Discovering who I am through Unitarian Universalism

Posts tagged ‘Purpose’

Lesbians, Softball, and the Church Board

I gave this sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Winston-Salem on April 24, 2016. The text is below as well as a recording of the sermon itself (which includes a bit of ad libbing).  I am grateful for this opportunity to speak to their Fellowship.

Lesbians, Softball, and the Church Board

A few months ago Rev. Lisa saw my post on facebook about a recent sermon I gave at my church, the Unitarian Universalist Church of Greensboro. I said that I have given several sermons over the years so at this point I see the Order of service as I do a recipe, merely guidance not an absolute and so for that particular service I changed things around a bit. Well, I think that piqued her interest because she messaged me and said, “Hey, why don’t you come speak at UUFWS?” Not being one to turn down an opportunity to speak, I said, sure. When we talked through the stage I’m in regarding seminary, sermons I’ve given in the past, etc, I remembered something I had held way back in the outer reaches of my memory: Ya’ll are actually part of my process of becoming a Unitarian Universalist. So we talked it over and the title of my sermon became, “Lesbians, Softball and the Church Board.” While yes, this is a provocative title, all of these items really do tie together. Hold on and you’ll see.

I moved to Greensboro, NC from Columbia, MO in 2004 to follow a relationship. Of course, like all relationships, I thought this was “the one.” It turned out not to be true. I moved out, worked several jobs, and realized I needed community. If I was going to survive living here, I needed to have other like minded people in my life.

When I moved to Nc, I began attending a church that was in the same denomination as the one I attended in MO. I went to that church but this particular one didn’t fit quite right. Do you ever know the feeling of sliding on an old jacket, thinking, yes, this is me- only to discover that the shoulders are either too loose or too tight? You wear it for a while but realize it doesn’t fit who you are at this point in your life. So you decide to let it go.

That’s what it was like for me. The people were good, I still have their spiritual beliefs guiding me, but I decided I wanted and needed something more. I needed people who were coming together on Sunday morning, yes, but also taking their beliefs out into the world to make it a better place for everyone. I decided to give the Unitarian Universalist church another try (I had tried it for short stint once before when I lived in MO). Much like Cheryl Walker’s story last week, my being welcomed in – and staying in – were about the people. I came to a women’s gypsy tea on a Saturday and a woman there, Janet, said to me “Come back tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to people.” The next morning I was a little nervous but I knew this little Scottish woman was waiting for me and I knew she would welcome me in. The rest is history.

Within a year of beginning to attend church at UUCG, I served on the Music Team, realized that wasn’t my thing but choir is. It’s been a glorious experience to open my heart and expand my musical abilities with others. In addition, along the way someone asked me if I would teach a children’s religious education class. Now friends, this required a lot of grappling with the faith of my childhood. There were modules where we talked about Bible stories. As someone who has been bashed by family members because of their particular religious beliefs, I have a complicated relationship with the Bible, as do some of you, I’m sure.

When I came out as a lesbian, I went through a long soul searching, what some people call a dark night of the soul. Eventually I decided to do my own research to find out what the Bible actually says about homosexuality. I needed to find out for myself. When I came to find out it didn’t say what I had always been told, I decided that the rest of the Bible could be examined also. I came to believe I could not take the Bible literally. That was both freeing and terrifying.

So in children’s RE, this time in learning about the Bible, I got to learn the larger metaphysical stories behind the stories. This time I got to learn about UUs, both past and present, who made a difference in the world as a way of living their faith. I got to juxtapose the two and find truth and meaning in both.

And so at the same time as teaching RE, and singing in the choir, I began playing softball in a coed, glbt league that plays in Winston-Salem called the Triad Softball League.

Now friends, I know then, and probably still don’t know, one single solitary thing about softball. I do not fit man of the stereotypes of lesbians, the biggest of which is being someone who plays or cares about sports.

However, I was new to the area and, as I mentioned earlier, in need of community. But not just any community. I wanted a glbtq community of people who weren’t making assumptions that I was straight, believe me that gets old fast. In MO, I was part of several glbt groups and I really missed that.

