That All May Freely Serve is attending this year's PC(USA) Big Tent event happening this weekend in Atlanta. Minister Coordinator Lisa Larges is here, along with national board members Steve Andrews and Sonnie Swenston.
Together with the whole church, we are marking the close of our church's year-long conversation as we voted on Amendment 08-B, which would have changed our Ordination Standards.
Please join us in prayer wherever you are as we pray this simple prayer for our church.
We will be gathering outside the Centennial Ballroom at 8:15 a.m. Eastern time Saturday, June 13. If that doesn't work for you, pray when and where you can.
For those who are at Big Tent, we'll be finished in time for you to get to your 8:30 a.m. event.
Creator-God, who has taught us to pray with boldness: we have been praying for the transformation of this church--for the dividing walls between us to be washed away by the waters of baptism, for the gifts of all your people to shine from their souls into the life of the world--and all your people to shine from their souls into the life of the world--and you have been answering these prayers. This year, O God, we have seen the fruits of this transformation, the evidence of your resurrecting Spirit moving through our meetings, bringing new life to old forms, reinvigorating and reconciling your family. Heavenly Parent, your children are talking to each other, acknowledging their common place in your family, and honoring the gifts we have all received from you.
Keep coming, Holy Spirit. Keep rushing like an ever-flowing stream through the life and work of this church. Keep washing the walls away. Keep smashing the stained-glass ceilings limiting the full expression of your gifts. Keep watching over us and guiding us through everything we do. Stay with your church. Amen.
Minister made her mark by welcoming all people
By Kim Kimzey
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Meg Barnhouse was a young girl when her family left Statesville, N.C., for Philadelphia.
Before they crossed the Mason-Dixon Line, Barnhouse's cousins cornered her.
"They made me promise -- swear -- that I would always remain a rebel in my heart. So I swore, and I did," Barnhouse remembers.
The rebel is about to cross that line again.
Barnhouse is leaving Spartanburg to serve as interim minister at Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Princeton, N.J. She'll guide the congregation there through the transition and search for a new minister.
Barnhouse became minister of Unitarian Universalist Church of Spartanburg in 2002.
She will be on call for emergencies through July 31. Her last Sunday is this week.
The message she will share is called "All Will Be Well," in which she will speak and sing about "how to be more peaceful in your life."
Barnhouse informed the church of her departure on Mother's Day.
She discussed things she learned from being a mom.
She talked about setting boundaries and how children need to know you're in charge.
"Then I said, 'and another thing I learned is that you have to go on and have the hard conversations with your kids.' And I said, 'Y'all aren't my kids, but we need to have a hard conversation right now,' " Barnhouse recalls of how she broke the news.
"It's been a very nice seven years that we've had together," Barnhouse said of her time at the church.
Unitarian Universalist Church of Spartanburg has about 160 members. They've constructed a new building for worship, added the Hatcher House, and become a congregation that welcomes "folks who aren't like the majority of people," including those with different sexual orientations and emotional and physical challenges.
Barnhouse has done much to increase the congregation's social awareness, said church member Bobbie Schoss.
Barnhouse has served the congregation for 10 years, counting her time as interim minister, and will be "terribly missed," Schoss said.
"We're saddened that she's going, but we're happy for her, too," Schoss said.
Barnhouse said she has made many dear friends since moving here and plans to keep in touch.
"I'm not running from anything. I'm running toward something," Barnhouse said.
Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Princeton has about 400 members and is near New York City. It's a place that Barnhouse said would be good for her and partner, Kiya Heartwood.
Barnhouse already has a connection to the area. Her parents met and married while students at Princeton Seminary, and she was born in Princeton.
Barnhouse isn't ruling out returning to the Southeast in the future.
She said she loved Spartanburg from the beginning. Barnhouse was 26 years old when she moved here in 1981 to serve as chaplain at Converse College.
"I thought it was so exotic here. I loved the little peaches on the street signs … I loved watching people walk down the street in the summertime in blazing sun with umbrellas. I'd never seen that before," she said.
