Anglican Longing

Over the holiday weekend I enjoyed a phone conversation with a longtime friend who lives with his wife and daughters in the mountains of northern Georgia. They have found a beautiful community and benefit from the ministry of several faithful churches serving their area.

But, they also deeply miss Anglican worship, which is nearly an hour’s drive away. This month my friend will meet with an official from the Anglican Diocese of the South to find out what steps he can take as a layperson to begin work towards the planting of an Anglican worshipping community. I’m aware of more than a few Anglican churches that had their beginning in such conversations between laypeople.

Our conversation got me thinking about what it is that keeps pulling many of us back to Anglican worship: the rhythms and patterns of the liturgical year, corporate prayer, sacramental practice, what Trinity Anglican Seminary’s Matthew Barrett referred to in his own family as “crying out for participation, not mere performance.”

That sentence rang true for me, and recalled when my own parents were 270 miles from the closest Anglican parish. They benefitted from a bible study hosted by Southern Baptists and a strong men’s ministry from a nondenominational community bible church. When observing Holy Week, they would visit the Roman Catholic parish. But there were few, if any, liturgical worship opportunities that could be described as classically Protestant. My parents asked their nondenom pastor if the church could occasionally recite the Lord’s Prayer, which is of course direct from scripture. It never happened, but their longing for corporate prayer remained.

Some Asian cultures joke that people have two stomachs: one for rice, and one for other foods. No matter how much food one eats, if there isn’t rice, a meal is considered incomplete or unsatisfying. This example might be apt in considering what we take in liturgically: my parents found a lot to appreciate at these other churches, but something important was missing.

Now, I do want to express gratitude for our ecumenical friends. More than anyone else, Anglican congregations who lost historic properties during the early realignment years can testify to the kind support we found from fellow Christians that came alongside us in our hour of need. Many of you reading this article still share spaces made available by Baptist, Adventist, and Methodist believers, among others. We do need other Christians.

That said, there is something less common, if not unique, about Anglicanism in both proclaiming God’s word and conducting sacramental ministry. Additionally, our often small communities have a familial feel, even if they aren’t for everyone (in 2023 attendance of the median Episcopal parish was about 38, and I’d hazard an educated guess that the median ACNA parish is likely under 60 attendees, although I don’t have that data on-hand).

This isn’t about pageantry, although the Anglican tradition does excel at that (some of the most viewed televised events of all time were, after all, Anglican services: royal weddings, funerals, and the most recent coronation). No, what I’m referring to here are slow, small practices that gradually shape our souls like water does flowing over a rock across many decades. For me, these include the Prayer of Humble Access as part of the Anglican service of Holy Communion, or the seasonal movement between fast and feast (most recently Advent leading into Christmas). Sometimes it is as simple as opening the Book of Common Prayer at the kitchen table.

Once we’ve experienced these things, they often stick with us, even if we are in another church tradition afterwards.

Later this week I travel to Charleston, South Carolina for my favorite recurring conference, Mere Anglicanism, which historically fills up the Charleston Music Hall. Not all of the speakers are Anglicans (about half are in other traditions, including a Baptist, a Presbyterian, and two Roman Catholics) but I appreciate that Anglicans are the ones that pull this together. The worship is stirring, and I’m always delighted to meet people who travel from far away to participate.

While I’m enjoying the figurative feast of Mere Anglicanism, I’ll be thinking of my friend who doesn’t presently have a worshipping Anglican community. The Holy Spirit has imprinted a longing on his heart, and perhaps that is being used to form what will become a new local church in the mountains of north Georgia. Here’s hoping!

More from IRD:

From Protestant Skepticism to Liturgical Embrace

Beautiful Anglican Mists

Anglican Prayer in the Night