Last week I reposted a FaceBook post that my best friend had written about witnessing my courage as I came out at my Annual Conference. That was seven years ago. Later, when the UMC moved into inclusion, I was dancing a jig in freedom and well, freedom. I no longer had to live in fear of someone “outing” me to the church “authorities” where I could have literally been brought up on charges and the end result being “stripped of my credentials” – in other words, I could have lost everything if I was found to be gay in my church, even under some bishops, even if I were celibate.
Baton Rouge had our “Pridefest” on Saturday. I couldn’t go. I had a t-shirt I got just for the occasion that said “This Queer Pastor Loves You”. But it dawned on me that I would probably be asked where I was a church pastor. And I would have to say that there hasn’t been a church willing to take me. Because I came out at Annual Conference. Seven years ago. And I was still “celibate in singleness”. No matter that I have maintained my ordination vows of being celibate in singleness. No matter that I don’t share stories about my intimate thoughts and feelings from the pulpit or anywhere else. There is not a place willing to take me.
It stung when I realized that the last little church where I was preaching led me to believe they couldn’t stay open, what with, seven people at church on a good day. But they then had someone appointed to serve their little church a few months later, clearly because that person was straight. It was the betrayal and the lying that was a gut punch.
Without the letters LGBTQIA coming from their mouths, an older couple had been hoodwinked as well. They were apologetic. They said they still considered me their pastor and asked if I could go visit a sick family member in the hospital, which I gladly did. I had not been out of the room for ten minutes before I got a text asking me to not visit them again. My prayers were not okay, not if they came from my mouth. I was not welcome. News traveled fast in that little town.
I waited for a phone call to tell me there was a part time opportunity at a church within an hour drive or so. The phone never rang. I am blessed that my phone number has been going out that I was open to fill in for people who are taking a weekend away, or they’ve gotten ill.
I asked a coworker, a minister, if he saw a problem with someone who was gay saying a prayer for you or your loved one. He did. I clearly don’t understand. How is my prayer different from anyone else’s?
PRIDE – festival? No. I can stand and witness to the love of God but people cannot hear me speak at all.
I spent the weekend in a private SHAME – fest. I know that’s not God’s plan, but how often are God and the Church on the same page?
Revvin' it Up 