Pride and Pentecost
On the road to living as an out bisexual man, one of the first “coming out” conversations I had was with my seminary friend Adam: a gay, libertarian, Lutheran pastor who was also an extra in the movie Wet Hot American Summer (I often refer to him my “most interesting friend” for those reasons). I wanted to pick Adam’s brain because he, like me, hailed from a conservative, evangelical faith tradition, and had to do the hard work of coming to terms with his sexuality within such a milieu. For Adam, part of that work meant training to serve in a denomination that calls and equips queer people to ministry (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America). As I stared down my seminary graduation, and considered my career prospects in ministry, I’d been contemplating whether to transition out of my own faith tradition (Pentecostalism) to one more amenable to my sexual orientation. I anticipated that coming out as queer while worshipping in a charismatic church might be traumatic, and unfortunately, I turned out to be right on that count. But now, even after a year of church-fueled frustration and trauma, I find myself recalling something Adam said that night, which has kept me holding onto charismatic Christianity by my fingernails.
I’ll share what he said in a moment, but first, allow me a quick tangent. One of the elements of Pentecostalism I have always found most captivating is its tendency, motivated by the primacy of the Holy Spirit, to make room for those on the margins to preach, teach and pastor. Take, for instance, the 1906 Azusa Street Revival, which sparked the modern Pentecostal movement, and which was spearheaded by William J. Seymour, a black preacher and son of freed slaves. Indeed, half a century before Americans wrestled with civil rights and systemic racism on a national scale, the Spirit was calling and empowering black preachers to edify mixed-race congregations in Los Angeles, CA.
Or consider Foursquare, a charismatic denomination founded by Aimee Semple McPherson in the early 1920s, which included women preachers from its very inception, years before certain more “progressive” mainline denominations made the same move. In fact, most charismatic denominations have consistently ordained women to ministry, even in light of certain verses of Scripture which seem to preclude the possibility (1 Tim 2:12). This raises the question: Why do Pentecostal churches, typically known for their traditional values and conservative interpretations of Scripture, adopt a more nuanced reading of those verses which other denominations leverage to keep women silent?
The answer’s actually pretty simple: because in the infancy of the Pentecostal movement, there was no other option. When the Spirit descended upon these early charismatic congregations, women preached and prophesied, and could not be stopped. Preachers of color taught white audiences without a second thought. As is Her wont, the Spirit broke down social barriers in order to bring God’s people together.
That’s been the pattern since the Church’s foundational moments. On the Day of Pentecost (for which Pentecostals are named), the Spirit of God descended upon the crowds, enabling seekers to begin speaking one another’s languages, disintegrating linguistic barriers so folks from different nations, lands and cultures could communicate with one another (Acts 2:5-12). For that reason, certain theologians have referred to the day as a kind of reverse Babel scenario. Where once language became an obstacle to human communication, God’s Spirit now rendered it a source of unity and connection.
Back to that night, with Adam. The conversation had mostly revolved around my grief over the idea of leaving my church. After all, besides the issue of human sexuality, I’ve always profoundly resonated with many aspects of the Pentecostal impulse: the charismatic worship style, the premium placed on personal experience of God’s presence, the centrality of the Holy Spirit, the ordination of women to ministry. I agonized over the idea of leaving it all behind for a denomination that might affirm my sexuality, but would resonate with little else about my theology or ministry style.
Then Adam blew my mind. He encouraged me that I need not leave it behind, because Pentecostal Christianity might already have the tools necessary to affirm queer identity, even to include queer Christians in church leadership. I forget the wording, but the gist of his point was: charismatics should have all the theological justification they need to release queer people in ministry, because the Spirit will fall on whomever It will, and we don't really have the right or authority to second-guess that. If we see evidence of the Spirit in someone’s ministry, how can we then deny its legitimacy? If we bear witness to the Breath of God transforming and sanctifying a human life, it is neither our duty nor our place to refute that work.
Recall the teachers of the law who misattributed the ministry of Christ to the work of the devil in Matthew 12. It was this crowd who received Christ’s most blistering rebuke: “people will be forgiven for every sin and blasphemy, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven” (Matthew 12:31, emphasis added). Do not attribute the work of God’s Spirit to the devil. This is an unforgivable blasphemy. Instead, judge a tree by its fruit (Matthew 12:33). See God’s good work and celebrate it, even (and perhaps especially) in the lives of queer people.
Being a queer charismatic is a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, Pentecostal churches are most likely to try and exorcise the “demon of homosexuality” out of their queer congregants, which is traumatic at best, and can destroy lives at worst. On the other hand, however, Pentecostal churches teach their members how to experience the presence of God’s Spirit in moments big and small, how to hear God’s Still Small Voice, and heed its call into lives of beauty and adventure. As a charismatic, even a queer one, I have access to the Spirit of God which actively calls me to love, serve and empower God’s people.
They taught me how to hear God’s voice. This is a gift even the most corrupt human institutions may never take away from me.
What God has called clean, let not man call unclean (Acts 10:15). Those whom God has called to preach, let not man silence. God will bless whomever He wishes with the gifts of His Spirit, which is an uncontainable fire that fills the space between us, connecting us with one another, breaking down every conceivable barrier, in order to transform humanity into God’s likeness. Just as the Spirit once dissolved barriers between races and genders (“There is neither Greek nor Jew, slave nor free, male nor female” Galatians 3:28), so now ought we allow Her to break down any wall blocking LGBTQ Christians from belonging, and indeed serving, in God’s beloved family.
