Readers of these columns have expressed
regrets several times that although there are columns describing myself as
evangelical, pre-Orthodox and Orthodox, there's really no one column describing
my transition journey. In response to another request for such a narrative
today, I wrote the following.—"Theo"
Dear Mary
—,
I'm glad
to share what I can of my journey to Orthodoxy with you.
Most of
it is told in the articles on my Theophilus and Friends website, though perhaps
the "nodes" are all there but some of the lines connecting them are
missing.
After
seeing the movie about C.S. Lewis, Shadowlands, in late December (I believe it
was) 1993, I started reading Lewis in earnest for the first time in my life,
though I had known of him for over 30 years. Reading Lewis made me realize that
my own Christian life was very shallow and lacking, though I was in church
every Sunday and often teaching and for a time serving as a guest preacher (I'd
been ordained and worked in campus and youth ministry almost 20 years). I also
was reading through the Bible beginning with the new year ('94) and when I got
to the book of Leviticus, though I had read it before this time it really came
to life. I found myself saying "I can't believe that the God I have known
all my life wanted to be worshipped in this way," with incense and carved
cherubim and seraphim and a structured liturgy. "Did God change how He
wants to be worshipped in the New Testament?"
I was
attending a large community church that had grown out of the Bible church
movement (an offshoot of the well known Peninsula Bible Church in Palo
Alto)—several thousand members, all kinds of weeknight programs, excellent and
erudite preaching that was largely Calvinistic...but after being there two
years I still didn't feel that I belonged. I was an observer. In fact, the
church having gone to Willow Creek to learn how "seeker friendly"
churches operate, I felt that the whole program was intended for observers more
than participants, and certainly more than worshippers. Although they had a
"worship committee," I never saw anything that seemed like worship to
me. Still, by everything I had been professing all my adult life, I had to say
it was a "great church." I even toured England, Wales, and Ireland
with the pastor and his wife and a busload of other members in May-June and had
a great time.
When I
got home, the letter that's on the website from the "San Jose
attorney," Jeff Rickard, was awaiting me. My initial interest in it was
entirely "professional." Here was the biggest "story" that
I as a journalist had ever been handed. Everyone in greater San Jose who had
any interest in religion at all would want to know the inside story of what
happened at Los Gatos Christian Church, why Jeff's father had left its ministry
after building it from around 100 to 4000 members. But out of professional
ethics I called him and asked, "are you sure you want to publish
this?" He was sure, and invited me to come to his office and go to lunch
to discuss it further.
I was
intrigued by his conversion to Orthodoxy, but after all he had just been
through a traumatic upheaval, his mother's brother was a high-profile Orthodox
priest, so it didn't seem that unusual. His purpose in writing the letter was
to attract others to Orthodoxy, not turn them against evangelicalism. He sent
me away after lunch with two books, Franky Schaeffer's Dancing Alone and (I
believe the other was) Becoming Orthodox, a collection of personal testimonies
of converts. I thoroughly disliked Schaeffer's book. It played fast and loose
with the historical truth of the Reformation and Anglo-American history, I
thought; it flew in the face of the main points his father's apologetic had
made throughout his life, and I found that distasteful to say the least (no one
had appreciated Francis Schaeffer's apologetic ministry more than I). But
nevertheless, Franky's testimony came through and between the
"errors" a strong apologetic for Orthodoxy was made.
Shortly
before finishing Dancing Alone, the pastor of the local Orthodox church that
Jeff Rickard belonged to, Fr. Charles Bell, sent me a copy of his little book,
Discovering the Rich Heritage of the Orthodox Church (that's at least close to
the title!) and it appealed to me much more. Fr. Charles had earned his
doctorate at a Presbyterian university and was not only steeped in Reformed
theology and faith but was still very sympathetic toward it. He treated Calvin
and Luther not with the snarling contempt of Frank Schaeffer, but with respect
and love. That was much more fitting.
