Chapter 1: How Did I Even Get Here?

The Context

I find myself in the unenviable position of looking for a church. Again. 

This is hardly a unique experience - most of us will have to go through this process at some point in our spiritual journey, and many will do this several times. Whether due to geographic moves, church leadership changes, disagreement in beliefs, or even church harm, looking for a church is a common enough experience… but it comes with unique complications for LGBTQ+ folks. Having been on this journey for two years now, I’ve decided to document what I’ll be calling “The Great Church Search.” I’ll share honestly about my experience of looking for a church as a celibate gay man who loves Jesus and who deeply longs for a local church to belong to.

In doing this, I hope to:

• Encourage my LGBTQ+/SSA siblings who struggle (past, present, or future) to find a church - you’re not alone.

• Offer what little I know or learn along the way as a guidepost.

• Help ministry leaders (and others) understand what LGBTQ+/SSA folks experience when looking for a church - even those of us immensely committed to Christ.

Some disclaimers:

• I will offer critique of the Church, and even specific church experiences. I do love the Church - particularly the local church. I believe all Christians are part of the global Church and are called to belong to it… and I recognize that local church institutions imperfectly reflect the body of Christ, the Church. I also believe that we must call those we love to excellence. 

• Because it’s not my intention to shame anyone or correct any particular church, I will never name a church or pastor, even while celebrating them.

• In that same spirit, I will often speak of MY experiences and values - I cannot pretend to know what others intend, and I will try to humbly speak to only what impacted me.

• I do not intend to speak for my LGBTQ+/SSA siblings. I’m only one member of our community. Still, I believe these experiences are helpful and, in some ways, universal to many inside and outside our community.

• I will share honestly about how I process different moments, even experiences such as bitterness or unforgiveness, that I have wrestled with regarding the Church. I do not excuse the sins discussed when I do so - only document the struggle towards sanctification, honestly. I choose to share the imperfect moments because I know others have them, too.

I love the Church, local and global, and I’m praying the Lord provides me a local home this year. Join me on the journey - and please pray for me.

---

Long-Time Pastor. First-Time Congregant.

So how’d we get here?

Looking for a church (or church hunting, church shopping, whatever folks want to call it) isn’t easy for anyone. I spent ten years as a youth pastor, and over those years, I’d hear comments from families and congregants about what it was like - the parade of one-visit Sundays, the slew of out-of-context sermons, and the many, many church-branded mugs they were handed. Being a local pastor by vocation, though, I had been spared this experience… at least, until my 30s.

See, I attended one church my entire Christian life - from age 11 to 21 - before applying for work in different churches. My 20s were split between two churches - the two I worked for full-time - and in each case, I was scouted and hired without applying to other churches (which was an immense privilege). I really thought I’d work for the local church until the day I died. I love small, local churches - the kind with one service and where everyone has an assigned seat that’s practically canon.

I left the local ministry in October 2021 to follow the Lord’s calling to work with Revoice. Suddenly, I wasn’t working on Sundays, I wasn’t on a Sunday morning planning center schedule, and there was nowhere I was “expected” to be and serve.

It wasn’t until this moment that I realized I had precisely zero church-finding skills.

I had many theories about what kind of church I wanted to be a part of, but frankly, most of those theories had to do with being a leader in the local church, not a congregant. Those of us in vocational ministry recognize that we often work for churches we wouldn’t necessarily pick to attend as laypersons but often are blessed by - but my standards for being a congregant felt vastly different from the church-finding standards I had as a pastor. As a pastor, I expected to be a part of the work of God in leading my congregation into health… as a congregant, I expect to be met with leadership that actively fights for my health. That said, I seemed to have no clue how to be a congregant.

I simply didn’t know how to show up in a space and receive. I came to know Christ when I was barely 16 and quickly became a deeply involved, passionate volunteer. I ran slides and tech (as all good church gays do), and began leading a high school small groups in my senior year. By the time I was in college, I was teaching almost as often as I was listening to a sermon. It felt immensely disorienting to go from church leadership, where I knew every behind-the-scenes moment, to a church visitor, where I didn’t even know where the bathrooms were. I felt lost each Sunday, unsure of which church to attend and unsure of the rhythms of whatever church I chose to attend on a given Sunday.

