Monday, November 19, 2007

ME: Speaking at The Riverside Church

11/19/2007 8:19 PM
Yesterday, Sunday, November 18th, I was asked to speak to The Riverside Church congregation about the group Maranatha: Riversiders for LGBT Concerns of which I am Deputy Convener. I was SOOO nervous, but thankfully, it went fine. I have reprinted my speech below.
Much Love!
Chad
"MINUTE FOR MISSION" for Maranatha: Riversiders for LGBT Concerns
by Chad Gurley
Presented at The Riverside Church on Sunday, November 18, 2007

Hello. My name is Chad Gurley, and I am honored to speak with you today about The Riverside Church's ministry, Maranatha: Riversiders for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Concerns. Of course, with ever changing definitions, self-identifications, and updated political correctness, Maranatha could potentially be termed Riversiders for Queer/Questioning Concerns or Riversiders for Same Gender Loving Persons Concerns or Riversiders for Intersex or Gender Identity Concerns . But to be concise today, I hope you will allow me to group all of these into the phrase "gay and lesbian" knowing that when I say this, I am not excluding anyone within our LGBTQSGLI community. Now, that's a mouthful.

I am the Deputy Convener of Maranatha, and when asked by our Convener, my mentor and dear friend, Dr. Wilhelmina Perry, to do the minute for mission for Maranatha, I was nervous and not sure how best to sum up what Maranatha is, what Maranatha does, and why Maranatha is important to The Riverside Church, as well as the gay and lesbian community – especially in a QUOTE UNQUOTE "Minute". Still, I will do my best, and hope you will be patient with me.

The word "Maranatha" means "The Lord Cometh" or "Lord Come to Me" and was used by the early Christians who were persecuted for their faith in Jesus Christ. As they would pass one another or sit together in cells, they would say, "Maranatha" in order to give each other the hope and encouragement that Christ was with them and that Christ was coming again to take them Home. In the face of all the adversity, do not be afraid. Be strong and faithful. I believe this must have meant a great deal to those few courageous gay and lesbian folks here at Riverside who, 30 years ago next year, in the late 70's, decided to "come out" publicly to their church family and form a group of support for one another in God's House, becoming one of the oldest gay and lesbian groups in a church community in the United States. And they should be applauded for their historic prophetic vision of knowing they were included at God's table and asserting such to those who were probably uncomfortable, who disagreed, and who did not have the same conviction.

For the past 29 years, Maranatha has involved itself in so many ways, I would need countless minutes to do it justice. I could tell you about Maranatha's commitment to helping gay and lesbian homeless youth, who make up the majority of homeless youth on the streets today, many kicked out of their own homes and families because of confessing who they are. Or I could tell you about Maranatha's partnership with gay and lesbian senior or elderly organizations, which assist and care for those who are often left alone without extended families or without protection from abuse by those who are homophobic in nursing homes or care centers. I could tell you about Maranatha's advocacy work, in its hope for marriage equality, or laws that would protect us from discrimination or hate crimes. Yes, I could go on and on about all that Maranatha has done and is doing, but what I believe is the most important thing that Maranatha does, the most important thing it has done for me personally, is something seeming so simple, yet so profound for those of us who are gay and lesbian, and that is sharing the faith that God does truly love us.

In Arkansas, I was born and raised a Southern Baptist, saved and baptized when I was eleven, attended a Christian elementary school and later a very fundamentalist Christian university. Needless to say, my faith in God is deeply rooted in my soul; however, in knowing very early in my life that I was different from other boys, I began harboring my secret, which ultimately grew into intense hatred for myself. While I wanted to trust that God loved me, for I loved God so much and wanted to do whatever God wanted me to do, I was bombarded by images and verses and slogans that only affirmed that God hated me, despised me, rejected me fully and completely for who I was. Even the unconditional Love of Jesus Christ, His unfaltering Grace, seemed too far out of reach for me from what I had been taught and learned, and in hating myself, I began to believe a different kind of song, "Jesus MAY love me BUT". I wanted to obey Christ's command to love others as you love yourself, but when you don't love yourself at all, it proves to be very difficult to find the energy to love others as you should love. I was broken and alone and made tearful pleas to God to change me so that I would be loved by God, but my prayers were never answered, and I was left confused and severely depressed.

