Home » LGBT

Category: LGBT

#IAmWithAllTheHers

img_1086

I didn’t #PantsSuitUp yesterday on Tuesday to go and vote, but I did yesterday.

I did because #Iamwithallthehers.

I am with the hers who are shocked and disappointed because their candidate lost.

I am with the hers in the LGTBQ community.

I am with the hers of all races, nationalities, and ethnicities.

I am with the hers who are worried about their children, especially their daughters.

I am with the hers for whom the results of this election trigger painful memories of abusive relationships, sexual assault encounters, rape, and spiritual abuse.

I am with the hers who have been silenced, oppressed, and threatened to not share their stories of abuse, sexual assault, rape, and spiritual abuse.

I am with the hers who are in conservative communities of faith.

I am with the hers who are not in communities of faith.

I am with the hers who have endured sexual harrassments, unwanted sexual advances, and sexual assault in the wake of this election.

I am with the hers who are single.

I am with the hers who are stepparents.

I am with the hers who are thanking God because He heard their prayers and allowed their candidate to win.

#Iamwithallthehers

When We Withhold Communion

13076972_1017440641643274_2387054437218505386_n

Yesterday, as we worshipped together at ministrieslab, I offered an invitation to the table. An invitation to anyone who wanted to come. I offered the same thoughts that we offer each week, “It doesn’t matter when the last time you went to church was or what church that was, God’s table is open to all.”

There was a woman who hadn’t been in worship with us, but was waiting at the doorway for the next class. As we wrapped up with the Amen chorus, she ventured into the conference room. She complimented the pianist telling him how powerful his music was and how it moved and encouraged her. She came in where I was packing up the communion elements. I offered her the rest of the communion bread, something we do every week in case there is someone who is hungry and needs a bit more than a pinch of bread to sustain them. She shook her head no. I offered again explaining that she was welcome to it, knowing that to be homeless is to be vulnerable and being offered handouts is often offensive. She shook her head again. Sensing something in her eyes, a question or a hesitation, I offered one last time.

She explained that she wanted to take communion. The juice had already been given to someone else, but I told her I would be happy to pour the cup again, just for her. “I want to take communion, but people have told me I shouldn’t because you have to be a certain kind of person to take communion.”

I looked her in her eyes and said, “I’m a minister and I’m offering you this bread and cup to remember that we are all offered new life.” She took the smallest pinch of the body of Christ I have ever seen and dipped just a little into the cup. After she had eaten the bread dipped from the cup, she took the cup and raised it to her lips. She finished the small amount I had served just for her. As she handed the cup back to me, I said, “Thanks be to God.” “Amen,” she muttered.

When we withhold communion from people who need to be reminded of the sacrifice Jesus made on the night he was betrayed, we withhold new life from them. When we withhold communion from people because of their sexual orientation, the color of their skin, or whether they have a home or not, we are withholding God from them. When we withhold communion, we are withholding God’s love and God’s hope and instead offering them exclusion and brokenness.

When we withhold communion from people, we are forgetting, not remembering. We are forgetting that in the wilderness God offered manna from heaven to God’s people: the people who had faith and the people who were complaining, whining, and had no faith. We are forgetting that Jesus on the night he was betrayed offered the bread and the cup to the very person who was about to betray him. We are forgetting that in the midst of our own brokenness, we were offered the hope and healing in the body and blood of Christ.

Thanks be to God that we are welcomed to God’s table even when we tell others there is no seat for them.

When Ministry Is Hard

 

Ministry is hard when you have to stand beside and pray on behalf of a mom who has lost her 7 and a half week old reminding her that she still has to take care of her postpartum body that hasn’t even healed yet.

Ministry is hard in a political climate that is divisive, filled with name calling, and high stakes.

Ministry is hard in the midst of decline church membership, declining budgets, and increased expectations on time and responsibilities.

Ministry is hard when you feel called to serve, but can’t find a place to call you to serve.

