Dear lifelong Anglican:

Lifelong Anglican:

You know who you are. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. Goodness, you probably silkscreened the t-shirt based on a design by the Sunday school children. You likely sold the t-shirts, collected the cash, and then used t-shirt money to fund the coffee hour donuts—then soon wondered if said donuts were secretly eaten by the rectors dog (which they were). But you realized that the donuts funded by the t-shirt money inspired an excellent sermon on understanding and forgiveness the subsequent Sunday. So you have volunteered every year since for the t-shirt initiative.

Lifelong Anglican: that is you.

You remember that time. You remember so many times. You and those servers were caught sneaking around the back stairs. You can’t quite remember what you were looking for. Maybe the gang of you were looking for nothing, really. Just that oh-so-Anglican-thrill of searching for something undefinable. Until you got caught by the verger. And somebody told somebody else. And sooner or later, somebody you didn’t want to know knew. Lifelong Anglican, do you remember?

If you are reading this now, may I ask why? Something (is it persistence?) has brought you here—or kept you here. Can I ask who?

I shall, then. Who?

Well, the answer to that last question may be obvious. “For God so loved the world that he gave….” But did others help, too?

Well, it is true that the verger caught the servers by the back stairs, but those servers couldn’t help but notice the smile on the verger’s face which followed the chastisement. Remember the rector who stayed late so you could play with the parish cat while your mum and dad finished the counting? What about the Sunday School teacher who took the time to show you the choir loft, or the juice ladies, or the gardener who didn’t tell after that tearful apology when you mistakenly squashed the daffodils during the Easter Egg Hunt; that parish administrator who knew your full name 11 years after baptism, your own gran who picked you up every Sunday in her old Buick, the camp leader who taught you Shine Jesus Shine, or the greeter who kept the best crayons for you? Who was it that helped you know that the church was really home?

Be that person for some child next Sunday.