When talking to my good friend Mark, who works in the Anglican church I’ve begun to explore, he half-jokingly commented that his church is “seeker-hostile,” poking a little fun at the “seeker-friendly” philosophy that the evangelical church often touts. But what he means is that, yes, the traditional church is a difficult thing to jump right into with no background in the Christian faith.

Mark then goes on to point out that many people come to the traditional church when they feel as though the evangelical church has nothing left for them, as though it got them so far but once they’ve reached a certain maturity in their faith, they often feel as though there’s “something more” that the evangelical tradition can’t provide so that their spiritual growth can continue. This is, indeed, the main reason why I personally felt the need to abandon evangelicalism.

I just realized that this has something in common with my idea about a spectrum of belief. Maybe it’s time to revise that idea to say this:

It appears as though the evangelical church is good at getting people in the door, at population growth, but in a lot of cases it isn’t so hot at the continual spiritual growth at a certain point. It also appears that, though “seeker-hostile,” the Anglican church is not so hot at the population growth, but really good at the continual spiritual growth.

Here we see where a spectrum of belief — as there are disagreements between these two sections of the Church — is keeping many people, myself included, from falling off the map. I can’t discount the fact that the evangelical church built a certain foundation of faith in me for many years, but when it came time to continue to explore my faith, Anglicanism and the liturgical tradition has become the logical next step.

Mark says he thinks there needs to be a reconciliation of the two churches, and that these two points in the spectrum need to have a line drawn in between them so that the greater Church can do everything it was originally intended to do. If there were no Anglican or Catholic or evangelical, this spectrum might still exist, but as a means of growth in faith rather than a split in the church as is the present case.

Okay, not really, but close enough. That Easter Sunday, I sat in church and listened to the message given, as I always had. And yet, for some reason, on that day I heard a message that made me realize that everything I’d been taught had little ground to stand on. You want an easy way to spin into frustration and depression? That’ll do it.

Months later, while still harboring bitterness (some justified, most not) against the evangelical church as a whole, I decided I wasn’t getting any better. So I left.

And now, here I am. One year later, and my flailings and failings have tossed me into the last place I ever would have expected: the Anglican Catholic Church.

When I decided to leave, it was suggested that I look at the early church for guidance. Seeing the history of the Church might help me understand what the apostles and their direct-descending church leaders created. So I started reading, and what I found surprised me: the early church has a lot more in common with the traditional, liturgical church than any other church model I’ve seen or heard of.

So now, I’m dipping my toe in. The tradition is foreign to me. It honestly kind of scares me. But you know what’s funny? It’s the closest I’ve felt to understanding what it means to fear God, and what it means to embrace a mysterious, seemingly contradictory story that goes beyond our understanding. It took me a while to get here, but I’m trying (which, I think most can agree, even if you don’t understand or agree with the liturgical tradition, is better than doing nothing).

I’m writing this at one in the morning in the spare bedroom of a family I love dearly. A family who has shown me great care, given me much love and acted as a major sounding board during this frustrating yet fruitful time of my life. They are also the ones that have brought me here. Tomorrow, on Easter, I will be sitting with them in a pew, breathing in the incense, watching my good friend in a funny white-and-purple robe, stumbling over prayers read out of a book, all in great wonder and bemusement, because I won’t understand most of the ceremonial procession I’ll be seeing. And somehow, that feels more right than I ever would have imagined.