Why the Church of the Nazarene Should Be Fully LGBTQ+ Affirming

By SacraSage Press

This book fundamentally changes the game for the Church of the Nazarene.

A growing number of people are calling for fresh conversations about sexuality and gender. And many want fundamental change. This book gives voice to those people.

There are strong reasons the Church of the Nazarene should become fully LG

• Language: English
• Publisher: SacraSage Press
• Release date: Apr 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781948609951

Book preview

Introduction

The essays in this book were written in response to an invitation. We (Tom and Alexa) invited people to contribute to a book we would title, Why the Church of the Nazarene Should be Fully LGBTQ+ Affirming. You’re reading that book.

Despite the shared theme, the essays published here are diverse. Some are written by queer people, and they narrate portions of their life journeys. Those narratives often include struggles and the eventual affirmation of their LGBTQ+ identities and experiences as healthy rather than sinful. Many felt persecuted by people and the culture of the Church of the Nazarene, so they left the denomination. They did not feel loved. Other queer people remain but feel marginalized, shamed, and traumatized.

Some essay writers are parents, siblings, or allies of LGBTQ+ people. Most who become fully affirming do so because of close relationships with queer loved ones. Some parents, for instance, felt compelled to rethink their views on LGBTQ+ matters after their children came out or identified as non-heteronormative. Many reevaluated what it means to live as healthy people in healthy societies. They now believe God loves and affirms queer people.

Some contributors to this book are pastors, scholars, or leaders in the church. They believe the denomination needs to change its views on human sexuality and the way it treats those who support queer people. Some of these writers call for honest conversations, including impunity for those who think current Manual statements fail to reflect well the love of Jesus.¹ In other essays, scholars explain why scripture, theology, and history support a fully affirming LGBTQ+ position.

By fully affirming, contributors don’t mean anything goes sexually. After all, not everything is beneficial, to quote the Apostle Paul (1 Cor. 10:23). Some sexual activity—homosexual and heterosexual—isn’t healthy, and life-long partnerships in marriage have immense value. They mean they fully affirm people with LGBTQ+ identities, orientations, and desires. The denomination’s current statement on human sexuality does not reflect well the love Jesus calls his followers to express.

Although this book has more than 90 contributors, one may think a tiny percentage of Nazarenes want change. But there are good reasons to believe hundreds of thousands in the denomination agree with the book’s contributors, and that number rises daily. A 2007 Pew poll showed that 31% of Americans who identify with the Church of the Nazarene thought society should accept homosexuality. That percentage jumped to 40% by 2014.² We suspect the percentage is higher today.

A Barna Report indicates that 46% of Christians under the age of 40 want laws to protect Same-Sex Marriage and LGBTQ+ rights.³ Two major takeaways from that Barna survey are 1) American Christians increasingly accept LGBTQ+ people and their healthy sexual behavior, and 2) younger American Christians are more accepting of queer people than older Americans.

Young people are leaving the Church of the Nazarene. Many believe the denomination’s views on human sexuality do not reflect the love of God. A 2008 poll of twenty religious groups said the holiness tradition—of which the Church of the Nazarene is the largest denomination—is the worst of all religious groups at retaining their young people. Only 32% of Nazarene youth remain.⁴ A similar poll in 2015 showed no change in this rate of exit.⁵

The Church of the Nazarene is global, of course, and while the USA segment is the strongest financially, it represents a fairly small in membership percentage overall. Our experience among European Nazarenes, however, is that the majority are more progressive on LGBTQ+ issues than American Nazarenes. But African and Latin-American Nazarenes are less progressive on this issue, and less progressive on other issues, such as women in leadership and modesty in dress.

These essays also tell a story. It’s a narrative about how a marginalized group has been mistreated and denied full acceptance. That story points to a loving and accepting God who calls us all to love and accept queer people. A peculiarly loving God loves peculiar people of all varieties and wants us to do the same. This love means full acceptance of LGBTQ+ people, their identities, orientations, and healthy sexual expressions.

As editors, we hope these essays foster that acceptance. We believe the Church of the Nazarene has something positive to offer the world. But the heart of the denomination’s message—love—has been muted and muffled by its statements about LGBTQ+ people.

In the spirit of spurring one another to love and good deeds, as the writer of Hebrews puts it (10:24), we offer this book.

—Thomas Jay Oord and Alexa Oord

A few words about language and about mental health…

We and many of our contributors use the term queer throughout this book, both as a synonym for LGBTQ+ and as a transformative lens for rethinking power and relationships. However, some members of the LGBTQ+ community don’t identify with queer—its history as a hateful slur may still be too painful. We embrace the term queer while leaving space for those who prefer other terms, an expansive approach embodied in the + in LGBTQ+ affirming.

