I grew up in the Episcopal church. Nope, true story. You’d never actually guess such a thing if you knew me.
Walking out was unintentional. I wasn’t fulfilled spiritually, and I couldn’t take being part of a highly politicized religion. The sad part is, I don’t even have to explain myself because we tend to air our dirty laundry publicly. (Yes, Episcopal and Anglican aren’t quite the same. Good luck getting anyone to explain the difference without basing it entirely on a prayer book.)
The history of the Episcopal church is one of politcal intrigue, and not much originality in the way of dogma or ritual practices. I’m actually amused and simultaneously offended by those who try to defend it. I will say, though, going to a church named St. George for part of my schooling and as a church-going type has left me a little sad at the first link. I do also wonder if England would change their flag if St. George’s cross was no longer part of the equation.
(No offense to my father and any of my Episcopal friends, but the church seriously left a very foul taste in my mouth, and its recent antics have made me only to happy to disassociate myself from it.)