Part II Following the River into an Ancient Faith
My journey into Anglicanism
Last time, after identifying that the Holy Spirit is actively nudging believers towards a more sacramental, liturgical faith in this season, I shared the beginning of my journey down this path. In this article, I want to pick up that story and highlight some of the most important ah-ha moments, as well as places where I have had to pick up my cross, follow, and die to myself. My prayer is that if you are in various stages of this journey or have friends who are moving in this direction, you might gain some encouragement as you also engage with this move of the Spirit.
If you want a refresher, you can review the story so far, here.
ABIDING AT THE TABLE
My newfound appreciation for the Historical Church presented me with a quandary. Clearly, for the first 1,500 years of the Church and even now, for the vast majority of Christians, (Eastern Orthodox, Catholic, Lutheran & Anglican) – the Eucharist, the Table, the Lord’s Supper, or Communion (depending on what you liked to call it), was/is the high point of their common worship. For them, it was more than remembering the cross or being thankful for redemption (as important as these are), rather, it contained mystery. It was a mysterious point of actual communion, spirit-to-Spirit with the real presence of Christ.
I had only been taught that communion was about an obedient, monthly moment of remembrance (remembering how sinful we were/are, remembering how massive a price Christ paid, remembering how we needed to walk in more holiness), while the pinnacle of worship was always as we poured out our songs of praise. Praise, I was taught, was where we could expect the most intense activity of the Holy Spirit because, after all, God dwells in the praises of His people (Ps 22:3).
In addition to scheduled monthly communion, my experience had also been that communion was our go-to action when we needed a way to mark a kumbaya moment. When unity had grown, when there had been reconciliation, or when we were on a retreat together and relationships had deepened. Bread and grape juice came out as tears flowed. This seemed right and good.
So, thinking about how the historical Church viewed and experienced the Eucharist was challenging, jarring even.
God was challenging me to continue to expect Him to encounter us as we worshiped, while at the same time, also leaning into the promise of Christ communing with us as we ate His flesh and drank His blood -- no, not physically (transubstantiation)-- but much more than metaphorically.
So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” John 6:53-58
It took a bit of time, and it took me choosing to believe the scriptures, but what I discovered was a place of abiding, being supernaturally strengthened, renewed, loved, and fed by Jesus at the Table. Suddenly, Paul’s caution not to eat unworthily (1 Cor 11:27-30) made sense. These were holy things and a holy moment. Just as Uzzah didn’t discern how holy the Ark of the Covenant was, but treated it like a fancy box, the Eucharist is a means by which God intends to build spiritual strength in us. Therefore, when we treat it casually, as a common thing, or approach the Table without any appropriate moments of self-examination or confession/ repentance/ cleansing we suffer the reverse effects— weakness.
Now I find the Eucharist the most important and anticipated moment of our Sunday services. I love the preaching and teaching of the scriptures, and I love when the whole church is abandoned in worship, but the Table is without question, the high point, the “thinnest place” of our service. It’s in the vein of what Moses experienced when he took the elders up the mountain to eat with God, and it’s a foreshadowing of the wedding feast of the Lamb (Ex 24:9-12, Rev 19:6-9). It’s the promised place of encounter and I’ve noticed that with weekly communion, I now have a different type of spiritual strength and stability that buoys me and carries me, which I had never experienced before.
As an aside, the historical Church would never imagine the recent idea of people taking communion on their own. If that is something you have been practicing, be aware that of course it’s not sinful, but it’s completely missing the intent. Communion is a we, not an I.
I think it was praying the Lord’s Prayer daily and feasting on the Eucharist weekly that set me up to finally understand the gospel. Weekly, as our priest placed the bread and the chalice in my hands; I practiced receiving, not achieving. No longer was I trying to ascend spiritually, looking for an increase of anointing, authority, or encounters with God. Rather I simply began to trust in Jesus, all that He had done and provided for me, including full union with Him. Trusting didn’t mean that I became passive, but I received everything I needed, and all the benefits of Jesus’s righteousness – by grace, through faith—instead of striving.
This was life-changing.
It gave me eyes to see where striving had been taught and practiced, especially in the prayer movement. But I was no longer caught on that treadmill. Praise God!!
