Reconciling Ministries Network

Relationships

by Kara Crawford

“God loves queers!” Wouldn't it be wonderful if this were a more commonly-heard message in the public sphere than its infamous converse, à la Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church? Believe it or not, it actually is a majority sentiment in Mainline Protestant Christianity. According to a Pew Forum Religion and Public Life survey conducted in 2007, 56% of Mainline Protestant Christians agreed that homosexuality should be accepted, and I am virtually positive the percentage has only increased since then.

So, not all Christians are anti-queer. In fact, many genuinely believe in, and a fair number act on, the sentiment that “God loves queers!” Some Christians are out queers; some queers are out Christians. Many signs point to positive changes in favor of queer acceptance by Christians.

However, this doesn't account for unsupportive Christians. Some of us know all too well who they are, have been repeatedly hurt by their hateful sentiments, some of us even left the churches of our childhood because of the hatred we felt from them. For some of us, they are former pastors and Sunday school teachers, even grandparents and parents. Can't we just ignore their hatred and pretend it doesn't exist, or better yet, only pay it attention when we're protesting and counterprotesting it and mocking their rhetoric?

I would argue no. In fact, I would argue that simply ignoring them is counterproductive to our looking for inclusion and acceptance. How's that, you may ask? Well, most simply, even unsupportive folks are part of the society in which we live. So if we, as queers and company, want to genuinely work to transform and challenge society's heterosexism, I believe it is critical that we work to build genuine relationships with unsupportive folks. Sure, it will be difficult. We will face challenging and even hurtful conversations, but I believe this is key to bringing about transformation.

The Not So Impossible Dream

by Violet Fenn

With the recent amazing developments from several Annual Conferences, including resolutions passed to eliminate the “incompatible with Christian teaching” section from the Book of Discipline, and the church trial of Rev. Amy DeLong, I have been pondering about my future in the United Methodist Church. I am a transgender woman and currently identify as a lesbian. Right now, the latter would automatically prevent me from ordination. Despite this, I am currently in seminary and plan on beginning the process to pursue ordination.

Why am I doing this? One of the reasons is that I’m a dreamer. I dream of the day that the United Methodist Church will be fully inclusive of everyone and anyone called to the ministry will be able to be ordained.

I’m a lover of Broadway musicals. One song that I’ve kept coming back to is “The Impossible Dream” from the musical Man of La Mancha. The lead character, Don Quixote is a dreamer. Unfortunately, his dreams are in some ways unrealistic and delusional. In fact, he believes his romantic interest, Aldonza, is a lady of nobility when in reality she’s a prostitute. Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, Don Quixote refuses to believe her. At one point in the musical, Aldonza asks him why he goes around doing good deeds and believes her to be something she isn’t. He replies by singing “The Impossible Dream.” His quest is to “fight the unbeatable foe,” “right the unrightable wrong,” and “run where the brave dare not go.” His optimism is admirable, but sadly it’s an unrealistic pursuit.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call the naysayers foes, but of course there are Methodists against full inclusion and I would venture to say that many view our work as impossible as Don Quixote’s quest. It’s not an impossible task. Evidence of this comes from the resolutions passed by several Annual Conferences as well as statements from clergy pledging to perform same-sex unions. We are closer than ever before and we can’t stop now.

This is why I am attending Sing A New Song in August. I can sense change in the air and it’s given me another boost to keep pursuing the dream we all have. The dream is fantastic and closer to coming true. To quote from another musical, The Sound of Music, we should “climb ev’ry mountain, ford ev’ry stream, follow every rainbow ‘til you find your dream.” Keep on singing, keep on climbing. Keep the dream alive.

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Violet Fenn is currently a United Methodist in exile due to a lack of reconciling congregations in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where she lives and is attending a UCC church. She began her gender transition in 2008 and has been active working against bigotry and intolerance for many years. She is active in MOSAIC and the leader of its TransJustice working group. This fall, she is beginning the next chapter of her journey by attending Phillips Theological Seminary in Tulsa for a Master's in Divinity. Despite the bigotry and transphobia she has experienced at the hands of a UMC congregation, she believes that the Methodist Church will become open and affirming of everyone in the LGBTQ community.

Unconditional Love

by Joey Heath

Wake up Church, Wake up! It is time to really know the love of God and to know we are covered by the love of Jesus. I love you and there is nothing you can do about it.