Spartanburg has changed a lot. So has Barnhouse. She was Presbyterian when she moved here.
"I was a Christian, but I couldn't go along with some of the teachings of the current version of Christianity," she wrote in an e-mail to the Herald-Journal.
Barnhouse began to examine "Original Blessing" Christianity.
"When I found the Unitarian Universalist denomination, I was amazed to find a long-existing group of people who believed those things. They also proclaim the inherent worth and dignity of every person, they love the democratic process, and they support one another in each one's search for truth and meaning," she wrote.
Barnhouse switched her ordination to the Unitarian Universalist faith and has "never regretted it." She began that process in 1993 and finished in 1997.
Ed Wilde has been a member of the church since 1986. He said Barnhouse is well-known throughout the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations and brought prominence to the small congregation here.
The congregation is looking for an interim minister and has four candidates, Wilde said.
Barnhouse served as interim minister from 1996 to 1998. She also has written commentary for the Faith & Values section of the Herald-Journal for several years.
Barnhouse will speak at the Upstate Pride March and Festival on June 20 at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Spartanburg. Members of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community will take part in the gay pride parade.
Katie Ricks, the associate in ministry at the Church of Reconciliation in Chapel Hill, leads a prayer for graduating high school seniors and youth leaders finishing graduate school. Ricks' rapport with young people helped convince church members that she was right for the position, though as a lesbian, she can't be named a pastor.
Ray Black III, Photo by Ray Black III for The News & Observer
Katie Ricks, Paula Gibbs and Jordan Ricks during a Mother's Day retreat at Kure Beach.
Photo by Ann Koonce
Katie Ricks gives advice to Michael Wilson, a graduating senior, as he prepares to give a sermon on Mother's Day. The church invited seniors to preach a sermon.
Ray Black III, Ray Black III for The News & Obs
Katie Ricks leads a service at the Church of Reconciliation in Chapel Hill. 'I want to be ordained because I feel God has called me to this,' she said. 'I also don't want the church to split.'
Ray Black III, Photos by Ray Black III for The News & Observer
Lesbian wants to be ordained
Church rules keep gays and lesbians from being pastors, but Katie Ricks is patient
BY YONAT SHIMRON, Staff Writer
CHAPEL HILL - To the congregation at the Church of Reconciliation she is "Pastor Katie." As she leads the introductory prayers in her black robe and white stole, Katie Ricks looks and sounds every bit the part. But members know that in the eyes of the Presbyterian Church USA, she is not. Ricks is a lesbian, and for that reason she cannot be ordained.Last month, the 2.3-million-member denomination rejected an amendment that would have lifted the Presbyterian Church USA ban on gays and lesbians becoming ordained pastors, elders and deacons. The vote, the fourth in 13 years, was far closer than in the past, leaving open the possibility that the church requirement of "fidelity within the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman, and chastity in singleness," may one day be overturned.In the meantime, the Church of Reconciliation, an inclusive congregation welcoming of gays and lesbians, continues what some have called a "high-wire balancing act." The church gives Ricks nearly all the responsibilities and privileges it would normally confer on an associate pastor, but it tries to steer clear of any obstacle that would imperil the church's good standing with the denomination."There's a choreography that has to do with dancing around the prohibition," said Church of Reconciliation's senior pastor, the Rev. Mark Davidson. "She's not free to live fully into her role. We acknowledge that with regret and pain."For Ricks, who's 38 and in a committed relationship, that's a continuing heartache. Unlike gays and lesbians who have hidden their sexual identity or the nature of their personal relationships from the church hierarchy to keep their position, Ricks has steadfastly been open, she says, out of a sense of respect for the church."I want to be ordained because I feel God has called me to this," she said. "I also don't want the church to split."Traditional valuesAs the daughter of an Army officer, Ricks moved every two or three years. One constant in her life was the Presbyterian Church USA, to which her parents belonged. It was her home, her fortress and her refuge. No matter what part of the country she was in, she knew the music, the order of the service, the Bible stories.She also knew God loved her.That knowledge was important, especially when she realized, right after college, that she was gay.In her first job as a counselor and resident life coordinator at Gordon College in Barnesville, Ga., Ricks wanted to tell troubled students to turn to their faith but because it was a state school, she could not.She wrote about that quandary in a book about female ministers and educators, scheduled