Small Church, Big Impact
Written by Bridget — New Jersey, USA
As a queer person of faith, the unwavering love and community from my church is what brings me joy, peace, and a sense of belonging. I’ve been attending my current church since my mother was pregnant with me. I can navigate that building with my eyes closed, which I have actually confirmed to be true in a youth group game of Sardines. I show up on Sunday mornings often in a sweatshirt and sweatpants.
At this place, I feel most at home. I know that the Lord will take me as I am, but not all church communities are as accepting. The folks around me greet me with a smile and spark up conversations even when I look my worst. They’ve never made me feel ostracized or unaccepted. My tiny Methodist church is part of a larger movement of tolerance and working towards a more open-minded world. They showed me that there is a place for queer people in Christianity.
It’s easy to generalize Christianity as judgemental or even homophobic. I’ve fallen into this mindset before and have found myself being distant from God. Unfortunately, many people use their faith as a device for hate; the complete antithesis of what the Bible intends. These people have caused a lot of internal doubt of my faith and my identity as well as harm to many queer people around the world. Regardless of how I was feeling, I would always show up on Sunday mornings to see the friendly faces I’ve known my whole life, all thirty of them. They made me forget about all of those hateful Christians from social media or the news. I was brought back to the Lord and I couldn’t be more grateful for them. My relationship with faith has wavered, but the love from my church never does.
Every time I show up I’m reminded of my place in the church. While my rights to be in that building are being challenged in other places, my church community has never questioned that I belong there. I practically came with the building. I’m lucky to be where I am, but it wasn’t easy. In different stages of my life, I’ve questioned my faith and how it relates to my sexual identity. My parents have always shown their support for queer people, but not all Christians are as accepting. My pastor preaches for social justice and tolerance towards minority groups, which especially brings me peace of mind.
Even though the world is fighting a battle with homophobia, when I walk into Marlton United Methodist Church, I have no worries at all. I have the privilege of an hour a week to forget that many other church communities aren’t as accepting. I also have the privilege to forget that my existence is illegal in other countries. But I have to remember those things because I use my religion for good and to lift up people who can’t be themselves. The harsh reality is paused but not stopped. I will stay faithful to the Lord and I know that his love will lead the world to a more accepting place with people who understand the true meaning of his love. That world is unfortunately far from reality right now, but my small church is making a difference in my life.