So, having no idea that there were different kind of gloves for catching a ball, or that there were specialized shoes, I decided why not? How hard could it be, right?

You can imagine that this had disaster written all over it. Thankfully, however, the people in the league are patient and kind. Several of them took me under their wing and explained the nuances of timing, both in swinging the bat and in catching the ball in left field, which was where I played defense most often. There would be Sunday afternoons when I’d get the ball thrown at my face or I’d fall while running and think to myself, “There must be a better way to make friends.”

One of the friends I made is a member of this Fellowship, Ellen. She was incredibly patient with my softball ignorance. In addition, we began an email correspondence where we talked about what I call “life’s big questions.” One of the things we talked about was UUism. She talked about how her faith impacts her life and her work as an attorney, then mediatior.

This was my first in-depth conversation with someone about what they believe and they they’re a UU. At my church I felt welcome and safe, but as I’m sure many of you can attest, there isn’t always time to have these kinds of conversations.

Soon at my church I was asked to wear another hat, that of board trustee, which was a three year term. Eventually wearing three hats at my church and two hats in softball – I agreed to serve on the board there and be a manger of a team – began to wear thin. As much as I enjoyed the various things I was involved with, too many times I was making hard choices: do I go my minister’s wedding or do I go to the opening day of the season? I chose opening day. Do I go to a choir member’s celebration of life service or do I go to game, knowing this means the team might be short handed? I decided to go to the celebration of life service.

As my life became more and more centered in Greensboro, I stopped playing softball. Ellen and I also stopped with the long emails, again, who has the time for those kind of in-depth conversations? I know at this time in my life I don’t.

When Rev. Lisa asked me if I would like to come speak here, I remembered those conversations. They came back to me as a reminder that they were foundational to my understanding of Unitarian Universalism.

When this memory came back, I particularly wanted to talk about that here because I want you to know that how you live matters, how you interact with other people, and being able to talk about your UU faith matters. More than you will ever know.

When Rev. Lisa and I talked about the title and she threw in the word “lesbian” at first I laughed nervously because in my regular life I don’t really think about being a lesbian most of the time. It’s like living an identity that there is the potential to be discriminated against at any time just for living and at the same time I really do have a non-threatening life. Most of the time it’s quite boring.

But then I remembered – see what memory does? – one of the reasons I left the church I attended when I moved here. That church was more than happy to do same sex wedding ceremonies but they refused to get involved in political issues. The church here in particular wasn’t involved in local issues at all. It was one of the reasons I decided I needed a change.

Here’s how I look at it: when the mud starts slinging at me – and it has and will again – I need to know that you’re on my side. It’s not enough to say, “I support you.” If you’re truly my friend and ally you have to be willing to stand in the trenches with me and get mud slung on you as well. It is incredibly humbling to know that UUs around the country are standing on our side, for example, regarding House Bill 2. I know that UUs are quite literally standing in my corner. I have so many stories about this which is a whole sermon in itself. Never, ever underestimate the importance of standing with others who are being marginalized even when you’re not.

UUism sees the connection between our faith and our daily lives. We believe that everything is connected. We believe that where you worship on Sunday morning isn’t nearly as important as how you live your life.

Nowhere was this more evident than my position on the church board. After I completed my three year term as a board trustee, I took one year off, then was asked to come back as Vice President. This meant on taking quite a bit more responsibility so I let go of teaching RE and focused in on governance work. Now I know, this doesn’t sound very exciting. I have come to believe, however, that governance is foundational to who we are as UUs. A bit of reading about our history tells you that our govenance defines who we are as a denomination.

I began to move from someone who was filling a leadership role to someone who began to view everything through the lens of UUism and what is best for UUCG. I became more and more aware of having and practicing having a non-anxious presence while also knowing that that doesn’t mean being passive. I learned that my particular skills set fit exactly what was needed at UUCG at the time.

By the end of my second year as Vice President, I was feeling the call to ministry. At the same time I got a literal ask to be board president (at my church President doesn’t automatically follow being VP). My wife Michelle and I weighed both options. We thought long and hard about our lives at the time, thought about the church, and decided the best thing to do was to wait while serving as board president for two years.