When I moved to New York, I decided not to go to church, for I could not reconcile my being gay with my being Christian, and I struggled for many years, until just after September 11th, my parents, who did not accept my being gay, came to visit me in New York and stated that we WERE going to church together the Sunday they were here, and that we were going to go to The Riverside Church. "You know Chad, it's famous, Rockefeller built it." I honestly did not know anything about Riverside, so I shrugged my shoulders and said sure, I would go with them.

That Sunday, so close after September 11th, was emotional for all of us, and as we sat in the pews, just down there, we held hands during service. It was then that one of the ministers rose to speak and said something to the effect of "We have got to end homophobia and embrace our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters in Christ." My heart fluttered awake. I felt Mom's hand in mine and knew at that moment that I was being called home; my parents had brought me and introduced me to my church home. Home! Could it be? I finally felt God's true love for me manifest and Christ's warm embrace. I joined Riverside shortly thereafter.

In June of the next year, Maranatha held its annual Pride Breakfast and Sunday service. I felt like a little kid all over again as I got ready for church that morning, but instead of feeling hatred for myself, instead of feeling that Jesus wanted no part of me, I felt love, hope, excitement, acceptance. My spirit was renewed. When I walked into the Assembly Hall for Maranatha's Pride Breakfast, I was greeted with open arms – there in that room was a group of other gay and lesbian people and straight friends who not only believed in God, but believed that they, as themselves, were affirmed and loved by God, and their passion and compassion moved me so deeply, my soul felt relief and release. My burden was lifted.

In many ways, I believe that Maranatha and the community of Maranatha through God's providence has healed me and made me whole again. Maranatha helped to give the courage to say with assurance, yes, I am gay AND I am Christian. I AM a child of God. Maranatha has carried me back to my Savior's embrace of Grace and has encouraged me forward in my personal spiritual journey, one that I did not believe I could have because I am homosexual.

So, in closing, I hope that those of you listening who may feel alone or abandoned, who need a shoulder to lean on, a friend to confide in, or an embrace to catch your falling tears, will come to us in Maranatha for support, for we are here for you, and we feel so blessed to have the opportunity to give back to you in sharing the Love of God we have been given. Praise God.

"Maranatha"… "The Lord Cometh", and He loves me so much, He loves YOU so much! Christ's given Freedom for all to be just exactly who He has called you to be is the best news, the greatest gift, and we are forever grateful.

Thank you, Maranatha and The Riverside Church for reconnecting me with our most Loving God!

Monday, November 12, 2007

ME: Now are the days

November 12, 2007 - Monday

Now are the days when I walk out of work, at a time one would consider a reasonable hour, only to find that night has fallen, blackness everywhere, well, except in those small circularly lit locations of street lamps or the square patches left by flashing traffic signs. Now are the days when I must wrap myself in a knitted scarf, bury my hands in my corduroy coat pockets, and move quickly towards my destination, hoping to beat the chill rushing towards my bones. Now are the days when Halloween candy has been replaced by Christmas garland, Santa Claus already appears on Coca-Cola cans, all leaving Thanksgiving in a kind of holiday limbo. And now are the days when I often experience the most loneliness, my faithful companion, when I notice more intently that I am somehow on the outside of the couples and families walking bundled together on the sidewalk, keeping each other safe from the dark and warm in the cold. Now are the days when I listen to Annie Lennox's new album, discovering my own tears coupled with her beautiful moans. And, please don't get me wrong; I'm not feeling sorry for myself, for somehow I relish in this dark emotion, which seems to envelope me and release some necessary cry aloud to announce my existence and a hope for an other in which to wrap myself during these dark, cold, holiday days that are now.