Maybe I should back up a bit and put this into a little context. As part of my seminary degree I am required to do something where I immerse myself in another culture. For my immersion trip I am in Houston, Texas with twelve of my classmates and we immersing in the culture of the homeless. We are doing this through a church called St. John's UMC. This church is amazing because it is truly living out the mission of the gospel. They house 200 homeless people everyone night seven days a week. They feed two meals a day seven days a week which works out to be about 12,000 meals a month. They work with the Houston food bank and every Wednesday distribute nine tons of food to people in need. This church is amazing.

 But they aren't just amazing because of those things I just mentioned. What really amazes me is their ministry of love. They really love people at St. John's. The staff is one that everyday seeks to love on anyone and everyone who walks in or even just near their doors. Pastor Rudy calls it a love revolution. As he says it is a revolution that was begun 2000 years ago by a man named Jesus. Jesus loved unconditionally. Since Jesus loves unconditionally, so does St. John's it is that simple.

Now I know a lot of churches talk about loving unconditionally but not all live it so let me tell you what it looks like at St. John's. At St. John's they reach out to any on the margins of society. If you are homeless they welcome you in and say we love you. If you have just been released from prison they welcome you in and say we love you. If you HIV/AIDS they welcome you in and say we love you. If you are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer they welcome you in and say we love you. It does not matter who you are, where you are in life, or what you have done in the past they welcome you in and say we love you and even more God love's you. Imagine it, a church where all they care about is that you know that you are loved by God and by the church. Let me tell you it is a successful model. I watched about 30 people baptized and another 20 or so join the congregation on a single Sunday. They are growing faster than you would believe and is all because they live the love the Jesus taught us to love.

So when I say wake up church I mean let's wake up to what it means to love. God welcome's all into God's church and into the body of Christ. Jesus loved all, particularly those rejected by society. Jesus spent a lot of time with those on the margins and he spent that time loving them. If we are seeking to follow the example of Jesus then we need to do the same. We need to fling open the church doors and say all are welcome no exceptions. We need to stop making judgments about who is good enough to be in the church and remember that all are created and loved by God and so we must do the same. We must speak out for those who are oppressed and for those pushed to the margins. We must reach out to the margins and invite people in. All are welcome and all are loved by God. So again I say wake up church and remember what it means to love.  

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Joey Heath is a 26 year old life long United Methodist. He is currently a graduate student at Wesley Theological Seminary completing his Masters in Divinity. Once an ordained pastor, Joey hopes he will be able to bring real change to the UMC on the issues of sexuality and gender identity at the broader church level, but also with individuals, so that one day the church will truly be a place that is inclusive of all people.

Solidarity Picnic Reflection: Texas AC via Al Jasra, Bahrain

by Stacy Anzick

I am a United Methodists clergy person from the Texas AC currently on family leave while my family lives in the Middle East for my partner Robert's job. Robert works in Saudi Arabia but Bahrain is a much friendlier and safer place to live, so his company has the families living in Bahrain while the men (yes, all male employees) cross the boarder and work in Saudi Arabia.

I have been a part of RMN (or previous incarnations) since signing the "Reconciling United Methodist" statement/pledge back in 1993. I graduated from Garrett-Evangelical in 1994 and returned home to the Texas Annual Conference where I was naive enough to bring a stack of Reconciling United Methodist forms to my first Clergy Women's lunch thinking that my mentors would be thrilled and ready to sign! This small, select group of the more "radical" Clergy women in my conference politely declined and let me know that being that "out" wasn't a good idea! It hasn't always been easy being a Reconciling Clergy person in the Texas Annual Conference but I have had GLBT folks in EVERY ONE of my congregations and they need our voices and our children need to hear about loving all in God's Kindom. For me the Gospel is clear about love, acceptance, community and speaking out against hate and sin regardless of the consequences of speaking truth! Would the attackers in the park have done what they did if they had grown up in worshiping places and communities that spoke kindly about our GLBT brothers and sisters?

My daughter Ramsey was baptized into the Beloved Community (by Rev. Troy Plummer) surrounded by our diverse group of family and friends who include singles and couples that are GLBT and Straight, Conservative and Progressive, more and less Religiously minded, and everything in between. We made promises to her that day - promises that need to be lived out regardless of our location and comfort level. So, now I find myself in another physical location where it isn't always safe or a good idea to be so "out" in my beliefs but I want my daughter to be surrounded by grace, love, and diversity. It was important for us to participate in the Solidarity Picnic because my daughter doesn't yet know about the kinds of prejudice and hate there are in the world but when she starts to ask those questions, I want her to know that our family doesn't play those games and that we instead choose love. We choose love and homemade mini-pizzas!

