Grandma Sarah

I wish you could have known Sarah.  She was the Director of Christian Education in a large Methodist Church in the Texas Panhandle.  Sarah was a force of nature.  As strong as the wind that would blow over that barren landscape.  She was never without an opinion, which she would gladly share with you.  While she was born and raised on the Texas plains, her theology, paradoxically, was rich with inclusivity and a global view that was not all that common in that part of the world, especially back in the day.

​

Some people called her Sarah, some people called her Mrs. Leachman.  Knowing Sarah as I did, I’m sure there were some other choice names that folks had for her, but I had the privilege of calling her Grandma.

​

From a very young age, I knew that I wanted to serve the church in my vocation.  The church has always been an integral, formative part of my life.  I’m confident many of you would say the same.

​

I came out as gay in my late twenties, while I was serving a Presbyterian church in Houston.  I quickly discovered that many iterations of the institution that I felt called to serve were no longer interested in my presence or gifts.  I found that once I had fully claimed myself as I understood God had truly made me, I was no longer welcomed in most communities of faith.

​

In one of my many in-depth conversations with Sarah, she was quick to remind me that the Church universal that we both deeply loved and felt called to serve, is much bigger than the fear-based reactions of the people who were about closing the doors to those who are different than they are.  That the church of Jesus Christ was never called to be exclusive.  Dearie, she said, hang in there and be an agent of change.  Help people put a loving face on their irrational fears that are, sadly, so counter to the gospel.  Maybe that’s what God is calling you to do, she said.

​

There have only been a handful of Presbyterian churches that have welcomed Dave and me as a same-sex couple.  I can tell you, for anyone who has experienced exclusion at the hands of a community of faith, that acceptance is monumental.  It can begin to transform years of hearing that you are an abomination; that your God-given gifts are not needed or welcomed.  That your deep and abiding love for another person is borne of an illness that should be cured.

​

Dave and I give to First Presbyterian, not only because of the grace and welcome that was extended to us by this place, but even more so because we are committed to being an integral part of a church that offers radical hospitality to everyone that walks through its doors.  To a community of faith that has inclusion and hospitality as part of its DNA.

​

Anyone that passes by our building, comes across our website, walks through our doors, or greets a First Pres member should know that they are welcome here no matter whom they vote for, no matter whom they love, no matter how much money they have in the bank, no matter their gender expression, no matter their age, no matter their level of ability, no matter the strength of their faith.

​

As it was prayerfully developed, this radical hospitality is the cornerstone of our Strategic Plan and it is, of course, the cornerstone of the Christian faith.

​

While the reasons are myriad, Dave and I give because we all have work that we are called to do.  Some of that is the hard work of setting our fears aside, of being vulnerable, and welcoming the stranger in our midst who is indeed most likely different from us.  That difference, that diversity, is the beauty of the Mosaic that we are called to be as a Christian community.

​

For that Mosaic to become a reality, First Pres needs each of us to give of our financial resources so that we can continue to live into God’s calling for our church.  First Pres also needs each of us to give of our time and talents.  This place needs the work of our hands and minds to usher in a bit of the kingdom here on earth.

​

Dave and I are making a significant increase in our pledge for 2023.  I warmly invite you to join us in making a sacrificial pledge to our Community of Faith as well.  What is a “sacrificial amount” is a very personal decision.  We invite you to join us as the Spirit moves you and you are able.

​

For the past few years, First Presbyterian Church has been significantly paring down its spending.  We’ve also been eating into our reserve funds for several years now to balance our budget.  That’s not sustainable, of course.  Friends, we simply cannot do this work without our collective pledges.

​

Dave and I call our pledge our happy money.  It’s the first check we write each month.  Every time Dave and I have stretched in our giving to the church, there has always been enough.  Always.  Without fail. 

​

When you make your pledge, you are invited to add a tile to the Mosaic of Hope graphic:  a visual reminder of the diversity that is God’s kingdom – a bit of foretaste of the divine.

​

Friends, this is a pivotal time in the life of First Presbyterian, and we have exciting work to do as we live into God’s call for our Community of Faith.  Each of us, in our amazingly rich diversity, is a crucial component of the Mosaic, and, as DPH says, each of us, each and every one of us, raises our average in every way.

​

Thanks be to God.