community – Southwest Conference Blog

We Wait

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Advent begins. This season of waiting needs not be waited for any longer. It is here. So, now we mark this time. And we wait.

How do you rate your ability to wait? Is the season of anticipation an opportunity for sitting still, for being exactly where you are, noticing what is going on around you? Or can you “wait” as I once watched Pastor TD Jakes demonstrate in a sermon as a servant serves? Tray in hand, one arm behind your back, bowed in submission.

The truth is, we probably don’t do either. We pick another brand of “waiting” altogether. We read a book, or work on a laptop, play games on our phone, using our “wait time” as another opportunity to be distracted from where we are, to be somewhere other than the waiting.

Perhaps we choose a different way of waiting this year. Maybe it would benefit our monkey minds just to sit in what feels like “mindless wander” but might actually be “mindfulness.” Perhaps we ask, ‘what is this place I am waiting? What am I even waiting for? How is it in my heart now that I am still and can listen?’

Or perhaps our waiting could involve serving, to learn a new way of humility, of surrender to someone else’s idea, to let go of our need to be recognized, honored, or served, and instead, “wait” on someone else.

If you’ve been in church for any length of time, you understand Advent as the waiting for Christ’s coming. And we change the liturgical colors and we light candles on a wreath. We sing songs of anticipation, we hear passages of hope; but our waiting gets filled up with new activities, more tasks, more busyness so that we find ourselves neither really serving others or being still. We just simply fill up this season like we do all the others.

You could do it differently, you know. Advent, I mean. You could choose this to be your season to be still, to listen to your heart, your body, to honor what is, not what you expect to come, to accept the liminal space of “not yet.”

I’d like to mark this time as slightly different than how I typically manage the month of December. I’d like this time to be more than writing the Christmas letter, getting all the cards mailed on time, buying gifts because this has become the acceptable way to say I love you.

I’d like to be still, to learn humility. I’d like not to have to distract myself when there are a few minutes before the next thing. I’d like to learn how to wait well.

I hope you learn it too.

Bathrooms Matter

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

When I was studying for my D.Min. degree, I was commuting between British Columbia and Minnesota to do my class work, so I pretty much took any class that was compatible with me being away from my responsibilities as the director of a treatment center for addiction.

One summer I signed up for a class on Hans Kung at Luther Theological Seminary, part of the consortium of schools where I was enrolled as a student. Being from out of town, I required student housing, so signed up to live in a dorm for the month I would attend class.

When I arrived at Luther, I was rather shocked and more than a little dismayed to discover that I was going to be housed in the men’s dorm. Alas, in this dark age, there were no dorms for women and virtually no female students attending classes at Luther. I was further mortified to learn that I would have to use the men’s bathroom in the dorm, and I was cavalierly informed by the dorm supervisor that I would be required to hang a sign on the door of the bathroom whenever I was occupying the space.

I gritted my teeth and complied with the bathroom protocol only to discover that my male dorm mates thought it was great fun to bang on the door and yell out obscenities when I was inside the bathroom. I could feel myself sinking into a feeling of depressed anxiety, always wondering who these door bangers were, and wondering if they were the people in the rooms next to mine. I couldn’t think of an appropriate response.

With these unfortunate bathroom experiences under my belt, I shuffled into the first meeting of my class on Hans Kung and discovered that it was being taught by the internationally respected theologian Dr. Warren Quanbeck. Dr. Quanbeck had attended discussions on Vatican II and was well known for his participation in the World Council of Churches. I felt right at home with his teaching style as he appeared in class in well-worn blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Very Minnesota! As the class concluded, he announced, “Campbell, please stay after class.” I found myself wondering what awful experience could be next in my horrifying theological education.

Much to my delight and surprise, Dr. Quanbeck calmly announced to me: “You don’t need to study Hans Kung, but I was wondering if you would like to meet in my study to discuss T.S. Eliot?” This scholar of great grace had apparently heard of some of my work with the marginalized and of my interest in writing. I gratefully, extremely gratefully, accepted his offer.

As the weeks went by, Dr. Quanbeck revealed to me that he was dying, and that he wanted to know more about my work with Native American and Canadian belief systems. We had long discussions about many topics, and didn’t dodge the difficult subject of death. He made my weeks at Luther some of the most meaningful of my life. Dr. Quanbeck died shortly after I returned to Canada.

