I liked having that poster up there. It made me feel relevant, modern, and smart as if I was truly unafraid to deal with things. As if I understood something.
What I didn’t know was that I had just set myself up…. A few weeks after the interactive service it was an average Sunday where something special seemed to be happening. You see, we had a presence of the Love of God in the service that day. The kind of “presence of God in the meeting” atmosphere that pastors long for and pray for all the time. My associate pastor had opened with the story of a man in heaven being asked by Jesus if he had learned to love well. Her message was about being unafraid to get involved with Jesus even in the messy things that cost us or make us uncomfortable. Then, as we closed the service a young women came up and asked to say something. Usually we like to know people before handing off the mic to them but that day our lead pastor simply handed it to her because it seemed in that beautiful presence of God’s love that whatever someone said would be a lesson from heaven. She shared that she had never felt more loved and accepted than she did in our church, and that she wanted to let everyone know that she was gay, and she wanted to “get involved” just as we had preached. She stood there. So emotionally naked. So vulnerable. In that thick, thick love of God. Just waiting…………………………………………………………………….. for us. I came up and stood next to her, putting my arm around her, facing the congregation with her. I could feel so many things in the atmosphere in that moment: -the older people terrified of the issue -the even older theologians angry about it -young adults weeping because someone was finally addressing in church, the issue they are dealing with every day -the wrenching hearts of those who clearly feel her pain, yet don’t agree with her theology -even a layer of relief as a few young adults in the congregation quietly cheered her “coming out”. They were are all looking at us, waiting for an answer. It was all all out there. All suddenly on the table, and the church had been avoiding it a long time. As I stood with my arm around her, she turned into me and brokenly cried in my arms. It was no longer a poster. It was now a person…. in my arms… crying…..a person… a broken…. sad….person…. not a poster. I spoke then to the congregation about who our neighbor is, and loving our neighbor who is gay whether or not we understand or agree with their choices or beliefs. I asked the congregation if we would be willing to learn to love well? And I believe it is God who asks us all this question…
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Wendy Peter is the North American Director of Events for the Women on the Frontlines Organization.
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