I was baptized in the United Methodist Church in our little town in south eastern Pennsylvania in 1950’s. I sang in every choir – children, youth, senior – I took the classes and became a member, I was married in this same church, and I held a service for, and buried my mother from, this church.
I’m pretty much the same person I was when this church rejoiced in my becoming a member, except for the two words I finally had the courage at 50 to say. Two words which would keep me from being welcomed in this church. This church which my family has been going to, and members of, for as long as I can remember.
Two words: I’m Gay.
This blog isn’t about how the United Methodist Church voted to stay the course with their “Traditional Plan” which bans same-sex weddings, and LGBTQ Clergy.
No, this blog isn’t about that – They can ban whatever and whomever they choose, it won’t rid the world of LGBTQ human beings.
I’m writing to question their compassion, their humanity, their living of John 13:34, and that whole Matthew 7:1,2 thing about not judging. They latch onto the versus that say what they want to hear about homosexuality or anything else they want to ban, but, they forget the basis of what Jesus taught. Love… He taught us of love.
The arrogance of someone, anyone, to tell me I’m not worthy to worship because I’m gay – well, it’s goes against everything I was brought up to believe our God was.
It was many, many years before I found myself again in a church. Not a Methodist Church, but an Episcopal Church who welcomes everyone. Every color, every gender, every single one of God’s children who chooses to worship a god of love. They offer a safe space for prayer and song and this universal love and acceptance we all crave in our lives.
It’s never been about tolerance for me. That would mean you believe I’m doing something wrong and you’ll simply put up with me. No, this is about acceptance. Acceptance that I’m living the life I was meant to live, the life God gave me.
Just know you don’t need to go to a church where you feel no sense of community or acceptance. You don’t need to hear that you’re living a life not worthy of God. Find a place of worship that welcomes you, where you feel clean and renewed when you leave.
For you are worthy, your life matters.
“Look out ’cause here I come – And I’m marching on to the beat I drum. I’m not scared to be seen, I make no apologies.
This is me.”