When I think of the early days of recognizing my queerness, I remember how lonely it was.
I was studying ministry at a seminary with the intention of becoming a missionary. The denomination with which my seminary affiliated explicitly stated that they would not hire a “practicing homosexual” to be a missionary or part of their office staff. So I wrestled, alone.
Funnily enough, my wrestling wasn’t “is being gay a sin?” No, the wrestling was more about if God made me gay and, if so, would I be able to hide it well enough to follow my calling?
As I continued to discern those questions, I firmly believed that God made LGBTQ+ people the beautiful individuals we are– that being gay wasn’t a sin. I also realized my desire for a relationship wasn’t something that I could smother through a successful career.
I was terrified. I felt so alone. I believed that no one could possibly understand what it was like for a seminarian like myself to embrace their queerness while also discerning their career in ministry.
Tentatively, I made a profile on a dating website and indicated that I was bisexual (one step at a time– I wasn’t ready to admit that I wasn’t actually attracted to men). To my complete and utter shock, I found that I matched with some of my seminary classmates– my female classmates.
Not only was I not alone, but I was sitting in the same classroom as people who were wrestling with the exact same thing. While we never pursued a relationship, the relief at realizing I wasn’t alone was palpable. I was in the company of people who understood my life experience.
I wonder if that’s what Pentecost was like. All of a sudden, folks who felt out of place, misunderstood, and alone realized they weren’t alone. They were able to hear one another in ways that intimately connected to who they were as individuals. They didn’t have to force themselves into a particular mold because they were understood– just as they were.
That’s what I experience whenever I walk into a space that’s absolutely LGBTQ+ affirming.
Photo by DAVE NETTO on Unsplash
When I walk into a space that has a pride flag up front, I immediately feel at ease. Even if the people inside aren’t part of the LGBTQ+ community, I know that these are people who make a conscious effort to understand me and my community. They make a point to find ways to communicate that we are welcome in this space– that this space is filled with people who want to understand.
That is what Pentecost is all about. The miracle of Pentecost isn’t in everyone speaking in tongues, but in understanding and in being understood. It’s about recognizing that we all come from different walks of life, but, even amidst those differences, we can still find ways to hear one another.
Pentecost is a way to heal the ways in which society tries to pit us against one another. That’s not to say our differences are irrelevant; it’s simply to say that Pentecost allows us to hold space for and honor those differences.
As we get ready to enter Pride month and Juneteenth –seasons which invite us to celebrate diversity– I want to encourage us to think about Pentecost. Remember the ways in which we are called to listen to one another. Remember the ways in which we’re called to hold space for one another. Through holding space and listening, we’ll continue to bring the kin-dom of God on earth as it is in heaven.