I used to be Catholic. I like so many things about the Catholic Church, and I find so many treasures in its traditions, rituals, teachings, and history. I loved being Catholic. But, for a variety of reasons, I'm not really Catholic anymore. I'm finding challenge in seeing things in a new way, in immersing myself in a different tradition. I've done a very improbable thing and have gone evangelical. High Church to low church.(I'm like Rachel Held-Evans in reverse. Only not church-famous). And it's starting to show. Thusly, I've compiled a helpful list for those who may be on a similar journey. I'm very helpful.
SIGNS YOU'RE BECOMING AN EVANGELICAL:
You snack on communion bread after the service. You don't get smote.
You become much more tolerant of lengthy sermons. You become much less tolerant of lengthy periods of silence.
You start to call them "sermons."
Your prayers contain an excessive use of the word "just."
Like, you just want to just thank you, Lord, for just loving us, and just caring for us. And we just want to ask you to just be with us, Lord, and just fill our hearts with your Holy Spirit, Lord. And we just want to glorify you, and just praise your name, O Creator of the Universe. You know. Just that.
And all of the sudden it's "Hallelujah" and not "Alleluia." But you're still not okay with "Jehovah." You're never going to be okay with "Jehovah."
Also, you're just not going to sing "sloppy, wet kiss" in church. You're just not. You don't care how evangelical it sounds, all you can think of is a large, lumbering dog, coming at you with it's dog-breath and wet tongue, and you love dogs, but you can't think about God that way. You just can't.
One of your arms tries very hard to fly into the air when singing praise songs. Luckily, your other arm is still firmly Catholic and will not allow that to happen. Not in this lifetime. It pins your charismatic/evangelical arm solidly to your side so you can sing quietly like a respectable person, thankyouverymuch.
But you sway a little when you sing. Even when the worship songs sound like pop songs. Especially when the worship songs sound like pop songs.
The songs you are swaying to say "me" and "I" an awful lot. A bit too much for your tastes. You were actually really cool with the "we" and "us" of Catholic hymns. They seemed less selfish. But the "me/I" songs do force you to entertain the possibility that you might individually matter. And not just if you give virgin-birth to a savior before you die a martyry death.
You consider the possibility that if God talks back, it doesn't mean you are a saint. You might just be a regular person. Which is disappointing. Because childhood-you had really planned on trying to be a saint. With miracles and whatnot. But whatever.
You start to wonder if maybe Halloween really is demonic. But then, nope. You're still good with Halloween. Because you're not that kind of evangelical. You're the fun kind. You just have to consider being spiritually paranoid and then reject it. It's part of the package. Oh my gosh, you're totally getting the hang of this!
You've started saying "oh my gosh" and "oh my goodness" instead of "oh my God" Because you like Halloween and Harry Potter, but you're not a heathen or anything.
Even though you were never in a youth group, didn't grow up listening to Christian music, and never had well-meaning adults police your burgeoning sexuality, you're still resentful about those years you feel like you spent in youth group, listening to Christian music, being sexually policed. You're jaded and cynical about how eagerly you (never actually) embraced the bland cultural Christianity that was (never actually) force-fed to you. Because you have a ton of empathy for all these evangelicals you've surrounded yourself with. And you're totally investing in this thing. Like, you're one of them now. I mean, you even know what "purpling" is and make jokes about it. You are SO an evangelical.
Like, you might possibly even be forming false memories of being born again, (and again, and again) at youth retreat altar calls you never actually attended.
That place you put your kids so other people will teach them theological concepts you're too uncomfortable to discuss with them is called Sunday School, not catechism. It happens on Sunday, and there are snacks, you guys! And crafts! So many crafts.
One of your children is baptized. The other is not. This makes you slightly uneasy, but you refuse to admit it, because you're not superstitious or anything. I mean, you're practically an anabaptist. But still. Limbo, guys.
You were into the liturgical calendar before the liturgical calendar was cool. Which makes you feel a little superior. You should probably go to confession.
You don't go to confession. I mean, you never actually went to confession in the first place. But you could have. (But you wouldn't have).
A woman stands up in front of you in church and talks for a long period of time, and no one has to do Canon-Law-gymnastics to make it happen.
But you have to be careful, because while misogyny isn't institutional, it's personal. You pick your church wisely to avoid this.
You pick your church.
You notice that no one cuts out of church immediately after communion in the Most Holy Race to the Parking Lot. In fact, you find yourself lingering after the service to socialize. People call this "fellowship" which seems like a stupid word, but a nice thing.
You don't want to say a scripted prayer before meals, because you feel like your prayer should be authentic. But saying authentic prayers out loud still makes you uncomfortable, so you let your kids pray, because that's valid now, and they say, "Thanks for farts," and you let them because that's authentic-you-guess, and also relevant. So relevant.
You really like things to be authentic and relevant. Maybe also radical, if you can swing it.
You know about different Bible translations, and you just go ahead and pick one, and you don't even ask anyone if it's okay.
You feel entitled to coffee during church services. You have a mini-tantrum in your heart when there is no coffee available. Because what are you going to hold in your charismatic/evangelical hand to keep it under control if there's no coffee?
But you are totally willing to sit on folding chairs. I mean, folding chairs are just a given.
You still do the Sign of the Cross compulsively and frantically whenever your spouse blows through a yellow light, or when someone cuts you off in traffic, though. Because the Sign of the Cross you will have with you always.