For some, the terms queer, gay, heteronormative, trans, and more are confusing. This is understandable. The labels we use to describe the diverse people and issues are in flux. That’s the nature of language and labels: they change. But the change has been especially great in this area, as researchers work to better understand what many have kept hidden. To help readers, we’ve offered a short glossary of terms at the conclusion of the book.

Christians and the church have sometimes been the most unloving to LGBTQ+ people. And often this has led to mental health issues, among other negative outcomes. We know that reading some of these essays will be triggering for queer people and their allies who endure trauma related to abuse. Consequently, we’ve provide a short list of counseling and therapy resources to consult.

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1. The call for safe and irenic discussion of LGBTQ issues is also present among Church of the Nazarene clergy. See the doctoral work of Reg Watson on this matter (R. G. Watson, Nazarene Clergy Responses to Homosexuality and Interactions with LGBT People [Doctoral dissertation, Regent University, 2015]). See also Bruce Barnard’s research and preliminary writing in preparation for dissertation work, You’re Losing Us - The LGBTQ Community and the Church of the Nazarene.

2. See https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/12/18/most-u-s-christian-groups-grow-more-
accepting-of-homosexuality/

3. See https://www.barna.com/research/americas-change-of-mind-on-same-sex-marriage-and-
lgbtq-rights/

4. See http://thomasjayoord.com/index.php/blog/archives/atheists_only_slightly_worse_at_
retaining_children_than_holiness_folk

5. See https://www.pewforum.org/2015/05/12/chapter-2-religious-switching-and-intermarriage/
pr_15-05-12_rls_chapter2-04/

Part I

Queer Voices

Because I Want My Children to Live

Taryn Eudaly

The Church of the Nazarene is not a safe place for children.

I have always known I wanted children. It was a soul-deep, logically fueled desire that I simply could not ignore. After two miscarriages, one of which landed me in the hospital, nine months of anxiety and prayers, and twelve hours of labor, I held my first child in my arms. From the moment I laid my hand on their sweet head, I knew. I knew that I would give my last breath to protect this gift. And when children 2 and 3 were born, I knew that no one could come between them and me, that my fierce love would always choose their well-being.

It was a similar reaction when I found my place in the Church of the Nazarene. 23 years old and feeling the call to ministry, I had no church home. I found the local Church of the Nazarene via Google, and when I read the Statement of Faith, I saw the bones of my own salvation story written out. I exclaimed in recognition, That’s it! That’s what happened to me! When we attended our first service, the Holy Spirit said stay. And so, we did.

We stayed through those miscarriages and through the births of our next two children. We stayed through my local licensing and district licensing. We stayed through my ordination interviews and service. We stayed through move after move, deployments and retirement. But I can no longer stay. Because I want my kids to live.

It is well documented that the suicide rates for LGBTQ+ (queer) identifying children are significantly higher than for other children and youth. Similarly, we know having just one affirming and accepting adult or community can decrease the risk of suicide and the rates of feeling suicidal or considering suicide. There are stacks of evidence that queer children and youth are more likely to be queer in families with other queer members. Given how many queer clergy, queer members, and church members with queer family are in the Church of the Nazarene, statistically, every Church of the Nazarene is likely to have at least one queer person, probably a child or young adult, who is likely to consider suicide while attending that church.

It might even be one of my kids, because I am one of those queer clergy. Being married to a man for 16 years made it easy to be queer in the Church of the Nazarene. No one ever questioned me, no one ever worried about me, and our polity said that my own attractions were not a sin. So, I was happy to stay in the Church that educated me, taught me, and affirmed my call. I was delighted to be a part of the Nazarene family.

But as my children got older and I began to learn about the likelihood that one of them could be queer, and I began to learn about the risks of religious trauma and spiritual abuse for queer children, my perspective shifted. I began to look at our church through the eyes of someone who had no protective cover of a normal marriage, and what I saw terrified and saddened me. Church members prayed for their gay children to be delivered from the clutches of evil. Not even from romantic or sexual relationships, but just from the attractions they felt. Church Board members would espouse the evils of homosexuality, decry the brokenness of being transgender, and pray against the devil’s own work in the minds of queer folks. I was told by a District Superintendent that I could never out my queerness to church members. All of these were fully against our own Manual but accepted and encouraged by leadership, and they still defended their position using the Manual’s statement on human sexuality. Then I saw how unsafe and unstable it is for our queer and questioning kids to be in the Church of the Nazarene.

