John 14: 1-14

A number of us have been asked to talk about our spiritual journeys and the roles that St. Thomas has played in those “voyages of discovery.” In order to present something approaching a coherent discussion, it may be useful to give a little background information.

I grew up in rural South Carolina, in what might be called a family enclave. My grandparents had given each of their 11 children homesteads on the family farm. Over the years those 11 added 42 cousins to the family. The oldest cousin is now 84. I am the youngest at 57. In the family we are known as the bookends. We all attended Lynwood Methodist Church, located directly across the road from my grandparents’ home. A few other neighboring families contributed the remainder of the congregation. I guess we were a Patriarchal church.

Our church week began with Sunday school at 10:00, followed by an 11:00 service, Methodist Youth fellowship at 6:00 followed by a 7:00 service. On Wednesday we had another evening service. Now that I look we spent a lot of quality time with the family.

One of my earliest memories of church occurred at our dinner table. Mother was trying to speed us along through our meals so that we wouldn’t be late for the afternoon youth service. While finishing our food my older brother looked up at Mom and remarked “grits and church, grits and church, that’s all we ever get around this house.” That, of course, was not all we ever got but on Sundays it sometimes it seemed that way.

Childhood became adolescence and then young adulthood and college. While in college I began attending Trinity Episcopal. The reason I chose Trinity was location. It was one block from my dormitory. After college and beginning work I moved to St. John’s Episcopal. Both of those in Columbia, SC.

Early January 1990 and I am living in DC and no longer churched but had finally accepted that I was gay. Now for those of you who don’t know it, most South Carolinians are somewhat conservative. They aren’t particularly fond of homosexuals and the more reasoned attitude of DC took some getting used to. In 1993, after much persuasion from a friend, Jim Brandon, I visited St. Thomas. I liked what I saw and heard, continued to attend and was confirmed here in 1996.

Although that’s my church history, I don’t think that my real journey to God began until that day in 1993 when I first met St. Thomas, its rector and its parishioners. There was a warmth here, a sense of fellowship not felt since those early days in the family church. The early years here gave assurance that I was a real part of God’s creation, an equal and beloved part of his church. That feeling has never left, it has only grown deeper and richer over the years.