Solidarity Picnic Reflections: Washington DC

by Chett Pritchett

Lincoln Park in Washington, DC was a fitting place for a Solidarity Picnic. On a hot and humid day in our Nation's Capital, 12 folks gathered under a shade tree to share food and drink, stories and songs. Many were from local United Methodist congregations, but a few were area LGBT activists with GetEqual. We shared our struggles for equality along with a hope for a just and peaceful society.

Across the park, the memorial to the great educator Mary McLeod Bethune stands with these words:

"I leave you love. I leave you hope. I leave you the challenge of developing confidence in one another. I leave you a thirst for education. I leave you a respect for the use of power. I leave you faith. I leave you racial dignity. I leave you a desire to live harmoniously with your fellow men. I leave you, finally, a responsibility to our young people."

As we support Josh and Trent, and all those affected by violence, may we remember our responsibility to stand in the face of injustice and fear.

Solidarity Picnic Reflections: Texas Annual Conference

When asked why they wanted to have a picnic in the park they said:

‎"I went to the park today because I wanted our gay friends to know that we love them and I don’t want them to be afraid to go the park. We don’t want our friends to get hurt." – Caroline Young (6 yrs old)

“I didn’t know people would actually attack someone for being gay, or different from them in some way. That makes me sad. I’m sure it makes God sad too. I don’t know Josh, but I came tothe park so Josh would know a LOT of people love him. I also hope the boys who attacked them will make better choices.” – Claire Young (8 yrs. old)

"The experience of "connection" with wonderful people reminds me that my hope is justified." - Rev. Kevin Young

"We want to support Josh and his partner." Henry Chiu

"To stand up for justice for GLBT people." Ron Schindler

"To stand up for all people regardless of sexual orientation, race, or religion. Support for ALL." Susan Williams

"To stand up and show that hate of ANY kind is a terrible thing." Becca George

"I'm here to support my friends, and the right of all people to be themselves and express themselves freely. It is important that we continue to stand up for what is right and love one another, regardless of what we look like or who we love." Sarah Cosgrove

"I came out late, in my 40's, and have not personally experienced hate or discrimination. My friends and family (including my ex-wife, children, and football coach father) have accepted me lovingly. I feel duty to do whatever I can to help others whose experience has not been like mine." Rob Keeling

"We are here to stand in support of our son and his partner, our gay friends, and for anyone who is considered 'less than.'" Teddy and Lisa Lett

"I'm here to show support for friends who've been hurt by hate, injustice, and oppression. To show that hate will not prevail, by reclaiming these public spaces as places for all, not for a bigoted few." Brandyn Wilke

Solidarity Picnic Reflection

by Charlotte Carter Bruhn

Our picnic ended up being a family gathering at my house. It was brutally hot and the people I talked to weren't coming out in the heat. My 93 yr old Mother wanted to come, but decided the heat wasn't wise. Then at the last minute it rained hard at the venue we had chosen so my daughter and her family and I ate picnic food at my house and said a prayer for an end to discrimination and violence against gays. I am thinking about doing it again and inviting people in advance to join us. My Mother and my children feel very passionately about this. We do care. Please share with Josh that this Mother's heart is hurting for all the children and mothers who have to think about where it is safe for them to be public about who they love.

A Glimpse of Beloved Community

by Rev. Joshua M. Noblitt

The clouds parted with impeccable timing Sunday just in time for our picnic in Piedmont Park, despite what seemed like open monsoon season earlier in the day. I got there right before 3pm with my Mom and Dad who drove down from NC to be with me for the day. I wondered whether it would just be the three of us because of the weather, but gradually over the next hour individuals, couples, families, and groups of friends started showing up one after another, over 150 in all. They spread out colorful blankets, shared delicious food, played games and combined their healing energy together in one beautiful display of love and solidarity with all those who have been targeted because they are different.

