Chapter 2: Sir, Please, Just Answer The Question

What LGBTQ+/SSA Folks Want To Know Before Visiting a Church

As I mentioned in my last post, several factors complicate my church search. Not everything I share will apply to everyone, but I share as honestly as I can in hopes of encouraging our community. I highly recommend you read the posts in order!

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Google Says…

It didn't take long for me to realize that I had no clue how to find a church. I'm apparently not the only one, as I found no shortage of articles online on "how to find a church."

A summary of recommendations from these sites would include:

• Watching sermons online

• Asking friends for suggestions

• Knowing which denominations you are (or are not) drawn to

• Checking the church's theology for a clear fit

• Considering which worship style you find engaging or encouraging

• Visiting multiple churches before making a choice

While I'm sure it's helpful for many, much of this doesn't seem to get me much closer to my goal—because there's not a webpage or church "visiting" tab that tells me what I need to know.

What I'm looking for is a church that is ready to disciple and walk with LGBTQ+/SSA folks. I'm happy to sacrifice my worship style preferences if a pastor is prepared to walk with me in my discernment of celibacy. I'm okay with disagreeing about baptism if we can agree about the moral frameworks within which I can live. Heck, I'll even sit through a 45-minute sermon if it means the sermon actually has applications to unmarried and childless adults for once.

No website really offers this information, though, and watching a sermon online is unlikely to tell me much about a church's discipleship process. I agree that visiting various churches is ideal, but I'm also aware that this is a tall order. It's not easy for anyone to visit church after church, but this is especially tiresome and costly for anyone whose story includes "church hurt." The possibility of trauma triggers, the vulnerability of being alone in a new environment, and the risk of mistreatment over LGBTQ+/SSA experience all make a random Sunday morning visit a costly experience.

Church (Un)Clarity

It might surprise you to find that most churches aren't very clear about what they believe, teach, or practice regarding LGBTQ+/SSA folks. I've tried everything you can imagine: typing every word imaginable into a church's search bar, Google reviews, you name it. If you don't believe me, pick three churches near your home and try to figure out what they believe about LGBTQ+/SSA folks. 

In my experience, the churches that ARE clear about their posture tend to be on the more polarized sides of the conversation - either "open and affirming" or "praying the gay away," if you'll excuse the colloquialisms. If you know anything about what we believe at Revoice, you'll know those postures don't quite work for me. Outside these two ends of the spectrum, what's far more common is a sort of vague silence, with well-meaning sentences like "all are welcome here." 

To be clear, I believe this is well-meaning. Many pastors are trying to avoid causing harm, lack of trust, or shame with a flippant website comment or theologically heavy beliefs statement. Churches are right to recognize that this conversation is sensitive and should be engaged with sensitivity.

Pastor friends, I get it. You're afraid of being reduced to the most harmful possible interpretations of your beliefs (trust me, at Revoice, we get that!).

But all these well-meaning "welcomes" leave me clueless as I try to find a church to belong to. I'm not looking for a church where I am merely welcome—I'm looking for a church where I'll be loved, edified, and discipled. I'm looking for a church that will see me as part of the body of Christ, with gifts to offer and holiness to pursue.

So. Enters the email.

The Three Questions

To get the clarity I need, I send an email inquiry prior to visiting a church. This may seem unnecessary to some, which I understand - it's not a prescriptive measure by any means, but it works for me. I created this email in 2022 to minimize the amount of emotional effort and vulnerability I take on when visiting a church. Some levels of vulnerability and effort are unavoidable and even good, but I find that knowing some things ahead of time helps me engage a church from a posture of hope and connection rather than defense and worry. Here's the current version:

"Good morning,

I recently moved to the area and am looking for a church to attend. I wanted to email and inquire about some of your church's beliefs/postures towards the LGBTQ+ community. I am a celibate gay man, deeply committed to Christ. I've committed to celibacy because of my Biblical convictions in a historic Christian sexual ethic. I'm wondering:

• What your church teaches regarding LGBTQ+ folks

• The current experience of LGBTQ+ folks attending your church (obviously not expecting details or identity)

• If your church allows LGBTQ+ folks to be members or serve in ministry

I understand this is a sensitive topic, but typically prefer to find out these things before investing in a church."