Sadly, bathrooms are still an issue, and Rep. Nancy Mace of South Carolina is trying to pass legislation that would prevent Sarah McBride, the first openly trans elected member of Congress, from using the women’s bathroom. Really, America, is this how we want to use our valuable time and energy???

Ms. McBride has gracefully stated, “I’m not here to fight about bathrooms,” but we need to take up her fight on behalf of any people who are being bullied for any reason.

In her beautifully poignant memoir, Sarah McBride speaks of the importance of human beings acting out a graceful and loving way of living in order to set an example for others to follow. She wants us to set the tone of how others will live and be. We are challenged to demonstrate our beliefs through our behavior.

In my experience at Luther, I had firsthand experience with this concept. The men who inhabited my dorm set an example of bullying. Dr. Quanbeck, on the other hand, modeled grace, acceptance, calm, and welcome.

We are the United Church of Christ where all are welcome. We will not allow Sarah McBride or any other trans person to be bullied or distracted from their calling. Bathrooms do matter. How we behave matters a great deal. We are challenged to live out the words “no matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.”

Honoring Veterans, Serving Our Communities, and Leading with Love

by SWC Associate Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliott

A letter to the Clergy of the Southwest Conference:

As we approach Veterans Day, we are reminded of the incredible sacrifices made by the men and women who have served in the armed forces. Veterans Day offers us a chance to reflect on the values of courage, commitment, and service that our veterans embody—a reminder of our own call to serve and support one another in faith.

For those in your congregations who have served, or who have loved ones in service, I encourage you to take a moment this weekend to honor and acknowledge their contributions. As a veteran myself, having served in both the Army and Air Force, I hold a deep, personal appreciation for the dedication and resilience required of our service members. I know firsthand the unique challenges and the profound sense of purpose that military service can bring, as well as the need for understanding, healing, and support afterward.

Moreover, this Sunday also holds unique significance as many of you will be preaching in the wake of the recent election. Our communities may be processing a mix of emotions, from hope to concern to uncertainty. As we step into our pulpits, let us strive to offer words that unite, uplift, and encourage healing across differences. The message of Christ’s love, justice, and peace is a powerful balm in times like these, and I trust each of you to bring compassion and wisdom to the task of pastoring those you serve.

I also want to acknowledge those of you who, like me, work outside the church in various fields while balancing ministry within your congregations. Your commitment to serve both the church and the wider community is invaluable, as it extends the reach of the Gospel and reflects Christ’s love in workplaces, schools, hospitals, and beyond. Your work often goes unseen but remains a powerful testament to our faith in action. Know that you are deeply appreciated for your ministry both inside and outside church walls.

As people of God, let us uphold our veterans in prayer, giving thanks for their dedication and asking for peace, healing, and strength in their lives. I also encourage you to consider how we, as a conference, can support veterans in our communities year-round, recognizing the unique needs they may have in the journey toward wholeness and peace.

As we gather for worship this weekend, may our reflections on Veterans Day and the recent election remind us of the strength and resilience found in our communities of faith and service. Together, let us honor the gifts and sacrifices of all who have served, embracing them as we continue our shared mission of love and healing.

We Are All Connected

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Writer Joseph Campbell tells a story of a police officer saving a young man’s life as he was planning to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge. The police officer saw the person about to jump, exited the car from the passenger’s side, ran to him, and grabbed the man just as he fell, then slipping and falling with him. They were both then rescued by the driver of the car, the other police officer, and both were pulled to safety.

Campbell writes about this encounter, “Do you realize what had suddenly happened to that policeman who had given himself to death with that unknown youth? Everything else in his life had dropped off – his duty to his family, his duty to his job, his duty to his own life – all of his wishes and hopes for his lifetime had just disappeared. He was about to die.”

Later a newspaper reporter asked the officer, ‘why didn’t you let go? You would have been killed.’ And his reported answer was, ‘I couldn’t let go. If I had let that young man go, I couldn’t have lived another day of my life.’”

“Why?” Campbell wanted to know. Why would anyone defy the supposedly first law of nature, self-preservation, to save another person? Why would someone risk their life for someone else? Campbell believes it is because there are other laws, stronger and deeper laws, operating within us. Wayne Muller describes these laws as coming from, “a deep mutuality that resonates within us, an inner knowing that we share the same life, the same breath, the same spirit, and the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.”