That decision was absolutely the right one. There are certain lessons that can only be learned while getting your feet held to the fire. I cannot begin to summarize being board president in a couple of sentences, I’m sure it is something I will continue to learn from for years to come. What I can say is that my experience as president has informed the specific type of ministry I want to do: interim and developmental. My church has experienced several transitions within the last five years. I have come to understand that my skill set andd personal qualities are suited to this type of ministry at this time in my life. Truly, all my life I have felt called to ministry but never knew what that would look like. Experiencing transitional ministry myself helped me see myself in UU ministry in a way I would never have otherwise.

Leadership is service. That is really and truly what it is. Leadership is service. My mantra is, “It’s not about me.” When something is going on and I’m having a response, I ask myself, “am I making this about me? What is going on for me in this situation?” I am absolutely certain that leadership is spiritual practice you cannot get anywhere else.

And so, my friends, Michelle and I began the stepping off into the unknown last fall when I visited Union Theological Seminary. It continued when I applied, was accepted, we informed people in our lives, and we put our house on the market – and it sold in two days while we had no idea where we would be living next. All of the pieces are falling in place for us to turn our car north on August 25. It feels humbling to feel all of the pieces of my life coming together in this one direction. This combination of knowing – and not knowing – at the same time is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Friends, yes, I am called to ministry, but so are you. All of you. I have come to see our daily interactions with clerks, other drivers, and just ordinary events to be ministry. Not all of us will go to seminary and put our houses on the market, but we can all serve, wherever we are. That. Is. Ministry. I encourage you to think of the places in your life that are calling to you and I ask you to be willing to stand in the not knowing, willing to move forward with courage.

This is what transformation looks like!

black-lives-matter

This video is the first minute or so of our talk

 

This is the majority of our talk

 

On July 19, 2015 I delivered a talk with Tim Leisman, a member of my church, about our experiences in the Black Lives Matter movement in Greensboro, NC. Below is the text of our talk.

Karen: It is our duty to fight for our freedom.

Tim: It is our duty to win.

Karen: We must love each other and support each other.

Tim: We have nothing to lose but our chains.

Karen: This chant is one that we have learned through our involvement in the Greensboro Black Lives Matter movement. I have since learned that it is a quote from Assata Shakur. Assata Shakur has a long and complex history with the American legal system. I won’t get into whether she is innocent or guilty, but I will say that I have learned a lot from her writing and thoughts. She is an example of an interruption to the system, whether one agrees with her methods or not.

Sometimes it takes interruptions to help us see the systems we are operating in. Tim and I see the Black Lives Matter movement as a necessary interruption in our lives. Today we are going to tell you about our experiences and observations, and share with you some of our reflections into this movement, with the caveat that we can only speak for ourselves. These are strictly our individual experiences, we cannot speak for everyone.

We are going to go back and forth. We ask you to use your imaginations as we weave our stories together.

Tim: Thinking about how I got from sitting @ Faith Community Church, repeating “I am here because I believe this movement could be the movement” in December to July when I haven’t attended any rallies since April. Why?

When mental health issues that I thought I’d left behind in high school lifted themselves up, I turned around and realized I had no support system. All my closest friends from Guilford College had left and distance changed the nature of those relationships significantly. I couldn’t count on that anymore. Those were the same friends I talked with about whiteness. Shame. Multiculturalism.  I found myself spending time with my neighbors – white and not always covert about their racism – although they would vehemently deny that jokes about Mexican immigrants are racist.

Why couldn’t I catch myself on the support offered by Greensboro’s burgeoning black lives matter movement, full of people of color and white allies committed to change and building compassionate communities? To find the answers, I would have to look farther back in my life at deeper identity issues.

Karen: I’m dedicating my part of today’s talk to Sandra Bland. This month Sandra was pulled over for improperly signalling. She was arrested and then three days later she was found dead in her jail cell. The police are saying she committed suicide. I didn’t know her but I, along with everyone who did know her, am not buying it. This is for you, Sandra Bland.

