🏳️‍🌈With allies like these, who needs adversaries?

Abandoning Christianity, drag shows in church, appearing to cheer political violence, dismissing dissent and other ways to set the cause of same-sex marriage backwards, not forwards.

Support for same-sex marriage is starting to slip. And I’m worried. I long for a day when a future same-sex relationship would be accepted and respected within the broader Christian community. And I see that future being threatened by some “inclusive” churches that have become less focused on Christianity and more focused on a form of ideological activism that is deeply alienating.

One example is a church in Austin that I used to attend. A little more than a week before Easter, the pastor appeared in a Facebook video titled “Don’t trust in Christianity,” and at one point shared the following:

I keep finding reasons to trust in Jesus. Now, that’s not the same as trusting in Christianity. Don’t trust Christianity much. No, I sure don’t.

Last weekend, I had the privilege of attending a retreat for LGBT Christians across the country. Many have been kicked out of families, churches and friend groups. Yet they still remain deeply committed to Christianity.

Groups like CenterPeace, The Reformation Project, Wilshire Baptist, Restore Austin and numerous others have worked tirelessly for years to show that churches can be firmly rooted in Christianity and Scripture while becoming affirming of same-sex relationships. Just last month, Matthew Vines, who leads The Reformation Project, released an updated version of “God and the Gay Christian,” with new scholarship, perspectives and responses to common critiques.

You can watch Vines’ in-depth look into the topic of “usery” (charging interest on loans) in the Bible and how it parallels the discussion on same-sex marriage.

Flippant, dismissive comments about Christianity only undermine that important work. This church, which I will refer to as “DTC” for “Don’t trust in Christianity,” is also undermining support for same-sex marriage by:

• Showing open disdain for people from conservative areas,

• Elevating toxic people to leadership positions without accountability,

• Needlessly provoking and alienating people, and

• Dismissing the voices of those they claim to champion.

I’ve written about this before. But I want to expand on my concerns in a more direct way so that people will understand that many LGBT Christians want churches centered on Jesus, not their identities. I also hope to make clear that many ideological activists who claim to speak for LGBT Christians are often speaking over them.

Showing open disdain for people living in conservative areas

“Ugh, well I’m sure you were glad to get out of there.”

This was a common response I would get when I told people at DTC I grew up in Lubbock (West Texas). This response came from church members. From ministry staff. From the lead pastor.

I was dating a guy still living in Lubbock at the time, and he would get the same reaction. We talked about finding a different place to worship because we were always stunned at how alienating the church was.

Plenty of Sundays, the lead pastor would insert a joke about people from red areas, or mock conservative politicians (not just Trump).

When my parents would visit from Lubbock, I would sit in the pews anxiously: Please don’t mock people from conservative areas today. Please don’t belittle people who disagree politically or theologically this morning.

My dad was an elder at a conservative church. Yet he was willing to visit a progressive church his gay son attended. I doubt the people sitting around him would be willing to sit through a sermon at my childhood church in Lubbock.

I attended DTC for about two years and even volunteered in the children’s ministry. When I left DTC, I made it a point to share my concerns with a board member (we’ll call her Sheila) and her husband. I had grown close to them. Sheila’s husband had for decades been an elder at a previous church I attended. She was known for opening her home to others and probably volunteers more than any person I’ve ever met. I was also part of a regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians that Sheila and her husband graciously hosted.

I trusted them.

I shared how partisan and sneering the place felt. I also shared how the sermons seemed more focused on identity and trauma than Scripture. Others had shared the same concerns. Repeatedly.

A same-sex couple I was close to had also recently left this church. One of them had been a DTC board member. But they were looking for a church more rooted in Scripture.

By the time I left, nearly everyone in a friend group of about 10 had left for various reasons, including those who identified as LGBT. A straight couple that led a small group at DTC had also left over concerns the church was fully deconstructing from Christianity.

At the time, it was announced that the financial situation of the church was dire. It wasn’t hard to guess why: people kept leaving.

I had hoped by being another voice expressing concern, especially as a gay person, that the church might make changes. Based on the direction of the church since, those concerns fell on deaf ears.

