Posted on by palmtreemomma

An Equal Place

In my last post I shared how the church we attended went through a formal discerning period to decide whether or not we would be welcoming. Today I would like to lean into the idea further and talk about what it means to be affirming.

In spaces that are affirming, everyone is welcomed and celebrated, not just tolerated. There is an equal place at the table for everyone and equal opportunities to serve and be served. It looks a lot like equality and is the antithesis of discrimination.

Closer than you think

An estimated 4.5% of the population of the United States identify themselves as being LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender). If you add those who identify as Intersex , Asexual, or Non-binary, the numbers would be even higher.

This number does not necessarily decrease in churches. Statistically speaking, if you are sitting with 200 people on any given Sunday morning, there are at least 9 people around you who identify as queer. If your church is not a safe place for them, they are in the closet or cage, as some have called it.

These are your brothers, your sisters, your children. Your aunts and uncles, even grandparents. They are your people and they are nearer to you than you think. Imagine sitting up to Grandma’s table over the holidays with your extended family, tables overflowing. You look and see everyone welcome but not everyone is given a plate of food. Not everyone is given a place to serve. Some watch, hungry, so hungry. You say they are welcome, you say they are loved. But still they are hungry. Alone. Confused. You might as well not have welcomed them when the welcome is conditional.

What if we have it wrong?

Once you have lived this reality instead of talked about this issue, this looks a whole lot different. From where I am standing, the things we expect of our queer brothers and sisters are heartless. God is not heartless and does not discriminate. When I read the ancient texts, I see a Divine heart that calls everyone to the table.

What if there were another way we could look at this? Studies have repeatedly shown that sexual orientation is not a choice. I cannot imagine a loving God creating 4.5% of the population with orientations that he actually hates. Does this not niggle inside of you, jostling long held ideas, passed down generation after generation? What if we are the ones who have interpreted it all wrong?

To discriminate against a creature that is loved by the Divine is an unspeakable loss that leaves the rest of creation keening and reeling in chaos.

Imagine that we get to the end of our life and discover that God truly does hate 4.5% of the US because of their sexual orientation, this part of them that they did not choose. If God hates them but we were loving and affirming, they will have lived their life with a place at the table, treated with equality, and died knowing they were loved. It doesn’t affect me at that point (other then regretting that I had followed a God who hates). But what if God loves them enough to give them an equal place at the table and I was the one who shut them out? Then I am the one who has lost the most.

To discriminate against a creature that is loved by the Divine is an unspeakable loss that leaves the rest of creation keening and reeling in chaos.

An Equal Place at the table

One Sunday morning I was served communion by a transgender woman. As I took my bread to dip in the cup, I looked into her blue eyes as clear as glass and saw a soul that had found rest. Her blessing washed over me and I felt knots in my soul loosening and long held biases slipping away. It was the holiest of communions for me. We stood as equals, yet she was light years ahead of me in terms of bravery and authenticity. I humbly received the symbol of life from one who had died a thousand deaths and bravely chosen life.

Creating an equal place at the table creates beautiful space for light to shine through. We may even lose a place of prominence but we will be enriched by the presence of some of the world’s kindest and most decent souls. I should know; I’m married to one. Those who have died a thousand deaths and bravely continue to choose life are the very ones we need to model bravery and kindness in a time of so much division and hate.

Voices of others

I’d like to give space for the voices of others who speak so well on this topic. Here are links to a few –

Patrick Gothman tells a similar story here of being at a family table, welcomed but not equal. His story illustrates what it feels like to be gay in a non-affirming church.

Kimberly Knight shares that the difference between welcoming and affirming is equality.

Beckett Hanan tells what non-affirming actually means.

Sarah Bessey shares her journey of becoming affirming in Penny in the Air.

In his book Does Jesus Really Love Me? , Jeff Chu talks about the year he spent traveling across the US. He met with gay Christians across the country and shares story after story of churches and gay people that are all over the spectrum. Some with very closed doors, some welcoming, and some affirming.

