Why I celebrate Pride Month as a straight pastor
Many years ago when I was preparing to graduate seminary and looking at job boards, I had to make a decision: will I consider working at non-affirming churches? Now as an LGBTQ+ affirming person, this would seem like an obvious decision (“Hell no!”). And yet, in case you don’t know the church job market: it ain’t good. Open jobs are few and far between in any ministry job market, especially in the non-denominational LGBTQ+ affirming market. During that search, as I was cold calling churches I found on gaychurch.org, I knew that (1) I wanted to become a pastor and (2) I wanted to move back home to California to start our family.
In the midst of that season, a church in southern California reached out to me about a pastoral position. This was one of those churches where all the pastors were affirming but their denomination didn’t allow them to say so publicly. The actual church was quite split and not affirming, just “all are welcome but not everyone is allowed in leadership” or “all are welcome but we won’t make a statement on LGBTQ+ issues.” When the job offer was sent my way, I felt so tempted by the comfort of securing my next step for ministry and my family. “The church isn’t that bad,” I told myself. “It’s still kind of progressive. Right?”
I went through these cycles of questions for a week and came to the conclusion that I cannot work at a non-affirming church, even the “better ones.” The decision ultimately came down to this: the LGBTQ+ community—a community that some of my best friends and dearest colleagues were a part of—had held me, shaped me, cared for me, and taught me so profoundly about God’s love that I knew there was no way I could turn back. To work at a non-affirming church, in essence, would have been a betrayal of some of my dearest people. And a betrayal of the person I had become: a follower of Jesus who understands God’s love more deeply because of my dear friendships within the queer community.
The decision was made and I embarked on the narrow road. Have I sobbed over jobs and money (or the lack thereof)? You betcha. There has been much to process and accept about the realities of this ministry path. But most importantly, in all my processing it has been so apparent that this decision (which cost me far less than it costs LGBTQ+ folks in ministry) is a true gift. One of life’s best gifts. Being an LGBTQ+ affirming pastor is one of the greatest joys and privileges I’ve ever experienced.
Since making that decision, I have been able to be part of beautifully eclectic, innovative, fun, and liberated queer churches. Folks in the LGBTQ+ community have wrapped me up as one of their own—embracing not just me but my husband and kiddos like their own. Queer congregants have invited me into their sacred stories, sharing their most raw places of pain and bringing me into the fold to celebrate their joyful triumphs. Queer friends send my kiddos gifts of pride paraphernalia and have become aunties, uncles, and family to my littles. Folks have made me laugh some of my deepest laughs in the last decade—some from learning about dating subcultures in the queer community, some from jokes that I am a “soft butch fashion icon.” There have been so many good laughs, beautiful connections, and shared stories as we have reimagined not just church community but family. As a pastor I am the one charged to hold others, but it really has been those in the LGBTQ+ community that have held me, shaped me, and loved me in more ways than I’ll ever be able to describe.
I am forever better because of the gracious love from my queer siblings.
No job security could replace the utter goodness and wholeness my family has experienced from our dear LGBTQ+ community.
Last week, I was preparing to teach at Harbor’s first pride month gathering and I sat down at a coffee shop to pray before beginning. Here is the prayer I wrote:
Dear Queer God,
Mystery, how lucky am I to experience your love and presence through my queer siblings. I once was chained but now I’m free. I once thought that it was a ‘sin’ or ‘not my issue to judge’ but now I know queerness is good, a gift. My dear queer siblings have added a joy I wouldn’t have known before. There is humor. The humor anchors so much of our way of being together. It’s a way of being that holds deep solidarity, deep community and also withholds judgment…. so much of the judgment that chained us to respectability politics, patriarchy, and pretending certain actions are the good ones. It was a pretentious moralism, but now we’ve been set free. My chains are gone, my queer siblings have liberated me. Amen.
My queer siblings have liberated me. It is as though I have gone through a conversion experience where I can’t unsee the love, joy, and goodness from my dear LGBTQ+ community. I once was chained and I’ve been set free.
So, happy Pride y’all. What a beautiful month we are in to celebrate the love and liberation of God we get to experience through queerness. How lucky are we?