Today is Pentecost Sunday, the day of the church calendar set aside to reflect on the precious way God united humanity in worship across cultural and linguistic boundaries under the Lordship of Christ. June also marks Pride month, when LGBTQ folks unite in solidarity to honor the struggles we have overcome together. The two celebrations, Pride and Pentecost, don’t always coincide, but how blessed for them to do so now, to remind us that God’s Pentecost Spirit invigorating our hearts, lives and ministries, straight and queer alike, ought be a profound source of Pride.
I’ll share what he said in a moment, but first, allow me a quick tangent. One of the elements of Pentecostalism I have always found most captivating is its tendency, motivated by the primacy of the Holy Spirit, to make room for those on the margins to preach, teach and pastor. Take, for instance, the 1906 Azusa Street Revival, which sparked the modern Pentecostal movement, and which was spearheaded by William J. Seymour, a black preacher and son of freed slaves. Indeed, half a century before Americans wrestled with civil rights and systemic racism on a national scale, the Spirit was calling and empowering black preachers to edify mixed-race congregations in Los Angeles, CA.
Or consider Foursquare, a charismatic denomination founded by Aimee Semple McPherson in the early 1920s, which included women preachers from its very inception, years before certain more “progressive” mainline denominations made the same move. In fact, most charismatic denominations have consistently ordained women to ministry, even in light of certain verses of Scripture which seem to preclude the possibility (1 Tim 2:12). This raises the question: Why do Pentecostal churches, typically known for their traditional values and conservative interpretations of Scripture, adopt a more nuanced reading of those verses which other denominations leverage to keep women silent?
The answer’s actually pretty simple: because in the infancy of the Pentecostal movement, there was no other option. When the Spirit descended upon these early charismatic congregations, women preached and prophesied, and could not be stopped. Preachers of color taught white audiences without a second thought. As is Her wont, the Spirit broke down social barriers in order to bring God’s people together.
That’s been the pattern since the Church’s foundational moments. On the Day of Pentecost (for which Pentecostals are named), the Spirit of God descended upon the crowds, enabling seekers to begin speaking one another’s languages, disintegrating linguistic barriers so folks from different nations, lands and cultures could communicate with one another (Acts 2:5-12). For that reason, certain theologians have referred to the day as a kind of reverse Babel scenario. Where once language became an obstacle to human communication, God’s Spirit now rendered it a source of unity and connection.
Back to that night, with Adam. The conversation had mostly revolved around my grief over the idea of leaving my church. After all, besides the issue of human sexuality, I’ve always profoundly resonated with many aspects of the Pentecostal impulse: the charismatic worship style, the premium placed on personal experience of God’s presence, the centrality of the Holy Spirit, the ordination of women to ministry. I agonized over the idea of leaving it all behind for a denomination that might affirm my sexuality, but would resonate with little else about my theology or ministry style.
Then Adam blew my mind. He encouraged me that I need not leave it behind, because Pentecostal Christianity might already have the tools necessary to affirm queer identity, even to include queer Christians in church leadership. I forget the wording, but the gist of his point was: charismatics should have all the theological justification they need to release queer people in ministry, because the Spirit will fall on whomever It will, and we don't really have the right or authority to second-guess that. If we see evidence of the Spirit in someone’s ministry, how can we then deny its legitimacy? If we bear witness to the Breath of God transforming and sanctifying a human life, it is neither our duty nor our place to refute that work.
Recall the teachers of the law who misattributed the ministry of Christ to the work of the devil in Matthew 12. It was this crowd who received Christ’s most blistering rebuke: “people will be forgiven for every sin and blasphemy, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven” (Matthew 12:31, emphasis added). Do not attribute the work of God’s Spirit to the devil. This is an unforgivable blasphemy. Instead, judge a tree by its fruit (Matthew 12:33). See God’s good work and celebrate it, even (and perhaps especially) in the lives of queer people.
Being a queer charismatic is a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, Pentecostal churches are most likely to try and exorcise the “demon of homosexuality” out of their queer congregants, which is traumatic at best, and can destroy lives at worst. On the other hand, however, Pentecostal churches teach their members how to experience the presence of God’s Spirit in moments big and small, how to hear God’s Still Small Voice, and heed its call into lives of beauty and adventure. As a charismatic, even a queer one, I have access to the Spirit of God which actively calls me to love, serve and empower God’s people.
They taught me how to hear God’s voice. This is a gift even the most corrupt human institutions may never take away from me.
What God has called clean, let not man call unclean (Acts 10:15). Those whom God has called to preach, let not man silence. God will bless whomever He wishes with the gifts of His Spirit, which is an uncontainable fire that fills the space between us, connecting us with one another, breaking down every conceivable barrier, in order to transform humanity into God’s likeness. Just as the Spirit once dissolved barriers between races and genders (“There is neither Greek nor Jew, slave nor free, male nor female” Galatians 3:28), so now ought we allow Her to break down any wall blocking LGBTQ Christians from belonging, and indeed serving, in God’s beloved family.
Today is Pentecost Sunday, the day of the church calendar set aside to reflect on the precious way God united humanity in worship across cultural and linguistic boundaries under the Lordship of Christ. June also marks Pride month, when LGBTQ folks unite in solidarity to honor the struggles we have overcome together. The two celebrations, Pride and Pentecost, don’t always coincide, but how blessed for them to do so now, to remind us that God’s Pentecost Spirit invigorating our hearts, lives and ministries, straight and queer alike, ought be a profound source of Pride.
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