THE CHALLENGE OF BECOMING ANGLICAN
I was delighted with all the ancient treasures the Lord had brought into my life but then the little community I was journeying with decided to formalise their convictions and become Anglicans. Another step, another challenge. While there was nothing theologically that I disagreed with and I could see the incredible value of being a part of a worldwide communion of believers 80 million strong— if I were to take this plunge, it meant dying to my independence. That was a hard pill to swallow.
Being independent meant I called the shots. In many ways, I pastored myself, protecting myself from anything that I didn’t want to be involved in, sidestepping and avoiding any leader who raised red flags. Leaning in or walking away… I followed the Lord to the best of my ability, but I wanted to be the one who determined what that meant!
However, Anglicans are people who are submitted, to the Lord and to scripture (of course), but also to the Church, its structure, leadership, and godly traditions. Yikes! I got squirrely just thinking about it!!
I had to get honest before the Lord and recognize that I walked independently because I didn’t fully trust the Church. Sure, my husband and I made decisions together, and of course, I had advisors who spoke into my life and ministry, but ultimately, we could chooses to receive their counsel or not, so ultimately, I still held the trump card of independence.
Ever so slowly the Lord began to woo me into surrender and trust. He showed me the goodness and life that came from being deeply enmeshed in the Church in contrast to my picking and choosing how and when to be involved. There was spiritual life in the community that went to a different level when you entered in fully, I could see it. I could also see it in the scriptures.
As the Lord took me deeper into exploring the roots of my resistance, I realized that even more than not trusting the Church in general, I didn’t trust leaders. I had been under too many leaders who required submission from me and yet were themselves, unaccountable. Like my stance of having counsellors who I could listen to or not, numerous leaders I had been under, also had counsellors, overseers, boards, and apostolic coverings that they knew how to keep happy— while still doing exactly what they wanted! Authentic accountability was an illusion. Sadly, they were just as independent as I was.
BISHOPS
What I didn’t see initially, however, was how much accountability was built into the Anglican leadership structure. I understood that bishops served as overseers for the priests in their diocese (typically a geographic region), but I didn’t know how bishops were genuinely accountable to the canons (like by-laws) and the college of bishops (the group of bishops that serve the various dioceses in a nation or continent). Slowly, I grew in trust and in confidence that these leadership checks and balances weren’t just for show, and I took the plunge, along with my husband, of being confirmed as an Anglican[1].
It was only a year later that I saw, on full display, the wisdom and safety of the Anglican leadership structure. Our bishop, who had also fairly recently become an Anglican, was accused of spiritual abuse. The archbishop put him on leave (the archbishop leads the college of bishops), while a confidential, professional, and thorough, investigation ensued. This became a massive undertaking as many more concerns were brought forward from a wide variety of individuals. The necessary interviews and collecting of affidavits took years to do in a pastoral, and even-handed way. Finally, the investigation was complete, and the college of bishops concluded our bishop needed to be tried by an ecclesial court.
I won’t bore you with the details of all of this, but the end result was after three painful years of process, our bishop was indeed found guilty and stripped of his ordination. While there was incredible grief over what had been revealed, I could freely say I had never seen such a careful, godly, process for addressing misconduct by leaders. I guess I had never seen healthy accountability in action. I had seen leaders be removed, but it was often done quietly, so as not to embarrass them, or if their offence was publicly known it was: “Restore them and get them back into leadership as soon as possible because the kingdom needs their anointing!” This was entirely different. Concern for the people of God was as high a priority as care for the leader under investigation. This wasn’t the toxic “culture of honour” that was always skewed towards protecting those at the top, nor was it the model where any disgruntled church member could level a fabricated malicious accusation and ruin a leader’s ministry career because we always “believe the survivors”.
Ironically, the trial of my former bishop revealed why I could trust the leadership structure and trust bishops. They weren’t independent.
Today, my husband and I are settled and growing in grace as Anglicans. I’ve been ordained as a deacon and serve in our local parish, which we helped plant. I love the structure that leaves room for the Holy Spirit to move in beautiful ways, I love the liturgy which keeps drawing me near to Christ, and I love the historical rootedness that brings wonderful depth to how we live out our faith. I think I have grown more as a Christian in the last 5 years or so than in many previous decades. While Anglicanism has some major challenges and is of course not where God is calling everyone, if you feel the River of God might be leading you this way, you can trust that the Holy Spirit is indeed taking you to a good destination.
[1] I should clarify that we were confirmed into the biblically orthodox Anglican Church in North America, (ACNA), rather than the liberal Anglican Church of Canada.