Elevating toxic people to leadership positions without accountability

Hours after the first assassination attempt on Donald Trump, someone listed as a church board member (we’ll call him Neil) reposted the following on Instagram:

Political violence is the most American of all values. It is immortalized as a right and duty in the Declaration of Independence. It is inscribed on every monument. It is written in blood on every page of American history.

A man—a husband and father—was dead. Two were injured.

I had seen numerous incendiary posts from Neil over the past few months, but this was the worst.

I reached out to Sheila with my concerns that this was unbecoming of a board member. I shared multiple examples. Neil (who is gay) was listed as a board member on the church’s website, but Sheila informed me he had recently stepped down. She asked: “Have you reached out to him?”

I didn’t have to wait long for the opportunity.

A few weeks later, I posted on social media about meeting a favorite author of mine and shared a recent New York Times op-ed he produced.

Neil responded with multiple aggressive messages. He disagreed with the op-ed:

Sounds like he kind of just wants everyone to shut up. Felt like he very much wanted to use the word woke to describe progressive protestors, in a derogatory way. And that’s how we end up in this polarizing world we are in right now.

It was amusing what Neil found polarizing given his social media feed.

In my response, I noted I had seen many social media posts from him that I strongly disagreed with but had never reached out to start a debate. I also stated I felt his posts often lacked nuance and that “as long as you are listed as a board member on [DTC] website, I wish you gave more thought to how your posts come across.”

This set him off. I received a lengthy, heated message. Then another. And another. And another. The first (of three) paragraphs in the first (of four) messages read:

Wow. Okay. That’s a lot to take in. Firstly, I am not a staff member at [DTC]. I am a volunteer. This whole desire to police my social media presence is very reminiscent of an evangelical environment that I left behind ages ago.

The final message:

I wish you well. We aren’t going to see eye to eye. I’m glad you got that off your chest, and I’m sorry that I misinterpreted our connection as one where I could open a dialogue.

Not only was Neil listed as a board member on DTC’s website, he was also a member of the regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians I attended.

I did not respond to the four messages. Neil later offered a mild apology for getting “a bit too heated.” But I had seen enough of how he handled conflict.

I was not surprised the interaction went this way. Neil was notorious for his online behavior. After this incident, I asked a group of friends who had once attended DTC (but had left, like so many others), “Do y’all follow Neil on Instagram?”

Their eyes got wide. The first response: “What did he do now?” These were progressives with similar politics to Neil. But even they found his social media alienating.

I reported back to Sheila. Neil was still listed as a board member on the church’s website. Since Sheila had previously asked if I had contacted Neil, I shared screenshots of the heated interaction.

This time the response was curt: “He is coming back on the board, but I don’t see us censoring his posts.”

This response stunned me. I was also hurt by what felt like a deeply unfair characterization of my motives. Even after explaining I felt these posts reflected poorly on DTC specifically and The Church broadly, the framing was the same: Sheila would never want to “censor” anyone’s posts.

This only reinforced my sense that my concerns would never be taken seriously.

Needlessly provoking and alienating people

I had other clues DTC’s values seemed wildly out of place.

Last summer, the church decided to host a drag show for Pride month. The show, “Drag Me to Church,” was marketed as a “dragstravaganza of biblical proportions.” Being provocative was the point.

Because of the laws in Texas, the church was required to market the show as “18+.” Not only did a drag show have nothing to do with The Gospel or regular church functions, it also seemed needlessly provocative and alienating. (If a progressive church wants to encourage members to go somewhere else to a drag show, fine, it just seems inappropriate to take place within the church.)

I was still part of the regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians, many who had already left DTC for another church.

At least four LGBT members of this group had deep reservations about the drag show. But we kept our concerns to ourselves.

Why would we do otherwise?

Because of the decision to host a drag show, multiple families left. This was a church that advertises its progressiveness and “inclusion” of LGBT people at every opportunity. These likely weren’t conservatives and moderates leaving this church. And it definitely wasn’t because they opposed inclusion.

