GLAD

Become You (Psalm 139)

Sermon Preached at Tuesday Chapel at Methodist Theological School in Ohio as part of a three week series entitled “Silent No More” shaped around a re-kick-off of their Gay-Straight-Alliance November 8, 2011 by Rev. Audrey Connor (audreyinlynchburg.blogspot.com)

“Become You”

Psalm 139

I am not sure of all of the dialogue that went into coordinating all of the worships and speakers this week on campus... perhaps in some conversations, I might have overheard

Is-this-really-an-issue?

What-if-the-alums-get-upset?

Shouldn't we leave this for-individual-churches-and-denominations-to-fight out?

Why trouble the campus with this topic?

Why-are-we-making-people-issues-anyway?

Why-haven't-we-done-this-earlier?

This-is-not-the-time-in-the-seminary-to-tackle-such-a-thing-we-need-to-think-about...  you fill in the blank.

Talking about sexuality in church requires all of us to come out of the closet of our own prejudices, fears, questions, and uncomfortableness so that we can say together in this sacred space:

All of us are created in God's image – no matter our sexuality or identities.

Dan Savage does not have a “lock” on the idea in his “it gets better” campaign.

We are also here is because one of the main perpetrators of hate speech against lesbians, gays, bisexual, transgender, intersex, queer, and questioning people (LGBTIQQ) comes from us: our religious institutions.

Some of you might say:

but I am from a welcoming or open and affirming denomination

- or -

I'm open and affirming

- or -

or my church is special.

This isn't my problem – it is THEIR problem....

We all sit here together in a world rampant with homophobia. With suicides on the rise in the LGBTIQQ community, the institution of marriage still blocked here in Ohio, in a world where to be gay is okay as long as you sing and dance and make us laugh and not point to the sad injustices that exist in our world.

All of us sit here together.

Unable to hide from any of it as we listen to this psalm this morning... -------------------------------------------------

You know when we sit down and when we rise up;

  you discern our thoughts from far away.

You search out my path and my lying down,

  and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,

  O Lord, you know it completely. (Psalm 139:1-4)

For me, I am here after a long time of hiding -      Thinking I could evade myself -      or that I could evade god.

C.S. Lewis likened following God’s call to a man in a boat who is rowing seemingly in circles. It is when he sees an arrow and follows it that he has what we might call a “born again” experience.  Lewis makes clear that first arrow is important, but it is not the last. After that first arrow, there are more arrows given that the person in the boat must continue to look for and follow.

One of the first significant arrows in my life was in the decision to enter divinity school. It led in a fantastic experience where I was also able to see many more arrows along my journey.

My first time coming to a seminary happened when I was about five or six. After working with youth at Northwest Christian Church in Columbus, my mom decided to take a couple of classes here at Methesco to be a better youth minister. She realized God had different ideas for her after a semester or so and was soon a full-time student and then ordained into ministry.

You can imagine that since I had already been to seminary with my mom = attending Peanuts plays, going to her graduation, and playing with her classmates kids (those are my main memories here!), I felt I had already been there and done that!

Ok – not entirely true, but I will say that the choice to enter seminary/divinity school was hard -- making sure I was not doing what everyone said to me: “i see you are going into the family business”....

Ack.

I did not want to follow anyone anywhere, but I did have this nudge…  And after much discernment and conversation prayer and more conversation… I ended up at Vanderbilt Divinity School – a good place for anyone still wrestling with a “nudge” from God. I fell in love with the course work, the ministries I participated in including summer missions, CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education), congregational internship, and working in a congregation abroad. The arrow to serve the church seemed bright neon after my experiences as a student in Nashville.

During my time there, I also fell in love with another woman.  I say “another” woman because she was not the first and she would not be the last.... I had found women attractive first when I was in high school. It seemed unnatural and I tamped down those inconvenient feelings and tried to stay away from women I might find attractive. Then, in college I met another woman who I felt attracted to again. Once again, a terribly inconvenient thing as the friend was very straight and I was not about to ruin that friendship. Since then, I had avoided close friendships with women. But as I began to take myself more seriously, I began to take all parts of myself more seriously – even the ones I did not want.

