Recently on Juicy Ecumenism, Sarah Carter — a Wheaton College graduate and a current Falls Church fellow — reflected on her experience of discovering Anglicanism while a student at Wheaton, and on the wider phenomenon of a “pipeline” of Wheaton students discovering Anglicanism. I was intrigued to read her thoughtful reflections, because I am part of that pipeline.
I could have written her words 20 years ago, when I encountered Anglicanism as a student at our alma mater: “Young people want to be a part of something bigger. Young people want tradition.” At the time of her article, I was on the verge of returning to Wheaton’s campus for my 20th reunion. As a Wheaton grad who is now an Episcopal priest, I was glad to know that the pattern of students joining forms of Anglicanism continues, and I’d like to add to the conversation with my perspective, given the 20 years I’ve been on the Canterbury trail since graduation.
The Wheaton-to-Anglicanism pipeline is a phenomenon with a long history, one that stretches back before my time as a student in the early Aughts. One important figure who had just left Wheaton before my arrival, Robert Webber, was an evangelical scholar and theologian who commended the virtues of liturgy, the sacraments, and the church calendar in his Ancient-Future book series. Other writers and speakers such as Marva Dawn, Dallas Willard, and Richard Foster contributed to this conversation and visited campus to speak on the role of traditional spiritual disciplines in the Christian life. The Rev. Dr. Lyle Dorsett, who both taught at the college and led a local congregation, Church of the Great Shepherd, had a huge influence on college students who were experiencing liturgical worship in his church for the first time.
One important element of the Anglicanism I encountered as a Wheaton student was that it was “three-stream Anglicanism” — charismatic, evangelical, and liturgical/sacramental. I had grown up in charismatic and Baptist churches in the Northeast, where we regarded the Episcopal Church with, at best, suspicion, and I would never have made the direct leap into it. The one time I attended a traditional Episcopal parish on a Sunday morning at Wheaton, I was turned off by having to juggle a hymnal and a prayer book, the lack of screens, the lack of more contemporary music.
The secret of Anglican’s appeal to me in college was the blending of traditions familiar to me — spontaneous prayer, extended times of worship music, an emphasis on personal discipleship and one’s relationship with God — with those that were new to me — the beautiful language of the collects, the themes of the various church seasons, and the weekly celebration of the Eucharist. Missionaries involved in Bible translation around the world use the phrase “heart language” to describe the importance of hearing the gospel in our native tongue, the language that we know best and that speaks to our hearts. The sort of Anglicanism I encountered at Wheaton showed me that Anglicanism may incorporate the heart language I had learned as an evangelical and charismatic, while also introducing me to new language — that of Thomas Cranmer, the Creeds, and the liturgy of the Eucharist.
This combination captivated me, but it also eventually prepared me to appreciate other, less familiar forms of worship. Episcopal parishes in the area also played a role in introducing students to more traditional styles of liturgy. When a friend invited me to Compline at St. Mark’s in Glen Ellyn, I gladly went, even though I had no idea what the word meant. I still vividly recall entering this beautiful stone church on a dark, rainy Sunday night and hearing those first few lines chanted a cappella by the men of the choir from the balcony behind us — “Our help is in the name of the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” This form of worship felt monastic, contemplative, and in no way dependent on the personality of a worship leader or pastor. When I attend a similar Compline service at my parish in Nashville now, I am reminded of those early experiences that connected me to the long history of Christian worship that thrived long before the modern evangelical movement began.
Now, 20 years later, I was curious to attend my reunion and see what struck me about the convergence of Wheaton and Anglicanism, and I came away with two main observations. The first was my surprise to hear that even more of my former classmates now attend an Anglican or Episcopal parish than I expected. I have kept in touch with several friends who attended Great Shepherd with me, whom I knew are now members in the Anglican Church in North America or the Episcopal Church.
To my surprise, however, I caught up with other friends who attended Reformed or charismatic churches for a season after college but who also now attend Anglican parishes. The pipeline not only introduces current Wheaton students to the Canterbury Way, but alumni several years out from college also often turn to Anglicanism for its reverent worship, its openness to theological conversation and spiritual disciplines, and its ability to speak to evangelicals in both familiar and new ways.
The second factor that struck me after my recent visit was how, while my time at Wheaton introduced me to a new tradition that I love, I also saw a generous spirit toward various denominations at Wheaton. Wheaton was founded by Wesleyans, and its first president, Jonathan Blanchard, was a Presbyterian-turned-Congregationalist. Its commitment to being interdenominational is reflected in its statement of faith: “We believe that the one, holy, universal Church is the body of Christ and is composed of the communities of Christ’s people.”
For Wheaton students, there was an expectation that we would attend or join a local church; and a wide range of local churches offered bus rides from campus and lunch after the Sunday morning service. Their intentional welcoming of Wheaton students gave us an easy opportunity to visit different congregations and learn about their traditions; I recall visiting a Reformed church, a nondenominational church, an Evangelical Free church, a Baptist church, and of course Anglican and Episcopal parishes.
Sunday after Sunday, we received a warm welcome from the various parts of the larger body of Christ. This experience encouraged us to eschew the dismissive pride we can have toward other Christians, which Paul warns about in 1 Corinthians 12:21: “I have no need of you.” My time at Wheaton not only introduced me to a Christian tradition that I have embraced wholeheartedly; perhaps even more important, it taught me how to recognize the spirit of Christ in other Christian bodies.
I still have a distinct memory of an African church leader coming to speak to us during chapel on the importance of building relationships between churches across the globe and across cultures. I regret that after all these years I cannot recall his name or find records online of our chapel speakers’ names, but I remember how he told us, Imagine a massive diamond on a stand in the middle of a room; if you walk around it, you will see different facets stand out in their radiance and beauty that you couldn’t have fully appreciated from another spot in the room. He compared this to the way that Christians from different cultures look at God from their vantage point; while we all recognize and worship the same God, different facets of God’s nature and identity stand out to us depending on our cultural background. Getting to know groups of Christians from other cultures can help us understand and appreciate more of the fulness of who God is. These words can also apply to getting to know Christians from different traditions. While my time at Wheaton introduced me to a new tradition that I ended up joining, it also inculcated in me an appreciation for the traditions that I didn’t join.
This sort of appreciation is critical for those who are drawn to a different expression of Christianity than the one in which they grew up. This phenomenon occurs in multiple directions, not just evangelical-to-Anglican; I have talked with many young adults who grow up in Episcopal parishes and then try a very different church or campus ministry in college and find it communicates the gospel to them in a new way that deepens their relationship with Christ. Regardless of which direction a person’s journey points, the spiritual zeal and excitement of the convert can be fuel for a new phase in the spiritual life. However, when that zeal gets tempered over time by the flaws and weaknesses that inevitably surface in the new tradition, it is easy for disappointment to lead to disillusionment with the church. At that point, a gracious orthodoxy and ecumenical spirit toward other Christian traditions can steady us.
My time at Wheaton prepared me to navigate those moments of disappointment with my chosen tradition, because it taught me that there are other faithful and fruitful Christian bodies, all of which come with strengths, shortcomings, and failures. No matter what church we belong to this side of the resurrection, we will always be part of an incomplete body that cannot capture the fullness of what God intends his bride, the church, to be. For now, to borrow from Wheaton’s motto, we are to work “for Christ and his kingdom” in our area of the vineyard, looking forward to the day when all our divisions will cease, and we will worship God in spirit and in truth as one body in Christ.