The drag show came at a time when the church was still in a serious financial situation after continually losing members. The financial situation was so strained that DTC was about to let go of its executive pastor, who had been there since its founding. The executive pastor was often a voice of moderation, which put him at odds with many of the more activist voices (Neil frequently clashed with him).

Months later, the children’s minister would leave and the additional responsibilities would be given to another staff member instead of hiring a replacement. Due to financial reasons.

The church literally couldn’t afford to keep alienating people. And yet it was.

Dismissing the voices of those they claim to champion

I had grown frustrated watching this church needlessly alienate people in the name of “inclusion,” especially since I felt I had no voice in a matter that impacted me personally.

I also began to feel like the regular dinner gathering, once a safe haven, was becoming stifling. A DTC board member and fellow dinner gathering attendee had lashed out at me online and when I raised concerns about his toxic behavior, I was accused of censorship and perpetuating evangelical culture. Now I had to put on a happy face like everything was fine.

I changed that last November.

I was reading Eliza Griswold’s “Circle of Hope,” about the implosion of a progressive church. The parallels seemed obvious: the elevation of toxic people into leadership positions, only listening to a narrow range of voices, rampant tribalism.

I chose to write a review of “Circle of Hope” on Substack and included a section about an unnamed “church I used to attend” that also seemed to be replacing Christianity with an activist ideology, noting the drag show as a prime example.

Presenting the facts was not difficult. In one passage, I merely pointed out what was on DTC’s website:

The dominant word this church uses to describe itself is “progressive.” The short description on its social media is “An inclusive, progressive faith community.” It’s a word used on the website to describe the lead pastor (“progressive by nature”) and the first adjective used to describe it on the “About Us” page. Words you won’t find on that page: “Jesus,” “God” or “Christian.”

The response was swift. Within hours, Sheila sent a critical, 200+ word text message.¹ Sheila would never want to “censor” her fellow board member. But a former member—a gay person—questioning this “inclusive” church’s decisions? That had to be addressed—immediately.

According to Sheila, “there was absolutely nothing inappropriate or offensive in the content” of the drag show and “I hope [DTC] has the honor and privilege of hosting them again.”

Sheila also believed, “To imply that we aren’t a Jesus centered church because it isn’t mentioned on the website is wrong and misleading.”

Among the criticisms, Sheila took issue with my choice to contrast DTC with another affirming church, Restore, that had chosen a different path (including not co-hosting the drag show) and hadn’t suffered the same loss of members and finances. In her view, “Both churches need to encourage each other and lift each other up in our differences.”²

Was Neil admonished about the need “to lift each other up in our differences”?

When I repeatedly pointed out Sheila’s double standard over what I posted online compared to what Neil posted online, she only dug in: “I don’t recall you asking for a conversation with [DTC], but were asking me to censor [Neil], which I wasn’t and still am not open to doing.”

After multiple tense exchanges, we reached an impasse. Once again, my concerns as a gay person fell on deaf ears.

The next day, I got an emotional email from a former DTC board member, who is gay (we’ll call him Joe). He was also a part of the regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians and had been coordinating with Sheila after my post. He asked if my pastor had read what I wrote (I shudder to think how Neil would have reacted had I asked him the same question). At one point, Joe asked: “Maybe you need to consider your feelings toward gay Christians.”

When I asked him to clarify what he meant (because it sounded like he was accusing me of internalized homophobia), he instead ended his next emotional email with “you can respond but I’m done on this topic.”³

After shutting down the conversation (that he began), the former board member reached out to a mutual friend in our regular dinner gathering to share his grievances about me.

I’m doubtful he was later admonished to “lift each other up in our differences.”

This “progressive faith community” doesn’t believe in inclusion

I no longer attend that regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians. I loved that community. For more than three years, I had attended almost every month. It had once felt like a safe refuge for me. But it’s difficult when three of the people—including the host—have been aggressive towards me while appearing incapable of having a good-faith conversation.

