Confessions of a Cradle Episcopalian

By Rev. Joseph Martin

October 3, 2008

Dear friends,

On the eve of the vote to realign out of the Episcopal Church, I wanted to offer the following reflection. It is somewhat of a confession and a testimony from someone (your priest) who has spent his entire life in the Episcopal Church, with all of its comforts and amenities, and who, quite frankly, has struggled over the prospect of losing them. The testimony is about God’s goodness in releasing me from that struggle and allowing me to embrace the realignment issue with surprising peace. My hope is that others might be comforted by my experience.

Let me begin by saying that, literally, not a day has gone by in the last year, since our Diocesan Convention, that I have not thought something about my life in the Episcopal Church - growing up in it, being married in it, being called to the priesthood in it, or considering realigning out of it – one aspect or another has occupied my thought life, prayer life, family life, and ministry life for over a year. That might sound like a personal problem, but that’s how precious the church has been to me.

For me, growing up in the Episcopal Church was a positive experience. Sure, most experiences look better in hindsight, like the camping trip that got washed out was “so much fun” a month later, but, being an Episcopalian was good, maybe even too good. I do confess that as an Episcopalian, I grew up thinking we were just a cut above the “other religions.” That might have had something to do with the upper middle class social climate of our church but, in general, most Episcopal churches are marked by their polished brass, gold, and silver, fine woodwork, fresh flowers behind the altar, candelabras, and pressed, white linen. The “beauty” has always been as important as the “holiness,” and who doesn’t like beauty. All that to say, the Episcopal Church was a pleasant and comfortable place to grow up.

When it seemed that God was calling me into the priesthood, there was no doubt that it was into the Episcopal Church. Sure, that’s where I grew up, but, nevertheless, there was something more attractive about being an Episcopal Priest than a Baptist preacher, a Methodist minister, or an Assembly of God pastor, not to mention the salary, pension, health care, nice neighborhoods, and good schools for our children. Right now, our family’s nice, red brick rectory, in a nice suburban neighborhood, in walking distance to our children’s schools, is an ideal set up. And that doesn’t even include two-week long General Conventions, elaborate conferences, and other such benefits that come from a church where money has never been an object.

So, when the prospect of “leaving” the Episcopal Church (I’ve always contended that we were staying, they had left, but those are just different words now) presented itself before last year’s convention, I began analyzing every possible reason not to: We don’t need another Protestant split, we need to stay and fight, what witness will be left if we go, no one is preventing us from preaching the gospel, and on and on. But gradually, as each argument failed, I found myself staring at the one big elephant left in the room: What will ministry life be like outside of the comfort, security, and status I had known all my life in the Episcopal Church? A question I had talked a good game about but never really faced seriously, and it was daunting.

Of course, some of that concern is natural; we all want a job so we can feed our families, and most people prefer provision, beauty, and comfort over poverty and pain, but, for me, they had become somewhat of an idol, a dependency that had exerted more influence on my thinking than I realized.

The testimony in all this is that, over time, through no contribution on my part, except resistance, that dependency and fear has been gently lifted and in its place a small gift of faith that has allowed me the freedom to face and even embrace the prospect of ministry outside of the Episcopal Church.

Along with this freedom has come a new found clarity and even passion towards the upcoming realignment issue. What was once a tumultuous struggle, weighing pros and cons from history, theology, and ecclesiology, night and day, has become a solid conviction (instead of a childlike following) to stand with Bishop Duncan, regardless of the consequences, for the faith of the Church.

I’m grateful for all of you who have shared your love and faith during this time. We will continue to worship in the Anglican way that has been dear to us and, most importantly, God willing, we will continue to stand for the gospel of Christ that has saved our lives.

Your prayers for tomorrow’s vote, for the delegates, and for your rector are welcome.

See you Sunday.

Blessings in Christ,

joseph