to be published soon: "I was left with an aching within me -- a deep yearning to provide a space for young people to experience and be buoyed by the love of God."The year she struggled with her calling to the ministry -- 1996 -- the church made it even harder, inserting the "fidelity and chastity" requirement in the denomination's Book of Order.Ricks, who is reserved and shy, found herself acting on what she felt was a calling from God -- and doing so as a lesbian. "I'm not the kind of person to say, 'Hi, I'm Katie, and I'm a lesbian,' she said. At the same time, "I didn't want to have to watch my back."She was upfront with her church's governing body and admissions officers at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur. In each case she received the support she needed to pursue her calling.Her career prospects may have been daunting given her sexual orientation, but she said going to seminary was the best thing that happened to her professionally and personally: While at seminary she fell in love.Drawn togetherKatie Ricks and Paula Gibbs couldn't be more different.Where Ricks is an introvert, Gibbs is an extrovert. Ricks was forbidden from playing with any weapons, including a water gun, while Gibbs, a retired police officer, first went out on a shooting range as early as age 3. Where Ricks grew up all over the country, Gibbs grew up in the same suburban Atlanta home.But the women had much in common, too. They loved animals. They loved to hike. And they loved God.In 2001, the couple, who met in a Bible study class, held a covenant union in a Quaker Meeting House in Decatur before 200 friends and family.The following year, just as Ricks was about to graduate from seminary, she got a job offer. The Church of Reconciliation, a theologically diverse community made up of university professors and former clergy, voted in 1993 to become a "More Light" congregation, welcoming of gays and lesbians. It was looking for a youth pastor.Church members say they weren't looking for a gay youth pastor, but when they reviewed Ricks' application and saw her rapport with young people, they decided to get creative. They offered Ricks the position of "associate in ministry" rather than "associate pastor." They told her they expected her to do all the things an associate pastor would: oversee the children's Christian education, teach confirmation class, preach once a month, offer pastoral care.Like the senior pastor's, Ricks' salary would be voted on by the congregation. And like the pastor, she would be entitled to all the benefits. In her case, the church kicked in a bonus to compensate for the tax breaks the government allows most ordained clergy to claim on housing."It was clear this was where I was supposed to be," she said. Best of all, church members never broached the subject of her sexual orientation, which Ricks calls "my least favorite topic.""The fact that she was an out lesbian is pretty uninteresting in terms of what she does for the church," said Gene Johnson, a church member who was on the committee that recruited Ricks. "It's a nonissue."But because she could not be ordained, Ricks knew that she would not be able to baptize, marry or preside over communion. In time, she and Davidson worked out a system that allowed her to participate. During baptisms, for example, Ricks will pour the water into the font. Davidson will baptize the baby, and Ricks will conclude by anointing the baby's forehead with oil.This prohibition on baptizing prevented Ricks from performing that rite of Christian initiation on her daughter, Jordan, born Jan. 19, 2007.On that occasion, though, she was happy to be a participant -- a mother reveling in the joy of welcoming her daughter to God's family.Attention, please ...On Feb. 21, Ricks stood up before the presbytery -- a geographic region covering 36 counties in Eastern North Carolina -- and announced that she was a lesbian. It was not something she would have done just for the sake of it.But there was an important decision at hand, and she wanted to influence its outcome.That day, the presbytery -- one of 173 nationwide -- was voting on an amendment that would allow gays and lesbians in partnered relationships to be ordained."After 10 years in the ordination process, I continue to remain a candidate because my ordination is prohibited because my partner is a woman," she told a group of some 350 ministers, elders and deacons.The New Hope Presbytery voted that day to approve the amendment by a vote of 177-139, with 10 abstentions. In subsequent weeks, four of North Carolina's five presbyteries voted for the change. The Presbytery of Coastal Carolina was the holdout.But by the end of April it was clear that the amendment was headed for defeat at the national level. Though 30 presbyteries previously opposed to gay ordination voted in favor of the amendment this time around, the votes fell short of a simple majority.Ricks' dream of ordination would have to wait.In the meantime, she remains loyal to her calling. Last Sunday Ricks helped the youth group lead worship services during what the church calls "Youth Sunday."Later, she picked up her daughter -- who ran toward her with a card to wish her a happy Mother's Day.
