How I Got Saved

Episcopalians seem to be uncomfortable with the concept of being saved.  Bring it up in a Bible Study or discussion group and the leader will say something like, “Salvation doesn’t always happen that way.”  By “that way,” he or she means a dramatic conversion experience – having  visions, falling over (because you’re pushed by the Holy Spirit), speaking in tongues or even feeling compelled to go up for an altar call.

None of that has happened to me.  I have to admit a feel I little cheated.  If someone would ask me when I was saved, I’d have to say, “About the second week in June.”  This is after over ten years of church attendance.  Maybe the first few don’t count, since it was a case of “Just go and sit there.  It can’t hurt and it might help.”  Over the years I began to do more emotionally than “just sit there.”  Of course, after about a month, I was serving coffee at Coffee Hour and taking money at the flea market.   But it did not feel sincere.  I still didn’t know what I believed or if I believed, but I knew that I wanted to.  (I also wanted a trip to Disney World.)

I decided to do everything I would do if I believed.  I was afraid that might make me a hypocrite, but as I said to God, “I’m trying here.”  I was waiting for it to click in.  I wondered if it ever would.

Then, I realized that it had.  I was having an internet argument with various atheists (along with some other Christians) and one not only told me that I was passive-aggressive, sick, twisted, naïve, uneducated and dishonest but that I gave people of faith a bad name.  The only thing that bothered me was being called passive-aggressive.  Seriously!  As I typed my answers, I realized that I actually, truly believed what I was saying.

I’ve been a lot happier since then.

Sometimes, I think, getting saved is realizing that you are.

Good Heavens, You're Annoying! You just might be turning into an annoying believer.

Of course you’re thrilled to be a Christian.  And you want to share it with everyone.  But you may be getting carried away.  Are you becoming the kind of Christian you used to make fun of before you got saved?

Here are some signs that maybe you’re sharing more than necessary.

1.        You refer to Jesus as “Christ” and God as “the Lord.”

2.       Saying grace takes five minutes (and the food gets cold).

3.       You are offended by religious jokes.  This is particularly annoying if they are jokes about your denomination.

4.       You tell a long story about your dealings with the cable company (“I’ve called four times and every time they tell me something different.”), then cheerfully say, “But I’m thankful to have cable.”  This might not be too much of a problem because your listener stopped paying attention five minutes ago.

5.       You claim you don’t know your zodiac sign, your significant other’s, or your children’s.  If someone says anything about horoscopes, you say, “The stars don’t control our destiny.”

6.       Someone (probably jokingly) talks about their prior lives or their future incarnations and you correct them.

7.       Someone talks about what they’re going to eat in heaven and you explain that we can’t imagine what heaven will be like, but it probably won’t involve food.  (I don’t joke about this.  I am counting on eating in heaven.)

8.       You say things like “discern” for “figure out,” as in “I can’t discern how to send pictures on my new phone” or “Be mindful” for “Keep your head out of your behind and pay attention.”

9.       You wear a Blessed Virgin Mother  t-shirt to your girlfriend’s bachelorette party (even if it’s funny).

10.   You wear more than three pieces of jewelry with crosses at one time.

11.   Someone quotes scripture and you correct them.  This is even more annoying if you’re right.

12.   You have underpants with the names of the days of the week and an appropriate scripture.  Even though no one else sees them, this is a warning sign.  You will probably be tempted to tell your friends about them.

13.   You say “scripture” for “the Bible” or “Bible verse.”  (Oops!)

14.   Every time someone talks about doing some fun, Christmassy, but non-religious thing during the holidays you remind them, “This isn’t what Christmas is really about.”  You should really be concerned if the person you say it to is your pastor.

Is this another elephant, or is it just me?

Did you ever have trouble coming up with sins to confess? I know that I am a sinner (as we all are), but some days, it just seems like I haven’t done anything.  Then I realize that I am headed for a spiritual smackdown.

Of course, there’s always not caring enough about the poor or the environment or war to beat myself up over.  But somehow that seems like slacking in self mortification.  What terrible, crummy things have I actually done?  Of course, I can always berate myself for not acknowledging my sin. 

I’ve thought about writing a short story about a woman who is as close to a saint as one can possibly be (No it's not me. I don't even come close.) and therefore so boring confession-wise that she decides to do something bad so she’ll have some material.  But everything, stealing, adultery, or even lying is too much trouble.

I think of the old joke “Spank your child once a day. If you don’t know what he did to deserve it, he will.”  So on slow days I close my confessional prayers with “and forgive me for all the bad things I don’t know I’ve done and forgive me for not knowing.”  And I’m sure God sighs and shakes his head.

Do I want to know what I'm missing? Isolationism or Worse

There are times when I feel I have to stay away from The World – not just the showy, materialistic idols we are always cautioned about, but from everyone who doesn’t think like I do.  Which is most of my immediate family and friends.  This does not limit my social life as much as you might think;  I know plenty of Christians to hang out with.

The interesting thing about this is that there is so much my Christian friends and I disagree on (gays, marriage, gay marriage, evolution, where the altar should be), but I am able to see past that, and they are too.  As one friend said, “That’s not a problem because I love you.”  This can go into the ever expanding data base on “What is Christian love?”

But I worry that I’m becoming closed-minded and that this is a bad thing.  I’ve shaken my head at the fact that there are people who have gone from kindergarten through graduate school in Catholic institutions and never had a non-Catholic friend.  I worry that I may be missing out on something or turning into one of those people whose friends start looking for giant (empty) pods in their basements.  I’m probably worrying too much and should just go with it. 

Is staying away from atheists any worse than refusing to try sushi?  (I did once have a bite of tripe in a Chinese restaurant.)

Dead Armadillos in the Via Media

(Via media is Latin for “by the way of the middle” or the middle of the road.  It comes up in fancy Episcopalian bull sessions, maybe after the second glass of wine.)

I love the old Texas saying, “The only things you find in the middle of the road are a yellow stripe and dead armadillos.”  But that’s not Episcopalian!  Depending on your point of view, we either see all sides or are “afraid of commitment.”  We take pride (acknowledging, of course, that we shouldn’t be prideful) in the fact that at any gathering, you can probably find someone who agrees with you and someone who disagrees with you and that the disagreement will not be disagreeable.  (The last part is the ideal, but I like to think it happens more often than not.  And we usually don’t have problems with saying things happen “more often than not.”)

This stance may seem to be the easiest to take, but is it?  While I don’t agree with the Catholic Church’s insistence on rules or with various denominations’ certainty that they know the only way to get to heaven, I sometimes think that such things must make life easier.  I sometimes even wish I could believe such things and have such trust in my spiritual leaders.

I sometimes think it would relaxing to believe “the Pope or the Bible or my pastor says so; I believe it and my job is to obey,” although even those people who do admit that it’s hard.

As I write this, I am waiting to come up with a “but.”  “But, of course, this isn’t good because . . .” And it isn’t.  But sometimes, like right now, I can’t think of a reason why.

So I continue on the middle way, with a fairly strong certainty that it’s best.

What do you think?

 

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