Denominational Journeys and Paths

Eucharist

Merianna, the kids, and I decided to make the trip up the mountain to Asheville, NC on Sunday (I keep finding it astonishing that we’re so close to Asheville now after our move back to Spartanburg, SC, last year) for church and a family visit to our favorite local pizza place. 

We worshipped with Asheville First Congregational United Church and their pastor, Rev. Dr. Kendra G. Plating. Merianna and Kendra were friends from their time together at First Baptist Greenville, as well as our Cooperative Baptist Fellowship community here in SC. I’m always curious about the religious journeys that people take in and out of and through various congregations and denominations, and how those journeys shape the person and they shape those communities.

Walking alongside Merianna in her journey through seminary and then being a CBF pastor and then ultimately a pastor in the United Church of Christ was a fascinating period of development and growth, and we often talked about the “how’s” and “why’s” of that walk over the years.

My own journey in faith is tangled in denominational and polity wanderings. Growing up as a Southern Baptist in rural South Carolina, I felt a call to ministry and that attraction to religion as a cornerstone for my life fairly early (15? 16? I wish I’d written more of that down as a young person). While attending Wofford College, I realized that my denominational sentiments leaned more towards the Methodist tradition (Wofford is a Methodist college, after all). I was convinced I’d end up as a Methodist minister (as a member of the Wesley Fellowship and frequent participant in campus church, the Methodist State Conference we hosted at Wofford every summer, and especially our Tuesday afternoon Chapel services). I evidently upset a girlfriend’s mom by making the flippant remark that “maybe I’d go Catholic” as I was toying with the idea of “high church” after getting to travel to Europe. I never did end up making the formal leap to Methodism. However, Methodist liturgy and hymns still play a big part in my life, and I frequently use those when leading services. 

When I arrived at Yale Divinity, I wasn’t exactly sure what to call myself, and there was no polity class for my technical status as a still-Southern-Baptist. So, I found myself taking American Baptist courses, much to the confusion of my advisor. It was a happy accident, and I also grew to respect and cherish what I found in the American Baptist tradition (especially given the short drive to the City for Riverside Baptist Church services on MLK weekends). I graduated from Yale Div as a still-Southern-Baptist, however.

Shortly after graduating, I ended up teaching (science!) at Hammond School back in South Carolina. A colleague’s spouse was the head of a group called the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in South Carolina. Perhaps the selling point for me was that President Jimmy Carter was also a member of the CBF and taught Sunday School in his hometown church. I began to attend services at the local CBF church in Columbia, and it felt like I had finally landed in a fellowship structure that fit me and that I fit as well. I attended Gardner-Webb University Divinity a few years later and met many good friends and colleagues who are now serving or did serve in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship as pastors and leaders. Some of those have ventured into other denominations such as Presbyterian, Methodist, Southern Baptist, and UCC. I finally had my Baptist ordination signed (by 3 women, I might add) in 2014 and remain a member of Emmanuel Baptist Fellowship in Lexington, SC.

Now, as Merianna and I look to the next part of our joint journey and our individual paths of calling, we are discussing polity, denominational structure, and liturgy. Being that we’re both ordained (in two separate denominations), these talks can get tricky when we discuss the possibilities of joining a new church here in Spartanburg and what that might look like for us and especially for our children (infant baptism? blessings? open communion?). 

It’s fascinating (to use that word again) how telling the story of our life journeys can seem so complex and winding unless you’ve lived the story. In my head, teaching Physics and Physical Science for almost 20 years easily explains my PhD work in Ecology, Spirituality, and Religion. Growing up a Southern Baptist influenced by Methodism, Aquinas, Quaker polity, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Catholicism (and Rosicrucianism and more esoteric faith traditions) makes for a completely coherent path in my own mind. 

Wherever this journey takes us, I’ll continue to find inspiration and revelation along the path. I like to think God demands that of us who choose to listen to the still small voice of the Divine whispering in a rush of wind, in the garden, and late at night as long-haired teenagers dreaming about the future (or as grey short haired men in their late 40’s telling stories and trying to understand the universe one day at a time).

I’m 40 now and it took me all of my adult life to come to a deeper understanding of the Lord’s Supper because of my Baptist upbringing

Similar story to mine here… reflecting heavily as we prepare to enter Lent yet again:

Having been raised in a Southern Baptist church in Oklahoma, I never had learned to be sentimental about the Lord’s Supper; it was something we observed once a quarter on a Sunday night so that no one would confuse us with the Catholics and so that non-church members were less likely to be present. And thus, even as a pastor, I have been somewhat nonchalant about Communion. I often thought other people were a bit too mystical and misty about the whole thing.

Source: What if the church year began on Ash Wednesday? – Baptist News Global

What is a High Church Baptist?

 

I’m a Baptist.

That’s not always an easy descriptor to assign to myself because I am…you might say…”high church.” A “high church baptist.” Weird, I know.

What does high church mean to me?

1. High church is an adjective that, to me, helps differentiate my preference and personal theology of worship from “low church.”

2. Neither high church nor low church is preferable to God or general polity of denominations or congregations. One is not better than the other.

3. To consider one’s self high church does not automatically mean one is Catholic or Episcopal (or Anglican) or Lutheran. To consider one’s self-low church does not automatically mean that one is B/baptist, Quaker, Pentecostal, Holiness or Primitive Methodist.

4. High church and low church are descriptors about worship preferences.

5. The distinction between high church and low church transcends a church’s carpet color and includes views on sacraments, liturgy, the lectionary and theology (and anthropology).

So, in this chain of thought, I’m a high church Baptist and there’s nothing contradictory there (at least that’s what I tell myself).

What does it mean to be a high church Baptist?

1. I consider the Eucharist/Lord’s Supper and the Word (Scriptures) to be the two fundamental aspects of worship. Worship, as Robert Webber points out in Ancient-Future Worship: Proclaiming and Enacting God’s Narrative, tells God’s story (it’s not something we do, but something in which we participate). I wish we participated in the Eucharist more often in Baptist worship services. Much more.

Oh, and I prefer wine to Welch’s Grape Juice. WWJD? Just saying…

2. I adhere to the mystical nature of the sacraments rather than viewing them as memorial events celebrating the life, death or resurrection of Jesus. Instead, our ordinances or sacraments are real and meaningful symbols that defy our post-Enlightenment cling to rationality.

3. As a high church Baptist, I hold that the place of the minister is to serve the congregation and creation in order to help a) tell God’s story daily and b) bring about the realized Kingdom of God. Preaching is a part of that, as is daily pastoral care and counseling… but being a minister is much more and includes recognizing the need for sacraments in the life of congregants (and the creation) on a daily basis.

4. High church Baptists recognize the need and responsibility for ecumenical discussions and inter-faith dialogue with Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Baha’i, and other forms/strands of faith communities. High church Baptists realize, through the Word and Table, the cosmic scale of our faith and are driven by the need to bring the creation into union with the Creator.

5. As a high church Baptist, I live my life in communion with God by participating in the Lectionary. It is an amazing experience to adhere one’s self to a daily and holy pattern like the Lectionary which helps us overcome the confines of a secular calendar and conception of time. Time itself is transformed and opens us to a move closer to the divine.

There you go. That’s my (always developing and always unfinished) conception of what it means to be high church and a Baptist.

Here’s a post that sums up things nicely in general (less specific and subjective) terms.

I’m sure I’ll post more on this as I reflect on these ideas over the coming months.