[Photo by Larkin Hammond on Unsplash] For about eighteen months I have posted on most Sunday evenings a snippet of my life as a Baptist. My stated purpose was to pay homage to the people and places that formed me as a Christian, to acknowledge the good I gained. Some of you have followed and commented faithfully, and I appreciate that more than you can know. I have other stories of hurt and harm, and this is not the place for them. So I believe I’ve come to the end of this particular road. If there’s something else you’d like me to blog about (I can go on for quite a while about the Methodist deaconess movement of the 1800s or medieval women mystics!) feel free to suggest it. All of the entries here will remain, probably for a long time. I’ll continue posting in the blogs about my reading life and the (official) saints of the church. Thanks again for reading!
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[photo from Wikimedia] Making the break took me nine years. I kept waiting to get over the flu/flirtation with the Episcopal style of worship, searched for (but did not find) a church in the area that offered what St. Paul’s Akron had. Meanwhile, upsetting things continued to happen at church and at work. But I couldn’t imagine a different life, after years working in the library of my alma mater. I had no idea what other job I might have; knowing I wouldn’t go back to teaching, I was immobilized. I reconsidered an old dream of seminary—not to become ordained, but as a transition and a way to honor my love of study and writing. After I was accepted by the Methodist Theological School in Ohio, I prepared to leave the world I loved. I had to leave, because my job was contingent on being a faithful member of a Baptist church and ascribing to both a doctrinal statement and a statement of conduct. The former was becoming a problem. I was confirmed in the Episcopal Church in spring 1994. That summer I left, with God’s blessing, delivered the night before I moved seventy miles away. My apartment was packed; friends were coming the next morning. I was in the “what have I done” phase and went for a walk. I heard bagpipes, reminiscent of the bagpipes at St. Paul’s that had begun this part of the journey. Sure enough, a small group of bagpipers were standing on a knoll outside a nearby church, rehearsing, playing for themselves and for me. |
Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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