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At the TAMFS conference at Calvin Center in Atlanta three years ago there was a workshop on the ordination process for LGBT candidates. The participants were Ray Bagnuolo, Susan Thomas, and Karen Thompson. Ray is now an ordained Minister of the Word and Sacrament in the PC(USA); Susan has gone to work for the Unitarian Universalist (UU) Church in Boston, and Karen is a minister in the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC).
Read about Karen's ministry and journey in the article from the Daily Texan Online (the student newspaper for the University of Texas at Austin) below:
Local church accepts members of all sexual
orientations
Roxanna Asgarian, Daily Texan
Staff
Tuesday,
May 12, 2009
Peyton McGee/The Daily Texan Staff
The Rev. Karen Thompson
leads a congregation of more than 400 members at the Metropolitan Community
Church of Austin on South First Street. The church has a large gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgender population and encourages those who have been hurt by
the church to reconnect with God.
The Rev. Karen Thompson sits at her desk with her office
door left open. Outside, in the Cowan Hall area of the Metropolitan Community
Church of Austin, church members sit at tables and study the Bible.
Thompson will celebrate one year as the church’s senior
pastor Sunday. Her congregation of more than 400 members embraces a Christianity
that is “radically inclusive.” Many of the church’s members are gay, lesbian,
bisexual or transgender.
Thompson’s spiritual journey to MCC Austin, like those of
many in her congregation, was not easy.
Thompson graduated from Austin Presbyterian Seminary and
in 2007 became the first openly lesbian candidate in the region to be approved
for ministry in the Presbyterian Church.
Shortly thereafter, however, her candidacy was appealed to
an ordination standard of the Presbyterian Church, which states that no
non-celibate homosexual can be ordained to the ministry.
“I consider it a privilege to say my journey towards
ordination wasn’t easy or taken for granted,” Thompson said. “I learned to
follow my calling when it was not easy — sometimes I felt like it was just me
and God.”
Thompson’s appeal reached the national level before she
chose to withdraw her involvement and seek to minister elsewhere.
“I felt my presence had become more divisive than
unifying,” Thompson said. “But the experience prepared me with the courage it
takes to lead a body of people who are marginalized.”
Her experience with the Presbyterian Church led her to MCC
Austin, which serves the community from a 10-acre plot of land on South First
Street called Freedom Oaks.
A group of GLBT people interested in attending church in a
safe environment started what was originally called the Austin Independent
Community Church in 1975. Judy Cowan was 29 at the time and found the church
through word-of-mouth.
“I was really looking for something to stabilize my life,”
Cowan said. “I was in a position of uniqueness, as it were, and there was a lot
of negativity being tossed my way. I wanted to find a place to go that was safe,
where I’d be accepted.”
Cowan has been attending ever since. She has seen the
transformation from small meetings in members’ homes to the bustling services
that make up MCC Austin today.
The church has steadily gained popularity and now holds
two Sunday services to accommodate its more than 400 members, as well as a
Saturday evening “Comfortable Church” — a more relaxed service with a live
band.
“Saturday nights were specifically designed to acknowledge
many GLBT people who have been hurt by church, closed out or have given up,”
Thompson said. “We want these people to have a chance to connect, or reconnect,
with God.”
Thompson said many newcomers are surprised at how “normal”
the worship services are. She said many come in conflicted — wanting to be
spiritual yet feeling defensive of traditional Christian stances on
homosexuality.
