Hoping no one has to ask the question "Will they like me?"

Delivered Sunday, February 25, 2018, at First Presbyterian Church, Urbana, Illinois

Twenty years ago, we were good consumers.  Having just moved to town, Shari and I with three small girls in tow spent almost a full year church shopping.  We visited many churches across multiple denominations critiquing each.  Did we like the sermon? What did we think of the pastor? Did we like the music? How was the church school? What did we think of the people?  Eventually, despite our well-honed consumerism, the “did we like?” questions turned into “how could we see ourselves serving?” questions.  In the end, we were called into this community.

Throughout that entire process, one question never came to mind.  I never asked myself, “Will they like me?”  It literally never occurred to me.  You could say it was ego, or maybe it just comes with being part of the dominant socio-economic group.  It just never occurred to me.  It’s a church!  Of course, they will like me!  Not only was I not mindful of this question, I was not mindful that to some people, this is the question.  Will they like who I am?

The week of June 12, 2016, NPR political correspondent Sam Sanders brought this issue home.  I was driving to church for a committee meeting, listening to the NPR Politics podcast, when Sanders gave a reflection on The Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando earlier that week.  Sanders gave an emotional reaction to the violation of safe spaces, not only of this nightclub but also the violation almost one year prior of the Emmanuel AME church in Charleston, a safe place for black people.  Sanders noted that what makes the safe spaces so important is that for marginalized groups many of the places they may be in the course of their day are not safe.  The wrong place at the wrong time is only too common today.  A quick kiss to your partner could result in an accusatory glare or much worse.  Safe spaces are unfortunately needed all too much in our society.

I haven’t looked at our sanctuary the same since that broadcast.  I feel safe here.  I hope that everyone would feel safe here, but how do they know?  When an LGBTQ person walks down Green street, would they ask the question, “Will they like me?” “Will they embrace who I am?”  Would they see this sanctuary as true sanctuary, a safe place?

I knew then that I needed to move from an “of course they’re welcome” bystander and come out as an active ally to the LGBTQ community and its full inclusion into the life of our church, to make sure everyone knows all are safe here.  I have been blessed these past two years to be a host at our church’s table for a Saturday afternoon at the Champaign-Urbana Pride Fest in downtown Champaign, setting up and decorating our tent, handing out rainbow stickers and water bottles.    Both years teenagers I don’t know, who would rarely initiate conversation with an adult, stopped, introduced themselves, and genuinely thanked us for being present, for accepting and supporting them, for being in community with them.

An interim pastor once asked at a get-to-know you meeting “When was the last time you said, ‘now that feels like church’?”  Those moments at the Pride Fest have felt more like church to me than any other.   We saw everyone there as children of God, a God full of diversity and surprises which are expressed in the uniqueness of each individual.  True safety creates a God-moment, when all can let their guard down, take off the masks and labels, relax, and celebrate together.  To me, that is worship.

I hope you’ll join us in finding ways to let everyone know that there’s no need to ask the question “Will they like me?”  May all be called into community into this sanctuary and may all feel safe and secure from all alarm.  Amen.

For Sam Sander's reflection, click here.