A friend of mine signs off on all of her e-mails with the salutation "Courage."
I have been thinking of that word much this week as I have prepared for the appeal hearing with the Shenandoah District Leadership Team challenging the termination of my ordination and the letter of censure given to our Senior Pastor at BWCOB. Mindful of that hearing, which took place last night, numerous friends and acquaintances have wished me courage in recent days, thanked me for my courage in standing for an inclusive church, etc. Last evening, one of the members of the DLT even thanked me for my courage in being present at the hearing.
I have mixed feelings in hearing this word expressed to me in such ways. I have found resonance with these feelings in a book I read recently entitled A Letter to my Congregation: An evangelical pastor's path to embracing people who are gay, lesbian and transgender into the company of Jesus (Read the Spirit Books, 2014). It was written by Ken Wilson, founding pastor of Vineyard Church in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I wholeheartedly recommend his book as one of the clearest and most articulate expressions of the case for an inclusive church that is able to lovingly and compassionately hold competing values and beliefs even on perceived first-order moral issues such as same-sex marriage. But one of the things that most spoke to me in this book was something Wilson shared in his concluding chapter, "I am willing." In speaking of his affirmation and willingness "to be fearless", Ken shared an anecdote from his experience presenting the paper detailing his path to the conviction that LGBT persons should be embraced rather than excluded in the church. In his words:
When I presented this as a paper at the Society of Vineyard Scholars, a number of people, including the respondent who didn't agree with my conclusions, commented on my "courage" in presenting the paper. At first, this appealed to my natural desire to look good. But after hearing it several times, that wore off and it gave way to anger.
I thought of the believers I know in a nation I don't even want to mention in print because they wake up in small villages that have been affected by a militant form of Islam and have to decide whether to be known as Jesus followers or not. That takes courage.
And then I thought of the people who are gay or transgender who now attend the Vineyard Church of Ann Arbor, knowing just a little of the fear that they went through simply to attend a church not knowing whether they would be accepted or not. That takes courage.
But I had to admit, giving the paper at the Society of Vineyard Scholars took a little moxie, a little chutzpah, a little nerve. Maybe, if the bar is very low, it took a little courage. But then what does that say about the religious system that we are operating in? That it takes a little 'courage' for a pastor to stand up and talk about things that every pastor faces when it comes to the care of people who are gay, lesbian, and transgender? Shouldn't that take any number of things other than courage? Why would such a word have any use at all in such a context?
We should all be ashamed to admit that it takes any courage at all for a pastor to do such a thing.
(pp. 183-184)
I thought about these words as I sat and listened and shared in the hearing last evening. I have been struggling emotionally and spiritually with my defrocking more in recent days than I have at any point previously. In truth, I needed those expressions and prayers for strength and courage last night, and I continue to feel the need for strength and courage as I await the outcome of that hearing. And that reality -- and what it says about the state and the soul of the church to which I have given myself in service and ministry -- is perhaps the most troubling realization of all for me in this process...