Still, I chose to stay. I love my mother church, and I love my brothers and sisters in faith. We often disagree, but that is how iron sharpens iron. I have been fully willing to be confined by the doctrines I agreed to when I made my ordination vows. I have been fully willing to be quiet about parts of who I am. I have been fully capable of facing the onslaught of unintentionally hateful talk around people like me. I have gently preached the gospel of love to the same folks who would swear I have the Devil in me because of things I can’t control (despite prayers and tears and struggles for years). I made this choice, over and over, because the Holy Spirit once told me to stay and never told me to leave. I had no problem submitting myself to the risks and pains of being queer in a non-affirming denomination when the Spirit called me to do it. But that is a choice I can only make for me. I have no right to decide to place my children in such dangerous environments.

It does not matter if my children identify as queer. What matters is that I would never know. For as long as I pastor a church that does not accept all of them, that will not love all of them, that speaks out against a hidden part of themselves, then they will never disclose such a thing to me. If my children cannot feel safe in the arms of the church I serve, how could they feel safe with me? If my children cannot feel safe in the arms of the Church, how can they ever trust the God whose name we claim?

It only takes one affirming place for a child to feel safe and loved for who they are. It only takes one adult who affirms their gender and sexuality to prevent suicide. It only takes one place where they will not be bullied or shamed for them to believe they can have a good life full of love and hope. And I want to be that person, that place. I want the Church to be that place. I want all children—mine and yours and the ones I’ll never know—to know that the Church of the Nazarene is a place so in tune with the love of the Triune God that they boldly declare let the little children come to me. Without qualifiers. Without disclaimers. Without spiritual violence.

So, I am leaving the Church of the Nazarene. Because it is not, and never has been, a safe place for me. Because it is not, and never has been, a loving place for all children. Because I am deeply pro-life. Because I believe in a God who does not hate. Because I believe that love covers a multitude of sins.

I am leaving the Church of the Nazarene because I want my children to live.

Taryn Eudaly is, at the time of writing, an ordained Elder in the Church of the Nazarene. She is a graduate of Portland Seminary (George Fox University) with a focused interest on the feminine roots of Holiness Churches in the 20th century. She lives in Portland, OR, with her three children and a hoard of coffee.

Scandalous Woman

Kara Hudson

The Nazarene Church turns its back on its own children to 
remain comfortable.

"When you are having a hard time, smile! In seven minutes, you will actually begin to feel happy."

My beloved missionary uncle gave us this premarital advice in our only meeting before the wedding. At 21 years old, I was marrying a much older man in less than six months from our first date. His loving advice works for the occasional stressor, but was insufficient to help me manage this relationship.

After 15 years of marriage, I found myself walking down a long hallway to the nurse’s station at the psychiatric hospital. For months, I had been separated from my husband, but in the same home. I could no longer pretend my Wife Role. When my children were not in my care, my depression was so deep that I was sleeping 22 hours a day. My concerned friend called my mother. Mom asked her to take me to my doctor. My doctor referred me to this mental hospital.

I knew my life would not ever return to normal. I wouldn’t survive it. But, I didn’t know how to follow this forbidden, necessary path so I could survive being Me. I was in shock.

This is my story.

My Nazarene Credentials

I came into the world with strong Nazarene credentials. I was born in Central America. My parents were Nazarene missionaries. My relatives were other missionaries and their families. I considered them aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. We were moved to a different country every single four-year term, with a furlough in the United States between each. That was ten international moves by the age of 17.

I still have a cartoon I drew in my youth of my missionary uncle who was in charge of missionary assignments. He was sitting at his desk in Kansas City with a chess board of Missionary Roles in front of him. My family members were the chess pieces. My chess piece wept as he moved it.

Both my parents graduated from a Nazarene college and were ordained elders in the Church of the Nazarene. My mother graduated from Nazarene Theological Seminary.

At age five, I was saved in my Nazarene church in Central America. I said the Jesus Prayer wholeheartedly on my knees again at age seven in a Nazarene house church in another war-torn country. I had to make sure the first time wasn’t just a dream. I didn’t want to accidentally go to hell.

I was baptized by my dad at age ten in the same war-torn country. I learned from the wars that life is short and people are precious. I lived each day as if it were my last—because it could be. I was entirely sanctified in a Nazarene revival in a South American country at age eleven. I truly wanted God to know I was committed. I loved people with all my heart.

I came to the United States and graduated from a Nazarene university with honors. I participated in Nazarene college missions trips to three countries, often in the role of translator.

I went to Nazarene Theological Seminary where I found myself to be a credential for unmarried future Nazarene ministers. Future male ministers needed a wife to be able to get a church.

