A number of you have asked what happened to this blog over the past two weeks. Thank-you for keeping me on my toes.
The truth is that I had a post ready to go two weeks ago but on ‘sober second thought’ realized that I didn’t want to post it in its then current form. By ‘sober second thought’ I mean after receiving loving feedback from Sandra, my wife and best friend. Our relationship has always been based on being ‘frank’ with one another, and after reading my last blog draft, she was very ‘frank.’ What I had written was true and valid, but it also resonated with an anger which I no longer felt, an anger I did not really want to ‘put out there.’ So what follows is “Grace 2.0.” This version puts across the most important message I wanted to express without dwelling on my own ‘issues.’
………
I have had a love/hate relationship with ‘the church’ since my early teens. Though I have never really ‘left’ the church, I have tried to distance myself on a number of occasions for different reasons.
My earliest memory of ‘hating’ the church arose when I was 12-14 years old. At the time, we had a priest in our parish who was not popular with certain members of our congregation, for many different reasons. Despite this, I always felt welcomed and supported by his ministry and became close friends with his three children who were close to my age. Under his leadership I became a member of the choir, later a server, and eventually a server leader/trainer. Unfortunately, that year, at our Annual General Meeting, a crisis was brewing. Though the surface issue was that of ‘pay,’ at its heart was a simmering desire to display the power of certain members of the congregation and their ability to put the minister ‘in his place.’ At the AGM, many unchristian things were said about the rector, his wife, and his family. The minister’s wife left in tears and my own grandfather, who I think was on the vestry at the time, was so disgusted by the whole thing that he walked out of the meeting and quit the vestry.
This was my first AGM, my first experience of the ‘church’ outside of worship. It left an indelible impression. THIS was what the church was really like? Spitefulness and anger and abusiveness towards others? No thank-you. Sadly, my immediate reaction was to align myself with those who supported the rector - to pick sides - and deride and vilify those who were on the ‘other side.’ I was young…and stupid.
In the years that followed I became more and more involved with church-governance at local and diocesan levels. My personal attitude mellowed a bit, but I saw more and more anger and childishness at all levels.
In the following years, I became adamant that I would eventually become a priest in the church, hoping to ‘fix it.’
Towards the end of my undergraduate degree I started having misgivings about whether or not the church could be ’saved from itself’ and whether I could hope to have any positive influence in making things better. After having gone through my Diocesan Postulant Committee for recommendation for consideration for training to the priesthood I was offered the opportunity to attend the local Advisory Committee on Postulants for Ordination (ACPO) conference where, through a series of interviews, I might receive the final recommendation I needed in order to start theological training. I was not in a good space. The more I had become involved with the church on different levels, the more convinced I became that it was at best, flawed, and at worst, corrupt. I could not imagine my life’s work being tied to such a broken organization. I eventually turned down my opportunity to attend ACPO and walked away from the whole discernment process. For the next year I tried to find a new focus, starting a Master of Philosophy degree.
Through this prayerful time I slowly came to realize that a calling is a calling is a calling, and in spite of all my anger and misgivings, my life would be incomplete without being totally focussed on ministry to others. I seriously looked at other churches, but could not bear the thought of ‘jumping ship.’ For better AND for worse, I was an Anglican. It was like family for me. Love them or hate them, your family is your family. I started back on the discernment path and eventual training for ordination as an Anglican Priest, though with a thicker skin and heavy dose of skepticism towards the institution.
I guess you’re hoping that I might next tell you how I eventually came to love the church.
Ain’t gonna happen!
I am dedicated to the Church. I am a servant of the Church. I believe in the Church. I am not ‘in love’ with the Church.
This brings me to the whole point of this post - why I can no longer hate the Church.
THE contentious issue which has defined my adult spiritual life as a member of the Anglican Church of Canada has been with regard to how we treat our GLBTQ+ brothers and sisters. I do not know a time when I was not 'affirming' and have always believed that the church should be also. Whether in reference to welcoming members of the GLBTQ+ community as full and equal members of the church, through to recognizing the validity of the ordination of members of the same community, and recently the need to change our Marriage Canon to affirm and bless the relationships of GLBTQ+ persons, I have been affirming, positive, and vocal.
Three years ago, when the first counting of the ballots at General Synod suggested the Marriage Canon would not be changed, I was devastated and angry. I had some serious thinking to do. Could I remain a member of a church which seemed to be denying the sanctity of so many relationships? If the church could not honour my GLBTQ+ brothers and sisters and their relationships, could I remain a member, let alone a priest? The next day brought the surprise twist of a recount which allowed the first reading of the change to the Marriage Canon to pass. I was (almost) elated. I remembered too well the pain of the night before and was all too aware that in another three years, the ballots would be handed out again in order for the change to become official.
I have lived the past three years in a love/hate relationship with the Anglican Church. Some days I live in hope and others is despair. I have reconsidered again and again if I can remain part of the Anglican Church if the Marriage Canon does not change.
A few weeks ago I was blessed to have been invited to a gathering of GLBTQ+ leaders in our Diocese. The 'agenda?’ To be together in support and fellowship and to try to figure out how to BE together as members of the Anglican Church of Canada after General Synod, regardless of the decisions made there. I had very little to say throughout the evening. I was a bundle of love/hate, wanting to find ways to fight for the recognition of the sanctity of those gathered, but also very aware that, maybe for once in my life, I needed to sit and listen. So, I listened.
I heard a lot of pain. A lot. The amount of rejection, violence (verbal and otherwise), and derision the GLBTQ+ members of our church have experienced at the hands of their own sisters and brothers in Christ is appalling.
I heard fears expressed for our young people as they come to terms with their sexualities in the months and years to come. Will they think that God has rejected them?
As I sat there, I felt swept up in this pain and fear. I felt angry.
But….the one thing that was not expressed by those around me was anger. Let that sink in.
There was pain, yes, and there was fear, but the response from my GLBTQ+ brothers and sisters was grace and love, and not just grace and love for each other, but grace and love for the church, and for those who have been the sources of fear and pain. To be honest, there was a holiness in that room that could not be denied. God’s grace was pouring through this community, aching to bring healing and wholeness to the Church. Every person in the room echoed an unshakable belief that they are children of God. They are children of God, and regardless of how General Synod decides its various motions and amendments, they will remain children of God. They are not going anywhere. They love God and God’s Church too much to do otherwise.
The witness of this group broke the anger that had resided in me for so long. The witness of my sisters and brothers in Christ opened my eyes to see the Church for the first time, a Church of grace, forgiveness, and love. My GLBTQ+ brothers and sisters revealed to me the Church at its best – the body of Christ – and I love them for it. Though I still struggle to use the word ‘love’ with regard to ‘the Church,’ I cannot imagine ever hating it again.
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