Heavy-hearted

There's a high probability that I be Iowan the rest of my days, but still I tell myself I'm from Ohio. When Iowa adopts crushing legislation that harms my LGBTQ friends, I distance myself and think: at least Ohio is a purple swing state that carefully considers both sides and makes balanced decisions. And as congregations in our denomination leave, fearing progressive theology, my home congregation is able to rise above the winds and trends of fear-based decision-making. Or so I thought. On a recent visit back home, I was devastated to learn that conservative leadership got a board majority and led the congregation out of the denomination. Right in the face of a beloved gay member and his allies. Despite his vulnerability in sharing what it's like to be born gay in a straight world. So painful... family on differing sides... my long-time mentors and elders swayed by the fear-mongering crowd of the day... believing tales of choice and the ability to change if you "feel gay". I'm heart-broken. 

Love is rising above fear among some of them. A group refuses to discard and stop loving gay brothers and sisters, and has started meeting for worship Sunday evenings. Others in the community from churches who've done the same are joining them. Family reports much joy present in their gatherings, and I am heartened in the midst of the pain.

On a broader scale, I fear a sinister force at work, perhaps not even conscious in the minds of leaders throughout our denomination: racism. Since we hired a black man as our executive director, and he filled his cabinet with diverse people (1 of the 5 is white), there has been a steady stream of congregations exiting. Some say it's because LGBTQ is "sin", although the denomination embraces the whole range of theology on this topic. But others say "the denomination doesn't feel like us anymore" or "we don't recognize ourselves in the denomination". Is this really code for "I want my leaders to look like me, white and male?" Dear God. Lord, have mercy.