The psalmist writes....

You hem me in, behind and before,

  and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

  it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit?

  Or where can I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there;

  if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. (Psalm 139:5-8)

Experiencing intense feelings about a woman while also living into my vocation helped me to see that those feeling were not bad. In fact, the intense love I felt was helping me to understand love between God and humanity …

Even the darkness is not dark to you;

  the night is as bright as the day,

  for darkness is as light to you. (Psalm 139:12)

And as I wrestled with the darkness, in the darkness, I began to trust those feelings.  I stopped hiding or running. Maybe this is what “normal” people experience when they fall in love, I thought. Perhaps this is not a problem.  Maybe this means I am not straight at all and that is okay....

It was a scary thing to think and even scarier thing to say aloud. I found a trusted counselor who listened without prodding or poking and then a friend who just reaffirmed her love for me... And instead of the world collapsing, I began to feel more happy and alive – not less.

Maybe this is not something to run from.

For it was you who formed my inward parts;

  you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

  Wonderful are your works; (Psalm 139:13-14a)

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

  intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.

In your book were written

  all the days that were formed for me,

  when none of them as yet existed. (Psalm 139:15-16)

When the Christian Church in Ohio ordained me into Christian ministry – three and a half years after the start of following a wonderful arrow from God at Vanderbilt, I did not have all the answers figured out but was confident God would be with me as I lived through them. I found myself on the steps of First Christian Church Bowling Green, Ohio promising to love God’s people and serve in the entrusted role of minister with the help of God.  I remember many things about that special day. One that stands out was when my mom presented a stole and said to me that she had been so fortunate in her ministry, and she hoped I had as many wonderful years in ministry in the church.

With so many amazing ministry experiences directly in my rear-view mirror, I could only see possibility and adventure in the church that raised me up and taught me how wonderful it is when you work with others for the glory of God.

I already accepted my first call as an associate minister in Knoxville, Tennessee – three hours east of my Alma Mater and close to recent grads and friends. The church hired me in large part because of my strong mission focus.  They wanted to be better at reaching out to those on their doorstep who were homeless and those in their neighborhood who were different than them.

It was not an open and affirming church, but I reasoned that I was not entirely open and affirming either…  Well - I was affirming, but not open.  I remember sharing with the senior minister, Scott Rollins, my topic for my thesis at div school: “Why the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) should become Open and Affirming” in a one on one interview.  He did not flinch.  Instead, he shared with me how he had been taking the congregation’s spiritual leaders, the elders, through our denomination’s discernment process on that issue.

I had no idea what was ahead, but all directions pointed to ministry. And all ministry I knew did not point to focusing on issues of sexuality.

….

I came out to my associate regional minister that first year in Knoxville while seeking advice about how to integrate my personal and professional life. More specifically, I wondered how to do church camp with integrity. I did not want to feel like I was putting the camp in a bad position as a lesbian pastor in a camp system that had no policy about LGBTIQQ counselors. She told me not to worry about church camp – just be myself and come!  And she offered her friendship for the journey acknowledging there were no clear answers.  “The road is made by walking, my friend,” she said.

I was outed to my senior pastor after six months in Knoxville and his response to this knowledge was a tongue lashing for not having shared earlier. Immediately, he tried setting me up with women, giving me advice on women, and be my most firm emotional and spiritual support throughout my time there.

It was these friendships and more which supported me when I wondered why I was putting myself in a situation where I needed to date in secret, when I listened to church leaders share that our church was not ready to be O&A or that homosexuality was against the bible (they were always the minority).

I could keep those people and those thoughts at a distance during that time in my life. And it worked on me.

