarray among His own (supposed) followers.
That bothered me but I never made a big deal out of it because, like I said, I had responsibilities at SB Church #1. People were depending on me, after all. But eventually I was pretty much shown the door at SB Church #1 and my reputation was smithereens as a result.
The issue here is that it was easy for my enemies at SB Church #1 to take me out because I'm not ordained. Moreover, I barely knew any of the higher-ups at SB Church #1. I was teaching a group in their Singles Ministry but I'd never even met the lead pastor of SB Church #1 face to face. None of them knew me. There was no relationship there. But my enemies had friends in very high places. At least one or two were deacons, in fact.
And like I said, things didn't work out so well at SB Church #2 because some familiar faces from #1 started showing up there since our former group was such a mess.
So by the time I started casting about for a new denomination, I'd learned some hard lessons. Some of them were:
So when I began searching for a new home, I not only knew that the Southern Baptist Convention was out of the question, but whether I liked it or not, I had doctrinal issues to work out. I made this decision in 2012, by which time the Anglican Church in North America had come into an existence as an alternative to TEC.
It felt like this was the continuation of something I'd started back in 2006 but had to abandon because TEC was such a mess. Now, Anglicanism's roots in Catholicism mean it isn't a Sola Scriptura denomination. They relied upon other authorities, not least of which is tradition.
Tradition plays a major role in their beliefs, practices, liturgy and theology. Makes sense. History is (or should be) a guide both in terms of what to do and what not to do. So by way of demonstration, the Anglicans helped knock down my belief in Sola Scriptura. Not that there was much belief left in it by that point.
The transition to Anglicanism was easier than I first thought. Sure, making the Sign of the Cross was a new idea for me. But you adjust. I eventually veered over to Anglo-Catholicism, which required a bit more effort because... well, it's in the name. Catholic.
Eucharistic theology is a good example of what I'm talking about. I'd been raised to view the Lord's Supper as a strictly commemorative act. I think I was 26 or so before I even realized there were differing opinions on the matter. But the ACNA parish I attended was decidedly Anglo-Catholic and about as high church as they could be given the parameters in which they had to work. And they made it clear that they believe in the Real Presence.
I rationalized it at the time. "Well, just because they think of the Eucharist as the Lord's body and blood doesn't mean I have to. It can be a strictly symbolic memorial for me." But I soon stumbled across the letter written by St. Ignatius to the Smyrneans wherein St. Ignatius identified as a heretic anybody believed the Eucharist wasn't the Body and the Blood. Historians differ on whether Ignatius was taught by St. Peter, St. Paul or St. John, but what seems sure is that he was trained by at least one of the apostles.
Considering how far back in history that was, wouldn't St. Ignatius know what he was talking about?
His view of the Eucharist as the Body and the Blood of Our Lord was a game-changer. It was also the first time I'd given Catholic theology real consideration. No "reformed" nonsense, no Anglican middle step, pure, straight-up Catholic doctrine. And for the first time I realized Catholic teachings held up to scrutiny.
Most people have common objections to Catholic theology. My objections were no different. And what I found was the Catholics had a good justification for everything, no matter how small. Take a crucifix, for example. I had the usual evangelical reservations about them, and found easy answers for why Catholics tend toward crucifixes rather than empty crosses.
My point is that they had a logical, coherent answer for everything. Everything! Now, yes, it offended the anti-Catholic sensibilities in which I'd been raised. No doubt about it. But do you turn your back on the truth because people won't like the fact that you found it?
Another thing was that creeds are only divisive when heretics listen to them. The entire point of a creed is to identify the key elements of our faith and distill them down to a quick summary. If you can't recite a creed in good conscience, you don't belong. Simple as that.
Ditto formalized prayers. They're only as robotic and lifeless as the person praying lets them be. If one's heart isn't in it, it's their fault; not the formalized prayer's.
Similar things can be said of other uniquely Catholic practices. My point, however, is that the Church can defend and justify all her beliefs and practices when someone with an open mind gives her the chance.
And ultimately that was probably the greatest revelation of all.
More to follow.
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