Campbell sums it up this way: “Our true reality is our identity and unity with all life.”

Despite our differences, our unique individuations, we are all connected and we all share this life together. We are one. We are together.

As we move towards election day in this country, a day of marked division across our nation, may we be mindful that we are truly united by more than what divides us. May we be mindful of the deep and strong laws within us. And may we continue to live with the truth that the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.

Whole Lives Matter: Embracing Intersectionality in a Complex World

by Christopher Schouten

At this month’s national gathering of the United Church of Christ’s Open and Affirming Coalition, I heard a phrase for the first time that struck me deeply: “Whole Lives Matter.” While it echoes the call for dignity that “Black Lives Matter” represents, it points to something both universal and deeply personal—the recognition that we are all complex, multifaceted beings created in the image of God. It calls for the acceptance of every aspect of who we are. To truly see each other, we must see the entirety of each person’s identity—embracing all the layers of race, gender, ability, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and other aspects that make us human. This is intersectionality in its truest form.

The Complexity of Intersectionality

Intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, was originally used to describe the overlapping oppression faced by Black women in systems of racial and gender inequality. It has since expanded to include the myriad ways in which different aspects of identity intersect and affect one’s experience in the world. In the LGBTQIA+ community, intersectionality is crucial because queer identity doesn’t exist in isolation from race, class, ability, or gender identity. We are all many things, and each part of us shapes how we experience the world.

To simply label someone as “gay” or “trans” without acknowledging their other identities—whether they are Black, disabled, working-class, or a woman—reduces them to a single facet of their existence. Instead, we are called to look at the whole person. When we do that, we create space for empathy, respect, and an acknowledgment that everyone’s lived experience is unique and valuable.

A Biblical Call to Wholeness

The message of “Whole Lives Matter” resonates deeply within the Christian tradition. From the beginning of the Bible, we see God creating human beings as whole and complex. Psalm 139 celebrates this, proclaiming, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:13-14). These verses remind us that every part of our identity is sacred, lovingly woven together by the hands of God.

Jesus’ ministry also demonstrated this profound respect for the whole person. He didn’t engage with people based on just one aspect of their identity. Whether it was the woman at the well, the tax collector, or the woman caught in adultery, Jesus saw and loved them for their full humanity. He didn’t overlook their struggles or dismiss their complex circumstances but acknowledged their worth in every encounter.

In this way, Christ calls us to reject partial, simplified understandings of one another. We are tasked with seeing our siblings in faith and the broader human community as whole, integrated beings—not merely “gay,” “straight,” “disabled,” or “Black,” but as a synthesis of all those things. And when we recognize the entirety of a person, we can offer them the kind of love and respect that God offers us.

Identity and Assumptions

In today’s fast-paced, judgment-laden world, it’s easy to fall into the trap of labeling people without truly seeing them. We hear someone’s race, their gender identity, or their sexual orientation and, almost automatically, make assumptions about their beliefs, experiences, or behaviors. This tendency not only flattens the rich diversity of the human experience but also shuts down opportunities for genuine connection.

Studies on identity formation indicate that people often struggle with their intersecting identities, especially in environments that force them to prioritize one identity over another. A 2019 study published in The Journal of Social Issues found that LGBTQIA+ individuals from marginalized racial or socioeconomic backgrounds often feel torn between different aspects of their identity, as they try to navigate spaces that don’t fully accept them as a whole person. This highlights the need for communities that embrace the whole person rather than asking them to fragment their identity for social convenience.

When we walk through life assuming we know someone’s story based on a single characteristic, we miss out on the fullness of who they are. We also reinforce societal structures that divide and diminish people, reducing them to just one aspect of their existence. Instead, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” encourages us to move beyond assumptions, to see every person as a reflection of God’s diverse and magnificent creation.

Wrestling with Identity & Faith

It’s important to recognize that many people, especially within marginalized communities, are still wrestling with the complexity of their identities. For some, reconciling the intersections of race, gender, ability, and sexuality is a life-long journey. As a community of faith, we must make space for this wrestling. We need to hold space for people who are figuring out who they are and who God is calling them to be.

In our churches and wider society, we should foster environments where people feel free to explore the complexity of their identities without fear of rejection or ridicule. The intersection of different identities can sometimes feel like a source of tension, but it can also be a source of strength. As LGBTQIA+ people of faith, many of us know what it’s like to navigate the intersection of queerness and religion. It can be challenging, but it can also lead to a deeper, richer understanding of both our faith and our identity.

