Two of the most common questions I get on this Rome-ward journey: what does your Protestant husband think of all this? And what about your Anglican church family?
It’s truly a testament to my husband’s patience and faithfulness that he’s tolerated so many versions of me over the last almost 11 years of marriage. We were both nondenominational Christians when we met at Campus Crusade for Christ at Kent State. I couldn’t have told you the difference between denominations back then; they were pretty much the same to me.
Shortly before getting engaged, I dropped out of seminary due to a crisis of faith, which lasted years. I lost my father to cancer two months before my wedding, despite many prayers for healing. I’d see Facebook posts praising God for healing people of the same disease, and feel resentment. Once those seeds of doubt were planted, I’d try to rip them out, only to have several more take their place. The next few years that followed were full of anger and resentment towards orthodoxy.
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I considered it a sign when my car broke down and the first place I could safely pull over was in an Anglican church parking lot: the same church I attend today, five years later. Josh and I compromised to go there as a family: a halfway point between our two traditions, even though I will no longer be able to receive communion there after confirmation. Our daughter was baptized there, and our son likely will be too.
I owe a great deal to the Anglican church for helping me regain my spiritual footing. It’s a biblically orthodox community where the gospel is faithfully preached week after week. My daughter was one of the first new babies to be born into that community in a very long time: her godmother jokingly calls her “the church’s baby.” She’ll spend portions of the service on different people’s laps, which is probably why she’s showing signs of being an extrovert at just 18 months. She loves her “church family” as much as they love her.
And that’s a huge reason why I don’t think I can leave.
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When I attend Catholic mass on Saturday evenings, there are many similarities, but the social vibes are very different. People don’t seem to linger after the service; they just leave. The way into community there will have to happen in smaller groups, like a Bible study or mom’s group. I remember thinking, Why didn’t I discover this sooner? This is perfect for my introverted self!
But we’re not supposed to live the Christian life alone. A community like mine at the Anglican church took years to build, and is invaluable. It shouldn’t be dropped just because of a denominational switch, right?
I’d love for my whole family to follow me into Catholicism, but I know Josh has some doctrinal disagreements, and I respect that.
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More than anything else, I want us to attend church as a family, and I want my children to know Christ. It’s not complicated right now, while my daughter is too young to understand, and my son isn’t even born yet. But as the years go by, I anticipate questions: like why does Mommy take communion in one church, but not this one?
On some level, exposure to the diversity within the body of Christ is a good thing. But I also know that consistency is important for small ones, and that’s where Josh and I have more figuring out to do. That’s why I attend mass alone, for now. I pray regularly for clarity and guidance. My family’s situation is not uncommon, nor impossible, and I’m grateful for a spouse who supports where God is calling me.
Photo by Stefan Kunze on Unsplash