In December I gave a talk here about my early exposure to this movement. I told about my own discomfort at being in new and different situations. I told about being confronted with my own assumptions and biases and how sometimes I’d rather not be there.

I’m telling you that sometimes I want to throw in the towel. I want to stop caring. And then another horrific incident happens and I am once again reminded of the world we live in. A world where a white 21 year old man goes into a black church, sits down with church members for an hour, and then kills nine of them.

The night this happened I saw on my facebook feed that there was a shooting in Charleston. And I have to admit that my first thought was, “Another shooting” and I went to bed. This is the situation we’re in friends, where we can have another shooting and I brush it off as just one more shooting.

The next morning I woke up to the reality and a more complete picture of what happened and I cried. Sitting on the edge of my bed I cried for the families and I cried for our world. That Thursday night I, along with many of you, attended a church service at Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church. We UUs were in a place with people who have a very different theology but we were able to be there to reach beyond our differences and see our common humanity. At the end of the service, there was an altar call.

Now, in the church I grew up in an altar call meant that was the time to come accept Jesus into your heart. So I was hesitant. But then I saw that everyone was going to the front. We all looked at each other and decided to go, too. We went up to the dias, held hands with the other service attendees and sang “Amazing Grace.” We prayed. We sang. We cried. And we hugged. Over and over the members of Bethel AME thanked us, a bunch of white members of UUCG, for being there. We showed up. We felt our own pain. We empathized with theirs. I was humbled by their gratitude that we showed up. Never, ever, underestimate the power of being there.

Tim: As a young white man, my life was shaped by the violence of contemporary racialization in schools. Schools are cultural indoctrinators – we learn how to act around our peers, whom to listen to and take messages of authority from. My first memory of experiencing racial difference was probably not the first time I experienced it – just the first time I remembered, because it was public and somehow humiliating. I gave a presentation about Thurgood Marshall and said at the end that without him, some of our friends might not be here, and named a black classmate. There was a strange moment. In front of the whole class, I had just named an unspoken difference; a truth that was meant to be left unspoken. How do we connect across racial differences? What keeps us separated, and Was I guilty? Was I a part? An 11 year old needs help with those questions; a 24 year old needs help with those questions; a 70 year old needs help with those questions.

But I didn’t get help. Our schools and youth programs are generally not effective at building compassionate communities – yes, even the Montessori school that my white, liberal parents could afford to send me to. At summer camp being harassed by other white kids about speaking with a lisp is my first memory of heteronormalization. From the beginning, we are part of a society that enforces these “normals”. As well-meaning as most of the dedicated, compassionate people who work with youth are, these institutions are an engine for normalization. It becomes normal to see racialized groups of kids sitting together. Whether we notice or not, it becomes normal to see teachers give preference to the raised hands of white students over those of black and latino students. And eventually, the kids indoctrinated in these schools become employers who unconsciously filter job applications by who has a white-sounding name.

And my experience, as traumatic as it may have been, was the experience of a privileged individual; an individual whom the culture wishes to indoctrinate (by force if necessary), rather than an individual who faces the greater violence of marginalization and exclusion. Perhaps that was why I wasn’t really ready to be a dedicated, authentic anti-racist ally: I had never truly confronted my past, my shame of being part of this culture. Any racially charged incident forces me to confront my privileged identity, but to be an effective interruptor, I would have to be intentional about exploring my identity every day, not just after tragic events.

Karen: Two days after the Charleston shooting, on Friday night, I found myself in another AME church, this one Trinity AME. This time with the local Black Lives Matter movement. Through the Black Lives Matter Movement, my vocabulary is being expanded. I’m learning to do things like “take up less space” and “de-center whiteness.” I’ve learned about “respectability politics” and “changing the narrative.” I’m becoming aware of how much I don’t know. Before November I had never heard the term “white supremacy.” If I did, I applied it to the KKK, not to systems in our culture. And certainly not to systems that I personally benefited from. I had heard of this concept called white privilege but had no real idea of how it applied to me and my life. I’m learning that I never knew the words white supremacy precisely because I have white privilege.