Moving Forward with Compassion

If we are to take “Whole Lives Matter” seriously, we must begin by listening. We need to listen to the stories of those who have been marginalized by society—whether because of their race, their gender, their socioeconomic status, or any other aspect of their identity. And we need to listen without judgment, without rushing to impose our own understanding of who they are.

In doing so, we build bridges of compassion and empathy. We create communities where people are not only tolerated but celebrated in their wholeness. And we make space for people to continue wrestling with their identities without feeling that they have to fit neatly into preconceived boxes.

In a world that too often divides us, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” is a call to unity—unity through diversity, and wholeness through love. It is a reminder that every person we encounter is a beautiful, complex creation of God, worthy of respect and kindness. And it is an invitation to see, and love, the whole person.

Gus Walz is My Hero

by Rev. Dr. Tom Martinez

In today’s culture war we’re all victims of the age-old idea that manliness is primarily evidenced by controlling and repressing emotions. This was made clear by the reaction to Gus Walz’ open display of emotion during the Democratic National Convention. Images of Gus crying quickly became a lightning rod for the cruelest ridicule. But what are we making fun of? A son’s love of his dad. Is that really deserving of the wave of cruelty it elicited? Or could it be an indication that at the dawn of the 21^st century there is deep confusion as to what it means to be a man?

It’s easy to bully any sign of weakness. That’s why bullying is so rampant. But it’s far more challenging to grasp why such a beautiful moment quickly became weaponized. Yes, it has a lot to do with the radical divide in the country. We’re like sharks in our ability to detect any hint of vulnerability which we then pounce on like so many Great Whites. Biden shows his age or Trump fumbles a question and everyone’s ready to pounce. It’s as if we’re all back in middle school, consumed by fear and the aggression that shields us from our humanity.

The truth is we’re all aging, we all fumble questions or fail to put our best foot forward. We’re imperfect, vulnerable creatures trying to find our way in the world. But attacking each other isn’t the answer. Instead, we need to step back and assess the ways in which our culture has socialized men to hide their feelings. Women would have an easier time of it if more men were to begin to explore their masculinity with a wider range of ideals than the lone ranger mentality offered up by the likes of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson.

John Wayne is often demonized for having made such a major contribution to the patriarchal ideal. And while the problem is of course bigger than Wayne, I find it fascinating that when he appeared before a group of Veterans their reaction was to boo him. These were men who had experienced the harsh reality of combat, many of them propelled by the swaggering image of a fearless gunmen out to get the bad guys. They had discovered that war is not glamorous or thrilling, but horrific and wounding.

Therapists like Ed Tick, who work with traumatized Vets, know that the path toward healing involves a dismantling of the macho image of invulnerability. Ed has taken countless groups of Veterans back to Viet Nam, where they have the opportunity to process the trauma of war, and to thereby enlarge their frame of reference by which they understand what happened to them, what they did, what was done to them. He frames this work in the symbolism of the hero’s journey, which begins with the patriarchal foundation of enculturation, then descends into the hell of trauma. This descent is an aspect of heroism that takes us beneath the middle-school mentality of invulnerability and cruelty. It requires a Christ-like willingness to enter the wilderness of the soul, to wrestle with our worst and better angels.

The great developmental psychologist Erik Erikson came to this country to escape Hitler. A brilliant theorist by nature, he plumbed the depths of fascism, asking what in the world made it possible for so many everyday Germans to throw their support behind a sadistic demagogue. How fascinating that his quest to understand what happened in Germany centered on the generational tensions between fathers and sons. He went on to articulate his insights in a book on Martin Luther, who famously struggled with his relationship with his father. Erikson understood that love for the swaggering dictator is rooted in repressed feelings toward authority.

It’s no coincidence that Luther himself ushered in a great revolutionary overthrow of Catholicism, the reigning system of power in his day. One of Erikson’s great insights involves the explosive though latent energy permeating society in times of social upheaval. We certainly are living through such a time. Everything from truth itself, to the mystery of gender to whether or not the planet is warming is all up for grabs.

In the midst of this great upheaval, people long to be free, to have some modicum of power and agency. The temptation is to simply identify a father figure to either worship or oppose. But collective lashing out against the right or left is merely that, a blind lashing out at daddy. The more radical response is to feel one’s way into one’s own power, to figure out why we’re here, what it is that we are meant to do, which is often something far beyond the limited ideologies offered to up by whatever cultural system we’re born into.