I fell into a relationship with someone who seemed as disinterested in me as I was in the meat market at the seminary. I got my M-R-S degree and fell into the Wife Role. Soon after getting his Wife Credential, my husband had a church and was ordained an elder in the Church of the Nazarene.

I stated to numerous people that this felt like an arranged marriage by God. I hadn’t ever felt enamored by anybody the way I saw my friends besotted over the years.

Despite my husband leaving the pulpit after two ministries, I remained active in my local church as a Nazarene youth leader. I was on the Nazarene church board. I led a Nazarene women’s retreat and about a dozen Nazarene inner healing retreats over the weekends. I was a small group leader for my Nazarene church. I loved people!

The Scandal

One friendship deepened. I fought the feeling for over a year. There was no kissing nor undressing. Yet, my heart beat faster when she was near. I hung on her every word. I found myself able to love her more deeply than I had loved anybody in my entire life. I didn’t have any words to describe this experience because at age 36, I simply had no other similar experience. And, she was a woman, so I considered her a good friend.

It took over a year for my being to realize that I was in a state of such cognitive dissonance that there was no returning from it. My mind, heart, body, and spirit were not in agreement. Peace would mean all of me would have to align. I didn’t know how to find peace. I didn’t understand what was happening.

I was finally able to tell this to my counselor at the psychiatric hospital. She reflected those words back to me. And, she used the L word—Lesbian. I was shocked because I had not considered that I might be That. It was a distant word that was on TV, or used derogatorily by good evangelical people. Lesbian was a label used to identify sinful, depraved people.

It had never dawned on me that feeling attraction to someone was a natural part of being human. And until now, I had never experienced attraction to anybody that involved a physical, emotional, and spiritual response to said person. Not once.

I felt the curtain draw back in this very dark life that I had intended to sleep through. Sunshine filled my being, and I was able to see myself clearly. I was being introduced to my True Self—for the first time in my life.

This counselor did not judge me. She just saw me.

The bell rang gloriously and my life finally made sense. If I was to survive, I could not close the curtain again. I could no longer be a Nazarene chess piece—whether as Wife, Pianist, Church Board Member, or Missionary Kid. From this day forth, I would need to be Me. Just me.

I needed to do this right, for the sake of my three small children. I felt protective and longed for them to feel free to be. I was grateful I was going through this experience for them.

I told my supportive friend of my conversation with the counselor, and about the window of sunshine. I told her I did not expect this to be reciprocal. I just needed to be honest about what was happening to me.

She was in shock because I had named it. She grew up judging that lesbian label, too. Over time, she recognized her own denial about herself as well. She chose to accept our relationship fully. I’m so glad. I have never needed the seven-minute smile to fool me into feeling happy with her or be at peace in the relationship.

The Next Step

After my hospitalization, the first thing I did was to research what the Bible actually says about me. I knew this was Nature, not Nurture. And, I couldn’t wrap my head around why a loving God would create me and then forbid me from having a natural physical response within a truly healthy relationship.

I found the seven Clobber Verses. It’s literally how it feels when the Bible is used to bash someone over the head with judgment. It was not difficult to explore the Bible verses about homosexual people in their original languages. They have entirely different meanings! I realized good Christian people aren’t doing their biblical research.

I learned that there is much literature demonstrating there have been lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people in every culture of every time on every continent since history was first recorded. There is death for those from rejecting cultures. And, individuals thrive in cultures that do not reject them. That rejection is what leads to self-destruction. Without it, individuals are just as healthy as anyone else.

My pastor wanted to be supportive, but was unsure what the denomination required of him in my situation. I arranged for him to meet with a missionary uncle who could speak for the Nazarene denomination. Together, we learned that I was allowed to sit in the audience and worship in my local church. But, my active loving service to others was no longer admissible by the Nazarene denomination.

Just like that.

The Right Amount of Rejection

It seemed the goal of my former church friends is what mine would have been, if I were in their shoes. They were seeking the right amount of biblically sanctioned rejection. I wasn’t planning to leave my church. So, over the course of the next six years, I recognized various categories of rejection. I still experience some after 15 years.

Shunning: I walk by those who once were good friends, smile and say hello. They literally look straight through me as though I don’t exist. It is so shocking I have to laugh.

Gossiping: Others are determined to love me in Jesus’ name. Their exaggerated smiles show everyone how loving they can be to this scandalous woman. Yet, I am aware of the incessant demonizing chatter about me to anyone that will listen. These may be cloaked as prayer requests. Social media has made this explosive. This choice is particularly painful for me.

Disappearing: There were those who vanished so quickly it was like magic. Poof! Gone. At least these folks were honest.

