Reconciling Ministries Network

from the Presbyterians

By Heather Murphy

The Presbyterian Church (USA)'s General Assembly has, not surprisingly, been as hotly discussing the question of GLBT inclusion as we have in our happy little Methodist corner of Christendom.  Where our issues of the year were church membership and "compatibility with Christian teaching" (will any of us ever be able to hear that phrase without flinching again?), the Presbyterians were talking about marriage and ordination.  On marriage, the church voted to keep language that defines a marriage as existing between a man and a woman, by a thundering 77-33 percent majority.  Thanks a lot, Presbyterian Church.  I'm sure all the married Presbyterians who happen to be gay are drinking a toast to you as they flip through their phone books for nearby UCC congregations. 

On ordination, they did a little better; they sent a recommendation to the regional presbyteries that would lift the requirement that ministers, elders, and deacons must either be celibate or married to someone of the opposite sex.  Even my eternal starry-eyed optimism doesn't stretch far enough to allow me to believe that one will pass, but I'm always happy to be wrong in situations like this.  Besides, that opens the door not only to married gay pastors but also to pastors who host wild orgies in the parsonage, doesn't it?  I think I'm against that.

They also passed an interesting resolution which allows individual candidates to object to the requirement, which would, if I'm understanding my source correctly, open the door for local presbyteries and church councils to go ahead and ordain a gay or lesbian candidate anyway?  Or maybe not?  Or maybe ordain them, after which their ordination gets challenged and they get to spend the next few years debating the question in church court?  Lucky them; is there any nicer way to start a career in ministry than with an ordination that comes with a built-in guarantee of public airing of your private life and a fun-filled potential defrocking in the indefinite future? 

Here's a longer story at 365Gay about the Presbyterian assembly.

Celebrating, Not Marching

By Rev. Peter L. DeGroote

Three reports tumbled my way last week. 

First, Leland Spencer’s June 24th post on this blog alliteratively described the “Perplexing Paradox of Pride Protest Placards” in Cleveland. I didn’t see any placards in Washington, probably because I wasn’t in the parade. This was the first year I did not walk with a group. Instead, I watched with Ralph and Michael as it passed Dupont Circle. Walking and watching are very different experiences.

But we did have a protester. We were facing outward toward the street, backs to the circle. Behind us a lone voice with a megaphone rehearsed the usual ritual of condemnation and sinfulness. The noise of parade and crowd largely drowned him out. About half-way through he gave up.

Leland had thought about talking with the holders of those hateful placards but didn’t. He shared with us what he would have said but he also knew they wouldn’t listen. I had a similar, fleeting thought about our shouting protester but also knew that there is little chance of communicating with a megaphone.

The second report was on the Religious Beliefs & Practices of the American people from the Pew Foundation. They found that most of us have a “non-dogmatic approach to faith.” Among those affiliated with a religion, most do not believe theirs to be the only spiritual way and they believe their own religious teachings can be interpreted in different ways. Significant variations of opinion are found within different religious, age, and ethnic groups, but the willingness of most to accept variations in matters of religious belief and practice was encouraging.

Neither Leland’s placard protesters nor our lonely shouter are among that majority. Pew did find a sizable number in all faith traditions with rigid ideological stands that also translate into conservative political views. That was illustrated by the third report of the week.

Tom called to tell me about a TV interview in which some religious leaders expressed alarm with Pew’s findings. In particular, they were dismayed by the willingness of some Christians to acknowledge that other faith traditions offered other ways to salvation, heaven, etc. They concluded that the churches are failing. My reaction: That kind of failure needs to be encouraged.

It is a sign of spiritual health when church members are open to understanding the beliefs and experience of others. Unfortunately, there is often a difference between being a follower of Jesus and a Christian. Followers of Jesus have an agenda, but they also have a community of open discussion. When the discussion becomes closed the shortcomings of the church begin to emerge.

The agenda for Jesus’ followers is the rule of love: Love God, love others. The two are inseparable. John Wesley was right to ask people not to tell him of their love for God if he couldn’t see it in the way they treated others. The rule of love is the energy source for Jesus teachings, it is the energy source that brings about reconciliation. 

