So how did all this happen anyway?

The question has been raised about how I ended up in my current situation.  There is a short answer and a long answer, and each begins and ends with God.  The short answer is that God has called me to be the pastor of this wonderful, loving, faith-filled, Spirit led congregation and that both I and the congregation were born, raised and trained in the life and ministry of the Reformed Church in America.  It is who we are.  It is our family.  It is our home. 

The long answer goes something like this.  I used to be a financial advisor.  I liked trading stocks.  I liked investing.  I liked making money.  I liked my nice apartment and my fast-paced life. Each day I would wake up early and go to work.  I'd stay there until well after the sun went down.  I worked in a big building.  A very big building.  Then one summer I switched jobs.  I almost took a job very high up in that very big building, but by the grace of God I ended up choosing a job that ended up being not-so-great.  As the summer came to a close, I lamented not taking the job very high up in the big building.  Then, as I was on my way to yet another job interview, I heard that a plane had hit that very big building.  The one where I had worked.  The one with the other job that I wished I had taken earlier in the summer.  Many of my collegues just escaped before the building fell.  One of my friends didn't.  They never found even a piece of her.

The stockmarket closed.  There was nothing to do except for pray and cry.  I prayed and cried so much that I finally admitted what I had always known - God really didn't want me to be a financial wizzard.  The only place I could find true peace was in church, doing ministry. 

I made a deal with God.  I would go to seminary and even pursue ministry, but I would not do it in a church.  I knew from an early age that I was different, and by the time I was in my late teens I had figured out that I was gay.  I yearned to be involved in church, and am quick to say how my local church literally saved my life when I began to realize that I was gay. 

I did not intend to be a pastor of a church.  And for a year it worked out pretty well.  Then, during the summer between my junior and middler year a church in Brooklyn needed someone to fill in following the retirement of their pastor.  Reluctantly (and I'll admit, perhaps with some youthful excitement as well), I began to preach at this church.  By the grace of God, the church grew.  And we had a  wonderful time learning about God togehter.  Things were going well.  I stayed for a year while they called their next minister.  In the meantime, some people began to tell the Greenpoint congregation about me.  And they told me about the Greenpoint congregation.  Kind of like in high school, we began a little courtship process.  I met one of their elders.  They arranged for me to preach.  I checked out the neighborhood.  They met as a congregation after the service.  I prayed.  They prayed.  And then we shook hands and I became their student pastor. 

Now for a little background about Greenpoint.  When I asked one of the ministers I knew what he had heard about Greenpoint he said, "For decades that congregation has been the doormat of the Brooklyn Classis."  He was right.  If you check out any history, you'll quickly learn that this church has been reasonably small for a long time.  In fact, when I arrived there were between 8 and 10 people on any given Sunday.  My first Sunday there were THREE people present.  Out of the 20 years prior to my coming to the church they had been served by a regular pastor for FOUR years. They had been searching for a pastor for a long time.  But let's be honest, a nice apartment and $125 per week can only get a church so far. This is New York City after all and there aren't too many fools around who would be up for the job.  The Synod had visited with the consistory (all five of them) and talked about closing the church.  The Synod executive departed having been dressed down.  They weren't going to close until God told them so, and that hadn't happened yet.  They would let him know if the status changed.  Until that time, they would do their best to continue their ministry.

Well, I was a fool for Christ.  I hadn't planned on serving a church.  A social service agency was far more my speed.  But, from the moment I set my eyes on this church, I loved the congregation.  I loved them as much as any person could love a church.  And I had all the hope and faith necessary to pray this congregation into renewal.  As a sign of this foolish hope, Jennifer and I went out and purchased a 40 cup coffee urn.  Little did we know it wouldn't be used for years.

Which does bring us to the point of Jennifer.  As anyone who knows me would say, I am not one to hide my life.  I am honest to a fault, and certainly to my own detriment.  In writing my seminary application essay, I was clear that I was gay and that my being gay contributed to my faith and my understanding of God's grace.  During seminary, I did not share that I was gay with everyone, but my close friends knew.  And let's be honest here - take a look at my photo.  Is there much of a doubt?  Come on now people.  Anyone who didn't at least piece things together was either from a foreign planet or lacked the necessary people reading skills to get by in life.

Still, I was always honest about my life.  If anyone asked, I told.  And when it came to the consistory at Greenpoint, I was very careful to tell them that I was gay.  I have learned that being gay in the church usually results in being excluded, unwelcome and unwanted. Contrary to my expectations, the consistory proved different.  I was treated like a human being.  I was treated like a seminarian.  I was treated like their student pastor.  And, I loved them all the more.

