Like many Evangelicals who are on the road to Rome (and don’t yet know it), Marty and I did a short stint in an Episcopal church. We liked the liturgy and we liked the people and no one freaked out when we confessed an interest in Catholic theology. If Episcopalians are anything, they’re tolerant.

It was during this time that we decided to have Jody baptized. She was six years old, and in our former tradition, baptism was reserved for those who had made a personal commitment of faith in Jesus, usually older kids, teens, or adults. We had become convinced of the necessity and grace of the sacrament and recognized that it was our duty as Bible-believing Christian parents to bring our child to Jesus in baptism. The pastor told us he would be happy to baptize her but that he wanted to meet with us first to talk about it.

Marty and I were totally unprepared for the content of that meeting. The pastor said a prayer, then very kindly explained the logistics and asked us about setting a date. Then he looked at us both and said in the nicest way, “I want to encourage you not to talk to Jody about sin.” We were speechless.
“It’s important to raise children with a sense of God’s love,” he continued, “and not burden them with fear of hell or ruin their natural self-esteem with talk of sin.” Then he proceeded to tell us that even though he was an Episcopalian minister, he was really a Unitarian in his heart. He didn’t think the traditional concept of sin had any place in true Christianity, that it wasn’t loving, that it wasn’t Christ-like, and that it was certainly not a fit topic for children.

Our meeting with that nice, kind, tolerant pastor was a turning point for us. When we walked out the door we knew we could never be Episcopalians, not ever. We went ahead and had Jody baptized because baptism administered in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit is valid even if the minister is a Unitarian in Episcopalian’s clothing. Not long afterwards we called a priest and began the official process of becoming Catholic.

We have been talking to our kids about sin since they were old enough to sit on our laps and look at the pictures in a kiddie Bible. After major infractions (and due punishment) we prayed with them to Jesus for forgiveness. If children don’t understand sin, how can they understand salvation? How can they understand the wonderful, freeing, joyful, life-giving good news that “God shows His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Rom 5:8)”? How can my children possibly understand why they need a Savior if they don’t know what it is they need saving from?

We didn’t follow the Episcopalian minister’s advice. On the day Jody was baptized, Marty asked her if she knew what was going to happen. “Of course,” she said with typical first-grader confidence. “All my sins will be washed away and Jesus will be my Savior in my heart.”

The next year we were Catholic. When Jody made her first confession she literally skipped out of the confessional. “Mommy,” she whispered with a big, toothless grin, “I’m as light as a feather!”

Over the years I’ve met a few fellow Catholics who could pass for Episcopalians when it comes to their beliefs and attitudes toward sin. They get mad if Father mentions sin or hell from the pulpit. They think it isn’t loving to speak of such things.

They most certainly have forgotten that it was Jesus himself who described eternal punishment as a place “where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched (Mk. 9:48).” Real love and L-U-V are two very different things. Real love tells the whole truth.

If we tell our kids the truth about sin, they’ll rejoice in their salvation like Jody did. I wonder what the Episcopalian minister would say to that?