Much can be said about the definition of love but it is safe to say that those condemning by placards and megaphone are not practicing the kind of love that Jesus taught. The condemnation of others is not an attempt to live in harmony with God and others but a demand that God and others live in harmony with them. The result is a rule of church unity that overshadows the rule of love.

The uniformity so often demanded by the church arose early. The New Testament reveals many points of view, often energetically expressed. But a demand for conformity emerged as Christianity became a religion of Empire. The community that taught an alternative way of living in the world of Roman imperial power became a partner in the exercise of that power—even to the extent of imprisoning, torturing, and killing those who disagreed.

One can understand why monasteries began during this time—those who sought to follow Jesus could not do so in that environment. We are beyond that, but the church remains stuck in some of those ways. Likewise, some always want to return.  We criticize those Muslims who would impose a rigid religious rule on their societies but often overlook the danger from those among us who would do the same. Some complain that immigrants bring new ideas and practices into our culture but are little concerned with the same complaints from other peoples resentful of the imposition of our ways on them. And, like Rome, we do have the power to do that.

When trying to apply the rule of love, most have discovered that awareness of God’s Presence is involved in any human encounter we have. The other person might not be aware of it, or might even reject the idea. But that is not our immediate problem. Our problem is maintaining our awareness of God and, when dealing with another person, we can only do that by seeing that person as a creation of God worthy of the same honor and respect that God has for all of God’s creation, including us. Human differences and disagreements do not alter God’s embrace of all humanity.   

How do we maintain awareness of God’s Presence when others are condemning us? That conundrum is unraveled by discovering the mystery of what happens to us when we follow Jesus’ teachings—and sometimes what happens to others when we do so. Leland and I both decided to enjoy, contribute to, and draw strength from the celebration of the community—the community those others were condemning. It seemed the right thing to do. 

In doing so, I realized a mystery. We no longer call it a gay pride march, now it is a gay pride parade, a community celebration that included all sorts of glbt groups, political leaders, corporations, main-line churches, and others. I am glad. When it was a march it sometimes seemed like so much work that just had to be done, a lonely, defiant work surrounded by many more placards and megaphones. But as a parade I felt permission to watch, to celebrate, to realize what has happened to all of us. And it seems to be affecting others as well.

The power of a single request

By Ann Thompson Cook

A few years after Dumbarton UMC became a Reconciling Congregation, Rev. Dr. Man King Tso arrived to be our pastor. We welcomed him, and at the same time, we were dismayed by his open disagreement with our Reconciling stand. 

When Jerry, our Lay Leader, and I asked to meet with him about our congregation’s commitment, Man King seriously explained that his theological study made clear to him that our Reconciling stance was wrong, but that he would remain open. Jerry and I left the meeting disheartened, as we didn’t sense openness.

Nevertheless, the congregation pursued the next stage of our dialogue – addressing the disparity in how the church treated same-sex and other-sex couples’ life commitments. Soon a young lesbian couple came forward and said that this dialogue was personally meaningful, as they would like to have what was called then a “holy union,” and they requested that the congregation witness and celebrate it with them. In new members’ class and elsewhere, they shared their own spiritual journeys and history of deep involvement with their childhood churches, making clear the depth of their request.

Along with many others in the congregation, Man King was very moved. By the time we had drafted a 2-page statement explaining that we would treat same-sex couples’ requests the same as other-sex couples’ requests, he insisted on redrafting—and strengthening—the paragraphs outlining its theological underpinnings!

Man King was so on board that after the congregation approved the statement, he suggested that we give witness by putting out a press release. This was the early 90s so getting a splash in the Washington Post was a big deal. The article featured both the congregation’s decision and the lesbian couple (who were kept anonymous for their protection, given the times).

Unfortunately, the Bishop, who knew nothing about Man King’s change of heart or our new statement of equality, was blindsided by the Post article, which he learned about via an angry phone call early that morning.  Livid, he demanded that the entire Church Council come before him and berated us for going against official denominational rules. As a congregation within the United Methodist Church, we had no standing to create policy.

I’ll never forget the sight of Man King—only months after his appointment to Dumbarton by this very bishop—sitting just to his right, joyfully inviting him to join us in creating the kindom of God.

There is much more to this story, of course, but for just a moment, consider the impact of this young couple’s request on one congregation, one clergy person, one bishop (and beyond!)

Consider, too, the impact your own requests may have had… and where in your life, you might be holding one back. 