If you are interested in finding a church that offers an equal place at the table, Church Clarity helps to score churches on issues of both LGBTQ policy and women in leadership.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Welcoming or Not

About a year after Austin came out to me, I realized I was no longer crying every day. I still cried a lot, it just wasn’t every single day. I wrestled with not only my self esteem and fears, but also what this meant to my faith. As mentioned in a previous post, I realized I had to look through a different lens. We attended a small Mennonite church in our city. I knew of a handful of queer people that had come and gone over the years. When the elders announced that they were going to start a formal process for the members to discuss whether or not we would be a welcoming church for all people, I was thrilled.

The church should be the safest place for Queer people.

Here is the thing – even when I wasn’t sure what I believed any more, when I had only questions and no answers, there was one belief I was certain of. The church should be the safest place for Queer people. Or, depending on your faith background, the Synagogue, the Temple or the Mosque.

Engaging in Conversations

Many churches either do not talk about this, or the leadership decides whether or not to be welcoming. I have a lot of respect for our pastor and elders at the time. They were willing to engage all of us in conversations on the matter of welcoming.

The formal process that First Mennonite Church of Canton used was quite extensive and lasted for a year. Four different pastors from other congregations were brought in throughout the year, to share their views on the topic. All four pastors studied the same ancient Scriptures, but came out at four different places in regards to faith and accepting members of the LGBTQ+ community. It was fascinating, to say the least. I found my mind expanding and was grateful that the black and white lens of my childhood was not the only lens there was.

Only after learning about the various views did the congregation begin its formal discussion on the matter. One particularly unique part of this process was when all the adult members gathered together to share how the story of their life had been affected by the LGBTQ+ community and how this impacted their views. For most of us, it was a highly emotional evening. Some had siblings or children who were queer. Some had people they loved who had left the church and their faith all together because they were not welcomed. Austin was honest about his own story and came out of the closet to this small group of our faith community. I shared how his coming out had impacted me. It was a night of truth telling and utter vulnerability.

The congregation continued to meet to discuss where to go from here. To welcome or not to welcome. In the end, we decided to agree to disagree as we were more divided than we thought.

It broke my heart. Even though I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the entire issue, I held firmly to my belief. The church should be the safest place for Queer people.

When the Church rejects you

When the Church rejects you, it sure as heck feels like God has rejected you. Too many people have walked away from God when the Church closed its doors to them. This is a big problem and it is not reflective of God, but of us.

If our beliefs are driving people away from the Creator who loves them, then it is time to rethink our beliefs.

This is not the God I know. When Jesus was on earth, the only group of people he ever got angry with, ever had words of judgement for, were the religious elite. He sat outside with those who could not darken the Temple’s door, despite the fact that the religious laws, supposedly handed down by God, forbade him to do so.

Think about it for a minute.

Jesus broke religious laws to show God’s love to the those who were forbidden a place at the table. He was furious only with those who kept all the religious laws but had forgotten how to love.

Why do we think it should be any different today? For too long, we have held judgement up as the greatest commandment when the only commandment there really is, is to love. And love never, ever drives anyone away from God. If our beliefs drive people away from the Creator who loves them, it is time to rethink our beliefs. Perhaps there is another way to interpret things.

The church should be the safest place for Queer people. It should be a safe place to be honest, to wrestle with questions. It must become a place that is welcoming and affirming for all if we truly want to model what love looks like.

