Day 12
" But when I think about
roots, it’s difficult to remember myself in one place. The “Southeast”, even the state of
Alabama (where I’ve been since I was 17…except for a seven year foray into
Mississippi), seems too large a piece of the map to call home. My life has actually been very nomadic. I believe that I live in my 35th
house- and I’m paying rent for it.
And
this nomadic life is what actually brings me home to my spiritual
geography. And connects me with my
roots. This year I think I have
come home to my own family. We are
a three-generation Navy family. By
the time we came to Alabama, I had been in eight schools and had moved some ten
times. We changed denominations
with each move. I was baptized by
a Navy Chaplain, catechized by the United Church of Christ, confirmed a
Methodist, and finished my teen years as a mainline Presbyterian. Nomads.
I
thought I left this all behind when I struck out on my own. When I found a more “sure”,
conservative and fiery brand of Christianity in college, I entered it
whole-heartedly, and even rejected and attacked my spiritual lineage. I dismissed my baptism, and went under
the water in a swimming pool, surrounded by 100 arm raising cheerleaders. I took on the spiritual and political
outlook of evangelicalism. And for
the last 25 years, have lived in its culture.
But
even within this people, I have remained nomadic. I have moved from Charismatic and campus fundamentalism, to
conservative Presbyterianism, to the outer fringes of evangelicalism. The entire time, there was something in
me that felt out of place- like I wasn’t home, although I tried desperately to
be. I was a pastor for 20
years. That seems like trying.
Now,
this year, I have been shown the door by my “church family”. I have been sent into spiritual exile
(ex-communicated). And I have come
home. When all is said and done,
and a great deal has been said and done, I am more at home with my own flesh
and blood. My natural parents
really were my spiritual parents.
My ministry years have turned out to be my prodigal years.
In
the conversations I’ve had with my parents in the last two, very difficult
years, I have rediscovered my spiritual heritage. I will probably end as an
Episcopalian (the church of my mother’s childhood). I have heard voices there that remind me of my ancestry. They are kind, generous, welcoming voices. And they, like my parents, are letting
me come home." from Steve's journals