What about Africa? A Response

By David Braden

Thank you for your post, Heather. I started writing this as a comment to your post, but then it became quite long so I thought that I would just post my response in its own right.

So many comments and statements from General Conference still seem to sear my brain, e.g homosexuals being spawn of the devil and "things" that "we would rather not see, rather not hear, rather not touch" ...

I struggle with how easy it is to stereotype these comments as the lone voice of all Africans - as if a whole continent is of one mind about queer people. Thankfully, we know that there are other voices like that of Archbishop Desmond Tutu who speak out against homophobia and violence - spiritual and physical - against queer people.

Yet as you point out, it's not as if there isn't some level of veracity to a level of homophobia that threatens people's lives. It's one thing for my privileged white male gay ears to be offended by someone calling me "demonic." Yet, it's a wholly different issue to face state-sanctioned imprisonment or death.

I think you are totally right in our need to be in faithful communion with our brothers and sisters in Africa. All too often I have heard some of our own Reconciling friends suggest that "If it weren't for the Africans ..." or "If we just didn't have the Africans ..." then we'd be an inclusive Church. What does that really mean? Are we saying that in order to be a fully inclusive Church we have to exclude an entire continent of brothers and sisters in Christ? I can empathize with the pain that so many people feel that would conjure up such sentiments. Actually “pain” is a word that probably doesn't even begin to describe the degree of harm that I know many people, including myself, feel due to General Conference and the voices of some African delegates and the likes of Eddie Fox.

Yet I worry about what it then means to be in the Reconciling movement. Are we a movement seeking the full inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people into the Body of Christ that we know as the United Methodist Church at any cost? Is this a reconciling movement just for white queer people? Are we done with our work if American queer people legally are protected in the Church but not anyone else?

I think we are missing an opportunity to experience or re-experience our own conversion and conviction for the love of Christ by not getting to know, entering into relationship with and standing side by side our brothers and sisters in Africa. If my oppression truly is bound up with all others experiencing and living oppression – in whatever form it rears its ugly head, then I am called to stand and be with my oppressed brothers and sisters. What that actually looks like, I don't know either. But I also know that I don't personally think that I can expect anyone - let alone a [stereotypical] brother or sister from Africa - to accept me as fully human and a child of God unless I do so as well. I guess we have a lot of work to do - and that would be an understatement...

What about Africa?

By Heather Murphy

Sometimes, my timing is impeccable.  I loaded the internet stream from General Conference just in time to watch African delegates responding to the question of GLBT inclusion.  The things they said were so awful, so painful, that I shut the stream off.  How could I persuade people like that to vote to include me in the church?  And how could I respond with cheerful, willing generosity to requests for help from the people who looked me in the eye (well, looked a camera in the eye, anyway) and said that I was evil, demonic, disordered, outside of the church?

I took some time this week to try to learn more about my brothers and sisters in Africa, and here's what I learned.

The UMC has a significant school in Africa, Africa University.  It's in Mutare, Zimbabwe. 

Zimbabwe's in pretty big trouble.  Their economy is in a meltdown, with inflation now over one million percent.  One million percent.  Hunger is widespread in the face of the economic disaster, and millions of Zimbabweans have fled the country, while millions more live displaced from their homes.  The president, Robert Mugabe, has been accused of just about every civil right violation I've ever heard of, including violent attacks against his opposition.

Once, Zimbabwe had one of the highest literacy rates in Africa, but hunger, teachers' strikes, disease, and unrest are causing the national level of literacy to drop rapidly.  About 25% of citizens are infected with HIV.  In urban areas like Mutare, where the Methodist university is, the HIV rate is closer to 40%.  Because few people can afford antiretroviral drugs, people with HIV can look forward to living only a few years before they are struck by life-threatening AIDS symptoms.

As in many African countries, gay sex is illegal in Zimbabwe.  Zambabwe goes even farther than many countries, though; new laws have been passed which make any same-sex contact at all, even handholding and hugs, punishable with up to ten years in prison.  Homosexuality is strongly taboo culturally, and President Mugabe speaks publicly against homosexuals, claiming that homosexuality is a white scourge imported by colonizers, making gay people the scapegoats for many of Zimbabwe's most serious problems. 