This congregation knows what it's like to feel second class.  They know what it's like to be excluded.  They understand what it means when people discount you because they think they know who you are.  After all, everyone assumed that this place was a dead-end dump on the edge of a burned out working class, poor, neighborhood where urban blight seemed high class.  No one wanted to serve this church.  No one could afford to serve this church.  Still, I believed that this is the best church in the world. It was like coming home. And when I arrived there were 8 beautiful people who felt likewise. 

Meanwhile, I continued through the ordination examination process of the NY Classis.  I enjoyed taking the exams because I loved sharing my excitement about Reformed theology.  On the whole, I was more conservative than many of the other candidates.  I am actually pretty conservative. 

In June of 2004, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts legalized same-sex marriage.  Jen and I had been dating for a year.  For those interested in all the details, we lived separately, and did not plan to live together until we made a lifetime commitment before God and one another. Jen was raised in the Southern Baptist Convention and I was raised in the RCA.  We're good church girls.  We follow the advice of the older women in our churches - don't live together until you're married.  Well, now we could get married.  My father, who loves me more than anything, officiated at the ceremony.  We all had a very good time.  A very good time.  Check out the photos - you can't imagine two more happy people.

Jennifer and I did not tell many people about our wedding.  In fact, we took the advice of my parents and decided not to invite very many people to the event.  What a mistake.  If there's one thing I would do over about the big event, it would be to invite more people.  We figured that if we kept it quiet, that the chance of someone making a big deal out of it would be minimized.  Boy, were we wrong.

Within a month some conservative ministers in the RCA found out about our wedding.  Two of them created a newsletter titled "Put a Finger in the Dyke" and sent it around to various ministers in the denomination. Within months there were calls for my father to resign and charges were filed against him.

Jennifer and I did not plan to be outed like this.  We had been honest, but we knew how the game of the closet was played.  If people didn't ask; we didn't tell.  People could look at me with my spiky hair and my more masculine mannerisms and think whatever they wanted.  But we weren't about to make my calling out to be something of a big gay event for the church.

Unfortunately, some conservative ministers in the RCA did want to make it into a gay issue.  Had they just remained quiet, none of this would have happened.  But, that is not the way it happened.  They made a big deal out of it, and suddenly I discovered my picture on the front page of the Greenpoint paper under the headline "Lesbian pastor gets married."

I was scared beyond belief.  I was hurt, angry, beyond afraid. And I was young, so young.  Suddenly, the world knew that I was gay, married and that my father had lost his job because he supported me and my marriage. I got emails from high school friends who had read about all this on cnn.com. I got hate mail from random ministers.  The church got hate mail from random ministers. I had no idea what to do next.  Suddenly, prayer had far more meaning for me.  Immediately, God took over.  And, between the intersection of prayer and God, something beautiful happened.  The Greenpoint congregation began to grow.  And grow and grow and grow. It grew in the depth of its prayer life.  It grew in its ability to welcome all people.  It did exactly what it was supposed to - it had faith that God would find a way forward.

We went from 10 to 20 in a month, then from 20 to 30 in another month. And before you begin to think that this church is full of a bunch of gay people, don't go there.  These are Ozzy and Harriet people - married heterosexuals with two kids.  Most were previously unchurched or dechurched.  One had roots in the RCA, but had left it years ago because of the deep racism present in the denomination.  These are people who saw a married lesbian pastor and felt God's call to come inside.  These are people who had been hurt by religion in the past, but are willing to give God one more try.  These are people who are hungry to learn about the gospel.  These are people who are excited to do ministry in new and exciting ways that are actually relevant to our time and context.  In the course of a year, the Greenpoint Reformed Church went from being the doormat of the classis to being one of the healthiest congregations around.  This isn't because I am such a great pastor.  It's because the Holy Spirit is present and alive on Milton Street.  And it's because this church has always been full of faith in the One who is the beginning and end of all things.  Miracles happen here.

There is a pastor shortage around these parts  There is also a money shortage around these parts.  I work a second job to be able to afford to pastor the church.  The question that the NY Classis isn't dealing with is if I wasn't such a fool for Christ, who else would be caring for this church?  The answer is NO ONE.  Many people in the NY Classis would prefer that this church be small, poor and pastorless (or perhaps out and out closed) than be growing, faithful and led by a pastor in a same-sex marriage.  They would rather people in this community go without hearing the life saving message of the gospel of our Lord than to hear it from a lesbian. 

And that is how we arrived at this place. Where we go from here, I do not know.  But I do know that there is nothing in the standards of the Reformed Church that should keep me from serving as this congregation's ordained minister.  People say that  there are rules and regulations in the standards, but there aren't.  What there is, though, are real words of comfort: "That I am not my own, but belong body and soul to my faithful savior Jesus Christ."  I belong to the body of Christ.  Married or single.  Gay or straight.  We all belong to  the body of Christ.  I'm not saying that every church in the RCA should accept having a gay minister.  I am saying that this one shouldn't be kept from having a minister just because the one God sent them is gay.

