When I was a kid my grandmother would rock back and forth on her green metallic rocking chair singing old Spirituals like, “We shall overcome, someday.” I still remember her tears. My grandmother, big and yellow, a proud Christian, guarded our South Dallas porch singing songs like, “I’m a solider in the Army of the Lord. I’m a solider in the Army.”
When was the last time you heard a sermon focusing on your belovedness, with no "but" attached to it? I mean, an entire Sunday service all about taking in and feeling how much God loves you and delights in you—with no mention of, or alluding to the need for you to be better than you are, resist sin, or change anything about yourself?
As an aspiring pastor in The United Methodist Church (The UMC) and a staff person at Reconciling Ministries Network, I spend a lot of time trying to explain my work to strangers, new friends, taxi drivers, and anyone else who might casually ask, “So, what do you do?”
Clergy and their supporters attend Judicial Council hearings impacting their ministry, observe liturgical acts of witness
Last night was my dad’s memorial service. I delayed my coming out because of his illness. I knew that he was already struggling with his own mortality and that trying to reconcile the daughter he was so proud of and loved deeply with the ideas he had about LGBT people would be too much for him.
Nearly 150 United Methodist LGBTQI Clergy and Candidates Release Letter Week Before Key Judicial Council Decisions
Growing up in an evangelical Christian home, my family was invested in maintaining certain Judeo-Christian holiday traditions. Easter Sunday was no exception; it was a day rooted in chocolate pastels, family dinner, and most notably for me: new accessories.
Holy Week always brings about a mix of emotions for me. Over the course of a few short days, Christians go from shouting hosanna to eating with friends to remembering the state sanctioned murder of our Savior to seeing that death and hatred defeated in the resurrection.