Intervening: Less than 48 hours after being discharged from the hospital, a few of my former friends wanted to follow Matthew 18:16 and have an intervention. They never asked Are you ok? or What happened?. I was just beginning to be able to get out of bed every day. But, they wanted me to get back in line asap.

Evangelizing: I believe in the Bible might be the start of it. "But, I love you anyway."

So, a judgmental relationship with me is evidence of their generosity? Do they not realize that I can have a very thoughtful, well-researched discussion with them about their Bible verses? I am still Me, even though I am gay. When I hear this, I have to sigh.

In fact, people who have rejected me have never asked me one question about my experience. I am no longer a valid human. I wear a Scarlet Letter L in sharpie on my forehead. It is the only part of me that some good church people can see.

These responses are all forms of Social Rejection. Research demonstrates that when people are socially rejected for their sexual orientation or gender identity, their rates of suicidality, addiction, self-harm, and high-risk behaviors are disproportionately higher—particularly when conversion therapy has been provided.

I understand why.

Of Chess and Love

The Nazarene chess game requires a performance-oriented God that judges, rejects, and sacrifices its own. The Elders don’t want to look up from their righteous pursuits to truly see and love their own children.

The Children of the Church have been forsaken. They are the ones who know what love is, and what it is not.

Love means each person has value. Love means we don’t judge people because they are left-handed (10% of the population), Black (12.3% of the U.S.), or gay (10% of the population). Love means left-handed people aren’t forced to write with the wrong hand, as when my left-handed grandmother was a child.

Love listens and learns from others. Love means one’s heart, mind, body, and spirit are in agreement. Love is a big breath of clean air.

Love is acceptance. It is a cup of coffee, a smile, an embrace, or a Tell me your story. It’s not complicated.

Life is short. People are precious.

It’s time to burn the chess board.

Kara Hudson has been a Licensed Clinical Professional Counselor for a community mental health agency in Nampa, Idaho since 2013. Kara is the Lead Clinician for the Intensive Outpatient Program for high-risk adults and adolescents. Kara and her wife celebrate 15 joyful years together this year. They have two adult children and one teenager still at home.

Just As I Am

Nancy R. Kelso

A faith closed to the conclusions of science is suffocating our LGBTQ+ children.

I often tell people that had I been coming of age in today’s world, I would have known I was gay when I was 12. Walking home from school one warm September afternoon, I was talking about a girl one grade ahead of me.

Kristi Green this and Kristi Green that. You talk about her like she’s your boyfriend or something. Those words, spoken to me by my sister, immediately filled me with shame and panic. Was that what I sounded like? What was wrong with me? What did she see in me? How can I hide?

I was a devoted, born again, saved and sanctified Nazarene. Third generation in fact. All in the same church. My grandmothers on both sides were my Sunday School teachers. My father was the music leader. Missionary society presidents, board members, Assembly delegates—my family was part of the core of my home congregation. I made my first appearance at church when I was six days old and attended every Sunday service, Wednesday prayer meeting, and twice a year revival meeting for the next 18 years of my life. I had bona fides.

I chose a local Christian high school because I was serious about my faith and wanted teachers who would be mentors for me not only academically, athletically, and socially, but also spiritually. If there was a way to cultivate my relationship with Jesus, I was sure to be sincerely engaged.

When I elected to attend college, the same rationale won out. I opted for a Nazarene school so that I would be surrounded by others who loved the Lord and enjoyed serving Him. That’s why I was so surprised when late one night in the fall of my freshman year while chatting away with a fellow dorm mate, I kissed her. It felt like something out of left field; it also felt true and right in the moment.

My college years were full of personal turmoil. I was faced with the fact that I was most attracted to my girl friends, yet I knew this was forbidden and displeased God. Over and over, I repented, resolved not to give in to sin, and fell into the same situation. Once. Twice. Three times. All with Nazarene girls who had denominational pedigrees similar to mine.

I tried to live a straight life. I had boyfriends. I prayed. I pleaded. The attractions never left. I was told that I had lesbian demons, that I was broken, that I was sinful, that I was selfish, that I was, most certainly, sexually abused. Because, what else could explain this attraction to women?

I tried a different Nazarene college for a fresh start. And by Christmas, I was knee deep in my same old patterns. There were tears. Sobbing. Gut-wrenching sobbing with pleading prayers. I don’t want to be this way. Please, God help me. I hated this thing inside me. Like a dog returns to its vomit, I used to say quoting Proverbs, I return to my sin. No matter the approach, I could not escape myself.