Halfway through our time together, I stood to address the people assembled in the exact same spot where just two weeks and two days before, my loved one and I had spread out our blanket, set up our picnic basket, and were enjoying a peaceful summer evening together. I felt a flood of thoughts and emotions before I started to speak. I thought about the gun pressed to my temple, the bruises on my face and body, and the anger I felt at having a carefree evening ripped out from underneath me. I thought about the ease at which those young people allowed themselves to disrespect us because of our perceived sexual orientation. I thought about the ‘what ifs’ of the night of July 2, 2010 and the possibility that the delicious shrimp pasta dish I had prepared that evening might have been my last. I thought about the sadness I felt when I found out the age of the people who had been arrested, and how traumatic this would be for their families and my own as this plays out in the Courts and beyond. I thought about the stories I had heard from dozens of people who also had been targeted because of their race, religion or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. Many of these thoughts caused me to feel some measure of doubt about whether we could make a difference and whether this gathering would even be remembered next week. But then I looked into the faces of the people standing before me. Beautiful faces of beautiful people, gathered to transform tragedy into triumph and to bring Beloved Community into closer proximity. I thought about the people across the country who were gathering at the same exact time in solidarity picnics, supporting us in Atlanta as well as all those who have been targeted because of who they are. Then I looked over and noticed a small sign made by a child from my congregation that simply said, “Love Wins.” At that moment, I felt the sting of the previous memory of that space lessen and the feelings of doubt and despair melt away. The soothing balm of the new memory we were creating together covered me and I knew that in ALL things, love wins.

That day we left our fears behind for the afternoon and took a few steps down the path of love. We gave ourselves a small glimpse of the Beloved Community and I for one am transformed because of it. I have caught a few glimpses of it in the past and each time it leaves me longing for a more permanent view. There are countless others who work tirelessly for Beloved Community all around the world, and they too catch glimpses of it every now and then. May we find each other in our common quest, build the relationships that will bring us more glimpses until they merge together and form a permanent vision of a new reality with total relatedness, that transcends all demographics, embraces all, with justice for everyone, the alleviation of economic and social inequality, where everyone has the physical and spiritual necessities of life. The day of that reality is coming.....and I plan to be there to see it.

To see more pictures from the event visit Project Q Atlanta

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Rev. Joshua M. Noblitt is a clergy member of the Western North Carolina Annual Conference, the Minister of Social Justice at St. Mark UMC in Atlanta, Georgia, and a board member of Reconciling Ministries Network. He is a Mitigation Specialist at the Federal Defender Program, Inc. in Atlanta and considers his occupation to be a Death Penalty Abolitionist. He has been involved in MOSAIC and is now with Reconciling Ministries Clergy. He chaired the student organization, Sacred Worth, at Candler School of Theology and also served on the Emory University President’s Commission on LGBT Concerns.

The Fear of Church and Some Consequences

By Peter L. DeGroote

At yesterday’s BWARM* gathering a participant said the church is one of the most dangerous places an LBGT person can go. He was emphasizing the importance of clergy and leaders carving out a safe place of welcome in otherwise hostile congregational environments.

That was followed by stories pointing to another reality: Very often clergy are the source of the danger; that through sermons and attitudes clergy plant the seeds of rejection and hatred rather that a sense of honor and respect (love) for all creation.

Overall, the program produced a positive discussion of personal/family/church relations but stories from fear frequently popped up. We heard how growing up in the church had been an experience of fear; several heads nodded in agreement. We heard an outraged straight man tell of friends being beaten down by clergy and other church leaders. A seminary student, sitting next to his wife who was holding their newly born baby, worried about the influence of those churches in which they would have to raise their son—would they be reconciling congregations? What seeds would they sow? We heard a story of one man who had come to know gay and lesbian folks finding himself standing up in a church meeting to tell his pastor that his hateful speech about gay folks was a lie.

Afterward some of us old-timers reflected together. One, who has been a leader in reconciling activity for many years admitted that even now when he goes to church or a denominational gathering he has a set of defensive tools all shined up and ready to use. He is keenly aware that some resent his opinions, the fact that he has a voice in church and denominational affairs, and even his presence.

Another old-timer spoke of having to go elsewhere for spiritual strength and solace because he could no longer find those things in the church. His many years of fighting had resulted in his coming to see the church as just another social institution producing negative social values and, therefore, in need of change. He could fight those battles in any institution but remained in the church because that is where he learned to fight them; but his spiritual health comes from elsewhere.

When I got home I pondered where I stood in all of this. Being an old-timer myself, I share some of the feelings of those two old-timers described above. But I also feel something far more disconcerting. I have dealt with the fear, the rejection, the negative attitudes, and sometimes outright hatred as a pastor and preacher. That meant I had to face all of that in the context of biblical and theological understanding. In doing so I have come to realize the vacuity, self-centeredness, and institutional defensiveness that is at the center of so much of our practice, policy, and even our creedal declarations.

I am frequently reminded of the early churches recollection of Jesus’ attitude toward religious institutions: You religious leaders, you impostors! 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 23:13with a slight modification to the translation by Funk, Hoover, and the Jesus Seminar.)

*BWARM=Baltimore Washington Area Reconciling United Methodists.