I’m learning to question my assumptions and be open to stories and learn from others in ways I never considered before. That night at Trinity AME we prayed, we called on the ancestors…Bayard Rustin, Ida B. Wells, Audre Lorde, among others, we drummed and we chanted. The pain of the last few days came up and through us while we were there for each other in ways that are hard to articulate. What I can say is that the connections are real. The ways I am being challenged to live my values as a Unitarian Universalist are real and I am committed to the process.

Tim and I come to you as people on the journey, not people with answers. I personally come to you to plead my ignorance and say that I’m learning and continue to learn, about systems of racism and how they work in our society.

Tim: At Guilford College we learned about systems of racism, about how an oppressive culture affects everyone – both the oppressed and privileged individuals. But I had never unpacked that, or truly looked into it. How do Anglo-Europeans, with all the privileges that come with living in a Euro-centric culture, suffer violence? I had a loose sense that this had to do with the psychological phenomenon called “cognitive dissonance”. It wasn’t until my senior year that an amazing individual, Jada Drew who at the time was the co-director of the Multicultural Education Dept, told me that I “didn’t know as much as I thought I knew”. Looking back, that was the piece of advice I should have taken and run with, going deeper into learning more about myself and my white identity.

At the end of one invigorating meeting with Black Lives Matter organizers and supporters, I got into a conversation where I was checked on my privilege. What did I think about being a young white man who just got a great job, living in a historically low income neighborhood? While I don’t think he intended to shame me, and he wasn’t attacking who I was as a person, I felt shameful. Being called out on privilege can always bring out a sense of shame, because so much of our identity is wrapped up in privilege. More so, I felt stupid because now it was public and clear that I didn’t know as much as I tried to present.

Did white shame prevent me from engaging with the fierce activists with whom I had been close while interning with the Beloved Community Center (around the “safer” cause of voter turnout)? Maybe. Was it overwhelming depression, worse than I had experienced since middle school? Maybe. The new and greater-than-expected challenges of balancing my life with my first full time job? Maybe.

Part of white people working with people of color for justice, to dismantle systems of white supremacy from which we outwardly benefit, is the recognition that we don’t know as much as we think we do. The acceptance that we may not always be articulate about our feelings, and that the answers to these questions are not succinct. And This sermon will not provide the answers.

The answers are in holding each other accountable, but also in laughing. In healing each other, seeking therapy alone and in groups, grieving together and forgiving.  I know that I can fall back on this community for help searching, searching for transformative support. Transformation looks like organizations working to empower youth in schools with messages of anti-racism, anti-homophobia, and the tools to stand up against bias. Transformation looks like white people attending meetings organized by black leaders and lending their support. It means saying Black Lives Matter. Transformation looks like challenging and sometimes it doesn’t feel comfortable.

Karen: Recently I was in a conversation with my friend April Parker who is a local leader in the Black Lives Matter movement. She has several criticisms against the mainstream gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender organizations, one of which is this: Is their work transformative? Are lives being transformed? Are communities being transformed?

That really struck a nerve with me because as a leader in our church, I have a strong investment in our church being an agent for
transformation. It got me wondering if we actually are. Our governance structure is based on a book written by Dan Hotchkiss called “Governance and Ministry.” In the end of the book, after lots of explanations about policies,  why we have them, and what they’re for, (only things that a governance geek like me cares about) he breaks it down like this: churches, whatever denomination they are, no matter how we practice our faith, should be about the work of transformation. The bottom line is this: we need to be transforming lives. If I am personally not being transformed, if our church is not transforming lives and our community, what are we doing?

The Black Lives Matter movement, as little as I’ve been involved in it, has transformed me. It has made me a more conscious and aware person about many issues including race.  And I can honestly say that this church has transformed me as well. So my next question was: What are we as a church doing to transform both ourselves and our community?

If you’re thinking, what in the world can I possibly do, racism is HUGE and I am but one person, here’s one simple thing you can do: become of a member of the NC NAACP. It is really easy. In fact, they are having a meeting tonight. You can come with me.

