Come In from the Cold

On ministry, integration, and finding an ecclesial home again

Earlier this week I received word that I had been officially credentialed as a minister in the Wild Fig Network. This feels really meaningful to me, ten years after I resigned my credentials in the Evangelical Covenant Church and left 16 years of full-time pastoral ministry behind in order to come out of the closet and live authentically as an openly gay man.

Of course I didn’t leave Christianity or ministry behind. How could I? This shit is in my bones, and I didn’t choose authenticity to then turn around and deny other core parts of my identity.

Sure, blowing up my life led to a challenging season of vocational insecurity. I worked four part-time jobs in those first disorienting months. Substitute teacher. Afterschool tutor. Server for a catering company. Occasional guest worship leader for progressive churches in San Francisco. But then a miracle! MCC San Francisco hired me to be their music minister. Part-time only, but still. I had a church home again. Then I was invited to participate in a spiritual direction training program and found my way to a small American Baptist church in Marin, where first I led the worship team and then was called to be their half-time co-pastor. Even after I had fallen into a full-time associate teacher job at a private school (benefits again!), I continued to serve the church throughout those four years. I launched Common Sanctuary in 2021, leaving the security of full-time teaching behind, but finding so much joy in caring for LGBTQ+ clients longing for a connection to the Divine. Common Sanctuary turns five this summer, and I’ve been serving The Quest now for almost nine years. Amazing grace.

I’ve been in ministry for over 25 years now, but I have to admit that in these last ten years, I sometimes felt like an imposter.

My secret shame was that my “ordination” was from one of those click-this-button online organizations. And while it’s true that the Universal Life Church is a legitimate nonprofit and my ordination was legally valid (I could claim my housing allowance and officiate weddings), and despite being in some rather august company (“Ben Cumberbatch” is KILLING me!), I still sometimes felt like my ministry was somehow “less than.”

When I attended the Ember Gathering in February, I was excited to connect with other progressive Christians, but I didn’t expect the weekend to be as significant as it turned out to be. In the safety of that community of post-Evangelical pilgrims, I heard an unmistakable invitation from the Spirit to rest, to stop trying so hard to force myself into some kind of polished package and simply let myself be who I am. My spiritual life has become about integration: embracing what is true instead of hiding parts of myself. I am a Christian. I am a progressive. I am agnostic. I am gay. I am a husband and father. And I am a pastor, through and through.

In my reflections on Ember, I wrote about the many times I had wondered “whether Christianity was expansive enough to contain my beliefs, experiences, and identities, let alone whether I wanted to continue to pursue vocational ministry.” Now I was realizing that not only was Christianity able to hold me, but there were even Christian ecclesial communities who could see me, all the parts of me, and recognize my faith, my calling, my experience, and my giftedness. No hiding, no wondering whether I did or didn’t truly belong.

I had missed the collegiality of denominational life. I had missed belonging to a particular family. And while Wild Fig is still in its infancy, I’m excited about what it might become for me and for others who have felt vocationally homeless.

Wild Fig’s mission is “To root Christian ministers and ministries in a diverse network of mutual relationships so that the way of Jesus can flourish in the world.” They want to “ cultivate a diverse, relational network based on mutuality and interdependence that makes the work of God’s love, healing, and justice more sustainable and generative for all.” Their thoughtful, collaborative approach to building the network is so impressive to me. And instead of the standard “What We Believe” list of doctrinal positions and scriptural proof texts, they prioritize six “guiding principles rooted in the Christian story of divine love revealed in Jesus that’s unfolding into the world through God’s Spirit”: relationships, inclusion, humility, mutuality, creativity, and praxis. Rather than trying mightily to believe things I no longer believe, I have found that I can wholeheartedly embrace these common values.

We do what we have to do, don’t we? I’m no longer shaming myself for clicking that “Get Ordained Instantly” button back in 2017. When we leave harmful systems behind, sometimes we are forced to innovate, to cobble together new ways to survive. But these things I know about myself: I thrive in community. I long to know and be known. I love living out my faith and my call in the context of the larger work of God in the world. And this feels like a sort of homecoming. Thanks be to God.