This isn’t to say that all enculturation is flawed. We need role models and mentors. We need spaces where we are tested and pushed and allowed to fail and succeed. This is no doubt why sports loom so large in the world. But the star athlete who beats his wife is far too common, as is the epidemic of domestic abuse in general.

Legions of men are trapped in an outdated ideal of toughness and control. Meanwhile advances in the social sciences are opening up the complexity of gender, social roles, questions of equality and the challenges associated with our ever-more complex and technologically daunting world. Again, the temptation is to go back to the Lone Ranger and leave it at that.

But songs like “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” and films like Coming Home, Johnny Got His Gun, The Deerhunter and Born on the Fourth of July all call into question the old ideal of invincibility.

From what I’ve read it appears Gus Walz is somewhere on the neuro-diversity spectrum, meaning he doesn’t process information like more mainstreamed young adults. That alone should be reason for a certain sober restraint when it comes to judging his show of emotion. But rather than merely holding back out of compassion, we can marvel at what this extraordinary young man has to teach us. His response was real and honest and spontaneous, pure embodied love by a son for his dad. Seems to me the world could use a little more young men like Gus.

Rev. Dr. Tom Martinez is the Senior Minister of Desert Palm United Church of Christ in Tempe, AZ.

The Cheering Kept Me Going

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Katie Ledecky, the great Olympic swimmer was asked what she thought about while swimming the long 1,500 meter race. She explained that she thought of everyone who had helped her make it to the games, help make her the swimmer she is. She thinks of coaches, family members, friends, teachers, and sees them in her mind’s eye as she swims meter after meter. I heard her interview and immediately thought of Hebrews 12 :1 and the reminder that we are “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” Surely, even for those of us who are not Olympic swimmers, we understand the value of having people in our corner, understand that we have made it this far because of the love and support of so many.

I’ve shared this story before but it really is my favorite Olympic story and since we’re enjoying the games this week, and since Katie Ledecky brought this topic to mind, I decided to muse about this past Olympic event again!

Eric “The Swimmer” Moussambani of Equatorial Guinea was an unlikely hero of the Sydney Olympic Games. The 22-year-old African had only learned to swim the January before the scheduled events. He had only practiced in a 20 meter pool without lane markers, and had never raced more than 50 meters. By special invitation of the International Olympic Committee, under a special program that permits poorer countries to participate even though their athletes don’t meet customary standards, he had been entered in the 100 meter men’s freestyle.

When the other two swimmers in his heat were disqualified because of false starts, Moussambani was forced to swim alone. Eric Moussambani was, to use the words of an Associated Press story about his race, “charmingly inept.” He did not put his head under the water’s surface and flailed wildly to stay afloat. With ten meters left to the finish, he virtually came to a stop. Some spectators thought he might drown! Even though his time was clearly over a minute slower than what he would need to qualify for the next level of competition, the capacity crowd at the Olympic Aquatic Center stood to their feet and cheered Eric on. “You can do it!” They shouted. “You got this! Go! GO!” And applause filled the stadium.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, this young African athlete finally reached the wall and hung on for dear life. When he had caught his breath and regained his composure, the French-speaking Moussambani was interviewed about the event. He was asked how he kept going even though it was clear that it was very difficult for him to complete the race. He said through an interpreter, “I want to send hugs and kisses to the crowd. It was their cheering that kept me going.”

May you hear the cheering for you as you go through your trials. May you remember the love and support of your cloud of witnesses and may you always know the words of the poet Hafiz: “I wish that I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.”

The Interruptions of Grace

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

In the first year of my second pastorate I planned a six-week book study for Lent. I selected the topic and bought books for the participants, developed a lesson plan, and was excited about this opportunity to study with the parishioners. On the first Wednesday of Lent, those who had signed up for the class showed up for the beginning night of the study. Everyone was there, including a parishioner who lived nearby the church in a group home and who attended every service at the church.

His name was Larry and I bought him a book and knew he would join the study even though his reading skills were quite limited and the class was a little too advanced for him. On that opening night, I began the session with prayer and immediately launched into the lesson for chapter one when Larry mumbled something. Thinking he was only speaking to the woman sitting next to him, I didn’t address him, but continued to move through the night’s lesson. He spoke out again and it was evident he had something to share.