Sublimation is one of the classic defense mechanisms. It is the directing of unwanted energies toward good things. The next twenty years of my life qualify as a case study in sublimation. I was utterly devoted to Christ and His cause. I attended seminary. I entered a pastoral internship program. I went overseas to do mission work. I was a leader. Everyone who knew me would say that I was an example of Christ’s love and light. I helped plant a church. I lead worship and small groups. I got married. I had a son. I became a staff pastor at my home church. It was all real. I was real. I was thoroughly committed to Jesus.

In those days I would say that I managed my sexuality. We can’t help who we are attracted to, I used to say, but we can choose what we do about it. I had been a celibate single person for twelve years before I met my husband. We had as good a marriage that a straight man and a lesbian can create together. He was my best friend. We had just celebrated our tenth anniversary, yet my desire to be with a woman was still there, as strong as ever. I was depressed. I wanted to die.

It had been thirty years since I first felt the shame of being clocked by my sister, and after all of it, I knew that I was gay. Nothing had changed my core longing. For so long I believed that if I gave into my homosexual desires, I would have to turn my back on God. But something had shifted in my understanding of God’s infinite love. Maybe instead of wanting me to live as a heterosexual, it was more important to God that I live as my true self. Maybe my sexuality wasn’t evil, warped, broken, or forbidden. Maybe it was good. Maybe I could embrace myself fully as God’s child without having to sever a core component of myself.

My story can be heard in the stories of thousands of others. Our lives and our experiences are not tales of rebellious sinners turning our backs on God, but stories of sincere, mature, devoted followers of Jesus. What do we, the Church of the Nazarene, do with this lived experience of thousands of born again, sold out Christians who could not and cannot rid themselves of their homosexual attractions?

If we are not offered acceptance and blessing, do we, the believers who are homosexual, leave the Church of the Nazarene to find more accepting denominations? Do we run away and live our lives far from the communities where we were raised, isolating ourselves from the support systems our hetero friends and couples maintain? Do we live double lives as church going hetero couples on the outside, while indulging our core need for intimacy with same-sex partners on the side? To date, these are the experiences I have seen in my gay friends and family—leaving, hiding, lying.

How will the Church of the Nazarene respond? Do we continue to respond with a message of turn from it or burn for it? Do we at best offer some compassion and community for the LGBTQ people who remain single and celibate? Is it enough to say, The Bible says one man and one woman for life. Period. End of discussion? Does that simple summary align with the complex and varied sexuality that is evident in our world? Is there room for us to consider what the realm of medicine and social sciences have come to understand about human sexuality?

In the 1970s, the medical community officially dismissed the idea that homosexuality is an illness. For years, social science research has indicated that human sexuality is formed through a complex interplay of biological conditions. Both communities have concluded that homosexuality is a normal, albeit less common, expression of human sexuality and that sexual attraction is best understood to be a continuum - some exclusively attracted to the opposite sex, some exclusively to the same sex, and many people along the spectrum in between, experiencing both.

Today there is no reputable professional medical or social scientific organization that considers homosexuality as anything less than normal. Furthermore, and this is equally important to consider, these same organizations denounce all reparative therapies as injurious to LGBTQ+ individuals. Sexuality is hardwired into us in the same manner as left-handedness or redheadedness and cannot be changed.

I am a product of Christian education—Mennonite high school, Nazarene colleges, Evangelical and Nazarene seminaries. For my entire life it has been my understanding that science and faith are never mutually exclusive. Faith in God and biblical Christianity must always encompass truth wherever it is found.

If scientific conclusions conflict with some details of our faith, we must look again at our religious beliefs. Perhaps they need to widen, to open, to shift, to become less restrictive and more gracious. In all of my years in Christian education, I never once felt that my faith was so weak and rigid that it could not expand to encompass the findings of science.

Gay and lesbian children will keep coming into this world, and they will keep being born and raised in the Church of the Nazarene. I tell my story for them. As my sexuality unfolded, it filled my mind and heart with panic, fear, self-loathing, disgust, shame, sadness, frustration, loneliness, hopelessness, and despair. I carried that weight for thirty years before I finally laid it down at the feet of religion and trusted that the God of Love made me who I am—and I am good.

It is my hope that the Church of the Nazarene will make space for blessing, including, and affirming people who are gay. The body of Christ will be more whole and healthy for it.

Nancy R. Kelso has spent her life serving youth and young adults as a coach, teacher, pastor, and school counselor. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in English at Olivet Nazarene University and her Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School.

Why Can’t the Nazarenes I Know Be More Like the Knitters I Know?

