Monday, February 20, 2017

My Road to the Catholic Faith - Part Two: A Rich Heritage

Some people were brought up going to a Southern Baptist church.

I was raised Southern Baptist.  As in, our entire family was Southern Baptist.  My dear grandfather was was an ordained Southern Baptist pastor and helped found, lead, and was a professor at a Baptist University until he retired at age 90.  He was an awesome, godly, kind, and sincere man who I still revere so highly that I cannot think of a better man that I've known.  I love and miss him every day. He is my hero.  God rest his soul.

My grandfather with Billy Graham. 

My grandfather helped me see the value of faith and a simple life lived according to the teachings of Christ.  He loved hymns, sang often, spoke highly of people, was kind to strangers and showed me that these were good things.  

My uncle and father were also Southern Baptist pastors.  I guess I grew up thinking that this was the norm.  It felt very solid and good to be in a family so connected to church and to church people.  Church was every Sunday and Wednesday night, like clockwork.  Private school taught me a plethora of scriptures and manners and not much room for error.  Church taught me that God was known readily through the Bible, and that singing and praying were very important parts of life.  It wasn't okay to cuss, act up, disobey parents, do drugs, drink, dance (although this was always a curiosity to me).  The highest things we could do were to read the scriptures, know them, pray, and know Jesus intimately through these things.  I loved Jesus so!  He was more than an idea or a thought.  I felt him close to me. 

I had a conversion experience at age 6 or so where I felt the need to do something about my faith, and I "prayed to receive Christ" and was subsequently baptized by my father.  In explaining this to people I always noticed the emphasis was on praying a sinners' prayer, in faith, because that brought about salvation through faith alone.  Baptism was a nice thing and a commandment and a way to join the church, but it wasn't part of that salvation.  I didn't ask questions, I just did what I was told.  I remember at my baptism there were kids dressed up as sheep hiding behind the "backstage" walls of the built in baptistry at the front of the church because it was a children's musical and they performed right after my baptism.  I missed it because I was blow drying my hair.  

Some of the dearest memories I have of the Baptist church were summer camps where we would do devotionals and pray alone (I LOVED this part of camp).  Also, my Sunday classes were so precious to me.  I remember several of my teachers and how they clearly loved Jesus so much to sacrifice that time to teach a bunch of wiggly kids.  

In middle and high school, our church seemed to go off the rails somehow.  We got a new pastor, who had a "vision" for the church and pretty much ran it like a C.E.O. hoping to maximize profits (members).  He changed the business strategy (made the service cool) and basically ran off the traditionalists.  My mom happened to be the pianist at our church and she had an awful time through all this.  We went from organ/piano and hymns to a drumset and electric guitar in a few years.  As a kid I was already alienated.  I was not cool, nor did I want to be.  I wanted tradition and the comfort of what I'd grown up with.  Where did it go?

The turning point for me was in 10th grade.  They canceled my beloved youth choir and turned it into a performing group that included hip hop dancing.  I am not exaggerating when I say this:  that night we danced to Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation to perform for our parents, at church, on a Sunday night.  I turned to my mom afterwards and said "I'm done".

We bounced around for a while, at several Baptists churches.  I attended the Baptist university.  But it was all different.  I felt lost.  I wanted so badly to fit into my family and follow the same path, but it felt so broken.  I tried desperately to read the same books my friends read, to go to Sunday School classes, and to participate in choir.  But it didn't feel like the same church I grew up in.  Baptist churches are all autonomous, and there is no authority to keep things consistent.  I was very angry and broken: angry at my parent's divorce, really broken by my relationship with my dad, and suffering greatly. 

I was burned several times by churches, had a few bad experiences at my university, some bad breakups with boyfriends, etc.  College was tough.  I never stopped going to church, but it felt so laborious at times.  After college I moved to England as a missionary for 6 months.  This opened me up to more churches and a greater call toward traditionalism.  I was first introduced to the Church of England.  It was a profound time in my life.

After moving back began a time of trial.  My beloved Grandfather passed away.  To me, the Baptist world I had loved seemed to stay with him in that cold grave.  Something turned in me.  I also was involved in a situation where a minister made unwanted and inappropriate advances to me, at church.  No one believed me.  It was my word against his.  I stopped going.  

This wasn't the end, for me.  But it felt like it.  I had tried so hard to be a good Baptist.  I dug into the scriptures, but I couldn't find the depth that others seemed to.  I tried to.  I jumped into various programs and podcasts and groups to try to find what they had.  But I never could.  I tried charismatic groups.  I tried Calvinism.  I tried Lutheranism.  I tried Methodism.  I tried Presbyterianism. 
I wanted something more, something sweeter and nearer of Jesus.  Something more intimate.  My heart was longing for Him.

He is so patient.

This time of wandering and dryness seemed to stretch on so that I felt it would never end.  It was connected to my dating life, as well.  I'd start dating a guy and go to church with him, then it would end and I'd have to find a new church.  It's a pretty vicious cycle to be in.   Years, wandering years.  

He was so patient.  He knew where I was.  This wasn't the end; it was just the wilderness. 

I have a great love and respect for Baptists now.  They are people who love the scriptures fiercely.  They take their faith seriously.  They are the missionary-sending church.  They are the church of Jim Elliot, Lottie Moon, and Spurgeon.  They have done much good in the world.  I will always love them, but I have found a deeper way of being with Jesus.  I am forever grateful to the rich heritage which planted that longing deep within me. 


Other posts in this series: 

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