“What is it Larry?” I asked, hoping it would be something easy that could be attended to and not impede the progress of the study.

He paused a minute and just before I could start the lesson again, he said, “My mama passed this morning.”

Surprised by the announcement, I asked again, “What, Larry?” And he repeated what he had just said. “My mama passed this morning.”

Immediately, everyone in the class began asking more questions, “When, Larry?” “What happened, Larry?” “Had your mother been sick?”

And I suddenly became very aware that the lesson I had planned was not going to go at all like I had expected. Having had some hospice training and knowing Larry, I left the fellowship hall where everyone was gathered, went to a Sunday School classroom and found some paper and crayons. I knew Larry liked to draw and thought he might prefer the opportunity to color a picture of his mother rather than answer more questions. I walked back in the room and placed the paper and box of crayons in front of him.

“Would you like to draw a picture of your mom in heaven?” And Larry instantly picked up a crayon and piece of paper and started coloring and for a minute, I considered the notion that maybe I could continue with the class, let Larry talk if he wanted, return to the conversation about his loss if desired; but, I thought, maybe we could just complete part of the first chapter. And I went back to my seat and was just about to start up again when something happened.

Every other person gathered around that table picked up a piece of paper too. And someone passed around the box of crayons and each one of them took one out and started coloring pictures just like Larry.

“Your mama was a good singer, Larry,” one of the deacons said as he drew. “I’m sure she’s singing in the choir up in heaven.”

“Oh, your mama made the best biscuits, Larry,” another lay leader added, coloring a picture of a woman at a stove. “I bet she’s already cooking up there.”

“And sew! Your mama made the prettiest dresses,” one more chimed in, the crayon moving across the page. And I stopped and just watched. Closed the book, put aside the well-laid plans, shut the folder of all of my carefully created notes, and watched as the leaders of that little parish cared for Larry.

It is, I now know, one of the best images of church I have. These church members putting aside their plans and needs and choosing to color pictures to help a son grieve his mother’s death.

That was the night I learned that sometimes God shows up only when we set aside our agendas, our well-laid strategies, and expectations for what is supposed to happen in church and in our lives and allow the Spirit to do what actually needs to be done.

As you move through your week, making your plans for vacation or family gatherings, for whatever it is you deem important, may you allow room for the interruptions of grace that remind you of what the Spirit wants to do.

“I Could Be Wrong…”

by Rev. Deb Beloved Church

As an Edgar Abbey character famously said, “I thought I was wrong once, but I found out later I was mistaken.”

So it’s not just me who thinks so highly of themselves! Me? Wrong about something? Nah!

My opinions are so well-thought-out; my perspectives, so sincere! My thinking is so thoughtful; my analyses, so all-encompassing!

If you were open-minded enough, if you were more loving, surely you’d come to the same conclusions as I have…

Who’s with me??

Apparently not the 8th-century BCE Israelite prophet Micah, who famously declared: “God has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

In a course we’re using at White Rock Presbyterian Church (“The After Party: Toward Better Christian Politics”), David French, one of the course facilitators, characterizes humility, in part, as “this understanding that I could be wrong about any given issue.”

That way of thinking seems a far cry from how many, if not most, of us (myself included) think–particularly at this time in the life of our country.

Many, if not most, of us struggle to consistently engage with others with that kind of mindset–with an acknowledgement that we might be wrong, with a recognition that we do not fully understand all of the complexities of any given issue.Many, if not most, of us struggle to reliably show up in the world with this version of humility.

But it is so desperately needed. And for us who claim to be people of faith, not only does the world desperately need it, but according to Micah, our God unquestionably requires it.

So how do we move in that direction?

I think one way is for us to simply say those words out loud: “I could be wrong.”

And then say them again–into the mirror, to a loved one, while we’re driving, while we’re taking in the news, while we’re rehearsing our arguments in support of our clearly right views on any given topic.

“I could be wrong.”

…and then show up in the world, show up in conversations, show up in relationships, from that place, in that mental space, with that perspective guiding us. And see what happens…

And in the meantime, we can try to remember that we and “the other(s)” (whether they agree with us or dare to think differently…!) are God’s beloved. We and they are God’s beloved. Perhaps that, too, bears repeating—in the mirror, to a loved one, while we’re taking in the news, etc.

