I am what is known, more or less with a wink and a smile, as a "cradle" Episcopalian — born into an Episcopalian family, baptized as an infant, confirmed at age twelve and still very happy within the fold. Have I visited churches of other denominations? Sure. But the lovely Episcopal rituals, familiar prayers and services are as much a part of me as breathing. This is home, no matter where I may be.
For over thirty years, I was a member of another, much larger, parish. We became members when our first child was born. Our boys were baptized and received their first communion there, and were confirmed in the same church. Their father's ashes are interred in that church's memorial garden, tucked inside a pocket of beautiful flowering perennials. The members of the parish were my extended family; I loved them all. And leaving was the very last thing on my mind.
But things change. And not all change is good, especially when it is forced on an unsuspecting parish. The new rector at my former church turned it into a center for purpose-driven fundamentalism, told parish members that their thoughts and concerns were of no interest to him, and encouraged those who were troubled by the changes to leave. People tend to become disillusioned when they are told by their priest to "get on board" or find a new parish home! And so parish members began to disappear. At first, the drift out the door was slow; soon, it accelerated and became a rush for the exits. Worse, so many of those leaving were parish members who were devoted to service, ministry and leadership — and those who provided continuity, linking past, present and future. When you leave with your rector's foot pushing you out the door, it's impossible to depart without feeling angry, bitter and disillusioned. We did; we're still struggling with those feelings in many ways. In one sense, giving up our church was like experiencing the unexpected death of a loved one — you cannot return to the past, no matter how dear, and the grieving process sometimes seems as though it never will end.
My own epiphany came the day that I visited another parish, now my church home. The reason I decided to visit was based on a service held at a time I could attend during a difficult weekend. Everyone was warm and welcoming, loving and giving. I had almost forgotten what a happy and healing parish felt like. And so I returned the following week, and the week after that. I prayed and thought and understood that I had been led to this parish. As I said, first you have to be ready to listen.
I like to believe that God was leading each of us who left our old parish to a renewed and deepening relationship with Him, and to parishes where our gifts were needed. I consider myself among the fortunate, as I found a new parish home almost in my own backyard.
Not everyone has found a new parish; some may never return full time to any church. And it's easy to see why many are very cautious about becoming involved in a new church. Still, most of us from my old parish stay in touch. And here is the amazing part. Those of us who have found a new parish also found the right place to heal, to find peace and have discovered new ways to serve the parishes and people we have grown to love. We are happy and we are growing within our new parish families.
My prayer is that each of us who left will find the same joy. But no one ever said that moving on was easy.
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