In those four and a half years of ministry, I learned a lot about transformation in a congregation as we worked with the Center for Parish Development.  I saw small progress being made with the Tennessee Commission on Ministry for LGBTIQQ ministerial candidates going through the process as I sat on that committee – in the closet.  I worked hard at my job doing Bible studies with the homeless and members of the church, starting two annual mission trips and local missions with the church, and developing a youth and children’s program.  And I learned to spend time in retreat and prayer through a Lilly funded program for new ministries: the Bethany Fellowship. Often, I heard through prayer on those retreats a nudging from God to stop hiding.

And I chose what messages to receive from God.  And which to send back. I found myself talking back to God in silent retreats-

Not yet. This isn’t the time.

It could destroy your church

It could destroy me

It could destroy my best friend and mentor, Scott.

Not now God

Not yet.

And I waited.

And I learned.

And I listened.

How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!

  How vast is the sum of them!

I try to count them—they are more than the sand;

  I come to the end—I am still with you. (Psalm 139:17-18)

I reasoned that the church I worked for was not O&A and neither was I. The denomination of which I was part was not ready to confront issues of homophobia and neither was I.

And life kept on.

Finances for an associate minister in my church were dwindling due to no other cause but long-standing attrition and perhaps too much reliance on past savings. While I continued to grow and slowly felt myself become more and more O&A as a person, I also grew more and more discord within in my calling in Knoxville. I began interviewing for the perfect job where I could be an “out” minister and continue this vocation in the church.

And I would be patient.

Then, on Sunday, July 27th, 2008, a mentally disturbed man walked into the Unitarian Church in Knoxville with a shot-gun in his guitar case, he took it out, and began shooting people while yelling hateful things during the children’s performance of Annie.  This particular morning, I was preaching and my partner opted to hear me instead of attending her regular service at that very Unitarian church where two people were killed and several injured before a member and hero wrestled the shooter to the floor. The man with the gun, Jim Adkisson, planned on being shot by the police and left behind a manifesto that he was motivated to kill by hatred of Democrats,  liberals,  African Americans, and homosexuals.  Apparently, his food stamps had been discontinued, and he blamed the liberals for the problems with the government not working as it should.

O that you would kill the wicked, O God,

  and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me—

those who speak of you maliciously,

  and lift themselves up against you for evil!

Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?

  And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?

I hate them with perfect hatred;

  I count them my enemies. (Psalm 139:19-22)

There are things that happen in life with results that we cannot see without time. I could not see it then, but this event in our community had a profound effect on me.  I remember anger surging through me for the lack of solidarity with the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. How could this tragedy not move “moderate” churches to stand in solidarity with those groups who are marginalized? Is not the entire church charged with standing with the oppressed – why is only the Unitarian Church sharing boldly with the public its love and acceptance for LGBTIQQ people (The United Church of Christ congregation too!).  Adkisson was obviously disturbed, but the literature he left behind was common place in many homes: books by Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, and Michael Savage. Adkisson's logic of hate as a response to social problems and his homophobia was not bizarre in a society with media that perpetuates drama, debate, and divisiveness between groups. His extreme actions were.

PAUSE

At the same time, my attempt to find a church as an “out” minister was feeling futile. The church I served loved me but did not have enough money to support me. I was ready to leave as well as I outgrew their own brand of homophobia. But where would I go?

Interview after interview pained me more and more as I tried coming out at various stages in the interview process.

I also started to reach out the local PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) chapter in Knoxville and got to know the adults who were making a real difference in the lives of LGBTIQQ youth growing into themselves. I was so impressed with these kids with more courage than I had. And I heard over and over again stories echoed by these youth. Stories of violence, fear, hatred... The more I heard, the more I understood the misguided actions of Adkisson were being repeated over and over again all around us – through bullying at school, parents kicking children out, and churches connecting all the violence against LGBTIQQ to sin of LGBTIQQ persons, and churches just being silent...my church... had been silent...