I don’t feel welcome at that table anymore. So I made a choice to leave.⁴

This church doesn’t trust in Christianity (and it shows), but I’m not sure they believe in inclusion either. If there was one word I would use to describe how I feel in relation to this church, it would be: “marginalized.”

Being a gay Christian is hard enough without friendly fire from “Proud Allies.”

DTC is alienating to conservatives and moderates. It is alienating to liberals and progressives. It is alienating to straight allies. It is alienating to LGBT Christians.

This church is needlessly edgy and provocative. It holds drag shows. Board members can share incendiary posts about political violence. The pastor posts on Facebook, “Don’t trust in Christianity.”

But this behavior isn’t considered counterproductive. What is counterproductive is a gay person raising concerns about it. Many of these same people cheered and warmly embraced me when I critiqued a conservative “church I used to attend,” only to scold me when the critiques were directed at a progressive “church I used to attend.”⁵ Now, I was being admonished about the need “to lift each other up in our differences.”

Rather than ever looking inward, DTC seems to believe the problem is always out there: COVID, conservative evangelicals, Ryan’s Mean Substack.

And it’s LGBT Christians who suffer from all this. Needlessly alienating people does nothing to further LGBT inclusion and build lasting support for same-sex marriage. If anything, it deeply undermines it.

What many LGBT Christians actually want

Because I do care deeply about gay Christians, I regularly attend the CenterPeace Conference in Dallas, Texas. Every two years, this gathering of LGBT Christians is a place for people from a variety of journeys and backgrounds to come together.

Thanks to the welcoming, inclusive environment, it’s only grown. The event is held at Wilshire Baptist, a large church in Dallas that continues to thrive thanks to remaining deeply rooted in Scripture while becoming fully affirming.

CenterPeace is led by Sally Gary, a dear friend I’ve known for years who is the embodiment of grace. Her wife, Karen, is also a model of patience and understanding. I’m looking forward to an upcoming book Karen co-edited, “Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference: Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender.” As you can tell from the title, the book is about having important, difficult conversations with grace.

The CenterPeace Conference hosts numerous prominent LGBT Christian speakers, like Justin Lee, whose book “Torn” was formative in my journey. His second book, “Talking Across the Divide,” shares ways to talk to those you disagree with and the need for better dialogue.

Matthew Vines, author of “God and the Gay Christian,” also leads The Reformation Project, which equips LGBT Christians to have fruitful conversations about their view of scripture, to persuade rather than alienate.

These are all people deeply committed to Christianity. Its practices, beliefs and traditions are worth trusting in and holding fast to.⁶

There are many LGBT Christians willing to go great lengths to find a Jesus-centered community. Like one reader of mine, JRichardBriggs, who said he and his partner “drive an hour each way every Sunday to attend a church in a different city - one that fully includes us as a gay couple, but doesn't at all resemble a 'Gay Pride Church.’”

What about those not living in one of the most LGBT-friendly cities in the world?

One of the more impactful speakers was a gay couple living in West Texas who still attended a non-affirming conservative church. They earned enough trust with the elders over the years to create a small group for gay Christians. This took time and patience, and its existence is not guaranteed.

When I think about who benefits from drag shows in a church, it’s certainly not the gay Christians in conservative areas like West Texas.

I was once on a text chain with a group of people I met at DTC who described people living in one of the surrounding conservative suburbs as “enemies.” One of the ministers in that suburb who pastors a large conservative church is a good friend and recently told me over lunch he’s 99% there personally on fully supporting same-sex marriage. He is weighing what that means for his career and church.

It may be easy for those living in progressive places like Austin to write off people in conservative areas, but it’s deeply counterproductive.

“Inclusive” doesn’t have to mean insular and intolerant

One of the speakers at last year’s CenterPeace Conference was Zach Lambert, my dear friend and pastor at Restore Austin. What I appreciate about his sermons at Restore is that whether you’re conservative, moderate, liberal or progressive, you’re probably going to get your toes stepped on most Sundays.