And I'm sitting here, using my brand-new laptop with my high-speed connection, alone in an apartment that's big enough to house four or five people.  My kitchen is full of food.  I'm in excellent health, but I know that I have insurance that'll help me if I get seriously ill.  I'm reasonably confident that nothing I can write in this blog is going to result in my being arrested or brutalized by police.  I'm thirty five years old and have only once attended a funeral of someone I loved.  One of my sisters in Zimbabwe might well say that I live in extravagant wealth and privilege.

This is the point, I think, where I ought to say something profound and useful about the vast difference between our worlds, and about what the right way is to think and act regarding it, and what well-chosen actions and words would result in my brothers and sisters in Africa seeing that I'm not an enemy or a threat, but their sister in Christ, so they'll vote to include me fully in the church.  Or maybe I should say that I don't have a right to demand that they understand, when they have so many more serious problems.  But I'm honestly not sure what to say. 

I think perhaps that my next step is to look for ways to connect with the churches in Africa, not to educate them about GLBT issues but to learn from them about African concerns, and to see what there is for me to do to help.  I'm not sure what comes after that.

Pointing to the Perplexing Paradox of Pride Protest Placards

by Leland Spencer

For several weeks now, I have had another post warming on the back burner of my mind, and just as I thought it was ready to come to a boil, I attended the Cleveland Pride festival and encountered inspiration to write something else. Besides the fact that I cannot resist an opportunity to use alliteration in a title (and "P" is my favorite alliteration letter), I knew the moment I saw the protest placards at Cleveland Pride that I had a blog-worthy response.

I had to walk a few blocks from the parking area to Voinovich park, where Cleveland Pride is held. As I neared the park, I passed a small group (not more than 10 people) of protesters. There were posters with scripture quotations, a poster with images of fire, blood, or burning flesh (couldn't tell exactly from the distance), a very simple poster that stood out to me most clearly. The top part of the poster said, "Homosexuality is a sin," and the bottom part of the poster read, "Christ can set you free." I tried to get a picture of the poster, but I was too far away to get one that was clear.

 

I was neither surprised nor disturbed about the protesters and their placards, and any pain or discomfort I felt was certainly assuaged when I entered the event and saw thousands of people who were able to be authentically real and comfortable in that space. People were laughing, holding hands, and wearing rainbows. People were dressed in drag, dressed in clericals, dressed in very little of anything at all, or dressed as they would dress to go almost anywhere else. People were conversing with old friends and new, enjoying food, and meeting business owners, nonprofit organization leaders, community activists, and church members who hosted booths where people could seek more information.

 

As I looked around Pride, I realized that the people there were indeed free. They were freer than the protesters outside the park could ever understand, and that thought brought me back to a place of ruminating about the sign I saw. Homosexuality is sin; Christ can set you free. I realized I agreed with everything on the sign except for the first word. Change that first word to "Homophobia," and I agree with the sign. Change that first word to "Dishonesty," and I agree with the sign. Change that first word to "Hate," "Judgment," "Close-mindedness," "Arrogance," "Exclusion," "Discrimination," "Falsehood," or "Deceit," and I agree with the sign.

 

I wished I could talk to the protesters and explain this view, but I usually try to avoid having conversations with people who make up their minds first and then work backward from there to find evidence that supports what they already believe. If I could have talked to them, though, I would have explained that Christ has set me free. Christ has set me free from the bondage of believing the lies of prooftexting literalism; Christ has set me free from the tyranny of dishonesty and fear that haunted my life before I came out; Christ has set me free from the burden of the numbness that comes with rejecting one's own capacity to feel as a human being; Christ has set me free from my own sins of homophobia and heterosexism; Christ has set me free from the prison of falseness and untruth that sealed me off from developing authentic and honest relationships with other people. Christ has set me free--not from homosexuality--but from the closet, the place of silence and shame where the fullness of my humanity could be understood only in secret. In the words of our United Methodist communion liturgy, I have been freed for joyful obedience in Christ Jesus. A part of that obedience means recognizing my sexuality as a gift of God and as a part of the creation God calls me to love.

Thanks be to God for that freedom! Amen.   