Every Sunday morning, thousands gather together across our nation to worship. Pews are filled with people who do not agree on many other things. We may be on opposite sides politically. Many cheer for opposite sports teams. We have strong opposing views on many things, yet we are able to lay these aside as we worship together. Humans, side by side. Why is this there where so many churches draw the line? Why is another person’s sexual orientation so important to us that we feel justified to shut them out when the One we say we follow never said a word on the matter. He did, however, say this:

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Jesus in Matthew 25:40

To deny the Queer a place at the table is to deny Christ. Welcoming the Queer at the table is welcoming Christ at the table. To affirm the Queer among us is to affirm Christ at the table.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Finding My Own Two Feet

” Marriage and other intimate partnerships are the crucible in which your soul matures and allows you to be a creative, ethical, and thoughtful person in other areas. With this understanding of love, you don’t try to resolve love’s dark night by engineering a better relationship. Your focus is on the soul and its deepening and strengthening.

Thomas Moore in Dark Night of the Soul

All too often, we try to fix relationships by focusing on the “problem.” We then pour our energy into fixing it. Time and experience have confirmed to me that Moore is on to something. He advises us to focus on deepening and strengthening the individual soul, rather then perfecting the relationship. Relationships can only be as healthy as the people in them.

Letting Go of Trying to Change the Other Person

Maybe it was easier to do this because, by this time, I realized this is who Austin is. I was reconciling to the idea that these things were never going to go away. There was nothing I could do. As a woman, there was nothing I could do to compete with attractions to men. I couldn’t change his attractions, couldn’t fix his depression, could not make him happy. It caused me no small amount of pain. At the same time, it helped me to slowly let go and focus instead on the health of my own soul.

Finding the Gift in the Pain

Instead of being the greatest pain of my life, this became the greatest gift. My deepest fears, that he would leave me for a man, had more to do with my own emotional unhealthiness than the reality of what he was thinking and feeling. The codependency I had struggled with my whole life, finally showed up as being an absolute impossibility. There was nothing I could do to fix “us”. So I stopped trying.

I wish I could tell you that I immediately felt lighter. That it was like breathing clean air for the first time. It actually still sucked, quite a lot. The process wasn’t immediate or overnight, rather it was a slow process. I wasn’t always successful at letting go either. Yet, I had switched paths. Every time I found myself on the old path, it became easier to recognize and get back onto the right path again.

Needing Boundaries

One thing my soul needed was boundaries. I was not good at setting or keeping them. Journal in hand, I wrote down exactly what I could and could not live with in our marriage. I was aware that I did not want to leave him. Still, there were lines that could not be crossed if it was going to work.

Boundaries had to be set with other people too. For the first several years after we moved home, I said no to pretty much everything people asked me to do. It became easier with practice and I even learned to enter spaces where I received but did not give.

Relationships can only be as healthy as the people in them.

As a 2 on the Enneagram, who tends to be a giver, this went against everything in me. At first I was too burned out to care, but the practice became easier every time I said no. The guilt lessened, as well, once I could see that my drive to take care of people and fix things came from unhealthy beliefs and practices.

Becoming My Own Person

Instead of finding my identity in acts of service and caring for others, I began to find my identity in the things that gave me life. I carved out time and space to be alone and really think. Doing the things that filled me up became more and more important.

I also had to learn to see myself as my own person, rather than Austin’s wife or my sons’ mom. Growing up in a patriarchal subculture had preconditioned me to see women, including myself, as belonging to or an extension of their father or husband.

Only feet that dance well on their own, can dance beautifully with another.

It was as if I looked down and saw my own feet for the first time. I slowly began to realize I had two of them and I could stand perfectly fine on those two feet. Even if they were tired and the path unfamiliar, my two feet could hold me up.

The crazy thing was, as I leaned into my own identity and did my own soul work, our relationship slowly became stronger and better. Relationships can only be as healthy as the people in them. Only feet that dance well on their own, can dance beautifully with another.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photography courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

The Baffling Epiphany

Soon after my husband came out to me, my brother came out as gay. This was a complete shock to me. I did not see it coming. It was one of those moments when everything made sense, yet nothing made sense, all at the same time. I call it a baffling epiphany, a moment when beliefs and reality collide. The way I viewed the world, my lens, was no longer working.