Ministry is hard when you see over and over again the hurt and pain the church has caused so many people.

Ministry is hard when you are ministering to the homeless and hear people remark about how people who are homeless are just lazy because there are jobs available everywhere and you know it’s not true.

Ministry is hard when you find your privilege exposed and your assumptions revealed.

Ministry is hard as our culture looks to our churches for guidance on how to interpret the violence we experience much too often.

Ministry is hard as you navigate what it means to be someone who is called God’s word to God’s people.

Thanks be to God for those men and women who are ministers, especially when ministry is hard.

 

Freedom for Some

Yesterday, many churches joined the worship or God with the worship of country as the lines between church and state were blurred with the singing patriotic songs and the parade of red, white, and blue in sanctuaries. In blurring those lines, we forget how many people are not free to be themselves in our country and communities of faith.

God of grace and love, in your mercy hear our prayers:

for those who are not free to express love freely for threat of losing their jobs,

for those who are reduced to their gender or sexuality ignoring their talents and abilities,

for those who speak on behalf of your name, Creator God, judging who are your children and who are not,

for those working three jobs tirelessly trying to feed their children,

for those giving up their own food to feed others,

for those whose EBT debit cards are empty before the end of the month,

for those who work this holiday and every holiday so others can celebrate,

for those grieving the loss of loved ones from gun violence,

for those grieving the loss of loved ones from gun violence who have heard that their loved ones’ death shouldn’t take away the freedom of others to buy assault weapons,

for those who feel trapped, oppressed, unheard, and unseen trying to pursue the American Dream that does not exist,

May we remember in the midst of our celebration those who aren’t free living in a country where people believe everyone is free. Amen.

 

After the Rain

Last night, I stood on our back porch smelling the post-rain air. The air was particularly sweet because it had been threatening to rain for two days. The herb garden Sam got started for me for my birthday in April had been baking on the steps of our front porch ready to soak up the rain that took two days to come. As I checked on them today, I realized the rain yesterday hadn’t been enough. They already needed to be watered again.

While I left CBF General Assembly renewed by the community and solidarity of those of us who are united in support of the entire LGTBQ community, it was like the rain my herbs got in last night. It offered a brief refreshment, but then the summer heat of reality came back as articles from people who believe that the hiring policy of CBF doesn’t need to be addressed began to appear. I want to believe in the Illumination Project announced by CBF conveniently on the Wednesday morning of the CBF General Assembly. I want to believe that this process will be a way to “provide more light and less heat,” to the LGTBQ question.

But those of us who have who have been baking in the heat of search committees and churches, who have lost out on opportunities to serve in churches because of our gender, our sexuality, because of who we are, are praying desperately for the refreshing rain of a community of faith who will let us grow into the ministers we are called to be. We were hoping we wouldn’t be told to wait, to continue baking in the heat while others search for light.

It’s a step in the right direction, but CBF has to continue to water and tend to ministers of the LGTBQ, ministers who are women, and ministers who are actively and purposely supporting ministers from these communities.

One scattered shower of hope isn’t enough.

A Fractured Reality

As more and more people begin to arrive in Greensboro for CBF’s General Assembly, there is no question that the press release this morning with a call from Suzii Paynter to work towards unity was meant to set the stage for the conversation about CBF’s discriminatory hiring policy. It sounds a lot like we are following in the footsteps of Methodists, except for one thing. While the Methodists are willing to admit that their process of discovery is in regards to the LGTBQ question, Paynter says:

We are introducing a process not for a single problem or for a single moment.

Her statement reveals the fractured reality CBF has been living in.

Because CBF does not kick churches out of their fellowship, there exists a wide array of churches along the theological spectrum. In fact some of CBF churches are still dually aligned with the Southern Baptist Convention, which had protestors at the funerals of the victims of the Orlando shooting. These dually aligned churches are hoping CBF will do exactly what Paynter’s words indicate: avoid the LGTBQ question entirely. The reality is by avoiding the question, CBF is hoping to maintain the financial backing of churches, ministers, and lay people from a wide range of theological understandings.