Naomi Mackey

The first group of people I came out to was my knitting and spinning group. They are just what you would expect from a secular group that meets at the local senior center—a group of elderly women and men who enjoy knitting, crocheting and spinning wool into yarn. Most of them were in their seventh or eighth decade of life. They enjoyed vigorous debates about ranking their favorite types of animal fiber (mine are yak, silk, camel and washable wool) as well as the relative merits of cable stitches versus bobbles. (Cables are much, much more interesting!) At 35, I was the youngest member of the group by decades. But for me, the most important characteristic they all shared was that none of them attended the Church of the Nazarene.

The Church of the Nazarene has a long history of pursuing holiness of heart and life. This pursuit manifests itself in many ways, but always encourages one to get closer to God through knowing oneself better and therefore knowing what God desires of us. Belonging to the community of faith is very important to the Nazarene tradition, and as church members we even sing regularly about how happy we are to be part of the family of God.

Being Nazarene is in my blood. I remember as a small child sitting in the pews of our tiny church as my mother and grandmother tried to control my fidgeting, a church that was almost within spitting distance of an older Nazarene church my great grandparents had attended. When I was eleven, the Church of the Nazarene saved my life. Literally. A wise Sunday School teacher realized that the questions I was asking about salvation, death and heaven indicated something more than just the usual tween curiosity on the finer points of basic theology. She told my mother she was concerned about my mental health and worried that I might be suicidal. She was correct, and her timely intervention kept me from killing myself.

No matter which individual church body I attended, these people were my tribe. They surrounded me with support through some of the most difficult times in my life—poverty, my lifelong struggles with mental health, moving to four different states in the span of two years—and I knew I could count on them to love me for who I was. Within limits.

I realized that the Nazarene community would be very displeased if they knew my deepest secret. I, a thirty-something mother of two small children who had been married for a decade, was attracted to women. The more I pursued understanding the will of God in my life and understanding myself better, the more obvious this fact became. And that understanding has allowed me to better understand my status as a beloved daughter of God who pursues holiness in her life and spiritual practices.

Whether this revelation made me qualify as a lesbian woman or as a bisexual person mattered far less to me than the certain knowledge that my church community would react badly to it. Over the next five years, they proved this beyond a shadow of a doubt. My husband’s co-lead pastor sat me down and tried to talk me out of my newfound self-knowledge by explaining that I was faithfully married to a man and therefore could not possibly be attracted to women.

Even worse, a common reaction was embodied by a dear friend, a lifelong Nazarene. When I came out to her, she responded with stunned silence, followed by exclaiming I’m sorry you feel that way! She then explained that she did not know what to say. I told her that I was hoping for a response that was some variation on the theme that we would be able to continue our two decades of friendship. I sincerely hoped she would eventually be able to acknowledge that this was not some sudden change in who I was as a person so much as a gradual revelation of a part of my personality that I had previously kept hidden.

I’m not sure I can do that! she stammered. We have not spoken since, as though my knowledge of myself somehow impacted her personal pursuit of holiness.

Unfortunately, the same denomination that saved my life has also crushed large parts of my personhood as I have struggled to belong to it. The same people who embodied God’s love to me throughout my battles with depression, suicidality and a few nervous breakdowns have been the vessel for some of the most hateful, ugly words about God that I have ever heard. They have told me that my salvation is endangered by the very fabric of my existence. That the person I am at my deepest core is depraved, immoral, sinful by nature, and in the words of more than one church-goer, just plain wrong! They have wielded the Bible like a weapon—tirelessly aimed at the most sensitive parts of my being—so often that I find very little joy in reading it.

And my knitting group? They interrupted their debate on the merits of acrylic yarn versus wool yarn (acrylic yarn is fantastic for baby items!) to voice unanimous acceptance of my announcement. Several of them gave me bear hugs and one exclaimed I’m so happy you found the courage to tell us who you are!

If only I could find that same love and support in the family of God.

Naomi Mackey is a psychiatric nurse who graduated from Northwest Nazarene University. In her free time she loves to work with yarn in all its many forms. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and children.

The Grace of Coming Out

Erin Moorman

The Church of the Nazarene must reevaluate what we mean when we claim to offer grace to the queer community.

I am asexual. I do not experience sexual attraction toward anyone.

I didn’t discover this fact about myself until I was middle-aged and had been married for almost 20 years.

Despite what you might assume, it’s not surprising that I spent over 42 years thinking I was heterosexual even though I’m not. I wasn’t familiar with the word asexual until the year prior to my realization. It wasn’t a thing that existed in my worldview. It’s not that it was false; it just wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t gay, I knew I wasn’t bi, I knew I wasn’t trans. Therefore, I was clearly straight. There was no reason for me to think anything else or even to ask if there was anything else. Especially since everything about my life is so hetero-normative: I’m romantically attracted to the opposite sex (i.e., hetero-romantic), I’m aesthetically attracted to the opposite sex, I enjoy physical touch, and I’m sex-favorable (i.e., open to engaging in sexual activity).

