Win Win

I've been having a lot of conversations the past week about Affirmation and the LDS Church.

Speaking of a time when she felt alienated from Affirmation and dropped out of activity in it, one individual said to me: "I felt like... I had been disowned by my family again. ... Affirmation means so much to me. It is my only family."

Toward the end of another conversation, I looked into the eyes of the person I was speaking with. This individual and I see things quite differently. We had been having a very positive, but also very difficult conversation about Affirmation and the Church. Toward the end of our conversation, as I looked into her eyes, she smiled, but I also noticed a glistening of tears that signaled deep yearning.

I am struck by the sacredness of each person's path through life. I am also struck by how much we mean to each other, and how desperately we need each other's love and approval. The idea of Affirmation as a people to whom LGBT Mormons (however variously defined!) can turn for unconditional love and support is powerful. And when people who have found that at Affirmation feel it threatened, the "fight or flight" instinct can kick in. And we can fight.

People have been brutalized by the Church. You can say, "Well that was just some people. They weren't really living the Gospel." And that may well be true. But there's also a core challenge that relates to Church doctrine and policies and procedures and mores. To experience excommunication because you have chosen to pursue something as core to human happiness as love and intimate human connection is brutal, no matter how kind a face you try to put on it.

And I understand how some people need Affirmation to be a refuge from that. And I understand how it may even offend some people to find themselves in the midst of individuals in Affirmation who, in a variety of ways, embrace the Church. I've been accused of having "Stockholm Syndrome." It's the only way some people seem to be able to explain how I would want anything to do with the LDS Church.

Others can speak for themselves, but I can say that embracing my faith as a Latter-day Saint and choosing to be active in a Church where I remain excommunicated is the opposite of masochism or self-denigration. For me it is a profound affirmation of my humanity. It is an insistence that I am a child of God and I belong in his kingdom. That I feel the Spirit at Church is a weekly reminder that God agrees. For the LGBT person -- despite all the obstacles and adversity they may face -- to be active in the Church is to redeem the Church from homophobia and transphobia. It is to insist that those things are not what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is about. I will not abandon my faith because of what other people think. I will not be moved for what anybody under Heaven thinks.

That affirmation of our humanity, of our divine heritage, and that redemption of the community from the worst instincts of our all-too-fallen nature is what I, in the core of my being, believe Affirmation must be about. If it isn't, we have sold ourselves way, way too short.

To affirm that, to insist on that, is not to denigrate another single soul in or out of Affirmation. I can hold fiercely to my faith, and still fiercely defend my brother or sister who, wounded in battle, has found it necessary to retreat.

What this means in practical terms for the organization, I think, is that holding to that core of faith is not about driving anybody out of the organization. It is not about valuing some in the organization more than others. It is not about saying that some are better or braver or have more faith than others. It is not about denying people their family. We must be loyal to each other. If we are not, we have misunderstood the Gospel. My life is built around commitments: my commitment to my husband, my commitment to my family, my commitment to God, my commitment to my fellow Saints in the Church, and if I desire to serve Affirmation as president, my commitment to you.

Why I Am Running for President of Affirmation

Up until a few weeks ago, I was pretty sure I would never want to be president of Affirmation. I served as senior vice president for two years, and have since been serving on the Board, and I have seen up close how hard Randall Thacker the current (and outgoing) president worked. I saw that to be president of Affirmation is pretty much to have a full-time unpaid job that involves a lot of travel at your own expense and that involves having one problem after another thrown at you – often the most painful kinds of problems one can try to solve. It means being constantly open to criticism not just from foes but from friends too. It means working to serve one of the most stressed communities it is possible to serve, a community that, among other things, is especially vulnerable to extreme depression and suicide, and many of whose members have experienced extreme rejection from family members and friends, including to the point of being turned out of their own homes. And lastly, it means serving a community that is sharply divided over what it means to be L, G, B or T or SSA and Mormon. How ironic that the identity that unites us often also seems to divide us so painfully!