Biblical scholar Mona West addresses this conflict as part
of the Wednesday night Bible study she leads at the church. She provides
historical context on the evolution of the Bible and explains the many
translations of it that are sometimes many steps away from the original Hebrew
and Greek versions of the Old and New Testaments.
“Anyone’s translation is an interpretation,” West said.
“It’s not that cut and dry. Some cite the passage in Leviticus that says a man
shouldn’t lay with another man as an argument against homosexuality. But that
passage also forbids eating shellfish and wearing clothes of mixed
fibers.”
“It’s important to know the history and context,” West
said. “Many things are written with a specific situation in mind, not for all
time and all people everywhere.”
Some Biblical translations are formal, where translators
attempt a word-for-word rendering, and others are dynamic, which try to capture
in English the meaning of the traditional texts, West said.
She also said it’s important to acknowledge that
translators have their own biases, which can be seen when comparing different
versions of the Bible. West’s favorite translation is the New Revised Standard
Version, which updates the English and eliminates the masculine-oriented
language that is widespread in many other versions.
“Biblical scholars and translators have traditionally been
white, European, heterosexual males,” West said. “But where are our voices? Each
of us has our own authority and right to interpret scripture.”
Emily Brown, a 24-year-old UT alumna, recently became a
member of MCC Austin. She said studying the Bible with West helps her to get the
most from the scripture.
“She’s amazing at helping people see those negative verses
and put them in context, and dispelling the meanings many have placed on them,”
Brown said. “They really let you take from it what you need to take from
it.”
Brown said finding acceptance at MCC helped her better
understand and cultivate her spirituality.
“When I went to MCC, it was the first time I felt like I
could be present at church, all of me, and I could be accepted by God and by
everyone around me,” Brown said. “Being in that environment really solidifies
and helps build up my spirituality and faith.”
Katy Moore is a Presbyterian seminarian. She participated in the TAMFS-sponsored New Church (R)evolution at the General Assembly of the PC(USA) last summer. She preached on LGBT ordination this past week:
Katy Moore
May 6, 2009 – Brick Presbyterian Church, NYC
John 21:15–19
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more
than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A
second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I
love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love
me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you
know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you
were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will
stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.”
(He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”
Remember Eliot Spitzer? You know, our former governor. He’s been out of the public
eye for a little while now, but it seems like he’s back. He’s been writing a regular column for the
news website Slate, recently he did an interview on the Brian Lehrer Show, and then just a few
weeks ago he was the focus of an in-depth cover story in Newsweek. It doesn’t seem like there’s
any real news to report, but he’s been cited as a qualified voice on the economic situation,
especially considering his previous experience challenging fraud at AIG and elsewhere.
No, the real thrust of the Newsweek story was about Spitzer’s recovery from the
prostitution scandal that undermined his career-long fight against corruption and cost him his
office. He has mainly been seen, since his resignation, with his family, walking his dogs, trying to
have a semblance of normal life. But after a year out of the spotlight, it seems like he can’t stay
away for long. So now he’s back to his strengths as a political and economic commentator, but
after such a spectacular betrayal of everything he had stood for, how can he possibly regain New
York’s trust—the country’s trust—and reenter public life?
In the passage I just read from the Gospel of John, we get a little snapshot of Peter and
Jesus together at the very end of the story. According to John, Peter has been in this since the
very beginning of Jesus’ ministry. He is one of the very first followers in chapter 1. Now flash
forward to chapter 21, only a few verses from the end of John’s long and wordy gospel, and Jesus
says to Peter, “Follow me.” As if he hasn’t been following for the last three years!
Well, that’s not the whole story. Peter’s relationship with Jesus has not been an easy one.
In all the gospels, Peter is one of the most vocal and enthusiastic disciples, the first to ask
questions, the first to step out onto the water and follow, the first to proclaim the depths of his
devotion to Jesus. When Jesus takes only a few disciples with him, it is almost always Peter and
James and John. Peter is part of the inner circle, Jesus’ closest followers, his most beloved friends. And yet it is Peter who, as soon as Jesus is arrested, three times denies that he is a disciple. This
has been a passionate friendship, and the intensity of Peter’s devotion is matched by the intensity
of his betrayal.