In a recent sermon about “inclusion,” Zach had this to share:

“Jesus didn’t just trade one exclusionary stance for another. This is what we often do. When we feel excluded, we have a tendency to exclude the excluders right back… Jesus created the first truly inclusive table of all, where prostitutes and tax collectors sat next to priests and teachers of the law. A place where everyone is called to set aside their biases, take up their cross and follow him.”

This is something echoed by leaders across Restore. And it leads to a very different culture.

Once, in a small group message, a member made an unfortunate joke about the first Trump assassination attempt. I chimed in to ask that we avoid joking about the event, especially since a man had died. The group member—one of the kindest people I know—immediately apologized. The group leader later texted me to say, “thank you for the gentle reminder to everyone that Christ has called us to be better than this.”

That text exchange led to a discussion of how we could have better discussions as a group. A few weeks later, our small group discussed a podcast episode, “Talking to people you disagree with.”

The leader of that small group is now a board member—chosen for her maturity, character, grace and, most importantly, her commitment to Christianity.

When my parents come to visit Restore, I don’t have to worry about people like them (conservatives) being mocked from the pulpit. In fact, during the lead-up to the 2024 Election, Zach did a whole sermon series on countering tribalism with topics like “Love one another,” “Love your enemies,” and “Resisting polarization.”

Even though I no longer attend that regular dinner gathering of LGBT Christians, I’ve been able to stay in touch with several of the members since many now attend Restore after leaving DTC.

Restore continues to grow. After several years in a middle school gym, the church is in discussions about expanding into a larger facility in north Austin. The building will open up numerous opportunities for this thriving church.

By holding fast to Christianity, hopefully groups like CenterPeace, The Reformation Project, Restore and countless LGBT Christians can continue to build and maintain bridges that groups like DTC are burning down.

1. More details about the text can be found in the footnotes of the “Circle of Hope” post.

2. If your church’s message is “Don’t Trust in Christianity” and is needlessly alienating people, I’m not going to encourage you in that.

3. I felt I was respectful in this exchange, but Joe disagreed. Joe began by stating, “I believe in free speech,” which was my first clue that Sheila had updated him on our conversation. And that Sheila had willfully misinterpreted my concerns to be about “censorship” when I was trying to point out her double standard with Neil.

I ended my first email by asking, “Did [Sheila] by any chance set you up to this?” which I could have worded differently and apologized in the next email. But my hunch that Joe had been in contact with Sheila was proved correct when Neil began his next emotional email by stating he had been the one to reach out to Sheila. Then Joe, who had framed my argument as “[DTC] is too gay” and questioned whether I cared about gay Christians, admonished me that “You are not very respectful!” and abruptly shut down the conversation and ranted about me to others.

4. The only communication from either Sheila or her husband since the fallout was a perfunctory text from Sheila about one month later: “I hope you are having a great holiday month and that you will come join us for Just Dinner Saturday night. Would love to see you.” No acknowledgment of the relational fallout. No effort at reconciliation. Just an invite to the regular dinner gathering as if everything was fine and no work needed to be done to repair the relationship.

I wasn’t about to pretend like nothing happened. I wasn’t about to pretend the host of a beloved gathering hadn’t teamed up with another member against me, a member who implied I had internalized homophobia. I wasn’t going to put on a happy face and show up just so a “proud ally” could save face.

I had attended that group regularly for more than three years. I deserved better than one perfunctory text.

5. When I shared the critical post mentioning a more conservative “church I used to attend” with the pastor of that church, he graciously responded that he would share it with the elders of the church and that it was “extremely helpful.” Rather than getting defensive or dismissive, he chose to take the post as an opportunity to learn and better serve his church.

In that same post, I also mentioned my alma mater by name and critiqued an op-ed a former professor of mine wrote. A few weeks after the post, the professor emailed to ask if I was interested in his response since he felt I was “writing and thinking about this in good faith.” This led to a respectful exchange that ended with a pleasant discussion about how the journalism department was doing. The last time I was on campus, we got lunch to catch up.

I have stayed in touch with both my former professor and my former pastor.

6. Technically, the regular gathering of LGBT Christians at Sheila’s home is affiliated with CenterPeace, but I would argue it has strayed far from the founder’s original vision.