Just Tell Them Who You Are

By Ben Fitzgerald-Fye

On November 8, the Kiskiminetas Presbytery held its debate and vote on Marriage Amendment 14-F and I had the great honor of being there as a ruling elder and as a gay, married man.  In the days leading up to that Saturday, I was in turmoil about my decision to enter this particular arena.  Religion and faith are things I have a complicated relationship with, and the act of essentially coming out again in a room full of Christians was not looking like an easy thing to do.  This Presbytery meeting would mark the first time I have ever announced my reality as a gay Christian.The week before the meeting I began to pray for guidance and, most of all, for words.  I read and reread Luke 21:14-15, “So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”  During this week long reflection, I had an intense conversation with God about reclaiming the right of gay and lesbian people to have faith and to shed the shame and fear we all knew too well.  I began to feel that Saturday’s debate was no longer about myself and my husband, it was about the nature of Christianity as an accepting and socially just force in a much larger world than rural Pennsylvania.At long last, Saturday arrived and I began to prepare myself for the worst.  I was not sure how I would react to listening to the voices of dissent and, after finding out that I would have only 2 minutes to speak, my mind began to race.  I repeated the words of Luke over and over again.  I prayed silently for words and, frankly, to not pass out or step on my tongue.  After lunch, 14-F was opened up and the discussion began.  Our amazing pastor, Brett Swanson, and I both stood up first and grabbed our little green “pro” cards.  While waiting to speak, I lost all sense of the room.  I heard only the words of Luke and my own catalogue of thoughts racing through my brain.  As our pastor offered his passionate words of support, one clear thought began to echo in my brain, “Just tell them who you are.” I stepped up to the microphone and told them that I am a ruling elder and that I am gay.  I told them that my husband and I have been together for 11 years and that this is not a symbolic issue for us.  I went on to express the problem with allowing us to serve as leaders and as trusted members of the denomination while withholding the blessings of marriage from us.  I also expressed the importance of inclusion to the hundreds of young people who will consider ending their lives because they have been told they are an abomination and not loved by God.  This, for me, was about throwing wide the gates of faith to give hope, home, and healing to the thousands of voiceless victims of abusive religion.  My two minutes ended and I returned to my seat.I listened to a litany of affirmative voices talking about inclusion, welcome, and the historical change in scriptural interpretation to be more inclusive of African-Americans and women.  These were powerful voices of a welcoming faith and a belief that God can do new things in new contexts.  I also listened to those who rose to speak against the amendment.  They were respectful in their tone and their reasons were the usual concepts of loving sinners, Scripture defining marriage, and even a little dig at white, western liberals.  There was also an undercurrent of fear in their words, fear of change and fear of having their traditions threatened.  I could empathize with fear and I tried to hear them with a compassionate heart even when the words hurt.The votes were counted and the outcome was as expected, the amendment was voted down.  There were more pro-votes than expected and what happened after the vote will stay with me forever.  As we were leaving, I was approached by several people who wanted to thank me and to offer words of encouragement.  One woman thanked me for giving a face to this issue, another expressed her gratitude for my words, and another told me about her gay son.  Then, I was approached by a very stern looking gentleman who shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “I had my mind made up until I heard from you.”  The kindness and the support was overwhelming and, even after losing the vote, I left there feeling so joyful that I cannot help but thank God for leading me to that moment.  I have always been “out” but this was the first time I have ever expressed my faith and my sexual identity at the same time and I could not have asked for a better outcome.This issue is intense and it is difficult.  Our brothers and sisters need to hear our stories.  As LGBT people of faith, we are called to a very special form of witness and testimony.  In my case, there was something personally and spiritually transformative about this process.  For me, I hope that this one Saturday in November marks the beginning of a dialogue and not the end of an issue.