As you can tell, the email is short, direct, and aimed at getting me the information I need. The questions I ask are meant to tell me about the experience I would have at the church—much more helpful than the vague "welcoming" language often used on church websites. Starting with the church's beliefs about sexuality is paramount to getting this clarity—I want to know to what extent we'll agree and how I might be discipled.

In this email, I'm also looking to know if I'll be the only LGBTQ+/SSA person in the room. (I mean, statistically, I know I'm not—but does the pastor know?) This question tells me a lot because it's helpful not to be the only minority in a space. As a celibate, gay man, as well as a Latino immigrant who's served in predominantly white, conservative churches, there are multiple layers of minority stress I typically carry. I find I'm able to engage more honestly and more richly if I'm able to reduce my minority stress. Again—I'm not unwilling to be the only LGBTQ+ person in a church, but it sure helps to know that!

As for the leadership question, I find it vital to my long-term membership in a church. I'm frankly not very interested in trying out a church where I can't dig roots. I believe Christ calls us to belong to a local body and have them belong to us. I believe we honor our local body of Christ best when we're able to serve it with our gifts - no church is complete without all its parts, says Paul, and I echo this strongly. As a former youth pastor who loves the next generation, and someone with the spiritual gifts of shepherding and teaching, I want to know if a local church will let me "fan into flame the gift of the spirit," as Paul tells Timothy. Unfortunately, LGBTQ+/SSA people are often seen as a liability to a church, not a gift— and I want to be the gift God has called me to be. How else am I to obey my Lord?

My (Un)Clarity

You'll notice I only explain myself a little in this email. That's intentional. I don't mean to be duplicitous, and in fact, I often expound in follow-up emails or conversations, should they happen. That said, I've found that churches are often suspicious of LGBTQ+/SSA folks and make them constantly defend themselves. As a practice of my own dignity, I'm committed to defending myself as little as possible in places where I'm not a leader.

That last part is important: When someone is looking to partner with Revoice, for instance, they deserve a great deal of clarity from us on our beliefs and how we live out those beliefs. James 3 says that "those of us who teach will be judged far more harshly," making it clear that there are higher standards in place for leaders than for others. In any place where I serve or have served in leadership, those around me deserve every bit of transparency possible. In fact, when I served as a youth pastor, I practiced this with tremendous vulnerability.

When I visit a church, though, I'm not in a position of leadership—in fact, quite the opposite. In looking for a church to attend, I'm first looking for a place to belong, a home to receive pastoral care. As I join a flock, I expect to be shepherded regardless of my theology or stance on sexual ethics—and should I stick around long enough to be entrusted with shepherding, I expect to be held to the standards of a shepherd—but not before.

In this email, I offer one honest clarification of my posture, and don't get into self-defense, my life story, or theological validation of my existence. I believe we teach people how to treat us, and I'd like to be treated with dignifying belief.

Reading Responses

For the most part, this email gets me the information I need—and frankly, even when it doesn't, it does. The responses fall into one of three categories: silence, clarity, and coffee. I'm sad to say that some churches, either due to discomfort or administrative slips, don't respond at all. In the worst of cases (only twice now), I've received an oddly joking email refusing to respond. 

More commonly, I get clarity from the response. I'm particularly blessed by the churches who manage to be compassionate but clear—which several do! (Pastors—stay tuned to this series for some guidance on how to offer this sort of response) Clarity doesn't mean we agree on all the details—in fact, I often don't see eye to eye on nuances. I find that it's helpful to have a sense of what you can (and can't) handle navigating well as an LGBTQ+/SSA churchgoer.

For instance, I'm pretty comfortable attending a church that broadly agrees with my sexual ethic but has tensions around my use of the word "gay." As long as a pastor isn't trying to make it an issue of forced agreement, it's not one for me, either. I've had several pastors who view me and my faith with respect but would have "preferred" I use the term same-sex attraction—and they were often an immense blessing to me. This could be more difficult for others, but it works for me! Again, know what you need.

So, silence, clarity, and of course… Some pastors want to get coffee. 

We'll talk about coffee next time.