Today, I’m going through Confirmation. If you’re like I was just a few months ago, you’re asking yourself specifically what that is. Yay, Google! You can find the Episcopal Church’s explanation here, but let me attempt to explain it:
Confirmation is when a person makes a (new or renewed) public commitment to Christ and the Church via a special service that includes the laying on of hands by a bishop, whose blessing is passed on from a line of succession dating back to Christ. For my Evangelical friends out there, you know when you finally walk up to the front of the church, tell them you want to be a Christian, pray “the prayer” to “accept Jesus as your savior,” and then they present you in front of the church? It’s kind of like that, only they make sure you’re mature enough and ready to make that decision.
For lifelong Episcopalians, Confirmation generally happens during the teenage years. Baptism happens before that, usually when you’re a baby. There are misconceptions about all of this, especially from Evangelicals, but I get it now.
For Episcopalians, Baptism is something God does, not something we say or do. During Baptism, parents and godparents say they’ll make sure the child is brought up in the faith. Here’s how one book put it:
“Just as a baby has no choice about being physically born or adopted into a family, but hopefully will grow into an awareness of what it means to be part of that family, even so in Baptism the child is ‘sealed by the Holy Spirit … and marked as Christ’s own for ever … amidst the many changes and chances of this life that come our way, we can take comfort in the fact that we are beloved by God, not just for a moment but forever, and that the bonds that connect us to our Creator and Redeemer do not dissolve. Baptism is the visible sign of that wondrous grace!”
So, then, Confirmation is when you choose to make a mature public recommitment to the faith. For me, while I made that commitment at a young age and have already renewed it in some ways, this really seals the deal.
But it does not mean I will magically be perfect. It does not mean I will always agree with everything the Episcopal Church does, that the diocese does, that my local church does, or that people in it do. It does not mean I’ll suddenly be cured of doubts or will magically have it all figured out. I am, after all, still a mere mortal. Womp.
Before all of my conservative Evangelical friends reading this send out a search party for my soul, let me say a few things:
I did not and do not take this journey lightly. I reached this point through plenty of discernment that included prayer, reflection and conversation.
Having a different take on things than you doesn’t mean I suddenly care nothing about scripture or about Jesus. I chose to do the hard work. I dug in. I researched. And while I’m sure not having to think too deeply about one’s faith might be comfortable, I’m now at a point at which, like my journey as an LGBTQ person, I’m thankful I’ve had a longer road to travel to get to where I am today with my faith.
I’ve grown, y’all! But I also can’t imagine I’ll ever be like, “OK yep — got it — I know everything now with absolute certainty! That was fun.” It’s a lifelong sort of thing.
And you know what? I don’t think I would’ve gotten to where I am today had it not been for my sexuality. While I was already headed out of the Southern Baptist door before I knew for sure that I was gay, my sexuality forced me to leave even beyond what I was initially thinking. It forced me to actually read and study, especially when I began to ask the big faith questions again. Also, let’s not forget the totally smart, hot boyfriend/fiancé of mine who got my faith engine going again.
So no, I am not simply “ignoring scripture” or “giving into society.” I have just come to different conclusions. I’ve changed, and in many cases expanded, my views. I’ve embraced the idea of a loving, compassionate, peaceful God who wants me to share that with others, not some fearmongering God who wants me to say yes to him just so I’ll scratch by in life and not physically burn forever in hell. I get that it may not be in line with what you think, but it’s definitely in line with what I think and with my experience.
And before my non-Christian or non-religious friends prepare for me to try to convert them, let me say a few things:
I’m not going to try to convert you. I’m just going to try to live my life by the values I hold dear as best as I can – I imagine a lot like you.
Secondly, there are millions of Christians out there, many of them in the Episcopal Church, who are likely much different than what you think of when you hear the term “Christian.” They believe in facts and science and reason and in helping people. They believe in love and peace and sharing it with others. They’re cool with doubt. They try not to fear or fearmonger. They don’t take every bit of the Bible literally. They don’t see it as a “rule book” that’s used to beat others up. And, just like you, they do not have all the answers and they recognize that.
There is a wide range of opinions on a wide range of things, all under the umbrella of “Christian.” I didn’t really realize that growing up, maybe even until a few years ago. The fundamentalists or extremists we all see on TV aren’t all that’s out there.
Finally, this does not mean I’ve suddenly become St. Kyle. I will fail you. I will fail myself. In other words, I will be human. One of the biggest reasons I don’t really talk about faith stuff in too much detail, especially right now, is because I think people are out there just waiting on someone to say they’re a Christian and fail. Frankly, that’s no way to live — on my part or on the part of those people. We’re all going to suck at life sometimes. That’s just the way it is.
I will never be perfect. I will never know it all. I will never be certain about all things, faith-related or otherwise. But as I previously said, the opposite of faith isn’t doubt — it’s certainty. And in the same way that I cannot speak for the entirety of the LGBTQ community, I also can’t speak for the entirety of the Christian faith or for the Episcopal Church. I’m an individual. My journey is my journey and yours is yours.
But I will always strive to be better and to learn more. I will strive to help others and love others and show peace to others. I will try to remember that everyone is created in the image of God, has inherent worth, and deserves dignity and respect. I’m not better than anyone else and they’re not better than me. When I fail, I will do my best to learn from it and do better next time. And I know I will, with God’s help.
I know that my naturally inquisitive (and cynical) nature played a primary role in helping me get here, but so did my sexuality. So did my fiancé. So did various people who were open with their faith journeys. So did the priests at my local cathedral. And so did my doubt. As Rachel Held Evans said in another one of her books, “In the end, it was doubt that saved my faith.” Funny how that works out.
So while a lot of things are still unknown and will always be, and while nothing is perfect, I’m pretty excited about all of this. I’m excited to feel more comfortable in referring to my church and my priests. I’m excited to make new friends. I’m excited to learn and grow. And I’m excited to do it all with the man who got me thinking about all of this again, who has for some reason agreed to marry me. It’s all pretty great.
Hopefully, you’ve benefited from what I’ve had to say in some way. I’m always here for my friends who have questions or just want to chat. And with that, it’s only right that I end with this: May the peace of the Lord be always with you!