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Peter is a second career pastor who has served in several churches in the Baltimore-Washington Conference. Prior to his ordination, he was a secondary-school teacher, a university lecturer in Government, an Associate in a government related professional association, CEO of a national financial institution. Peter was involved in Mid-Atlantic Affirmation, served on the National Council of Affirmation, and sat on the Board of the Reconciling Congregations Program, the predecessor name for RMN and has worked with BWARM (Baltimore-Washington Reconciling United Methodists).

Why Stories Matter!

By Justin White

This semester I am taking a class on sexuality and the focus in the class is on homosexuality and the church. When we had our first class I was nervous about being in there. The issue is one that is so volatile and I wasn’t sure what people’s thought processes on the class were going to be and I went in not sure how the professors were going to approach the class. After the professors went over the syllabus and explained the class, one of the professors explained that all 40 or so of us in the room were going to “bring a person into the room” that we were thinking about at that moment. The rationale was that we are all in this class for a reason, and there had to be someone we were thinking of. In order to protect those in the class who identify as LGBTQ, and those who might be questioning their own sexuality, the story could be in third person (if someone was taking the class for themselves). However, Dean Wells really stressed that the person to bring into the room was someone who dealt with the issue of homosexuality that was not in the room. It was an amazing experience. Each person told a minute long story about someone they knew that was either lesbian, gay, affirming, non-affirming, yet was dealing with the issue, and all the stories were powerful. Some people wanted to bring someone into the room that reacted out of fear and hate to people who had come out to them. Some people wanted to bring into the room those they had shunned because of their sexual orientation. Others wanted to bring those into the room that had died of aids. Others wanted to bring into the room those who had been shunned and cast out of the church. It was a powerful 40 minutes.

In thinking about the whole sharing time, I am reminded of the young man I brought into the room. He is a friend of mine and I have seen him grow up. He has an amazing passion for God and is committed to his faith in a way that is rarely seen. Last year he “came out” to me after a pastor had spat out hate speech from a pulpit. The anguish, hurt, and pain in his eyes tore my heart apart. I literally could not sleep that night. The pain he shared with me was deep, but it was this pain that often times led him closer to Christ. Yes, it wasn’t always easy, and yes he’d questioned a lot of things, including his own life, but instead of running away from God, he ran into God’s loving arms, even when some in his Christian circle had told him that he could change or else he was in danger of going to Hell. So, I wanted to bring him into the room. I wanted him to know that there were faithful people who would love him and cherish him for who he is.

 

The other story that stuck out to me was that of one of my friends. In the midst of her tears, she told a story about her cousin. The earliest memory she had of him was at his funeral. He wasn’t someone that her family talked about that much. She had seen pictures of him growing up and asked her mom who he was and her mom told her that it was her cousin. It wasn’t until later in life that she was told that her cousin had died of aids. It wasn’t something the family talked about. At the end of her story she said, “I wish I would have known him, because I would have loved him.” This is my friend’s reflection on why she brought her cousin into the room. “I thought about the question and thought about who I could 'bring into the room.' Who was I there for? Sure there were a lot of people that had influenced my decision on the course. But it was when I realized that I was there for the person that I knew the least, knew less than my friends, less than my sisters, it was when I realized that it was for Ronnie, that I cried." 

 

She wasn’t the only person who was moved by tears in class. Many of us were. As we brought all of these people into the room, there was an overwhelming sense of the Holy Spirit. We were listening to people’s stories. We were listening to stories of joys and pains and insecurities and fears. We were listening to each other. The Triune God dwells in the midst of narrative. God dwells between each of us as we tell our stories. In class, I felt the incarnational God that radically dwells in the world as the stories were told. I knew that God was present. What if this is what we did in our churches? What if we actually took time to listen to each other? What if we truly listened to people’s stories before we got defensive? What if we invoked those into our rooms that are excluded? What if we invoked into our churches those that we exclude? What if we not only invoked them in stories, but actually allowed them to come into our churches to share their stories? Some are not ready to hear the stories of God’s beautiful children, but some are. I pray that we would become a people, a church, a community that took the time to listen to stories of not only LGBTQ persons, but to all those people that we exclude from our midst. I pray that we become a church that allows our radically incarnational God to manifest herself in our presence. If we did, the church would be different and our communities would be different. So, let us listen to each other’s stories. Let us listen to the stories of those who are excluded. Let us encounter the radically incarnational God that calls us to live lives that are radically incarnational in a broken and hurting world, and hopefully we will be transformed by her radical and abundant grace.