You can address comments you hear at work, at the grocery store, in your own head – internalized racism is real. You can learn to question your assumptions. You can be willing to learn and you can be willing to serve. You can join me and Tim in reading Rev. Thandeka’s book, “Learning to be White.” You can come to our meeting on Tuesday, July 28.

Tim: In closing, this is what transformation looks like: two white people willing to talk about our experiences, being vulnerable with you, and saying, let’s go on this journey together. Transformation is my journey learning why it’s important to say black lives matter in this moment. It’s important to affirm the value and inherent dignity of all lives, as our first UU principle does. But to say Black lives matter is to recognize that something needs to change in 2015 in America, that I am ready to be transformed and to behave in transformative ways. Are you willing to be transformed?

Karen: If you are willing to be transformed, listen to the choir chant “Black Lives Matter!” and when you are comfortable you are welcome to join in.

My process of becoming a Unitarian Universalist

This is the second talk I’ve given at my church, the Unitarian Universalist Church of Greensboro. I gave this talk in June 2013. It still makes me tear up.

———–

My first memories of music were of my mother singing. As a teenager I didn’t like hearing her sing and I was embarrassed, like all teenagers. But as an adult, I appreciate these memories more. The songs from my childhood reverberate in my head constantly. Sometimes they’re like an ear worm that you can’t get rid of but other times they’re comforting. I grew up without a television or radio so the music from church was our sole source of entertainment.

Part of the purpose of the music was to reinforce our identity as Christians and our purpose in the world which was to save others from their sins. Today I’m going to share with you a few songs I grew up with. For some of you this trip down memory lane will expose you to songs you’ve never heard before. For others, this will be a reminder from your childhood. I ask you to stick with me through the service and not run out screaming!

Play clip: I am a Christian. “I am a C / I am a C-H / I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N / And I will L-I-V-E E-T-E-R-N-A-L-L-Y”

Isn’t that amazing! This song breaks down who you are: A Christian. Why you’re a Christian: you have Jesus in your heart. And how long you will live: eternally. It pretty much answers all the basic life questions in one song. An entire master’s thesis could be written on what I call these identity songs.

I shared this song not to denigrate Christians but to give you some background into my faith upbringing. These types of identity songs affected my thinking and my identity. I was absolutely convinced of who I was and how I was supposed to live my life.

I have one final song to share at this time, this one I’m going to sing to you, but only the chorus:
Untold millions are outside the fold
Untold millions will never be told
Who will tell them of Jesus’ love
And the heavenly mansion awaiting above

Wow, right? Here it is in very basic terms about what your job is on this earth. No doubt about it. We were to go save souls.

The church I grew up in was independent Baptist and it required active participation. We were at the church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday evening, and Saturday morning. Our lives revolved around the church. The church told us who we were: we were Christians and why we exist: to save others. We had absolute answers about everything from the creation of the world, gender roles, relationships, and rules for behavior. While the rules could be comforting at times, it could also be confusing. As a child, I couldn’t understand why some people in the world would be doomed to hell if no one told them about Jesus and saved their souls (yes, we actually did soul winning on Saturday mornings). That seemed unfair to me, what kind of a God would do that? But as a kid I didn’t dwell on that too much because not going to church wasn’t an option. My parents were certainly not the kind that gave choices. You did what you were told, end of story. We were clearly into the obedience and authoritarian mindset.

After my parent’s divorce my mother left that church. They were not supportive of her taking a stand against my abusive father and some of the men of the church actually watched our house during my parent’s separation period to make sure she wasn’t seeing other men. It was kind of scary! They were very strict about their gender roles and they felt like they had absolute authority.

As a teenager I started going to a Methodist church on my own and served as the president of the youth group. At my first undergraduate college I became active in the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and served as the president of that chapter my sophomore year. In addition, when I visited my relatives in Oklahoma I attended their churches. Yep, the church bug was strongly planted.

When I arrived at Wesleyan College, my second undergraduate college, the advisor for InterVarsity was excited I was there since I had served in a leadership role previously. What neither of us could know at the time was that my life was about to change radically. During the fall of my junior year I realized that I have an attraction to women. It was a scary and gut wrenching time. I went through at least a year of soul searching and Bible study trying to figure out what the Bible says about homosexuality. I had been told my whole life that it was wrong to be gay. It took me a while but I finally came to understand that the Bible does not condemn gay, lesbian and bisexual people (at the time transgender wasn’t in my awareness) and that it would be okay if I decided to pursue relationships with women.