I had no reason to presume anything other than a heterosexual identity. Any frustrations I have had in my various romantic and sexual experiences all had normal, heterosexual explanations. Questioning my orientation wasn’t on my radar.

I learned the word asexual when some people I know informed me that they are asexual. Wanting to understand their general life experiences a little better, I picked up an introductory book to learn more. However, I found the book frustrating. It took me a while to get through it because I kept getting confused about why the author would describe something as asexual that I considered to be part of my normal, heterosexual experience. I took a break from reading it, but when I picked it up again it finally kind of clicked: What if I’m not confused because they’re defining heterosexual experiences as asexual? Rather, what if I’m confused because I think my experiences are heterosexual experiences when they’re not?

I rarely have moments where a thought makes it necessary for me to find a place to be alone and sit, but that was one of them. I took the time to reflect on various romantic and sexual experiences I’ve had and realized that they made more sense when I viewed them through an asexual lens. After that, reading the rest of the book was much easier, as well as enlightening.

If I hadn’t read that introductory book (The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker, for those who might be interested), I would probably still assume I am heterosexual. Frankly, my life would be much the same. For the most part, nothing’s changed. I haven’t changed. In regard to my attractions, I’ve always been who I am now and who I am now has always been Me. I simply didn’t know that who I am isn’t heterosexual. My life remains very hetero-normative; and for all intents and purposes, my life is a very straight life.

The few things that have changed, however, have been extremely positive and life-giving.

My husband and I have always had a wonderful relationship. He is my closest friend. He is my accountability partner. I’m the same for him. Like all couples, we do occasionally argue and we’ve had some rough times. Yet even in those rough times, we’ve leaned on each other and determined to grow together.

As good as my relationship with my husband was before I came out, though, it actually got better after. It enabled us to be honest about things that we weren’t even aware we weren’t being honest about. Not because we weren’t striving to be honest, but because we didn’t realize that we weren’t speaking from the same experiences. After I came out, our new understanding enabled us to finally cross bridges that had seemed impassable before.

We finally understood that problems which we had previously chalked up to differences between men and women or differences in personality, weren’t that. We had more accurate information when certain discussions would come up and things just made more sense. I realized that I didn’t have to feel guilty about certain desires (or lack of them). Because I had been unable to see and love myself for who I am, my husband—through no fault of his own—had also been unable to see and love me for who I am. But after coming out, we experienced a restoration of relationship that we hadn’t even known we needed. It was a gift and a blessing.

In her book, Queering Wesley, Queering the Church, Nazarene author Keegan Osinski compares coming out to an experience of God’s grace. I’ve been a Christian for 39 years and I know what it’s like to experience God’s grace. I can confirm that coming out was truly a moment of grace. Just coming out to myself and knowing who I am, was a moment of grace. Coming out to my husband and his acceptance of my identity was a moment of grace. The grace of coming out truly was a part of being healed and redeemed, even in a lifelong believer like me.

The Nazarene Manual’s Statement on Human Sexuality and Marriage says, We recognize the shared responsibility of the body of Christ to be a welcoming, forgiving, and loving community where hospitality, encouragement, transformation, and accountability are available to all.

This picture of a welcoming, loving community which is accountable to one another so that we all may experience transformation in Christ, describes an intimate community; but intimacy requires truth. You cannot create strong, intimate relationships with people who are told to ignore what they feel or to hide the truth of who they are. When distance is created between us and ourselves by pretending to be something we are not, it is also created between us and other people. I know this because my husband and I experienced this distance, unknowingly. The Church of the Nazarene should not create this distance intentionally.

True transformation and accountability—true discipleship and fellowship—is only possible when people are honest: with themselves, with Christ, and with the people they are in relationship with. If distance exists between us and other Christians, then fellowship and accountability cannot exist. If fellowship and accountability cannot exist, how can we expect discipleship to be possible? How can we expect a relationship with Christ to grow and mature? A person who is forced to live in the closet is denied that fullness of life we say God offers.

For a queer person, the perfect love required to live a whole and healthy life cannot be achieved without coming out (Osinksi p.23) because [h]onest assessment of oneself is necessary for transformation (p.21). If a person is allowed to be honest about who they are, authentic and intimate relationships become ­possible—not only with other people but also with Christ.

The transformation and accountability the Manual calls the body of Christ to offer will only be possible in Nazarene communities if queer people are extended the grace to simply come out and be honest about who they are. To publicly identify in Nazarene settings as