Found My Sunday

 Lost Pentecostal

I was born in 1973. A few years before Jerry Falwell pioneered an alliance between evangelicals and politicians in 1979. They formed the Moral Majority in an effort to strategize the use and power of the vote from the pulpit to elect conservatives to political positions. Fast forward 1989, Pat Roberston formed the Christian Coalition to build a network out of the remains of Falwell's prior movement. 

So imagine what fertile ground my local, small southern town Pentecostal Holiness Church, my white conservative parents and extended family were being exposed to at church, discussions with their family and friends and during political stump speeches? The Old Time Gospel Hour was a broadcast hosted by Jerry Falwell out of his Lynchburg Va church. This broadcast reached millions of viewers and built the political influence needed to voters out to the polls. Unfortunately, it also reached out television with our rabbit antenna via our local ABC channel clear as day on Sunday morning. I can still see Jerry sitting there in his polyester suit, leaned back, legs crossed with his shiny black shoes. I can see his chubby cheeks and slicked back hair. I used to listen anxiously, hanging onto his every word. I was sure that he had just hung up with Jesus himself and would be sharing something that only preachers know. 

The conservative right and the evangelicals focused on polarizing issues related to ensuring a pro-family agenda while also advocating for a national defense. The focused on anti-abortion (a women's rights issue). They opposed Equal Rights Amendment, citing that it would disrupt traditional gender roles (pro patriarchy) Anti gay rights were front and center as well, framing that gay rights were a threat to the American family. They also focused on anti-pornography (I can get behind that). They fought to reinstate school prayer (but ignored separation of church and state arguments). The opposed secular humanism, which included school curricula about sex education (effective means to combat unintended pregnancies) and teaching evolution. They wanted unwavering support for Israel, upping defense spending against anti-communism during the Cold War (now they say democratic socialists and liberals are communists). My loved ones were being recruited, trained to "fight" for their beliefs! Bible in one hand and the American Flag in the other. Sitting ducks.

So, in retrospect, I get why the church attempted to "pray the gay away". I see why they thought it best to bring a 14-15yr old girl that had grown up in the church, attending twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday night, raised by two heterosexuals to the front of the church, her forehead touched with a handkerchief doused with anointed oil and read scripture to cast demons out. They pressed hard on her head and shoulders, praying loudly and with firm conviction that they would remove the gay. What other choice did they have?  I mean, that young girl having just "come out" was demonic in their eyes. I'm sure they prayed to God to rid me of this evil, to save my soul, to show me the way (heterosexual way) and to protect me. Well, their prayers were answered, just not as they intended.

I forgave them long ago, because God told me to. He asked his own Father to "forgive them for they know not what they do." I forgive them as well. They wanted to ensure that my soul was going to go to heaven. They did honestly believe that only a demon would be able to tell this 15yr old female, raised in the Pentecostal church, to a god-fearing mother, the grandchild of a Pentecostal minister that she was attracted to girls, not boys. Well at least that was the conclusion after drug use was ruled out.  

Found 

God has had a hand on my decisions and my heart for my entire life. The first thing God did was give me the strength to stand up for myself. God gave me strength and through my prayers, provided a path in this world that continued to mark his presence and hand on my life. Now I attend an Episcopal church. I'm sure that doesn't shock many, as the Episcopal church is filled with former evangelicals, or others whose first church didn't match their hearts and minds as they became adults. "All are welcome" isn't just a greeting. It truly is the foundation of the Episcopal Church as they are inclusive, affirming of the LGBTQ+ community and welcome all regardless of their background, faith history or where they are on their spiritual journey. 

It wasn't a huge shift for me to see myself being confirmed and Baptized as an Episcopal. I had tried other churches, Presbyterian, Lutheran. All perfectly fine and welcoming as well. However, the Episcopal church service, or the Eucharist held me in awe. It moved like a well composed symphony. Everyone with their own part, to bring about this service, this sermon, these prayers and the one cup to share communion. "We, who are many, are one body, because we share one bread, one cup, Amen." The beauty of the parish alone is noteworthy, but without that even, it is the belonging to something greater than me. The tradition, the mystery, the eucharist. To see a sermon by a woman. Seriously? A woman standing at the pulpit, teaching us God's word? To see others like myself, gay persons partaking in communion, serving as lay persons in the church. Yet, the most welcoming part were the hundreds of straight people there, also sharing in the one cup, worshipping right alongside me. Singing with me. Welcoming me. 

I say me, but it is me and my wife. She too, having grown up in a church that no longer welcomed her when she came out, but continued to believe in the trinity. She continued to serve God but didn't have a church home. We both felt that we belonged at the church. So we spoke to the Assistant Rector, Mother Amanda and she answered out questions. She suggested a book for us to read entitled "Walk in Love, Episcopal Beliefs & Practices". Since I am already prepared before most meetings, I had already read it. :-) We attended a confirmation class and to learn more about the Anglican community, how the denomination came to be and a few Sunday's later, I was Baptized and confirmed, she was received and we became members. 

That day was beautiful. My childhood church didn't baptize babies, instead they "received" them. Baptism came later, at the "age of reason", which as believed to be when a child, around age 12 had the ability to make a faith decision for themselves. Not 16 when they got a driver's license, 18 when they were old enough to vote, or 21 when they could legally partake of alcohol, but 12. Most denominations have an age of reason they observe. I didn't have a memory of my baptism at Vicker Pentecostal Church, but I did reach out to the Appalachian Conference that governs my childhood church. They were not able to find any records. My church pastor had already died. Apparently, all the records were in some kind of fire or got lost? Well, it was suiting. My 12yr old self was already going to the front to get saved every Sunday because my crushes on girls continued. I was certain I was going to go straight to hell based on what they were telling me during the sermon.

My adult self, my openly gay, married 52year old self was making the decision to proclaim my faith. In October of 2025, standing there at the baptismal font, having water placed over my forehead, I heard them say, "Carissa Christian, I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Carissa, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in the Baptism and marked as Christ's own forever. Amen." North Carolina's XII Bishop Diocesan the Rt. Rev. Samuel Rodman was there that day too. We became members shortly after the baptism and Rev. Samuel Rodman led that ceremony. It was a good day! 

It felt eerily similar to the happiness I felt sitting on the pew as a young child, next to my Mother and Father at my childhood church, fresh off of the church singing southern hymns and hearing the goodness of God from Rev. Roy Gibson. Rev. Gibson was a kind man. He had a warm smile and never do I remember him preaching about me going to hell. He was very much loved by our congregation. He preached the good word, because that is what God called him to do. He didn't beat the lectern with is fist, turn red in the temples or stomp his way up and down the aisles to preach the word. He gave a gentle guidance to his small flock, leading us to be better, do better, know better. He never got tired of that little curly, blonde-haired girl anxiously walking to the front for prayer. He may not have known why a 9-10 yr old would need so much salvation. I did! I was so in love with his niece Shanda. She was so beautiful and I just wanted to sit and stare at her, hold her hand and maybe one day, live happily ever after with her, according to my nine-year-old self. I was sure that God would be able to understand and perhaps Roy Gibson was able to put in a good word for me. At that time, I wasn't praying for the gay to go away, I didn't know I was gay. I was just lovesick and my prayers were for God to help me. I did know well enough though that I needed to keep it to myself. I must of heard something along the way that silenced me. Sad really. A child dealing with such strong emotion and having to keep it a secret. God knew, that is all that mattered.