I had been silent.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

  test me and know my thoughts.

See if there is any wicked way in me,

  and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)

I waited to hear God's call when it was convenient for me. I expected the church to keep homophobia at bay so that I could have the career that I thought God wanted for me.

I had been silent.

As we gather together, celebrating new hopes here in the Methodist School in Ohio for all the church to be one and to share the good news for all people through a re-formation of a gay-straight alliance, I have nothing to share with you all but my own prayer of authenticity and hope for us – the faithful - that we might have the courage to own those places in our lives and in our churches where we continue to struggle with homophobia and that we may have the bravery to do something about it.

If you are here today because you are struggling to come out or not to come out or to go into ministry or not, know that you are not alone. There is no place you can run from God and you are fearfully and wonderfully made. While I am by no means a person with any answers, I am along for the journey. And I would be happy to walk with you.

If you are here as one preparing for the ministry in whatever congregation or denomination, know that I am not alone. We are everywhere. We are in your churches, we are children, we are silent adults, we are elders, deacons, and we are often just outside the church, peering in and we are hungry. We are hungry for words of hope and encouragement and we are hungry for the knowledge that this is a safe place for us.

In the last year, finding an open and affirming church allowed me to do other kinds of ministry that I could not do “in the closet”. I organized congregations to speak out for people who are lesbian,gay, bisexual, trans, intersex, questioning, and queer so that they know there are welcoming faith communities in my current city of Lynchburg, Virginia on National Coming Out Day this year and last. My personal belief is that many churches understand all sexualities and identities are welcome in God’s eyes, but they need help in proclaiming it so the LGBTIQQ can hear the Good News. It is slow going - this year our list expanded to a neighboring Lutheran Church, the local synagogue, and parts of Lynchburg College including the spiritual life center.  This has been a great joy to me personally and a wonderful way of building solidarity with those in the church most vulnerable to messages of self hatred.

This is something that I can do as a clergy in the community and as a person who likes to organize things! Other people in our community started LGBTIQQ Bible studies and still others hold monthly gatherings at a local Unitarian church for all people looking for safe space.

My friend Scott was not able to make our church in Knoxville open and affirming after I left for work in the non-profit sector. I never came out to the congregation while in ministry there, and with me gone, he tried hard. But most of the leadership disagreed that it was a good time to make those changes.

He did not stay there much long after . There were many reasons, but this was a significant one. ------------------------------------- What I know about all of our churches is that there are no easy answers. When I hear anything that pretends that there is, I usually have trouble listening. People will say:

It is a gay problem – or a straight problem.

Or it is the problem of regions or conferences

or congregations...

its a lay problem or a clergy problem.

Or a theological problem or cultural or biblical or whatever else.

All I know it is a big problem – it belongs to us all

It is not enough to be silent

It is not enough to preach tolerance from the pulpit from time to time.

It is not enough to simply SAY you are welcoming...

I want to close with a prayer for us all as we listen for how God is knitting us together in secret so that we might come out as one people – God's people of love for all the world

Search us, O God, and know our hearts;

  test us and know our thoughts.

See if there is any wicked way in us,

  and lead us in the way everlasting.

How to connect with young adults: The secrets are revealed!

I have been a member of the Disciples of Christ denomination for 15 years, and I have attended four out of the last five General Assemblies. Time and again, I hear conversations about the need to listen to young adults and connect with young adults and fund young adult ministries. As a young-ish adult (I am 37, so about the only place I am consistently referred to as “young” is in the mainline church), I often hear well-intentioned members of graying congregations say they desperately want the “younger” people to join their respective churches, and they often ask me “What will it take for the younger people to come to our church?” I have a very simple answer to this question, but first let me tell you what young adults, for the most part, when it really gets down to it, don’t care about:

Young adults really don’t care if you have screens instead of hymnals.

Young adults really don’t care if you have a guitar instead of an organ.

Young adults really don’t care if you have couches instead of pews.

