FOR AT LEAST THE LAST 20 yearswe have been told that the Episcopal Church is dying. For many reasons, ordination of women, the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, issues of human sexuality, to name a few, our churches are emptying. And, of course, the numbers prove it. We are a smaller church than we were in the 1950s.

We are told that we must change radically if we are to grow. Sometimes the fundamentalist mega-churches are held up as examples to us. Or, we are told, we must loosen up our liturgy: It is "too stuffy." There are some who say our music and hymns are out of date. If we do not change, we will surely die. If we do not change, we are told, someone will soon read the Burial Office over us. Not an Episcopalian, of course. There won't be any.

Since virtually every church publication I read repeated these truths, I believed them. But I had a problem. I was the rector of a downtown/inner city church that was not dying. It was filled with happy Christians. It was growing. Oh, not like the mega-churches, but growing. When I arrived it was filled with happy Christians. It was growing but was made up of many older persons with only a handful of younger persons and families. There was no Sunday school.

Slowly the parish demographics changed. We had more young marrieds and singles. We had a Sunday school. The liturgy in this congregation was and had been straight line 1979 Book of Common Prayer. We used Rite II primarily. Our hymns came from the Hymnal 1982. We had a good choir and a good organist. Our liturgy was what I described as traditional Anglican. But stuffy it was not!

Our coffee hours seem to go on endlessly. The folk so enjoyed being together they stayed on and on. My wife and I had monthly open houses at the rectory. These too were well attended. The rooms were filled with laughter and banter.

The congregation was not wracked with controversy over what Episcopal publications were calling the big issues. When nay-sayers said it couldn't be done, we mounted two consecutive capital fund drives for much-needed building restoration. The drives were successful.

In our diocese, the bishop holds diocesan-wide confirmation services twice a year. I can't remember a time when the parish did not present one or more persons for confirmation. While our growth was not spectacular but steady, it was against all I was hearing and reading. But then, I thought, I'm in an exceptional church.

Several years ago I spent part of a sabbatical in a continuing education program at Virginia Theological Seminary. After coming home, many of us exchanged parish newsletters. Those publications were filled with joyful news about joyful congregations. Could it be that there were other exceptional congregations out there in other parts of the country?

Last May I retired. My wife and I sought out a parish not far from where we live and began attending. I had known this parish a bit about 20 years ago. It had not been unlike my old parish when I began there, an aging congregation. Imagine my surprise on the first Sunday we attended. The church was full, with a good mix of young and old. There was a thriving Sunday school. The liturgy was primarily Rite II, traditional Anglican. The hymns were sung vigorously. There were smiles on the faces of the parishioners. For heaven's sake, were there two exceptional churches in one diocese?

I remember a small, out-of-the-way parish in an out-of-the-way community where I supplied one Sunday in the early fall. It was literally a standing-room-only congregation. Moreover, its members have bought property for a new church building and are well on the way to achieving that dream. The congregation, awaiting the arrival of a new half-time vicar, was happy, excited and challenged. The liturgy was Rite II, traditional Anglican, another exceptional church.

Then in the late fall my wife and I took an extended trip around the country. As always, we attended church every Sunday. And with one exception we attended a different church each Sunday. (We attended one church twice.) The churches ranged from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

These churches were urban, suburban, rural, inner city. They were big churches and small churches. Without exception every church was full. Without exception every church was using Rite II. Without exception the liturgy was traditional Anglican. Without exception the churches were not stuffy.

We talked to happy Episcopalians who were excited about their parishes. Those parishes had programs of outreach and education and evangelism. They had growing youth programs and Sunday schools. My wife, wearing her Daughters of the King cross, found enthusiastic sisters in several of the congregations. Equally, the clergy were happy where they were, doing what they were doing. More exceptional churches.

On a couple of occasions, we stopped at a parish on a weekday. Not for a service, just to say hello or seek some information. Again, we found happy churches, happy parishioners, happy clergy. Were we only finding the exceptional churches?

We came home excited about the Episcopal Church, and I wanted to tell my fellow clergy about my excitement. As I chatted with my brother and sister clergy, I discovered that often they thought they were in the exceptional church. Like me, they read what was written about the church and believed it. Like me, they thought everyone else's parish must be the rule.

I realize all these experiences are anecdotal. But those anecdotes are about real people in real congregations. What these congregations have in common is a kind of normative Anglicanism. Their liturgy is done according to the prayer book and in decency and order. It is joyful, exciting worship.

A number of years ago, Urban Holmes, in a book on evangelism and renewal, suggested that our prayer book and liturgy, done in decency and order, without gimmicks, was the best evangelistic tool we have. Consciously or unconsciously a lot of parishes have discovered this.

I haven't mentioned preaching but I must now. The sermons we heard and are hearing are sermons grounded in the gospel using those best tools of Anglicanism, scripture, tradition and reason. Homiletic style varied from preacher to preacher, but none were stuffy. They were filled with humor. They were filled with stories. They were filled with gospel.

Something is happening in the church that is not being recognized. In our public image, it seems as if we are so caught up in issues that 50 or 100 years hence will seem insignificant that we are failing to see the gospel being proclaimed with power and joy in the lives of Christians in those congregations. What is being heard is a recapitulation of our baptismal covenant.

In the end, isn't that close to the real truth about the Episcopal Church? In those forceful words with which we reaffirm our baptismal vows is the core of our faith. It takes us beyond the transient issues of today. There is a powerful thing happening. Perhaps it is the resurrection of the church. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. o

The Rev. Allan C. Parker is retired and lives in Seattle, Wash.