Yet, it is precisely those challenges that call those of us who have served in Affirmation in its nearly four decades of existence to service. In the last few years, literally hundreds of individuals have answered that call – in local chapters, in regional and national gatherings, in organizing service projects and Pride marches, in working and dialoging with Church leadership, in managing social media and communications and virtual conferences, in organizing spiritual gatherings and leadership trainings. Randall has been the kind of leader who inspired people to answer that call. And that's another reason the idea of being president of Affirmation gives me pause. I worry that I might not be able to be the kind of leader who can inspire in the way he has inspired so many of us.

Affirmation is about service, and not just for ourselves. Yes, we are ministering to each other, within our organization. But we are also ministering to a larger community, many of whom may never attend an Affirmation event. Affirmation must be in the world about healing the injured, repairing the broken and gathering the lost. Affirmation should be about empowering LGBT Mormons for service in wide fields in the Church and in the world.

I have been extremely blessed. Superabundantly blessed. This month my husband and I are celebrating our 23rd anniversary as a couple. We have owned a beautiful home together for almost twenty of those years, and are blessed with financial stability. We were legally married in 2008. The most meaningful thing we've ever done as a couple was to parent an amazing foster son. We are blessed with family acceptance. We are embraced by large extended family networks – by my devout Mormon family, and by my husband's devout Christian family in Iowa and in Memphis, Tennessee.

My greatest personal blessing is my testimony of the Gospel. From that testimony, and from living it to the best of my ability, other blessings have flowed: the Holy Spirit's guidance and presence in my life, and opportunities for learning and service in my LDS ward. My ward and my Church leaders love me and support me the best they can. Through my activity in the Church – despite being formally excommunicated – I have experienced God's love and presence in my life in a way I never imagined possible. That has provided a foundation of peace and joy in my life for facing all the various challenges my life continues to throw at me. Through my activity in the Church, I have discerned and continue to discern a way forward. I know that God loves his LGBT sons and daughters with a fierce love, and that if we go forward in faith – even through the most difficult spaces in this lone and dreary world – God will prepare the way for the ultimate reconciliation we all yearn for.

Sam Wolfe, a member of the Affirmation Board, suggested at our last Board meeting that I consider running for president of Affirmation. After that, I began to give it some serious thought, counting the cost for me personally and for my husband. I talked to my husband about the sacrifice I felt that kind of service would entail, and we discussed whether he would be able to sustain me in it. We talked about it over the course of about a week, and he has committed to sustain me. I prayed about it, and as I prayed, I received some light on the subject and felt great peace about it. My sense is that if the general membership of Affirmation agrees and will have me in this role, this is something I should do, and something that, if I give heart and mind and hand to it, I can do well. I have been richly blessed, so it is appropriate for me to give back in this way, if I can.

I believe that someday, there will be no more need for Affirmation. LGBT Mormons will be fully integrated into the life of our Church. There will be no more misunderstanding or ostracism. We, as a Church, will have received fully satisfying answers to the deep existential questions that have troubled so many of us. We will truly be a Zion people in relation to the issues that affect LGBT individuals and our families and loved ones. Everything in my experience as a person of faith, and in my experience the last ten years of activity in the Church teaches me that that is where we are headed. I believe that Affirmation can and should play a positive role in preparing for that.

In the meantime, I believe Affirmation's on-going priorities need to be:

• supporting LGBT individuals in finding faithful ways forward as Latter-day Saints,
• sustaining an inclusive, safe and healing community for those who have been injured by homophobia within the Mormon community, and
• providing resources for dialog and for greater understanding among Latter-day Saints about issues that affect LGBT/SSA Mormons.

Randall has been working hard to strengthen Affirmation in the Intermountain West, where, demographically, there is the greatest need for the kind of work that Affirmation does, and has also worked hard to develop support systems for LGBT Mormons in Latin America. I feel strongly that Affirmation needs to continue to develop our organizational infrastructure in these places. I've asked Sara Jade Woodhouse, who has been one of the most dynamic and articulate leaders within the trans community in Utah if she would, contingent on my being elected, consider being my senior vice president. I've asked Adryán Sán Román, currently the president of Affirmation Mexico, if he would be my other vice president. Despite potential challenges of having an international and bi-lingual executive committee, Adry, Sara Jade and I feel a great sense of excitement about the possibility of working together in these roles. I hope we will be given that opportunity.

