The Reluctant Evangelical
Why a girl who doesn't feel at home calls it "home" anyway.
* I don't intend to write very much in this form on the blog. I want to leave this as a sacred place for my soul explorations, words that don't connect concretely per se, but instead exist in the stratus to draw me and us into something beyond our everyday. However, this started ruminating last Sunday and I feel compelled to share it.
Leave it to me to post a light blog about theological dissonance on this Maundy Thursday. I'm nothing if not... accidentally provocative? Anyway.
I'll get straight to it. My theology is not Evangelical. In coming to a faith of my own I found that I feel most at home in Mainline Protestantism, or churches with more ecumenical practices. I feel at home when exploring what Christ's restorative love and power looks like not just within the context of a personal relationship or a physical building, but in the broader scope of the Church in the world, and how we care for, serve, and love the world around us. I believe this is as much a part of working out salvation as any decision we make about Christ individually.
To be incredibly honest, I feel like my skin isn't the right size for me in the Evangelical church. I can't get comfortable and I don't love it. But, I love the people who do and there's just no way around this. See, I was brought up in ministry and called into it, in a very ceremonious way at that, through the Evangelical practices. My youngest formative years were spent in a tiny Baptist church, after which we as a family collectively said, "And now for something completely different..." and plunged into the Pentecostal frontier. It was during the Assembly of God years that an Evangelist named Jesse Duplantis effectively "prophesied" over me at some event I cannot recall now, but whatever it was, I was singing and he was preaching. The experience was thrilling; it was odd and wonderful, and the words he spoke over my 13 year old self were the official words of "calling" for me in ministry, not to mention incredibly accurate to this day.
There is much about Evangelicalism that established my footing and still fills my veins, much about its people and its work that I care for very much. And therein lies the rub.
To say it isn't broken would be tone deaf; To leave it feels impossible.
[DISCLAIMER: I think there's brokenness in Mainline Protestantism, too. I'm only giving the exposition on Evangelicalism to provide context for my personal journey. Bear with me]
So why do I stay, you ask? That's easy: People. It’s community. It’s investing into the messiness of relationship. And in this way, church is the most accurate experience of community I’ve found. If I’m looking for an echo chamber, then I should probably get the hell out of dodge. If I’m looking to find my theology confirmed by the church and its leadership, then, in the words of Wesley from The Princess Bride, "Get used to disappointment."
But if I'm looking for what actual community can be, then it really is a gold mine if you know where to look. Take, for instance, my children. My kids are finding friends. They’re learning scripture. They’re experiencing the formation of their own faith, and because we have an open table policy at home—meaning we don’t take for fact what anyone teaches us, but we open it to conversation and question without fear—our conversations are richer and deeper because of the influence of a church community.
Take me as another example. I am experiencing things I had long abandoned, things that left me discouraged and disillusioned. Because Jesus works restoration,* He is introducing redeemed versions of much of what I’ve thrown away. It’s beautiful, really.
*[You’ll find this word in much of my writing because this is my life’s experience of Christ. I apologize if you tire of it. There is no other way for me.]
So, what to do with my discontentment? My disagreement? My pushback? If you know me at all, you know I can't just pretend it's not there. Instead, I write down my disagreements and enact that open table policy we talked about. I work through them with my hubby and friends... and Jesus. And then I hold them with more perspective while experiencing the beautiful things waiting for me right alongside the things that make me roll my eyes, or get angry or confused... you know, kind of like every relationship that means anything. Kind of like the way people experience me in relationship. gasp!
So. I am still in Evangelical world, this misfit who feels her clothes and her theology don't fit. And it’s STILL ok. Because I think that’s what the church is supposed to look like. It’s supposed to look like all of us bringing our messes and our questions and our gifts and our light and our fights and our common freedom... and learning to love really well in it while looking to the example of Christ as our guidepost.
How about you? Do you have a similar story? What's your church experience? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