John gives us a postscript to this story of Peter’s betrayal. Three times Peter denied his
love for Jesus, and now Jesus gives him three chances to reaffirm his love. The trust has been
broken—shattered, really—but Jesus offers Peter the opportunity to come back. If Peter can
accept it, Jesus has a charge for him: “Tend my sheep.” This is not an easy charge—John tells us
that Jesus went on to predict Peter’s crucifixion for his faith—but Peter takes it, and goes on to be
affirmed by centuries of Christian tradition as the first head of the church. Peter has quite a
story: he started out as a fisherman named Simon; dropped his nets and left everything behind to
follow Jesus, becoming one of his most trusted intimates; but as soon as things got tough he
denied even knowing Jesus; and then, somehow, Jesus gives him another chance to follow, and
gives him leadership over his whole flock, the church.
Our particular corner of this flock, the Presbyterian Church (USA), has been
experiencing some fractured relationships and broken trust of its own. Our constitution includes
a provision that everyone ordained into service, whether Ministers or Elders or Deacons, must
live in “fidelity in the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman, or chastity in
singleness.” The original purpose of this language, and the way it has overwhelmingly been used,
is to exclude gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, and queer people from ministry. As it is
written, our constitution claims that this language is sufficient to describe the only ways of living
faithfully in relationship with one another. And yet, as our divorce rates continue to climb, and
people, especially women, begin to speak out about abuse and distrust and sexist assumptions in
their own relationships, it is becoming clearer every day that this language is not enough to tell us
how to live faithfully in any of our intimate relationships. In recognition of this fact, and of the
God-given calls to ministry of many LGBT and queer people, the General Assembly (our
national governing body) this past summer passed an amendment to this standard, calling for
“lives obedient to Jesus Christ ... through the witness of the Scriptures, ... [and] fidelity to the
standards of the Church,” and sent it to be voted on by the presbyteries.
Less than two weeks ago, on Saturday, April 25, Boise Presbytery and Northern Plains
Presbytery became the 86th and 87th to vote against the amendment, meaning that although the
voting is not over, the amendment has now, definitely, failed. The vote has been closer than ever
before: already, over 30 presbyteries (out of 173 nationally) which had previously voted to keep
this inadequate language have voted to change it, and a huge majority of presbyteries have seen
shifts towards the inclusive and Christ-centered new language. And yet, the breach of trust
between the PC(USA) and its non-heterosexual children has not been healed. If anything, this
vote has exposed, again, how very deep are the divisions in our church. On all sides of the issue,
beliefs and opinions are incredibly strongly and passionately held. We are not simply debating
semantics, we are debating bodies and lives and faith and convictions. A simple vote will not
heal these wounds, no matter how it comes out.
As these debates continue, our body splits and the wounds deepen. We are losing whole
congregations to the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, and almost daily we lose my talented and
Spirit-filled colleagues in ministry to the United Church of Christ, or to academia, or often they
are discouraged from even acknowledging their call in the first place. And yet, many of us stay.
Our denomination is not yet divided. We stay and continue these conversations. My friend Lisa
Larges has been pursuing her call for 23 years now, and she has still not been certified for
ministry.
It is not easy to heal the wounds of broken relationships. Broken trust can take a lifetime
to repair—just ask Governor Spitzer! And yet, somehow, Jesus has given us an example of
betrayed trust restored. Even then, it does not seem to be easy, and yet they do it. After all that
Peter and Jesus have been through together, Jesus does not let betrayal have the last word. Jesus
takes this dear friend aside and says, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” It won’t be easy, but
this is a good start. Talking to one another, and affirming our love for one another and for Jesus
Christ is a good way to begin.
Love for his daughter drives father's activism
REKHA BASU
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Your whole foundation can shift in a day.
Ted Coppock discovered that 15 years ago. A longstanding membership in the Republican Party, a career in insurance and ages-old religious affiliations and understandings of right and wrong had not prepared him for this phone conversation with his daughter.