It All Begins at the Table

By Rev. Peter L. DeGroote

(You religious leaders)…You imposters!  Damn you!  You slam the door of Heaven’s domain in people’s faces. You yourselves don’t enter, and you block the way of those trying to enter.”  Matthew 23:13, SV*

An attempt to torpedo the renewal of the Baltimore-Washington Conference’s Dialogue Project during our May meeting failed. The Project began three years ago when Baltimore-Washington Area Reconciling United Methodists (BWARM) proposed district dialogue teams that would talk with each other, an alternative to talking about each other.  Participation is open to all, although each team needed to have some who supported and some who opposed changing the Discipline’s language on issues of gender and sexual identity in order to facilitate the dialogue.

Team members need to agree to abide by procedures for dialogue and to the rules for confidentiality. Members of BWARM and of reconciling congregations participated, but membership in an advocacy group was neither a requirement or ever thought about. However, when the resolution to renew the Project came before the Conference a motion was introduced to require that each dialogue team include representatives of the Transforming Congregation movement before any dialogue could take place.

The motion was an attempt to give a particular group the power to block the dialogue by their absence. That did not sit well with the members of the Conference. Further, no one stepped forward when the Conference was asked how many Transforming Congregations we have.

This grasping for veto power brought to mind the above quote from Matthew’s gospel reflecting the early church’s understanding of Jesus’ reaction to those who seek to limit and control the religious experience of others: They won’t participate and they refuse to allow others to participate—as religious leaders they are imposters, they are lost (lost being a contemporary synonym for being damned). And what were they depriving themselves and others of? Listening and talking with and about Jesus. Dialogue!

Dialogue leads us to the table that is so much at the center of our Christian heritage and so much the symbol of how Jesus got into trouble with both religious and civil leaders. Not only does he appear to speak with anyone who wanted to talk, and some who didn’t, Jesus departed from the religious and civil taboos of the ancient world by eating with the rejected and marginalized of his culture, those deemed socially and morally inferior. They were not the only ones at the table, but they were included.

Out of the dialogue around the table, and in other settings, emerged new and unheard of communities founded on values that challenged the prevailing order. We celebrate the last supper but it might be better to say the last of many suppers. The gospel reports were stylized for the benefit of the communities out of which they came and we sometimes have to read between the lines. But it is safe to say that the discussions around that table were dynamic, if not sometimes contentious.

Keep in mind that when people first heard Jesus tell them how to live in harmony with God and each other they did not simply accept those new ideas anymore than we do, even though they are not so new to us. There was argument, disagreement, and even puzzlement but many kept talking. Ultimately, the dialogue led some to a willingness to experiment with both the ideas Jesus spoke of and the behavior Jesus modeled. Out of that experimenting emerged those who became followers of Jesus’ Way.

Without the table, without Jesus’ challenge to the values and the ways of his world that arose out of the dialogue, there would have been no cross. In our churches the table stands before the cross.  Spiritually we can’t adequately contemplate the cross if we do not do so from a seat at the open table, the table where Jesus’ Way is experimented with and learned. It is that part of the Wesley Quadrilateral we call experience; out of actually doing what Jesus taught we gain spiritual insight and a knowledge of God’s ways that would not be otherwise possible.

The Eucharist or Communion we commonly celebrate on the table uses the bread and cup as symbols for a variety of doctrinal understandings. Those theological understandings are irrelevant when we forget that the table itself is also a symbol, a symbol that acquired its meaning long before those theologies were shaped. It was the symbol of the way of Jesus’ life and of the communities formed in response to his teachings. The community gathered around the table to thank God for the gift of life, for the gifts that sustained life, for God’s Presence among them, and for the gift of Jesus. Without this understanding, whatever else we do on the table becomes disconnected from Jesus.

The theology that has been developed to explain Jesus often transports us light years away from his model for living. The resulting image of Jesus can be shorn of all humanity, in particular, shorn of his integrity that is central to understanding what he meant by loving or honoring God in order to love and honor others. He did not attempt a few pithy words to Pilot to obtain his release. He did not deny all that he had said and done. He did not recant his harsh words about the powers of his day. Had he done so, his message would have been “this is the way of life God would have you lead until you are threatened by death, at which time God is no longer relevant.” Instead, Jesus said this is the way of life that leads you into harmony with God even through death.

Those who sought to veto the dialogue of our Conference teams were not innovators. Over the years groups within the church have often acquired control of both the guest list and the agenda. Jesus guest list was an open invitation, but he did have an agenda. Its foundation was the central rule of loving God and others, honoring God and others, respecting God and others, etc. That is what makes reconciliation possible.