But CBF can’t exist in this fractured reality for much longer. Churches and ministers who support the LGTBQ community and who don’t or don’t want to address the question, will keep pushing for a clear answer on what CBF believes. As more and more ministers and churches push, the fracture will become bigger.

And maybe this isn’t a bad place for CBF to be because it mirrors the conflicted climate of the church. The possibility of losing funding or losing members over the difficult conversations of gender and sexuality is a reality that so many churches and ministers are trying to navigate. Maybe by feeling the pressure and stress that so many churches and ministers are bearing, CBF will look to a future that values not money above all, but rather the resurrection power of Christ to transform the world.

Hold On

For those of us who are preparing and traveling to CBF General Assembly, there is a question that is on all of our minds, “What is the future for CBF?” This is the 25th Anniversary of CBF and while it is a time to catch up with people and celebrate, it is also a time that we are all expecting a clear vision for what’s next.

CBF is no longer an awkward teenager testing boundaries and trying to find its identity. Instead, CBF is, well, a millennial. The millennials in attendance are not nones (they are attending CBF after all). These are millennials who have not given up on the church, but instead have answered calls to ministry. These are millennials who are pushing on leadership hoping to find a place to serve, a place to grow, and a place to be themselves.

Will CBF have a place for millennial ministers in their midst?

Maybe, but there is a hiring policy standing between many millennials and CBF. A hiring policy that taints the good work CBF does in caring for those in the midst of crisis because it asks members of the LGTBQ community to silence part of who they are. It is a hiring policy that excludes rather than excludes. It is a hiring policy that stands in contradiction to a theology of welcoming and affirming all people.

As we wait for General Assembly to begin, we wait hoping beyond hope, we won’t hear what we have heard for the past 25 years. We hope we won’t hear, “Hold on,” because we have held on for 25 years. It’s time to stop holding on, grasping an identity based on what we are not, and climb to the future that includes all people.

You Cannot Work Here

Next week is Cooperative Baptist Fellowship’s General Assembly, the annual gathering for those affiliated with moderate and progressive Baptist churches, the group that famously split with the SBC 25 years ago. 25 years ago CBF formed as the Baptist that supported women in ministry and upheld historic Baptist principles. Next week in the midst of the 25 year celebration, there will also be questions and conversation about the future of CBF.

Young Baptist are asking where there place is in an organization that is on the cusp of having its founders retire, but whose founders can’t quite retire because of lost income and retirement in the split. CBF is in a holding pattern waiting to land while the next generation of CBF looks up at the leadership circling overhead awaiting a chance to pilot CBF into their future. Part of that future has to include a conversation about whether CBF will remove its discriminatory hiring policy excluding members of the LGTBQ community from working at CBF. This conversation is even more important for supporters and allies of the LGTBQ community in light of the Orlando shooting.

In October of 2000, the Coordinating Council of the CBF adopted the following policy on homosexual behavior related to personnel and funding:

Because of this organizational value, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship does not allow for the expenditure of funds for organizations or causes that condone, advocate or affirm homosexual practice. Neither does this CBF organizational value allow for the purposeful hiring of a staff person or the sending of a missionary who is a practicing homosexual.

CBF’s stance barring openly gay people from working at CBF has caused some to boycott the CBF and others to question whether CBF will survive without changing this hiring policy. Those of us who have been told that they cannot work somewhere based on our gender or sexual orientation and not our qualifications, work experience, or education are anxiously waiting to see what CBF will decide.

Our hope is that we will not leave our annual meeting as our Methodist brothers and sisters did with the admonition to keep putting our lives and our very selves on hold.