People in Canada or Michigan or Iowa have their own contexts in which they do ministry.  Greenpoint, to,  has a unique context.  And in this context a married, gay pastor is the one whom God has sent to do the job of leading a revitalizing congregation.  And that's what we'll do in response to the classis vote - we'll continue to do ministry in this time and this place so that God's light might shine in an often dark corner of the world.  Because as our synod excutive learned several years ago, God hasn't yet sent the message to Greenpoint that we're to close our doors for good.  There's ministry to be done and while the poor player that is the institutional church struts and frets its hour upon the stage, we've got work to do.

Comments

[RogueMonk]

Wow. Somebody remembered Canada. ;) Thanks, Ann.

Blessings, RogueMonk

[Marey]

Wow! I am all goose bumpy and teary eyed at what I have just read.

You are SO special! Now I know why Carol Hegeman thinks so much of you! (I think I knew it anyway!)

This is such an incredible statement of love, committment, and purpose that you have made. It is what Christ is all about - loving and accepting and empowering ALL of us.

Blessings and peace to you,

Marey

[Wendy]

Ann, thank you so much for sharing your story. I know a little about the persecution of the church toward gays and lesbians, and share in your pain. (I was involved in a church that was kicked out of the Southern Baptist Convention of Texas because of another ministry I was involved in that was reaching out to the gay and lesbian population in our small city -- we, too, are still feeling the pain of it all) I am sorry that the church is so closed to the working and blessing of the Holy Spirit.

I encourage you and the people of Greenpoint to continue your mission and ministry together. Ordination comes through the Spirit and is confirmed by the body of Christ ... it seems to me the body of Christ at Greenpoint is affirming your call. You go girl!

[Songbird]

Ann, you are a blessing.

[Rev. Dr. Mom]

Ann, I am so sorry you have to go through this, and I thank God for your strong witness. My own demonimation (Episcopal, and much in the news of late) is not without these struggles, and it makes me incredibly sad that we lose sight of what is really important in our hangups about sexuality.

Blessings on your continued ministry!

[JarredH]

Ann,

I think what amazes me most about this story is the complete lack of bitterness, as well as the complete infusion of hope and expectation. Your journey has not been an easy one, and yet you've done so much to make every step of it as fruitful and full of compassion as you can. I think that in itself deserves to be honored.

It sounds to me as if your congregation is not only blessed by your service, but full of the grace necessary to realize that fact.

[James Brumm]

Amen and amen . . . to what you said and to all the comments above.

Sorting out where I am about gays and lesbians in the ministry has never been a problem; how can we doubt that some folks, including you, are called by God? Once that's decided, and once you say "yes, truly, with all my heart" to the work and witness of our strange little RCA (foolish as that sometimes seems to some of us, the question is settled for me.

The question of gay and lesbian marriage is more of a problem for me. I'm not as good a theologian as your dad, Ann, and I still struggle with the theological implications. But, in watching the shameful way some of my own brothers and sisters in Christ have acted towards you, your family, and your congregation, I have no doubt that Christ is standing with you, not them. When my son, Christopher (who was in Confirmation Class and reading the Heidelberg Catechism when everything blew up) asks me how people who say we believe what's in the Heidelberg can act this way, I am reinforced in my new thinking. Here I stand, I can do no other.

My prayers are always with you and Greenpoint. While it is the Spirit who ordains, God has given tremendous authority to the Church (as the Heidelberg reminds us), now beind mis-used by parts of this RCA that reared both of us; we have to shake the church 'til it comes to its senses. Let me know if there is ever any way I can help.

[Marie]

Wow. Just found you through the RGBP roundup. Your wrote that story well. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen and I'm so sorry that the RCA thinks you're "unordainable". But apparently it won't keep you from doing what God has called you to do. Bravo for you. I'm struggling with what my own church (Episcopal) is doing right now and hoping that by the time I finish seminary they'll still be willing to ordain an out, partnered lesbian. My prayers are with you.

[Mary Beth]

Dear Ann,

You continue to amaze me. This is my new motto:

"There's ministry to be done and while the poor player that is the institutional church struts and frets its hour upon the stage, we've got work to do."

Amen and thank God for you.

[ann]

Dear All,
Thanks for your lovely notes. I do appreciate them. You've been so kind and supportive. I'm very blessed.

[mibi52]

Blessings, and thanks for sharing your story. Hang in there...our denominations will figure out (one of these days) that we all of us have gifts to bring to the table and it would be foolish and wasteful not to welcome us and our gifts to participate.