Most of us have to admit to a temptation to either limit the guest list or to water down Jesus’ agenda, limiting its application. Even those who have been the targets of exclusion are sometimes forceful articulators of “by invitation only” practices and procedures. Sometimes, once we get our justice, we are unwilling to work for or allow justice for others. That is not reconciliation and it is not integrity.

 
*SV means “Scholars Version” or The Five Gospels, by Robert W. Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and The Jesus Seminar. NY: Macmillan, (Polebridge Press), 1993.

55 years together, and finally the right to marry!

By Rev. Gilbert Caldwell

I am sure the proponents of our United Methodist legislation that forbids United Methodist clergy from officiating at marriages or unions of same gender couples had no idea that couples like Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon existed. Nor do I imagine that the writers of Scripture whose words have been used to support our Book of Discipline language, were acquainted with relationships like that of Martin and Lyon. If they had been, I cannot imagine either their spirituality or their reason permitting them to write/speak the words of judgment and condemnation that have been responsible for the "long night" of resistance to same gender couples who who want to openly affirm and proclaim their love for and commitment to, each other.

The 50 plus years that Grace and I have spent together as a married couple have been filled with much joy and some struggle. There have been many mountaintop experiences. But there have been valleys as well, some personal, some because of bigotry. On December 1, 1957 after our marriage on November 30, 1957, we arrived at the Mt. Airy Lodge in the Pennsylvania Poconos to begin our honeymoon. Although I had reservation in hand, when the desk clergy saw us, he said, "we cannot accept your reservation, your presence would upset our guests". Much more was said, and it soon became obvious that the Lodge was unwilling and unprepared to accommodate a newly-married African American couple.

But, we could marry! We were married in a small country Methodist Church in Greensboro, N.C. by a Methodist Bishop. After our rejection in the Poconos, we traveled to New York City to complete our honeymoon. Same gender couples, because of legislation passed by General Conference after General Conference, are not permitted to have their marriages or their unions confirmed in United Methodist Churches! And, United Methodist Pastors are denied the right to officiate at the services of same gender couples. In 1957 the Church said "yes" to the marriage of Grace and Gil Caldwell, but a secular institution, a Lodge, said "no". Today, the United Methodist Church says "no" to the marriage of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon while the government of California says "yes".

Not all of the same gender couples that Grace and I know, want to marry. Some of them, as they observe the patriarchal history of marriage and the current state of marriage, are reluctant to marry. They remember the words of James Baldwin who said of the racial segregation in the USA, "Who wants to be integrated into a burning house." But, Althea Gibson, the first African American to win a major tennis championship said of the segregated balconies of movie theaters where once we were forced to sit; "I prefer to sit in the balcony because I can see the screen better. But, I don't like to be told that is the only place where I can sit."

How much longer will the United Methodist Church say "no" to United Methodist same gender couples, senior citizens like Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon and those who are not? When will we cease engaging in the juvenile practice of negatively stereotyping same gender persons who love each other? 50 years ago the desk clerk who turned Grace and me away, blamed his actions on the unwillingness of the white guests to accept us. I believe that in 2008 there are thousands of United Methodists who would have been proud to host the wedding of a same gender couple who have been together for 55 years! They would have wanted their United Methodist minister to officiate at the service. And, upon reflection they would say that to be an authentically "Open Door Church", all same gender couples ought have the right to marry in a United Methodist Church with A United Methodist minister officiating.

My prayer is that those leaders in our denomination who have been the self-appointed "gatekeepers", like that desk clerk in Pennsylvania,  who have led others to vote against same gender unions and marriages at General Conferences are beginning to be "born again". They cannot help but see that while our Church prohibits and excludes, an increasing number of Courts and Legislatures and Governors are convinced that true equality means inclusion of same sex couples.

History is repeating itself!  Once the state legislated segregation and denied interracial marriage, and the Church followed the lead of the state. Today the state is beginning to understand that the equality provisions granted by the national and state Constitutions apply to same gender couples. May the United Methodist Church understand that the equality provisions of Scripture and our Book of Discipline long ago gave us permission to lead. But, since we did not lead on matters of race, but rather followed the state, let us do the same on same gender unions and marriages. In the past the state gave the Church permission "to be the Church" in response to race. Today, may the still-timid Church,
follow the state in its response to same gender couples.