I hadn’t a clue what I was doing but I decided that I couldn’t pretend to be something I wasn’t in order to please others. When I realized I was gay, instead of allowing myself to be rejected by InterVarsity, I just backed away and chose to end my involvement with them. It seemed like the easiest thing to do at the time. I knew I would be rejected by the comments I heard others making; I didn’t feel the need to confirm it for myself.

Making this decision had ramifications for my relationship with my family and my Christian faith. I eventually came out to one of my aunts. She wanted to send me her materials on homosexuality but I declined. I told her I had already been down the path of self-hatred and didn’t need to go back. When my grandmother found out, we talked over the phone and she not only said every cliché about gay and lesbian people you’ve ever heard at me, she told me that I wasn’t welcome for the family holidays. Basically: don’t come. She even put that in a Christmas card. Can you imagine?

But the biggest impact on my life was in my Christian faith. When I realized I was a lesbian I did a lot of research on what the Bible does and does not say about homosexuality. When I realized that the Bible didn’t say what I had been led to believe, I gave myself permission to explore the rest of the Bible. Basically, what does the rest of the Bible say? I came to realize that, for me, taking the Bible literally didn’t make sense anymore. I decided that while being part of a church was still important to me, I needed to expand my definition of what church meant.

Through a rather meandering course, I eventually came to Greensboro and this church. I can honestly say that UUCG saved my life. I had attended a Unitarian Universalist church while I lived in Columbia, Missouri, where I got my master’s degree, but that church didn’t feel like it was the right fit for me so I moved on and attended a Unity church instead. But when I moved here I actively sought out a Unitarian Universalist church. I needed people who worked for social justice in the world, who knew there was a war going on.

I went to a store on State Street called Eclectic by Nature, it’s a store that carries things like crystals, tarot cards and incense. I was sure that if anyone would know about a local Unitarian Universalist church, it was them. So I went in and asked if there was an active local UU church. The person I spoke to said, Yes – and that there was going to be a women’s gypsy tea that Saturday. So, not knowing anyone, I attended. Everyone was really nice to me and included me in the dancing. I was received warmly. One of the women there said to me “Come to church tomorrow and I will introduce you to people.” So I did. And I’m still here today!

When I came to this church in 2005, I had recently gone through a pretty major break up, I was in a temporary job, and I was in a temporary living situation. I felt really lost. I had no clue what I was going to do with my life now that I was in Greensboro. I decided to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and see what happened next; coming to UUCG was part of that journey for me.

I was welcomed to this church by people who actively live the first principle. The members of this church welcomed and accepted me exactly as I was. In addition, you saw in me what I couldn’t see myself. You saw my potential and kept pushing me to do and be more.

Relatively early after I started attending UUCG I was asked if I would like to be one of the teachers in the 3rd-5th grade Religious Education, or RE, class. I had absolutely no background in teaching nor did I know anything about UU history or beliefs. But, since no one thought that would be an impediment I jumped right in. The main requirement for being an RE teacher is a willingness to learn. So I did. I learned a lot about Unitarian Universalist history and heroes. Sometimes these heroes did huge amazing things for our faith and for civil rights but many times these were ordinary people like you and me who see what needs to be done and does it. My experience as an RE teacher makes me a passionate Unitarian Universalist because I know we stand on the shoulders of millions who came before us to make our faith possible.

But there was one thing missing from my life: music. At some point early on, probably in 2005 or 06, a friend overheard me saying to another friend, that I really liked the song the service just ended with. She came right up to me and asked if I was musically inclined. I said yes. She said she was coming off the music team and she had promised them she would find her replacement. She asked me if I would consider being on the music team. So I went to a meeting, (again having no idea what I was doing, the churches I grew up in did not have teams committees). I was told that the meeting was scheduled at that particular time because the next thing for the evening was choir: so, what part did I sing? It was quite an interesting way to begin my career in choir, to be sure.