All my life, I had been taught that being a homosexual is pretty much the worst sin there is. I was also taught that God loved and created each person so if someone was a homosexual, then they must have chosen to become one.

For those of you from other faith backgrounds, bear with me. I only know how to explain my own journey through the lens of Christianity, because that is how I experienced it. It may not resonate at all with you. Or perhaps you started out with the lens of Christianity but laid it aside because you could not reconcile it with your reality. I respect your journey, wherever you are at on the path. The God I know is all about life. I feel, for the sake of those who are being crushed or suffocated because of straight Christians who represent a fire-breathing God, I must speak bluntly.

The Early Lens

I grew up in a conservative Mennonite Christian home. My grandfather was the bishop of our church. I was barely a teenager when my father was ordained, by lot, to be a preacher much like Noah Funk in the first episode of Pure. This shook me, literally. Sitting in the pew behind my father, I nervously watched as he picked up a hymn book from the table and began thumbing through it. I saw the slip of paper from behind and began to weep silently. The weight on my shoulders was almost unbearable, and I knew I would be under even more scrutiny than before. I suddenly felt as if I had to be even more perfect.

I was the eldest child in my family and the only daughter, followed by 3 sons. Our view of Scripture was literal and questioning this lens was highly discouraged. We had a clear understanding of what was right and wrong and to deviate would bring serious consequences. While we were taught grace and forgiveness, the church always had long lists of rules which would keep us in God’s favor. We were taught that following the rules would not save us, but it was also impressed on us that not following them could condemn us. We also believed that God had a special blessing for those who kept these laws.

Questioning the Lens

My middle brother was one of those people who did everything right. As humans go, he is and was as close to perfect as I have ever encountered. He is honest, hard working, loyal, and kind to a fault. My brother is generous and deeply compassionate. He is one of the most God-like humans I have ever met. Remember that I was the big sister, so I knew him his whole life. Up and close, in the flesh. His generous gigantic heart is not a pretense, it is the real deal.

So when he came out to me, I was more than a little shocked and puzzled. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that someone so good and God-like could also be what my people saw as the worst kind of sin or abomination. As he allowed me glimpses into his internal landscape and the struggle his entire life had been, I knew, without a doubt, that he had not chosen this. The pieces just did not fit together.

So I began to question things. How could a God that loved humanity create someone like my brother, only to throw him aside as an abomination? If God is loving, how is it possible for such a person as my brother to beg for this to be taken away, yet it remained? The God I know is all about life. This just did not make sense.

The Broken Lens

As these questions continued to grow and circle round my brain, I also had a front row seat as I watched my own husband’s struggle. The depression and anxiety, the shame, all turned it into a struggle just to survive. It is something no human being would ever choose. One day Austin told me about the rope he had hanging in the woods when he was a teenager, and how he had planned to use it to end his life because of this struggle.

I was undone. The lens snapped into bits at my feet and the world blurred, literally. It was a moment of baffling epiphany and the lens I had used my whole life was no longer working.

A New Lens

There are those who will protect the lens at all costs. I could no longer do that. I had to start with what I knew to be true – that good, kind and God-like people were queer. It was wired into their DNA and no amount of begging God would change it. I knew in my bones that God is love and merciful and would never create a life, only to cause that person to live in so much shame that they would choose death. The God I know is all about life. Those pieces just did not fit together anymore and I had a growing suspicion that the lens I had been using was the wrong lens.

Knowing my husband and my brother, and seeing their journey up and close was an invitation to pick up a new lens. A decade later, I can assure you that this lens still serves me well. It allows me to see the world in full color, instead of black and white. This lens filters out judgement, which was never my job in the first place, and allows mercy and mystery to swirl and fill the periphery. I get to live and interact with some of the most beautiful humans whose colors cannot be seen through a black and white lens. It captures life because the God I know is all about life. This lens is pro life for every human being that breathes, regardless of gender, status or orientation.

If the God I know is all about life, shouldn’t I be as well?


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photos courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.