Chapter Seven
Gerald L. Hastings and an anonymous seminary student

•

"All persons need the ministry and guidance of the church in their struggles for human fulfillment, as well as the spiritual and emotional care of a fellowship which enables reconciling relationships with God, with others, and with self." — The Book of Discipline, Social Principles 71F.

That grand declaration in the Social Principles might well be the mission statement of the United Methodist Church. Standing alone it could provide the energy and motivation for effective and growing ministry, a glorious restatement of the great commission.

There is a problem, however. This statement is nullified by the very next sentence that describes an entire class of persons as "incompatible with Christian teaching." Including this judgmental and exclusionary statement in the Discipline has diverted the church from its task of making and nurturing disciples. For those of us who are marginalized by it, this divisive and distracting doctrine also has caused immense pain.

I was attracted to the church by its message of God’s unlimited grace and forgiveness, as well as by the opportunity the church offered to work toward a more compassionate and just society. My experience tells me that, while many United Methodist congregations offer these blessings to others, the invitation does not include me, only because I happen to be a gay man.

As a young man struggling with issues of sexual identity, I needed the church to "enable reconciling relationships with God, with others, and with self" more than even I could have imagined. What I received from the church was condemnation and threats of God’s vengeance if I did not change who I was. The church left me alone and lonely in the struggle.

In early adulthood I resigned myself to the judgment of the church that I was deviant and unacceptable. I turned myself to the task of re-orientation through prayer, study of Hebrew and Christian Scripture, trying to meet the church’s expectation. These efforts proved futile in changing my sexual orientation. They also did little for my self-esteem. The next step for me was silence and deception. To be quiet and invisible, at the margins of the community of faith, seemed better than the abuse that open honesty would invite.

Later, I joined a Methodist congregation that at least seemed to ignore my sexual orientation. But after more than 15 years of attendance and support, I would experience the ultimate alienation when the church decided by action of the administrative board and congregational vote that gay men and lesbians could not participate in the charge conference or be named to church offices.

Out of this painful experience I gained two important insights. It became clear to me that I must claim for myself God’s gracious love and forgiveness in Christ without the nurturing help of the church. It also became clear to me that my brothers and sisters in the United Methodist Church sincerely believed that by pronouncing me "incompatible" they were affirming what they saw as their traditional, Biblical, moral, and spiritual values.

It seemed to me that Acts 10 was being re-enacted before my very eyes. Once again, God was hearing the prayers of faithful Gentile centurion Cornelius; once again, God also was admonishing the Apostle Peter to give up his Jewish laws of exclusion. "What God has made clean, you have no right to call profane," God told the Apostle in a trance. Peter protested; he could not reconcile the notion that God would accept what the law had clearly rejected. But God is in the saving business, and once Peter had heard that the Gentile centurion had received a divine message of acceptance, the Apostle put it all together. "Who was I that I could hinder God?" Peter exclaimed.

I’m not suggesting that the Social Principle is the only cause of our pain as gay and lesbian Methodists, but I do know that the offensive language intensifies it. Ostracism, marginalization, and violence against gay men and lesbians are deeply embedded in societal attitude and popular culture. In the name of purity of doctrine, the United Methodist Church has granted theological permission to the inequities, intolerance, and fear. Instead of confronting the oppressive culture and attempting to change it, our church has legitimized it. That makes my pain as a gay Methodist more intense.

This is a serious charge. It most certainly does not apply to all United Methodists. Today, I am blessed to be a part of a courageous community of faith where clergy and laity are determined to welcome all believers. Its spirituality is rooted in and grows out of a thoughtful melding of Biblical assessment and social concern. All sinners are invited to bow in awe before the holiness of God and hold out our open hands to receive the abundant grace of God. The community recognizes my baptism and that of my partner. We are supported with friendship as we offer our prayers, presence, gifts, and service. I pray that soon all United Methodist congregations will be as welcoming.

As the General Conference wrestles with its conflicted understanding of doctrinal purity, centralized authority, and the need for social justice, some anxiety is to be expected. The process of gaining clarity and consensus on these large issues is not well served by language that simply demands conformity without addressing real-life diversity. Spiritual unity in Christ is not to be confused with doctrinal uniformity in belief and behavior. Stop the pain. Do it now, in the spirit of the gospel, with joy and generosity!

·

Every Sunday, I went to my United Methodist church — through baptism and confirmation, youth group, youth choir, adult choir, church committees. After 30 years of nurturing and love, I was filled with the encouragement to grow into the person God had created me to be.

Church doctrine itself told me that sexuality is recognized as God’s good gift to all people, and that people may be fully human only when that gift is acknowledged and affirmed by themselves, the church, and society.

But then, in the next breath, doctrine also told me that my gift was not compatible with Christian teaching.

How could that be? How could I honor God if I could not be all that God created me to be?

In my home church, the whispers and gossip rose into a cacophony of fear: "They" are going to take over our church! If we allow "them" to be seen in our church, people will get the wrong idea!

With a smugness born of "following the doctrine and polity of the United Methodist Church," parishioners told me that I could participate peripherally and give my money but that I must keep my mouth shut. Heartbroken, I moved on — to find another United Methodist church home, another church family — more careful this time to protect myself, but still working to be who God had created me to be. I learned that, as long as I didn’t make people uncomfortable, as long as I was discreet about my relationship with my partner, I was accepted as an integral and important part of this new church. I taught Sunday school to children; I was the children’s choir director; I chaired the evangelism committee and the staff-parish relations committee.

Then I felt called to full-time ministry — and the whispers began anew: She wants us to recognize her "gifts and graces"! No way! She’s not fit!

At a church conference, a friend — a fellow choir member I had sat next to for 10 years — shouted: "Are you in a committed, loving relationship with a woman?" I wept. How could they not have known? Why were my "gifts and graces" accepted until I made the announcement of God’s call on my life?

After 10 years, once again I was told that all are children of God, baptized into the body of Christ, but some are more worthy than others. And so grief-stricken, I moved on to another United Methodist church home, vaguely perceiving that the last 10 years had not been a total waste. God had worked miracles! I left, knowing I had grown in my walk with God and God’s people. I also knew I had left behind seeds of new understanding of what it meant to love one another.

Now, I am in a new United Methodist church family, one that is welcoming of me and the gifts I bring to share. This church, a body of caring individuals, offers me a spiritual respite as I complete my studies at a United Methodist seminary — before I am to go out and share God’s message, risking myself among the misinformed and the uninformed.

And I wonder, will I have to move once again? This time, will I have to change denominations because the United Methodist Church does not want me to be all that God created me to be?