Beautiful, Messy Goodness

"When a queer friend risks offering their leadership, voice, and strength to the Body of Christ, I find myself deeply grateful and inspired. Grateful for things like their thoughtfulness, wisdom, and tender-hearted endurance. Inspired by things like their courage, security in Christ, and fierce obedience. I have learned so, so much from my queer siblings over the years. Their love for Christ has increased my own, and they've so graciously helped me see my own weaknesses, biases, and arrogance. Thank you for speaking and leading with grace and truth, friends." 

–Pastor, sister, friend

"Oh my gosh, you are literally the coolest!" Are these the words of my grandmother after I help her convert a document to PDF? No. They are the words of a 9th grader in my church's youth group. And you know, she's right. I am pretty cool. But I didn't always have this confidence. 

Like many of us, I have anxiety when it comes to serving in my local church. I've led college Bible studies and discipled others, but never as an out bisexual Christian. Before I was aware of my own sexuality, I experienced significant spiritual abuse at the hands of Church leaders. I was nineteen and wanted to go on an overseas mission trip. Two spiritual leaders thrice my age who had known me since I was seven sat me down, looked me in the eyes, and told me how I was too self-focused, didn't have the same ideals as other Christians, didn't extend grace to others, how I wasn't as caring as I believed I was, had no heart for missions or the Gospel, and that I had destroyed their women's ministry. They publically turned in these reasons as my recommendation to be barred from the mission trip. There was a laundry list of other reasons they gave, but the message was clear: I was not good enough to bring goodness to the Kingdom of God; in fact, I was dangerous enough to destroy it. 

I cried in my dorm room, knowing that these accusations made against me were false, but I was still deeply impacted by them. I hated that these words had power over me. But then for the first time, I experienced the unmistakable voice of God as He whispered through my snot filled sobs, "I love you even if these things are true," I responded, "but you shouldn't." Now, I've worked through a lot of that spiritual abuse and trauma with a therapist (thanks, Jessie) and by healing in a healthy Christian community. These things have helped me realize that even my messiness brings goodness to the Kingdom. That's kind of the whole point. God has never really used the 'perfect' people to bring goodness. He loves to use our messy stories and abilities. That's why He uses Rahab, the prostitute, to bring the fall of Jericho and the deliverance of Israel. It's why He uses Moses, who murdered and struggled with anxiety. It's why He uses me. It is not just my gifts but also my messiness and shortcomings that make me a blessing to the Kingdom and my local church. 

For the past two years, I have been an out youth group leader in my church. I love those kids. I love their unhinged chaos, their playfulness, and their ability to ask the most out-of-pocket questions. When Sunday night rolls around, I get excited to go play. There is something incredibly healing and beautiful as an adult about getting to play and being playful, putting down the anxieties of life, and allowing your spirit the rest that comes from play and feeling safe to play. 

This play comes from a place of safety. Knowing that my youth pastor has my back and protects me from the rocks that get thrown at me or other LGBTQ+ kids in the youth group because they do get thrown. Safety that comes with knowing the boundaries of being a youth group leader, like what would happen if my theology changed or if I got a girlfriend. It is because I know the boundaries while also having the protection of the youth pastor and other youth group leaders that I can run wild and free.

There has been a lot of healing that has happened through being an out queer youth group leader in my church. When I shared my testimony, which often feels like the most vanilla testimony a queer person could have, kids started coming out. There is something so beautiful about a teenager coming out for the first time in youth group and having adults and other kids know how to lovingly respond with comments like, "I love you, and God loves you," "Thank you for sharing this with us," "I'm honored that you would share this with me." Or when a kid comes out, and you can just joke about how gay one another's outfit is after church one day. There is beauty in giving kids who are questioning and wrestling with what their queer sexuality means for them the necessary space and safety to occupy without pressure. There is beauty when a celibate queer woman gets to give the youth group dating talk to a room full of high schoolers. There is beauty in having bubble tea with a kid and starting the conversation with, "So…gay stuff," and just giggling about queer culture with them. God allowed redemption when I encouraged a student to stop pressuring themself to figure out their theology before building a relationship with God…that they were safe and okay in the uncertainty. Getting to say to this student how it is not fair that this pressure to figure it out is all on their shoulders and so heavy, but that they are not alone and that they are loved regardless of which path they take with God regarding their sexuality, even if we walk different paths. There is beauty when a kid says you are so gentle and kind, that they feel safe disagreeing with you. 

Imagine growing up in a youth group that talked openly about sexuality and allowed for disagreement in safe ways. Where you could come out and be loved and talk about your same-sex crushes without shame. I helped create that space in our youth group. I pushed the topic. I pushed for me to be allowed to share a messy and honest version of my testimony with all the youth group, not just the high schoolers. I got to end my testimony in front of all those kids by saying, "God loves me. End of sentence. No terms or conditions are required. And I know that God asks great things of me…of us, not as a requirement of His love, but because of His love." 

My stubbornness and pushiness have been a blessing to my church and to the kids in my youth group. It has allowed them to experience something I never thought was possible in a youth group. My stubbornness and pushiness, probably also the gift of prophecy, have allowed these kids to experience safety and for my church to be safe for our queer kids. It has allowed me into spaces like when a new youth pastor is being interviewed and getting to ask, "I can only be a youth group leader because of how I have been protected when stones are thrown. Will you protect me, and will you protect our queer kids?" along with "have you ever walked with a student as they navigate their sexuality and held the tension with them?" It has allowed me to shine a light on how my church said it was Side B but then offered zero follow-up with that. It has allowed me to have the opportunity to start a queer Bible study at my church, to push pastors to talk about sexuality from the pulpit and see them name on stage, "homophobia is a sin," and that "courage should not have to be a prerequisite [for queer people] to step inside a church."

My queer siblings, you belong in the Church. You are deeply loved and adored by your Creator. God is not afraid of your sexuality and the Gospel is good news to you, too. You are not a cancer or tumor to be cut out and thrown to the flames, but a beautiful part of Christ's body. And you are uniquely gifted to serve in ways no one else can. We are a necessary part of the body, and when our voices are ignored, the whole body suffers. 

I serve in my local church not because I am trying to prove anything to myself or others. Not to earn love or to make up for being queer. Not to be the gay hero or the youth group leader that I needed. Not to rescue or because I feel like it is all on me…okay sometimes I serve because of that, but that's where my therapist comes in (thanks, Jessie). I serve from a place of freedom, of knowing that God not only wants to use my strengths but also my messiness for His Glory in my church. Because my God delights in the messiness. What if you believed this, too? Because then you, too, might have a 9th grader think that you are "literally the coolest."

"Jericho is a gift to our church community through her willingness to openly share her story, which has been valuable and formative for those who share life in the Christian community with her. Jericho provides an important voice as a bisexual Christian willing to share her personal perspective and biblical convictions. As a leader in our church, Jericho brings a heightened awareness and beautiful sensitivity to help us better welcome and care for all people. As a devoted follower of Jesus, Jericho, along with any other LGBTQ+ Christ followers, has been uniquely shaped and gifted by God as a member of the body of Christ, and it is a huge loss to the church community when vital members are separated from the body."

–Pastor