A Mass Shooting and Spiritual Abuse

Yesterday, the alternate reading for the lectionary was Psalm 5:1-8:

Psalm 5:1-8
5:1 Give ear to my words, O LORD; give heed to my sighing.
5:2 Listen to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to you I pray.
5:3 O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.
5:4 For you are not a God who delights in wickedness; evil will not sojourn with you.
5:5 The boastful will not stand before your eyes; you hate all evildoers.
5:6 You destroy those who speak lies; the LORD abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful.
5:7 But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love, will enter your house, I will bow down toward your holy temple in awe of you.
5:8 Lead me, O LORD, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before me.

I was drawn to preach this psalm this week even though it asked me to wrestle with the misinterpretation of an Old Testament God who is full of wrath and encounter an Almighty God who does not delight in wickedness and hates all evildoers. Even as I preached this psalm and reflected on the mass shooting in Orlando, I knew what was going to happen. I grew up in a community of faith that turned passages of scripture into justification for theological dogma regardless of their historical or literary contexts. This community of faith did the same with current events. Nothing would shake the dogmatic teachings they believed in, not even death, not even 50 deaths, not even the deadliest mass shooting in American history. I knew even as I preached that there would be people who would take to social media and spread their message fueled with spiritual abuse to anyone who would hear it, disregarding the lives lost and the families mourning. I knew there would be people who claimed that those who had been murdered somehow deserved it because of their sexual orientation.

This is spiritual abuse.

Clinging so tightly to dogma that it prevents compassion, grief, and love in the midst of death does nothing to spread God’s love and bring the kingdom of God here on earth. Instead it excuses us from loving our neighbor or welcoming those who have been systematically discriminated against and numbs our hearts and souls to the point of reducing human life to a lesson to be learned. This kind of biblical interpretation frees the believer from any action and encourage hate-filled judgement recited like a trained parrot.

But even in the midst of this spiritual abuse that tries to claim that these lives lost were worth nothing, there are voices rising up, voices full of creativity and love, full of the resurrected Christ that offer new life. May I be one of those voices that proclaims loudly that those 50 people held the divine breath within them as a creation of Creator God. May I continue to wrestle with my own dustiness that threatens to convince me that this life is too fleeting to offer any real change or hope to the world acknowledging the divine breath within my own soul that promises transformation if I but breathe deeply.

Lead me, O LORD, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before me.

Do We Have to Welcome and Affirm All?

13076972_1017440641643274_2387054437218505386_n

As the conversation about gender and sexuality is more prevalent in American culture, the question, “Do we have to welcome and affirm all?” is circulating in churches.

Some churches are responding to these conversations and this question by expressing their rights as religious institutions to express condemnation and judgement. Some churches are responding to these conversations and this question by expressing that it seems like churches are being asked to be politically correct and not faithful, even calling on people who have been saved from homosexuality to speak out. Some churches have even decided to identify as welcoming, but not affirming, but have found grave difficulty in the practical implementation of this theological tenet.

Yesterday, as I lead worship at Transitions with Ministrieslab, I was struck by the reflections of those gathered about being homeless and how people perceive you. “I know this sounds crazy and most people won’t believe me, but homelessness is the best choice I made because I chose a life away from addiction and constantly being in that environment. This is my new life.”

I can’t help but feel the same way. As a woman called to preach, coming out as a woman preacher was the best decision I made. It caused me to cut ties with a past of spiritual abuse and step into a future full of resurrection.

But my story, the stories of members of LGTBQ community, and the story I heard at Transitions challenge the church that has created discriminatory membership practices that teach some people are welcomed and affirmed by God and others aren’t. As churches and denominations continue to debate whether they should welcome and affirm all, those of us who have been rejected, silenced, and treated as outsiders will continue to gather, continue to worship, and continue to tell our stories.

And once churches and denominations have settled on this question, they just might find themselves without members as the rest of us work to bring the kingdom of God here on earth by partnering with organizations who are busy helping rather than busy debating.