At some level, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't see signs of the Spirit at work both within the LGBT community and within the Church bringing about a kind of convergence. Members and leaders of the Church at all levels are really wrestling to understand better what it really means to be LGBT or SSA and Mormon. They are showing deep empathy and a yearning for LDS Churches and wards to be welcoming, nurturing places where their LGBT brothers and sisters can worship and love and follow Christ alongside them. 

LGBT people are feeling the Spirit drawing them to faith in general and to the LDS Church in particular. Ten years ago I never would have imagined it possible, but I am no longer surprised to encounter LGBT individuals who had no exposure to Mormonism growing up, but who feel the Spirit and convert. When we come to the Church, it's not always clear to us exactly how that is going to work, especially for those of us who are in committed same-sex relationships or marriages. So it's a remarkable act of faith. Nevertheless, as unconventional as it may be both from the point of view of many in the LGBT community as well as from the point of view of many in the Church, those of us who have gone in that path are finding something to nurture our souls and we are finding the Spirit.

Matt Price, one of the founders of Affirmation, once wrote:

Don’t forget the work of the Spirit. I don’t want to seem overly dependent on some ‘mysterious’ influence as to what makes Affirmation work, but there is a real need for prayer and reflection on what we are doing — reaching out to our Father in Heaven and to each other. We firmly believe that Affirmation had a place in the plan of our Father in Heaven and His Kingdom, and that the Holy Spirit is still with us, as individuals and as a group of His Children, guiding us in what we are seeking to accomplish. His Spirit is most reflected when we are working toward our goals, ever mindful of the needs of our sisters and brothers, ourselves, and the working of our Savior in our lives and in our hearts.

I believe we are at a pivotal moment in the work of the Kingdom as it regards God's LGBT children. I believe there is indeed a role and a purpose for Affirmation that we ourselves may not see yet in its entirety, but that involves helping us to connect to each other, to the Spirit, and to the Church.

If you feel that too, consider connecting with Affirmation, and see what service the Spirit might have for you in the larger LGBT Mormon community, in the Church and beyond!

Affirmation: Zion or Bust

The Affirmation conference began for me Thursday morning, as I arrived at Randall Thacker's mom's home in Taylorsville, UT to pick up some supplies and then head to downtown Salt Lake for a lunch and some pre-conference meetings. When I rang the doorbell, I was pleasantly surprised to see the door answered by Adry Sán Román. I had known that two members of Affirmation Mexico would be attending the conference in Salt Lake, but it only really sank in when I saw them live and in person on the threshold with huge smiles on their faces. They greeted me with the first of many hugs at a conference whose woof and warp are hugs.

I have a souvenir to take back to me in Minnesota, a small Mexican flag that Adry, with flair and humor, planted on the hood of my car, so that everyone would know I was chauffeuring ambassadors of Affirmation Mexico. 

We spent some time exploring downtown Salt Lake together, which was a joy for three reasons. First, I really miss the friends I made at the Affirmation conference in  Mexico City last February, and reunions are always incredibly happy. Somehow, your time apart only makes you realize how precious your time together is. Second, I love practicing my Spanish! Third, this was Adry's and Francisco's first time ever in the United States, and their first time in Salt Lake. Francisco told me that for many Mexican Mormons it was a dream to be able to visit the center of Mormondom. Watching the excitement and wonder in their faces was like seeing these landscapes for the first time again.

As I  was driving them around Adry would share with me his philosophical and theological ruminations about the relationship between mind, body and spirit, usually some mixture of New Age energetic theory and Mormon theology. Francisco and I sang in the Affirmation choir together. He has this fine, operatic voice, and he loves to sing. After going to the parents' social in Draper, on the drive back to Salt Lake, he would spontaneously burst into song, mostly favorite LDS hymns, and I would join in with him. I'll miss singing with  Francisco.