Valerie, 30 at the time, divorced and living in the Washington, D.C., area, was planning for her parents' visit at Thanksgiving. She wanted them to know beforehand that she was in an intimate relationship. With a woman.
In that moment, Coppock, now 70, had to discard a lifetime of accrued images and expectations. As Valerie spoke, he was thinking about these two guys he used to know in his jock days at North High, who everyone assumed were "homos." They were straight-A students and on the student government, but Coppock and the other jocks made fun of them - right to their faces. "All I could think," says Coppock of listening to his daughter speak, "was what an a------ I was in school."
He had a lot of thinking to do that day. He had to get past wondering whether they had somehow raised her wrong to understanding that Valerie could no more choose to be gay than choose to be deaf, which she also is.
He emerged after closing himself off in his study for four hours. "I've spent part of the afternoon trying to think, in all these years, what Valerie has ever done to disappoint us," he told his wife, Mary. "And I couldn't think of anything." Mary had already known about Valerie.
"This," Coppock concluded, "is something we need to consider to be our problem and not Valerie's." With that decision came the birth of an activist.
I first met Coppock in February at the state Capitol on a lobby day designated by the gay-rights organization One Iowa. In anticipation of the state Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage, activists were talking individually to lawmakers to urge them not to pursue a constitutional amendment against it.
Coppock, who calls himself a citizen lobbyist, has played that role before. Sharing his own story, he's lobbied members of his party to expand the state's civil-rights law to protect gays and lesbians. In his church, Westminster Presbyterian, he's president of the Gay Lesbian Affirmation Small Group. He's been active in the bid to get the entire Presbyterian Church to change its stance that homosexuality is not in line with its beliefs, and to drop the requirement of chastity or heterosexual marriage to be ordained as a minister, deacon or elder.
He has found that the best way to resolve differences is to talk personally and share life experiences. He did that with Pat Ward, his West Des Moines senator, when the Legislature was debating a bill to outlaw school bullying based on real or perceived sexual orientation. Republicans were in the majority. Ward, a Republican, thought the anti-bullying policy at Valley High was good enough. But from Coppock and other constituents, she says, "I learned that even though a school may have a policy, it's important that state law backs up the policy." She supported the bill, and it became law.
"He had something affect him very personally in his real life," says Ward of Coppock. "Because he's a businessman he knows how to communicate in a very articulate and non-threatening way.... He's not the guy that comes out with the banners and posters and protests."
Another lawmaker Coppock approached told him he believes homosexuality is wrong, and that he had not spoken to a gay sister in years because of that. Coppock urged the lawmaker to consider calling his sister - which he says happened.
In most ways, Coppock fits the profile of a conservative businessman. He's an insurance broker and consultant, a life member of the Iowa Golf Association, has served in the Iowa National Guard, raises money for the Variety Club and sits on the board of Childserve. He's been lobbying against the Democrats' tax plan. His Republican Party is the party of tradition, he says, and he had a traditional upbringing, working since age 11 and believing in the value of self-reliance.
But being a devoted father has required him to stretch his thinking more than once.
Eight years ago, on another visit to his daughter, another bombshell dropped. Valerie and her partner, Allison, announced that Allison planned to transition from a woman to a man through hormonal treatments and surgery, because she had always felt she was the wrong sex.
Coppock's first instinct was to worry for the younger couple's relationship. "Our daughter fell in love with a woman," he said. But as Valerie and her partner went through counseling, Coppock did more thinking, and concluded that people don't fall in love with each other's sex, but with each other.
Allison is now Alex, and they're still together.
Last week, the citizen lobbyist was back at the Capitol, urging lawmakers to avoid the temptation to tamper with the Iowa Constitution in the wake of the recent marriage ruling. This wouldn't directly affect his daughter since she lives out of state, but ultimately he is standing up for who she is.
Because, whoever else he is, Coppock is a protective father, and it's amazing how the mind can bend when you love someone unconditionally.
http://dmjuice.desmoinesregister.com/article/20090415/OPINION01/904150328/1035/OPINION
Belonging
Full communion in the church
doesn't mean what it used to.
