I am what you refer to as a cradle Episcopalian, or someone who was born into the Church. My parents made the decision for me to be baptized and from that point on it started my journey. As a young child my family always attended church on Sundays, often against my will. I had trouble understanding what they were talking about during the sermons and the parish members always asked me a thousand questions about how things are going. Each Sunday I patiently waited for the last candle to be extinguished and ran to the common room to check if there was a cake this service, if not I was ready to leave. I didn't question at the time why my dad forced me to sit quietly in a pew for an hour once a week. It was just something I had to do.
As I matured and began to question the world around me I had a few battles with my faith. At age 7 I attended Camp Phoenix, an Episcopal summer camp here in Missouri, and really started to understand the importance of reading the bible. I fell in love with the concepts and the virtues and the idea that God loves all. During the day we studied the Bible and swam in the lake. We had night time services with campfires and spiritually charged prayers that sent me home feeling the need to spread the word of God. We were high energy and standing with Christ. Of course life sent me on a few spirals and I began to lose my connection to the church. It was becoming just something I had to do on Sundays again, a reason I couldn't stay at my sleepover with the rest of my friends. In fact I refused to get confirmed like the rest of my family had. I did not want to stand before God and claim I have been confirmed in my faith when I was still very much so struggling with it.
I am now 20 years old and I am finally beginning to understand what my father had in mind by sending us to church. It was not about us being forced to take on his Christian views, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we walked away non believers. What the Episcopal Church did for me was help to shape me as a person. I learned loving God did not mean feeling guilty for your sins, but feeling the need to spread his love in your daily life.
The Episcopal Church taught me acceptance because of how amazingly diverse our congregation was. There were LGBT households, homeless members of the church, and people from around the world.. all worshiping together. My time with God lead me to soup kitchens and food distribution and things that meant a whole lot more than showing up on Sunday. But by making us go with him each Sunday gave us a community we will be a part of for life. Those people who cared about me as a small child still ask me how my life is going today, and look forward to seeing me. At moments when I feel like I have no where in the world I belong, I know there is a place for me at my church where I will be accepted and listened to without judgment. Rather than dreading talking about school after church I now look forward to coffee hour where I can see so many familiar faces that remind of what faith is really about. Because my father sent me to church, I not only deepened my faith but I deepened my humanity. For this reason I will always be grateful towards him.
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