Young adults really don’t care about your church having the slickest marketing gimmicks out there, including a savvy website coupled with a working knowledge of Twitter and Facebook and Google+ and whatever else comes next.

But what do young adults care about? What will help your congregation connect with young adults? I will give you one simple example, and it is largely representative of what is missing from this General Assembly, as well as previous ones: the explicit, unambiguous affirmation of gays and lesbians into the full life of the church.

It is a travesty to me that our denomination, which prides itself on being a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world, is not offering an affirmative communal voice for our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters who have been deeply wounded by society in general and the church in particular. If justice delayed is justice denied, as Dr. King reminded us, will we stand idly by while organized religion remains one of the last vestiges for valorized homophobia?

What is particularly striking to me is that our polity (unlike that of the PCUSA or ELCA, each of which recently joined our Episcopalian and UCC brothers and sisters by taking major stands on behalf of the GLBTQ community) doesn’t even bind each congregation or each member to have consensus of opinion on this matter, yet we can’t even have a resolution or a conversation that points toward affirmation?! Years from now, will our denomination look back on the early part of the 21st century and say that we stood on the side of justice, or are we content discerning ourselves to death, convincing ourselves that our efforts of offering hospitality are related to our abilities of mastering the world of Twitter? Do you really think that is a compelling vision for younger generations, especially when over 70% of young adults are open and affirming of gays and lesbians and view the church as the last place that will be welcoming and inclusive of them? Despite whatever rhetoric we might employ, all of this gives me serious reservations about referring to our denomination as “progressive,” at least in the best sense of what that word harbors.

To be sure, there are those who will say that offering hospitality to the GLBTQ community will lead to the loss of members, and I am sure that some members will indeed leave our congregations and denomination. I say that as a pastor who recognizes the dynamics of doing ministry and dealing with church politics and the like. But I am also convinced that far more young adults will come through our doors if they view our congregations as places of welcome and affirmation. Indeed, if congregations would quit worrying about superficial concerns like screens and hymnals and embody communities of welcome and affirmation instead (communities that take progressive theological convictions seriously), then young adults will flock to our churches. Not because of Facebook, but because of the good news of the gospel.

The young adults who walk through the doors of Brentwood Christian Church aren’t doing so because we’ve put together some hip and trendy and cool worship service. They are coming through our doors because we offer a theology of welcome, affirmation, and justice. And in the past six years, ever since we decided to become a community that cultivated what Presbyterian pastor and author Carol Howard Merritt calls “unambiguous inclusion,” we have seen over 100 young adults become active participants. I’d like to say it is because I’m quite the happening pastor. But it is because the good news of the gospel, and the healing that it offers, is a gift to young adults hungering for the inclusive love of Jesus Christ.

I close with words that aren't from any "missional" or "emerging" Christian, but from Dr. King's Letter from Birmingham Jail:

There was a time when the church was very powerful--in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being "disturbers of the peace" and "outside agitators."' But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were "a colony of heaven," called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be "astronomically intimidated." By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent--and often even vocal--sanction of things as they are.

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.

True then, true now.

Phil Snider is a pastor at Brentwood Christian Church in Springfield, Missouri. His books include Toward a Hopeful Future: Why the Emergent Church is Good News for Mainline Congregations & The Hyphenateds: How Emergence Christianity is Re-Traditioning Mainline Practices (forthcoming). He blogs at www.philsnider.net.

Telling the Salty Truth

“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone” (Colossians 4:6).

We live in a society that cares very little about hearing the truth.  In fact, we often go out of our way to avoid the truth, in favor of some more palatable lies.  I have a feeling that’s why we are so enamored of talk shows.  We see the sorts of people and situations featured on Jerry Springer or Montel Williams, and we figure that, compared to their outrageous behavior, we have few problems.  We can avoid having to face our own sinfulness and lostness precisely because we surround ourselves with people and stories more depraved than we are.  We circumvent the process of being honest with ourselves about who we are; and we are just as dishonest with one another.