I remember I attended my first choir retreat just a few weeks later. On the way to the retreat I asked someone what kind of music the choir sang. I was told “everything.” I thought, “what does that mean?” One has to have standards! One person told me she was an atheist. I was astounded. Before coming to this church I had never met people who outwardly identified as atheist. What an interesting place! What kind of church music would an atheist sing? Why would she be involved in a church? She said “I sing in the choir because the music is beautiful.” And so it is.

Due to my involvement in choir I have been introduced to amazing music from around the world. I have sung music in other languages, from other faith traditions, other cultures, and along the way I’ve become a better sight reader and hopefully a better singer. The song that we opened with today, Freedom is Coming, is not a song I learned as a child due to the fact that my environment and culture was largely Caucasian. It would have never occurred to them to sing music outside of their cultural comfort zone. I am proud to worship at a church that thinks big and works to learn of others’ cultural backgrounds.

I’m going to share a story of when I was on the music team and the Expressions service was on Sunday night. One Sunday I decided not to go to the Sunday morning service but to go to the Sunday evening service instead. When I arrived for the Expressions service, I was greeted with “How are you” instead of what I was expecting “Where were you?” It was an amazing experience to know that people care how I am.

But I have to tell you that attending this church hasn’t always been easy. Due to my upbringing, having a faith identity was very important. In the world I grew up in, it was IMPERATIVE that you know what you believe and why.

So at times, I struggled with the not knowing. When we would sing the song “mystery,” that we sang earlier in today’s service, or talked about such blasphemy as “cherishing your doubts” as we did in the responsive reading, I would squirm. I wanted absolutes. I wanted answers. I hated ambiguity! And so, I turned to what we Unitarian Universalists hold to be true, our seven principles. The seven principles helped me to figure out what was important to Unitarian Universalists. Our ideals and values are held in the principles.

I have come to believe that the teachings of my childhood very much resonate with these principles. We were taught to respect others. To be kind. To learn. And that most of all we are not on this planet for ourselves but for the service of others.

The song the choir sang earlier from Micah 6:8 is one that comforts me in hard times and guides me when I feel like I’ve lost my way. It breaks down how we should live in three basic steps: Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your god. It’s that simple. I believe that those teachings are repeated in the seven principles.

How these teachings carry into my life now as a Unitarian Universalist is that I believe I am held to our seven principles, and our church’s covenant, at all times. There is nowhere that I am that I am not a Unitarian Universalist. It applies in all of my interactions with everyone I come into contact with. There is never a time or place where I am not a Unitarian Universalist.

The most important lesson I learned from my childhood faith that applies to my Unitarian Universalist faith is that we must know who we are and what we believe. We do not come here on Sunday mornings because we have nothing better to do with our time. We are here for a reason. I want you to spend some time this week thinking about why you come to UUCG. There is something here that draws you back week after week, for months and years. What is it? How do you live out your faith on a daily basis? Think on this.

Many of us are refugees from other faith traditions. We have spent a lot of time trying to define ourselves by what we are not instead of what we are. And we are something: Unitarian Universalists.

The second big lesson from my childhood is that we cannot be afraid to tell others of this amazing faith we have found. I am absolutely serious when I say that UUCG saved my soul. In the years I’ve been attending here I’ve been through some hard times. And every time I’ve been lifted up and cared for by members here who continue to see my potential and make sure I don’t forget.

I believe we have a responsibility to “out” ourselves as Unitarian Universalists to others. Who are we to keep this amazing faith to ourselves? If I had access to a life saving, life changing medicine wouldn’t it be selfish of me to not tell others? That’s what I feel we are doing when we refuse to evangelize. Yes, I said evangelize. There is a world of hurting people out there. We must tell them there is a faith, a community of people who will love them exactly the way they are. And yes, I said love. I believe we are here to love. To quote from an affirmation we read “Love is the doctrine of this church.”

I am so very grateful for this church and for each of you. Please know that living the principles saves lives, sometimes literally. Know who you are. And don’t be afraid to tell others.