“Church Hurt”

To be honest, it was also hard to just walk into a church. Not just because church searching is hard and weird. In November 2021, I found myself dealing with tremendous church harm, even to the point of being diagnosed with religious PTSD by my counselor. For most of 2022, I suffered from an anxiety disorder for the first time in my life and proceeded to have an anxiety attack anytime I went to a church.

So, I planned to skip church for 2-3 months while I healed. It felt nice to sleep in on a Sunday for a week or two - I’d had Sunday morning responsibilities every week since I was 18. I enjoyed a few weeks of making lemon pancakes, listening to worship music, and quietly reading scripture with my coffee.

Yet, I quickly found myself missing communal worship. Rather than feeling restful, Sunday mornings alone at home felt wrong, vacant, and lonely. It wasn’t as simple as “walk into the nearest church,” though - it never is. By this point, I was starting to understand that my anxiety disorder was being triggered on Sunday mornings. Many Sundays, I would wake up and ask myself, “Do you have the energy to have an anxiety attack today? Yes? Then let’s go to church.”

By God’s grace (and much therapy, crying, prayer, and community support), much of this trauma has reached a resolution, and I no longer have anxiety attacks on Sundays. Still, I carry this with me, and the memory is far too near for comfort. It’s also worth mentioning that I had my share of not-so-great experiences in the church search process of 2021/2022: visible discomfort once a greeter realized that I am gay, harmful comments made flippantly from the pulpit or from other congregants, and harsh reactions once I answered the standard, “So what do you do for a living?” More on that some other time.

I was blessed, in 2022, to find a church that felt like a safe place to recover from the wounding I had experienced. The pastors heard my story, understood some of the tensions of being an LGBTQ+/SSA person in the church, and were patient with the parts they didn’t understand. I praise God for this - their patience, love, and compassion were a harbor for me. I also had several anxiety attacks at that church but was met with grace, kindness, and support. I cried more than one Sunday morning service. Once, after leaving the service early because I felt a wave of tears oncoming, I broke down crying in my car as I drove home. When my pastor heard about this, he said, “Next time, would you stay and cry here? Let us cry with you.”

I did. And they did. In many ways, that church, the pastors there, and the small group I attended were the harbor I needed as I recovered from much of my wounding. I praise God for them.

Looking… Again.

I moved about three months ago and have found myself in the church search again. So here we are. I’ve got a few more skills than I did two years ago (more in subsequent posts), and as I mentioned, much of my trauma has healed or at least resolved to a place of stability. Praise God, who “has dealt bountifully with me.” I’m more ready to share the journey this time around, and I am looking forward to how God uses this.

Sunday mornings right now are a mixture of excitement and nerves. I’m excited, each and every Sunday, to join with God’s people in worship. I’ve grown to treasure communal worship, to hear God’s faithful declare His praises. I’m excited to open up scripture and be confronted by ancient truth in fresh conviction. I’m excited about the ways the Holy Spirit seems to nudge me through sermons and worship songs, often leading me to stay stuck on one point in a message that otherwise passes over me.

And I’m nervous to answer the age-old standard, “So what do you do for a living?” I’m nervous to invest weeks into a church before the pastor makes a flippant comment from the pulpit about how “gay people are destroying America.” I’m nervous about feeling good about a church until I invite a more queer-presenting friend, and they get mistreated. None of these are hypotheticals - they’ve each happened at least twice.

Here’s the thing… at the end of the day, I believe Jesus loves me… and I believe Jesus desires to love me through His body, the Church, even as flawed and as messy as she is. I’m praying to find a church in 2024. Will you pray with me? And yeah, join me on the journey.

In my next post, I’ll explore all the steps I take before visiting a church. I’ll share my pre-church-visit email, and how I prepare my heart for attending a church for the first time.