stumblewyk

5 years ago, if you'd have asked me the percentage chance that I'd be part of a small group of people guiding my church towards being open and affirming of LGBTQI+ people, I'd have put that number somewhere around 0%. Not because I didn't think those people shouldn't be welcome and accepted, but because I'd have told you that surely someone else was much better suited to that kind of role and responsibility. And yet, later this year my church will be voting on whether to do just that, and I've been part of the small team bringing us to this point.

10 years ago, I'd probably have told you that I wasn't sure how I felt about any of that. That “the LGBTQI+ question” was above my pay grade, and you know what it's just not my place to judge, so I don't want to have to think about it.

15 years ago, I'd have likely (and very squeamishly) said something to the effect of, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” *Yeah, I know.*

I grew up in a pretty traditionally conservatively Christian home. Not “capital E” Evangelical conservative, but still conservative. I even voted R a lot when I was younger, mostly because that's why my dad and the other people I grew up around did. I kind of...went R by default, I guess.

However, the older I became, the most diverse people I surrounded myself with, the more life experience I earned, the more confused I became; I was raised to think one thing, but my real world, practical experience was telling me something entirely different: “If I'm called to love all people, and if I believe that all people are deserving of dignity and respect, then how can I justify denying people that dignity if I love them?”

I wrestled with that for years. Literal years. Meanwhile, I'm making adult friends who are far more liberal-minded than I was, learning about the actual lived experiences of LGBTQI+ individuals, and continually questioning if I'm being intellectually honest with myself.

(Spoiler alert: I was not.)

I can't tell you what finally started shifting my mindset, I really can't. But one day I just understood that all people are people. There is nothing that differentiates any of us that truly matters. You, me, your neighbor, some dude halfway across the world; we're all just people. We're trying things, we're failing at most of them and occasionally even succeeding. We're struggling to make ends meet. We're trying to find someone who can love us, the way we deserve to be loved, and without conditions. Who cares who that person is? Why should I care who that person is for you, or you for them?

Once I made that leap, well, the rest just fell into place. If I can have compassion and try to understand one group of people, suddenly there was nothing stopping me from extending that to all groups of people.

Listen, I'm human. I get angry. I swear, drink, secretly wish a space rock would fall on the White House, and want to crash my truck into the idiot in front of me that can't figure out how to drive through a roundabout as much as anyone else does. But the difference between me now, and me 10, or 15 years ago is that I finally understand that I have the capacity to love everyone if I just remember that under different circumstances, with different opportunities and decisions, I could be in the same situation as anyone else I encounter on any given day, and wouldn't I want someone to love me without judging me if I were them?