“Choose your Steeple” — Five for Fighting

On Saturday May 30, 2015, I was received into membership at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. I chose my Steeple, my tribe, my folk. It was like coming home to place you’ve searched for all your life.

Two years ago Hannah asked me if I’d visit a church with her. She was researching background for a character she’s writing. I looked up the directions, worship time, and travel time. We set off that Sunday morning without a clue that this would be a game-changer.

I loved the architecture immediately. The stone, the windows, the red doors. It felt oddly similar to my childhood church home. (Except Simpson is Methodist, Brick, and no red doors) Not in a “Hey this is a lot like . . . .” way, but in a “Come in, welcome, rest” way.

The people. Oh my goodness, these people will love the socks right off of you. They are warm, caring, kind, engaging, with exceptional memories, and accepting. Conversation was easy, the liturgy was soul satisfying, and Eucharist was the culmination of a perfect morning.

I’ve never felt more at home in a church since Kelly and I packed up and left Evansville and the only church I’d known.

I spent the next 26 years attending a variety of churches: Methodist, Baptist, Methodist, Church of God, Baptist, Presbyterian, Chapel on Base, German Independent, Chapel on Base, Messianic, Methodist, Reformed Presbyterian, Presbyterian, and now finally and forever Episcopal.

I’ve spent two years reading, researching, and praying about whether I should make my ties to this place more permanent. I have no doubt at all that God has placed me in this building, with this tribe, with these folk. I can worship here fully. I can learn much from them and most of it has nothing to do with head smarts.

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