If we’re asked about what we think of someone’s new hairdo or someone’s new choice of a partner, either we lie outright, or we ask first if they really want to hear the truth (viz., “Do you want the truth?”), implying of course that if it’s all the same, we’d much prefer to lie and save everyone the embarrassment.  Lying comes much easier to us.  And sometimes knowing the truth and being unwilling to say it is even a worse form of lying.

Telling the truth is painful, which is why this verse from Colossians is so perplexing.  In the Oxford Study Bible the helps say that “seasoned with salt” means “with spiritual understanding.”  Next it gives reference to Mark 9:50.  I find that particular interpretation of Mark (i.e., “spiritual understanding”) unsatisfying.  The salt that Mark is talking about is cleansing, purifying—“Everyone will be salted with fire” (Mk. 9:49).  Mark goes on to say that “Salt is good” and that it may bring peace, but more in the sense that an enema is good: It may clean you out, but in the process, it’s going to be extremely uncomfortable.

It occurs to me that the church needs to speak the truth about some things.  I’m at the General Assembly of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Nashville, at the moment.  I just came from a very moving service, centered on healing and wholeness for those afflicted with AIDS.  The Reverend Bill Lee spoke the difficult truth about how when folks need healing, people who follow Jesus ought to be ready to tear the roof off to bring it to them.  It then struck me that there are a whole lot of people who need to find the healing love of Jesus, but the church is often not only unwilling to tear off the roof to bring it, in some cases the church is guilty of reinforcing the steel girders that keep people on the outside, hammering away to break through.

Why have we as a denomination at our national gathering, for instance, once again avoided having the conversation necessary to bring healing and wholeness to our LGBTQ brothers and sisters?  I know there are difficult disagreements surrounding this issue.  People get mad.  It’s tough.  But this issue isn’t going away just because we don’t want to talk about it.  We’re Christians, people who follow a crucified nobody—tough is what we do!  The church—we folks who follow Jesus—shouldn’t be afraid of dying for what we believe in; we should be afraid of not speaking truthfully.  Where did we ever get the idea that we could get away with anything less?

There are going to be a lot of people who disagree with me—who think that LGBTQ folks are in need of some kind of repair before they get access to the healing love of Jesus.  But I think LGBTQ folks are already the way God wanted them; it’s the church that stands in need of repair.

There are going to be a lot of people who disagree with me—who think we should let this lie, avoid stirring the waters.   But I think there are too many people dying up on the roof to let it lie.

All of which brings us back to Colossians.  How can the author say, “Let your speech be gracious,” which implies blessedness, life-giving affirmation, and then turn around and add, “seasoned with salt?”  They certainly don’t appear at first to go together.  In fact, those two phrases look awfully awkward placed next to each other.  How can talk seasoned with grace be also seasoned with salt?  It may just be that the biggest part of grace is telling people the truth rather than the lies they’d prefer to hear.  Come to think of it, if it is the salty truth we speak to people, rather than the savorless lies that help them maintain their self-delusions, then maybe we’ve spoken to them with “spiritual understanding” after all.

 

Derek Penwell is senior pastor of Douglass Boulevard Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Louisville, Kentucky and lecturer at the University of Louisville in Religious Studies and Humanities.  He is the author of articles ranging from Stone/Campbell history to aesthetic theory and the tragic emotions.  He is a graduate of Great Lakes Christian College (B,R.E.), Emmanuel School of Religion (M.A.R.), Lexington Theological Seminary (M.Div. and D.Min.), and a Ph.D. in humanities at the University of Louisville.  He currently blogs at The Company of the Eudaimon and on Twitter at @reseudaimon.  Penwell was once shot with a potato gun while fleeing the scene of a Cold War espionage sting at a premium vodka distillery in a rural Estonian outpost. (He doesn't like to talk about it . . . so don't ask.)