I
grew up in a small town where my family was very active in our church. My
parents, although relatively quiet people, modeled loudly in deeds and put
their faith in action through unobtrusive acts of kindness and
selflessness. They lived out the proverb “actions speak louder than words,” and
I learned far more about how to live a life faithful to the teachings of Jesus
by watching them than by listening to them. Words didn’t seem to
be necessary.
I left for college at 17, having led a pretty sheltered life. After several months, another friend on my hall and I were approached by our junior counselors and asked if we would be willing to room together, thereby allowing our respective roommates to share a room. As it turned out, Pat and Paula were lesbians, and Jenny and I were among the few people on the floor unaware of their relationship. I recall the snickers and whispers during that time and remember wondering why being a lesbian was such a bad thing. I was young and naive, and all I knew to do was to assure everyone that Pat was a very nice person. Looking back, that now seems a lame response at best—a mere step beyond silence, and I am ashamed.
In 1994 our family participated in the World Methodist Council’s exchange program, living in England for the summer and serving three churches. We made many wonderful friends, among them a gay couple named Stuart and Derek. They were very active in their church, and from what we could tell, well received. However, after we returned home, they came for a visit the next year and shared with us that they had expressed interest in officially joining the church. They were turned down based on their sexual orientation. Carl and I were shocked and sympathetic—but as troubling as this continued to be for me, I still had no voice.
In 2006 we were serving a church where the Director of Music Ministries had been on staff for 23 years and was dearly loved by all. That summer when he and his wife came to talk with us about his recent acceptance of his homosexuality and his need to come out to the congregation, I recall thinking that folks knew Steve so well that this would cause a little concern with a few people, but that generally it would be a non-issue. Naively, I was wrong.
I left for college at 17, having led a pretty sheltered life. After several months, another friend on my hall and I were approached by our junior counselors and asked if we would be willing to room together, thereby allowing our respective roommates to share a room. As it turned out, Pat and Paula were lesbians, and Jenny and I were among the few people on the floor unaware of their relationship. I recall the snickers and whispers during that time and remember wondering why being a lesbian was such a bad thing. I was young and naive, and all I knew to do was to assure everyone that Pat was a very nice person. Looking back, that now seems a lame response at best—a mere step beyond silence, and I am ashamed.
In 1994 our family participated in the World Methodist Council’s exchange program, living in England for the summer and serving three churches. We made many wonderful friends, among them a gay couple named Stuart and Derek. They were very active in their church, and from what we could tell, well received. However, after we returned home, they came for a visit the next year and shared with us that they had expressed interest in officially joining the church. They were turned down based on their sexual orientation. Carl and I were shocked and sympathetic—but as troubling as this continued to be for me, I still had no voice.
In 2006 we were serving a church where the Director of Music Ministries had been on staff for 23 years and was dearly loved by all. That summer when he and his wife came to talk with us about his recent acceptance of his homosexuality and his need to come out to the congregation, I recall thinking that folks knew Steve so well that this would cause a little concern with a few people, but that generally it would be a non-issue. Naively, I was wrong.
During
the year that followed, I found my voice.
I deeply love the United Methodist Church, and my family’s life is intertwined with all the opportunities for service provided a clergy family. I am committed to helping us become a welcoming church that lives out our belief that God’s grace and love is extended to all God’s children. I am inspired and convinced by the words of Martin Luther King, Jr: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends,” as well as those of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who said, “Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” My time of silence is over, and I pray that now is the time for United Methodists to act.
I deeply love the United Methodist Church, and my family’s life is intertwined with all the opportunities for service provided a clergy family. I am committed to helping us become a welcoming church that lives out our belief that God’s grace and love is extended to all God’s children. I am inspired and convinced by the words of Martin Luther King, Jr: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends,” as well as those of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who said, “Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” My time of silence is over, and I pray that now is the time for United Methodists to act.