I was in charge of media relations, so the first day of the conference I was a bit on edge, constantly watching my cell phone for calls or text messages from reporters. But after responding to a request for information from the Salt Lake Tribune, setting up and managing interviews with the Deseret News, and sorting out a communications snafu with ABC 4 news, my job was basically done. Unlike last year when I was on my own to handle media relations, this year I was assisted by PR savvy Dave  Schefcik who had helped out earlier that week with a media alert, and who was able to field requests from Fox 13 news reporters on the last day of conference. So I was able to relax and just enjoy conference most of Saturday and Sunday. My experience, I guess, was not atypical, thanks to a plethora of skilled and committed volunteers. We got some great media coverage.

In the three years since the Kirtland Conference, Affirmation has arguably put behind it its reputation as a predominantly post-Mormon organization in favor of being viewed as a "Mormon-normative" organization. Proof of this were concerns expressed at the conference about whether Affirmation was sufficiently welcoming to individuals who desired no affiliation with the LDS Church -- this despite the fact that 6 out of our 8 keynote speakers identified as ex-Mormon, and despite the fact that the "affinity group" break-out session included a group for "Faith Transition/Former Mormons" as well as for "Active LDS."

I posted yesterday about why I think it is not helpful to exclude people on the basis of labels like "ex-Mormon" or "post-Mormon," but to focus, rather, on fostering a healthy spiritual process, that protects individual agency and autonomy. Individuals who identify as ex-Mormon or post-Mormon must have an equal place in the organization alongside active or believing LDS. There shouldn't be any religious tests for membership. But Affirmation cannot fulfill its mission or potential as an organization unless "Mormon-ness" is in at least some sense normative for the organization. If it is not self-evident why an "LGBT Mormon" organization should in some more-than-nominal sense be a "Mormon" organization, I can at least cite Affirmation's founding documents. The Charter states the conviction that being gay or lesbian "can be consistent with and supported by the Gospel of Jesus Christ," and that a central goal of the organization is "to work for the understanding and acceptance of gays and lesbians as full, equal and worthy persons within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." I'm not sure what sense the Charter makes in the absence of members who are committed to LDS doctrine and the LDS Church. Non-Mormons or ex-Mormons can and should benefit from the work of Affirmation, but that work needs to be carried on in a way that does not eclipse the religious purpose of the organization.

Almost all official meetings at this year's conference (and the previous three conferences) began and ended with prayer, consistent with the history of an international organization that was founded in Los Angeles in 1979 after the organization's leaders "[knelt] in prayer and [asked] the Lord for guidance." Singing LDS hymns, organizing meetings where members can share their testimonies, engaging in scripture study, and holding devotionals or even organizing attendance at local LDS wards are the kinds of things that, for me, are a sine qua non for the organization. There's no rule that conference attendees have to participate in such activities, but an Affirmation conference that includes no such activities would unlikely be a conference I would consider worth attending. For me the heart and soul of the last four conferences has been the opportunities to pray together and testimony meeting/spiritual story-sharing time.

Darius Gray's talk was, I believe, one of the most important talks delivered at an Affirmation Conference in recent memory. It was important first because of the attention that it drew to issues of race and racism in the LDS context, and because race privilege is something Affirmation needs to think about as part of the process of putting its own house in order. But it was also important because it presented what I believe to be the theological framework most relevant to the work and mission of Affirmation, consistent with an orthodox Mormon understanding of priesthood authority and continuing revelation (the two preeminent concerns in relation to issues faced by the LGBT Mormon community). Gray presented a detailed account of his own wrestle with and search for answers to the problem of how a just and loving God could allow the Church to keep in place a policy barring blacks from the priesthood which was fundamentally unjust and theologically wrong. The  answer Gray eventually discerned was that God did not institute the ban, men did, but God permitted it to remain in place as a test of righteousness.

Gray's account of his wrestle with this question was intensely personal. In fact, he shared details at the Affirmation conference that he had never shared publicly before, a mark of the depth of his empathy with his LGBT listeners. He found answers to the difficulties he faced -- both as an individual believer, but also as the President of the Genesis Branch -- through personal revelation. He sought (and received) First Presidency permission before publicly teaching that personal revelation, and his method of teaching it was in conformity with conditions established by the First Presidency, a mark of his respect for priesthood authority as duly constituted in the Church.