Even those who belong don't belong
if they don't have the rights
and privileges of the others.
The list of nonbelonging belongers is long.
If you're included in the list
(which means you're excluded),
you know it,
even though you've been assured
that the belonging believers
have compassion for your plight.
Fortunately, you know from
the scriptures and confessions
that you belong where it counts.
Your options include
turning the other cheek
and assuring the belonging believers
that you have compassion for their plight.
Blessed are the poor in privilege,
for they belong to God.
Dearest love my God,
I had a dream about you the other day.
You had prepared a banquet feast
in the middle of one of your warm and inviting fields.
Your smile shined the sun's beam upon my face
and I could not help but close my eyes
as your warmth washed over me.
Looking over the horizon
there were people cresting the hill
holding hands and laughing,
embracing and inviting.
They had all come to sit at the welcome table.
As we stood behind our chairs at the table
You smiled and a tear of joy rested in the corner of Your eye.
We worshipped You because of your love for us.
We sang, we danced, we heard your word
Proclaimed from each and every heart.
What a wonderful gift you give us with life, father God.
What a powerful command to love and be well
you instill in us, mother God.
As we spoke of our joys and concerns
we turned to comfort and console one another;
it was a wonderful kind of peace.
And then there was Jesus, arms outstretched.
He said,
"I'm so glad you all could make it.
I'm so glad you all are home."
As I opened my eyes I noticed the tears had soaked my pillow.
And as my mind-place settled itself
outside of the dream world,
my voice exclaimed, "My church!"
Wonderful God we thank you for the promise of what your church can be.
We see the open table
where the gifts of Christ are to be shared with one another.
We are grateful that we live in such a time as this
when the home of Jesus Christ is alive
and the Spirit really does open the door
for all to enter in.
We pray this
and everyday that You will reveal to us, oh God,
the ways in which we can make the church of Your dreams,
the dream of our reality:
One church family of believers who love you and each other
in every healthy way.
A family where gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, straight--
where all of Your children sing together in harmony,
"We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
And we pray that all unity will one day be restored.
And they'll know we are Christians by our love,
yes by our love.
They will know we are Christians by our love."
It is with this love that we come to you
with a request upon our lips:
We ask you for courage, strength, dignity
and that the blessed assurance of your call
will allow all of your LBGTQII candidates
to continue to want to share Our God-given ministry with the church.
Help us to stand strong as we journey along the path
of Inquirer to Candidate,
from Candidate to Certified,
and from Certified to Called.
We know that
in your Wisdom, Sophia, all is possible.
So we ask You to prepare Your children for service
in the surety that our time has come.
And while we are readied, prepare your church.
Allow the votes as they proceed from Presbytery to Presbytery
to speak your truth.
Let all see that the tide of conversation has changed
and so the time has come.
We are ready to serve, let it be your will.
We ask all of this because you love us.
We ask you for a whole church
because we know that you heal brokenness.
We ask you all of this because we love you and our neighbors--
even those that would knock us down--
as you have commanded.
We love them because we love the fullness of creation
in which you have formed each and every one of us.
Because we love ourselves as you have made us,
we give the purest honor to you Oh God our blessed Creator.
I dreamed of you the other day...
In your precious Holy names we pray now and forever.
Amen.
That All May Freely Serve
Our Mission
Called by the life and teachings of Jesus, compelled by our faith, and charged by our conscience, we advocate for
>> an inclusive church for all who are disenfranchised
>> a church that honors diversity and welcomes lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender persons as full members
>> full membership, which includes eligibility for ordination
to the offices of Elder, Deacon,
and Minister of Word and Sacrament
Our CommitmentThat All May Freely Serve commits to actively resist and transform structures and systems of injustice, joining in solidarity in making the connections with those disenfranchised by racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, ageism, ablebodyism, gender identity oppression, eco-exploitation, militarism, and all other structures of exploitation and oppression through the lens of our social location, and to focus on the liberation of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people from religious prejudice and exclusionary church policies.