All of us, in all of our incomplete understandings and our complexity and our arrogance and our woeful lack of true humility, are fundamentally loved by God. Period. We all are God’s beloved. And that just might be enough to bind us together. Or at least give us reason to consider, “I could be wrong…”

Will you walk with me on this path toward humility? It’s so desperately needed.

The Sacred Journey from Shame to Pride

by Christopher Schouten, pre-MID

Introduction

Happy Pride Month! Pride evokes different emotions and memories for each of us. For some, it conjures up joyous celebrations in the streets, parks, and bars with friends and loved ones, feeling a sense of community and safety. My first big pride parade in Chicago during my early 20s was transformative. For the first time, I felt like part of the majority, not a marginalized minority. It was both safe and surreal.

Others might question the purpose of Pride, wondering if such marches are still necessary or if Pride itself is a sin in a Christian context. These are valid questions. Let’s explore them together, starting with a biblical perspective.

Sinful Pride vs. Righteous Pride

The Bible contains numerous statements about sinful pride, such as Proverbs 16:18, which warns, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” C.S. Lewis described pride as the “anti-God” state, severing the spirit from God’s life-giving presence.

However, there is also mention of “righteous pride.” Paul the Apostle, for example, speaks of a healthy kind of pride in Galatians 6:4, “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.” He also expresses pride in the Corinthians in 2 Corinthians 7:4, “I have great confidence in you; I take great pride in you. I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds.”

Righteous pride encourages us to recognize and celebrate our God-given talents and achievements while remaining humble and grateful. It fosters healthy self-esteem and motivates us to use our gifts in service to others and to glorify God.

The Impact of Shame on LGBTQIA+ Individuals

For the LGBTQIA+ community, developing a sense of righteous pride can be particularly challenging. Growing up in a society that often condemns or marginalizes our identities can lead to a pervasive sense of shame and invalidation. This shame teaches us to hide our true selves and diminish our light, stifling our personal growth and depriving the world of our unique contributions.

The cost of this shame is significant. According to the Trevor Project, LGBTQIA+ youth are more than twice as likely to feel suicidal and over four times as likely to attempt suicide compared to their heterosexual peers.

Personal Experience

My journey from shame to pride has been long and arduous. I knew I was gay at 12, but the lack of positive representation and support made me hide my true self. In high school, I stayed in the closet, living in secrecy and shame, finding solace only in the acceptance of a few friends in my UCC church choir.

College brought newfound freedom and acceptance, but the damage was done. The shame I internalized in my youth continued to drive me, leading to overachievement as a coping mechanism. I sought validation through academic excellence, career success, and various accomplishments, hoping to prove my worth and avoid confronting my shame.

Overachievement and Addiction

Author Alan Downs, in “The Velvet Rage,” explains that shame often leads to overachievement and addiction in LGBTQIA+ individuals. I excelled in academics and career, learned multiple languages, and held leadership positions, all to avoid shame. Despite my successes, a deep sense of unworthiness lingered, manifesting in disproportionate anger and rage when triggered.

Addiction is another common coping mechanism. LGBTQIA+ individuals are more likely to struggle with substance abuse and process addictions like sex, gambling, or eating disorders. These addictions are often driven by the need to numb the pain of shame and seek solace.

The Role of God’s Grace

Healing from deep-seated shame and reclaiming our true selves involves embracing the transformative power of a higher power. Isaiah 43:1-4 reminds us that we are not defined by shame or judgment but are precious and honored in God’s sight. God’s unconditional love provides a foundation upon which we can rebuild our sense of self-worth.

Personal Growth Work

While God’s love is central to our journey from shame to pride, we also have personal responsibilities:

Self-Reflect: Spend time in prayer and meditation, asking God to reveal your true passions and callings.
Embrace Vulnerability: Share your authentic self with others to build supportive connections.
Find Your Passion: Identify and pursue activities that bring you joy and are true expressions of your God-given essence.
Be Your Authentic Self: Work to be your true self in all situations, rejecting the urge to hide your light.
Choose Love: Embrace God’s love and extend it to your inner child, fostering healing and self-acceptance.

Conclusion

If you are brave enough to begin this journey of healing from shame, you deserve to live in pride every day. The journey from shame to pride is a testament to the power of God’s healing love and a unique work of art that will be your legacy to the world. Be blessed and reassured that your Creator and this community of love will be with you on your journey.