As the designated "youth guy" in my parish, preparing the teenagers for baptism and confirmations falls under my jurisdiction. As I've been refreshing myself on the Hebrew Covenants, Church History, the Bible (pretty much Christianity in a nutshell 101) ect, I've been reflecting on my own Confirmation a few years back, and my journey leading to it.
Before I even start there, I have to give a shout-out to my friend Mike. After months of going to youth service on Wednesdays at Canyon Hills, he was the only one to ever say hi, and introduce himself, and sit with me, and be my friend. I haven't seen him in years, but I am still thankful for those early years of friendship. Us gays gots to stick together!
Even though I can pull off the "Cradle Episcopalian", I must confess my roots go back to the Assemblies of God. My Mother raised me several different non-denominational Charismatic-type churches, but after she fell out with a congregation, I was sent with my Grandmother, and most of my childhood recollections in faith take me back to First Assembly, where just about three generations of my family prior had worshiped. One of my Grandmother's Bible's has it on record where I first "received Jesus in to his heart and put his trust in his Savior". I remember it well. It was a Kid's Crusade type night. I was about seven. I had knowledge of Jesus and his dying on the cross from an earlier age from my other churches, without question I considered it true. I had scrapped my knee pretty bad, and I asked the pastor to pray that God would heal it. Right after Pastor Pete lead me in the "Sinner's Prayer". Now, I have a lot to say about potential misguidance of the "Sinner's Prayer", and I of course did not have the St. Paul Conversion Experience which seems to be so stressed in that wing of Christianity, but I will consider that the first moment I considered myself as Christian.
When I was a kid, I would not shut up about the dude. I remember so clearly once at school I was feeling sick and laying down in the infirmary. Another kid came in and we started talking. I thought Jesus was way cooler than the fact that we were out of class. The kid wasn't having it, and my missionary attempts were put to a halt when the office lady said I was obviously well and needed to go back to class. Oh, the injustice I felt!
In sixth grade, for whatever reason I have yet to inquire on, my Mother and Grandmother thought I should try a different summer camp. They send me on the bus with Canyon Hills. I was terrified. None of my Sunday School mates were there and we were going to camp which I had no familiarity with. It ended up being okay, and since my Mother and I had not been to church together in ages, I suggested we started going to Canyon Hills. She agreed, and we did...for a month. We quickly became Chriesters (Christmas-Easter Christians).
It wasn't until the spring of my 8th grade year, I went to Camp Keep. My cabin counselor was an exchange student from Germany. Looking back, I honestly think it was a mixture of his strong faith, and the fact that I had no idea that the raging and changing hormones in a 12 year-old gay kid where making me crush on him, which instantly inspired me. I had a conversion experience, I found the faith which has been tossed aside. As soon as I came back from camp the only thing I wanted was to be baptized. So, I went back to Canyon Hills that Wednesday, I actually went to the high school group, and since I looked older, I passed off as a Freshman. Lo and behold, a sign from above, Baptisms were being done that Sunday. I signed up, and on Sunday, February 13 2000, I found myself being dunked in a jacuzzi like basin, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
I was involved in the church throughout high school. Singing in choir, and playing cello on Sundays, going out of town to camps, conventions, and the yearly Fine Arts Festival. It wasn't until my senior year and summer before college that Canyon Hills lost its appeal. The pastor and his family had a monopoly on the congregation, it was almost a family business. Worship services were staged to be "spirit led". Flashy lights. Unneeded cameras doing close ups of people in worship. It was the most pathetic attempt at being a mega-church that I had ever seen. So, I returned to First Assembly with attempts to get closer to my family who still attended there, and recover from all excitement at Canyon Hills.
The tides turned five months later. I somehow received a catalog from the National Cathedral. While flipping through it, I came across the Anglican Rosary. I was instantly intrigued. I researched, and made on up of my own. I grew to love the prayers, the Jesus Prayer, Trisagion, and Gloria Patri. I would sneak it in and use it during services at First Assembly. It is easy to conclude that my first introduction to liturgy and contemplation.
Now, my girlfriend at the time and I had been together for almost 4 years, I thought it would be best if she and I started attending church together. She was raised more-or-less in the United Methodists tradition, and I was starting to question the unquestionableness of the fundamentalists. The First Sunday of Lent in 2005, we walked into the contemporary service at St. Luke's Episcopal (now affiliated with the Anglican Church in North America). There were only a handful of people there. I instantly recognized prayers from the rosary. I loved the pomp and circumstance of it all. I was there to stay. I experienced God in the Eucharist.
One of the reasons why I was initially attracted to the Episcopal Church was how open it is. It was my first year in college. When I was questioned on issues which related to my faith, I wanted to give a real answer. I did not want to give some sort of no-questions-asked sort of answer. This could be potentially offensive, and I don't apologize for it. When a person believes something which is contrary to what the natural world tells us, the answer almost makes excuses for God, rather than promote God through the use of intellect. I knew what I had been trained to say when I had studied Fundamentalism Apologetics, and those were answers which I wasn't comfortable with giving. This left me to come up with the answers myself, and the Episcopal Church gave me room to do so.
I served as an acolyte, and played bass guitar in the contemporary service. I wanted more than anything to be an official Episcopalian. In October of 2006, on St Luke's Sunday, and the day we celebrated the congregation's 50th year, Bishop Schofield placed his hands on my head, asked for God's blessing, and slapped me ever-so gently on my left cheek. I was confirmed.
What happens next is a major turning point in life, I will greatly condense the story by saying I came out, and Paige and I broke up. I emotionally took a year off from life to come to terms with my sexuality, and reconcile it with my faith. It was without a doubt the worst year of my life. For a time, I felt so guilty for receiving communion and wasn't sure if I had the same faith I had the year prior, so I stopped going for a time. Since I was heavy into meditation at the time, I almost made a conversion to Hinduism (my friend Sandra says there is no difference, I would still like my bells, incense, and shrines...she had a point). I slowly recovered my faith, I knew I was gay, and that God's love would never be irreconcilable. I had to discern whether or not the call to celibacy included me, but that would come in time. I resumed my activities at church.
At that time, the Episcopal Church in the area was very conservative. I loved my congregation, but knew I could never come out. There were, and still other parts of me, so that did not matter as much to me. I figured one day I would move on to an Episcopal Church elsewhere that would include me. All that changed when the Bishop announced that the diocese would cease to be affiliated with the Episcopal Church over the issues of Biblical interpretation, ordination of women to the priesthood, and inclusion of gays and lesbians.
It was a sad time. I tried to be involved with St. Luke's and the local Remain Episcopal group (now Grace Episcopal), but in the end I left St. Lukes (the Sunday one of my priests made a very nasty remark about my involvement with the "heretics"), and remained Episcopal.
One could say the spiritual life could be a series of conversions and confirmations. Of course, God see's his Church as we are, potentially good and potentially bad, but in need of guidance and salvation, and God see's us and accepts us as we are created. But on our end, we are still working on it, confirming our faith that we will be brought to the full conversion to be more Christ-like. In the sacrament of Confirmation, a person accepts and professes to their faith as an adult. The first of many confirmations to come.
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