Spirits United

By Kelli Busey

Metropolitan Community Church of Greater Dallas was treated to a special Soulforce visit on Sunday June 15 2008. Two of our youngest and brightest stars proclaimed the wholeness of there lives. Guest speakers, Jakob Hero and Angel Collie, talked about Living authentically Proud, Young & Transgender.
Our young friends road to our church has at times not been a easy one.

Transgender gentleman Angel Celeste Collie is a gender activist, member of Imani MCC Durham NC. He is is also a college student and employed by MCC as a archive project and Program Assistant. Born in Bunn NC, Angel began transition in the 10th grade, which quickly was followed by expulsion from his high school. Angel was then told by his Baptist Minister he was ill and transported to a hospital. Desperate, with Angel in a spiritual downward spiral his mother enrolled him in a private high school for LGBT students. After graduation Angels love for Christ was reignited at Imani MCC. Angel expresses his passion for Christ in tattoos of his spiritual journey, Soulforce activism and evangelical missions.

Jakob Heros transition from female to male began after two years of marriage. Jakob could not live in a gender that did not represent his true self. So he began the traditional regiment taught to us by the medical profession and found himself unable to complete his first attempt at the year long "real life test". But like so many of us a failure in transition only means we are going have to do it again. This time Jakob found success by inviting Jesus Christ into his heart and asking that he show him the way. The wonderfulness of this journey escapes description.

Jakob is now a seminary student pursuing a doctorate in theology and wishes to combine his theological education and passion for advocacy to best serve his community. 

According to Rev. Colleen Darraugh, lead pastor of MCC Dallas, the two spirits one from California and one from North Carolina were brought here to share as young transgender Christians in their new and fresh visions. Pastor Darraugh wishes to challenge her congregation through acceptance and understanding of people. She believes this results in growth of spirit, faith and the goodness of the greater Christian Community.
                                                               
Angel, Jackob and my soul met as we attempted to answer questions about the how the General conference changed our lives and our love of the Methodist faith. Sometimes words fail, but I felt that the others were moved by the spirit.

Was it just coincidental that the Methodist faith so touched Angel and my lives and that we joined again to witness? At the GMC we became one in the struggle for full inclusion and in doing so became a part of the United Methodist church. I know this was as responsible as anything could be for our meeting on this day. I feel the burden of the Methodist struggle maybe lightened a little, after all we do have a pair of Angels!

Whose movement is this?

By Ann Thompson Cook

I’ve heard people say that allies’ job is to help LGBT people, that the work we do for LGBT equality is to benefit LGBT people. Similarly, I’ve heard supportive straight folks say that they feel uncertain how to act, because they’re not sure they have permission, presumably from LGBT people, to speak.

It’s time to consider whose movement this is.

My own work for justice has long been informed by a saying attributed to aboriginal activists: "If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together."

When I finally began working for equality, it was after a long period of discomfort. Like everyone else, I had absorbed society’s homophobia (and transphobia, I later learned) through my pores. I worked very hard to identify and deal with preconceptions and fears that I had learned since early childhood.

I work for equality because I don’t want any more children to learn such aversion, whether of other people, of themselves, or of aspects of themselves. I want children to be free to become fully who they are, to express gender in whatever way comes most naturally to them, to date whomever they’re drawn to, to pursue their own amazing gifts and interests and talents.

When one of my sons was 9, he went to summer camp at the community center, which consisted of all the kids taking a smattering of the classes held at the center year-round. So it happened that he landed in a co-ed ballet class with a wonderful teacher, whom he adored. But when he enthusiastically enrolled in that class in the fall, he was the only boy, and the girls began taunting him on the playground as “ballet boy,” after which—with many tears—he withdrew.

I tell that story, not because my son was scarred for life, as so many LGBT children have been, but as an example of how our  anti-LGBT culture affects all children, including those, like my son, who turn out to be straight. Sexism—rigid gender requirements—drove him from pursuing something that gave him joy that year.

That’s not the kind of society I want to live in, much less raise a new generation in.

So whose movement is it? I say it’s all of ours, whoever strives to create a world that works for everyone, with no-one diminished or undermined, no-one left out.