I
finished his little book a small step closer to Orthodoxy, but still telling
friends "there's no way I'm going to convert." At the same time,
though I've never been "charismatic" myself, I had started attending
a kinship group of the local Vineyard Christian Fellowship that had grown up
where the one that had converted to Orthodoxy (Jeff Rickard's and Fr. Bell's
church) used to be! Some of the people who'd been on the
England-Wales-and-Ireland trip were in the kinship, and after a few Wednesdays
of prayer and fellowship with them, I also started attending the Sunday
services, which were held in the evening and so didn't conflict with the
morning services at the evangelical megachurch that I was in.
I began
reading Timothy Ware's books, The Orthodox Church (considered one of the best
histories) and The Orthodox Way (the author has since been made a Greek
Orthodox bishop in England and given the name Bishop Kallistos). Then I read
Fr. Alexander Schmemmen's history of Orthodoxy, and continued from one book to
another. I accepted Jeff Rickard's invitation to attend Sunday service at his
uncle's church 30 or 40 miles away, and was greatly impressed. I had, however,
attended liturgical churches several times earlier in my life. When I was a
student at the Reformed Episcopal Seminary, weekly chapel attendance was
required. Later, while ministering at Stanford, my family and I tried the local
Anglican Orthodox Church, which is high-church episcopal. In both of those
cases I found that once the liturgy was so familiar as to be virtually
memorized, it became almost meaningless.
I bought
and started to use the Orthodox Study Bible, reading all of the notes and study
aids to pin down as much of the theology as I could, and found it could serve
as a virtual catechism (Orthodoxy had no catechism comparable to the
Westminster, Heidelberg, or Baltimore Catechisms at the time). By this time, my
main quest was to find something that would convince me Orthodoxy was or had
once been apostate, a false and unfaithful bride of Christ. If it had once
apostatized (as I have no doubt Catholicism has, with its sale of indulgences,
doctrine of papal infallibility and the immaculate conception and other
issues), even if it had reformed itself enough to be "a" true church,
that was short of its being "the" true church. If it was just another
denomination, I wouldn't be compelled to join it. If it were still the same
church Christ and the apostles founded, I now had to concede (though certainly
others aren't as compelled on this point as I was and remain) that it would
behoove me to join it.
By
mid-summer I had decided that I'd take a couple of years and read all about it
and, if not persuaded that it had gone apostate, I might join it. By November,
every book I was reading was just another confirmation of the dozens of books
already read, so I decided my earlier course decision was already pretty much
fulfilled. In early October I wrote to a number of respected leaders in the
Reformed faith, including the retired former missions secretary of the
Presbyterian Church in America, asking if they could pinpoint a time or issue
on which Orthodoxy had gone apostate. None of them could supply such a time or
point. The missions secretary said he had often worshipped in Orthodox churches
while in Europe and found it acceptable within his belief structure, but that
for him becoming Orthodox would mean a betrayal of this own ethnic roots (!).
He essentially "gave me permission" to become Orthodox.
By
October 20 I'd made my decision and was so spiritually enthused about it that I
wrote my Christmas letter to my "list" at that time, explaining the
transition from evangelical to Orthodox to them. I knew this would be one of
the most difficult tasks and that while I was so enthused I should do it, even
though I had no intention of mailing it until December, and every intention of
rewriting it if I found impediments to converting in the meanwhile. I was
already enrolled in catechism class, though as an observer not an official
catechumen.
The
Sunday before Christmas, 1994, I was chrismated into the Holy Orthodox Church.
I'm still in the same parish—St. Stephen's Antiochian Orthodox Church—and
though it has good and bad points like any local church, I have never doubted
that becoming part of the "denomination" that our Lord himself
established was the best decision I've ever made. The liturgy has not become
tedious or lost its freshness; it is still 100 percent worship.
That's my
story in a nutshell, Mary —. If you have questions about any specifics, like
"how did you resolve the conflict between this and that" teaching of my
former church and Orthodoxy, please feel free to ask.
Best
wishes on your journey, and may the Lord of light lead you into all truth.
Source: http://www.nantyglo.com/theophilus/r31.htm
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