Gray did not draw explicit parallels between the pre-1978 priesthood ban and the current challenges LGBT people face in the Church. He left it to his listeners to discern if and how the teaching was relevant to them. However, he described his theodicy in relation to the suffering experienced by blacks both in the Church and in the larger society as relevant to the suffering experienced by LGBT people in the Church.

I had my own spiritual experience in conjunction with his talk. I felt filled with pure light and warmth, and had what Joseph Smith described as a "flood of intelligence," something I'm continuing to process in the days since the conference. I spoke with others at the conference who had similar spiritual experiences.

Personal revelation was a theme that was repeatedly brought up in stories I heard during the conference, including in the talks of other keynote speakers and performers. Individuals who are currently active in the Church and individuals who have left the Church alike described praying for greater understanding and for guidance, and receiving answers to prayers that affirmed that they were "OK," that God accepted them as they were, and didn't have a problem with them being gay or transgender, or seeking an intimate relationship. Opportunities for story-telling and testimony sharing took place not just in formal talks, but in the "affinity groups" that met Saturday morning (for women, men, bisexuals, transgender people, youth, elders, people of color, families and friends, faith transition/former Mormons, millenials and university students, church priesthood and auxiliary leaders, individuals in mixed orientation marriages, married/partnered LGBT people, and active LDS).

The Active LDS (including Prepare) group was attended by 30-40 people. The lion's share of the discussion consisted of individuals describing their church affiliation and status. We then also had general discussion about issues related to the environment for LGBT people in their respective wards and stakes, how individuals coped with difficult environments and what kinds of support they felt they needed. There was also an interesting discussion of what people believe to be their "life calling." I asked the question, "How many of you believe you have a life calling?" Virtually every hand went up. There was also some discussion of Darius Gray's talk -- which most participants in the group seemed to view very positively. The discussion became quite emotional at times, especially as one individual discussed her testimony of the Gospel, and some of the pain she'd experienced in a rejecting ward.

The Testimony/Spiritual Story-Sharing meeting took place Saturday afternoon. Justin Keyes was polite but firm in timing the testimonies/stories so that they would be no longer than two to three minutes each. A gentle bell sounded from his iPhone at the two minute mark. Everyone who bore testimony/shared stories conscientiously limited their remarks to the allotted time, which was a beautiful collective gesture of consideration for others. Justin invited straight, cisgender allies to let LGBT individuals take the podium first, since many of us have restrictions placed on our membership and the Affirmation conference is one of the few opportunities we have to publicly bear testimony in a gathering of Saints. I had made a plea for a longer testimony meeting than the ones we've done in the past. The testimony meetings are usually intense. The presence of the Spirit is palpable. The yearning to share is deep, and the meetings have usually ended with a long line of people turned away. The meeting this year was no exception. But perhaps it was good to keep it to one hour, to ensure ample time for the outing to the "This Is the Place" monument, and for lunch and dinner, which gave people more time to connect and share stories one-on-one.

Sunday morning, a large contingent gathered in Temple Square at the Tabernacle to attend the live Music and the Spoken Word presentation. Church public affairs arranged for us to be seated in a large, reserved section at the front of the Tabernacle (I've never been that close to the stage!). Before the show starts, it is a tradition for groups of special visitors to be introduced to the audience. We were introduced as "Affirmation," so I suppose folks who were there had to be in the know to recognize that the Tabernacle Choir was hosting "LGBT Mormons, Families & Friends." There were so many of us present that we filled up five or six rows in the center section and then several more rows in the section to the right. When the announcer introduced "Affirmation," he actually gasped "wow!" under his breath when he saw the number of us that stood up.

Fred Bowers and I sat together. It was the first time Fred had attended a performance of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The show was well done, though nothing really moved me until the end, after the recording was complete, and the choir sang "God Be With You Till We Meet Again." It's become an Affirmation tradition to sing that song at the end of every conference. When they finally closed, and Fred and I stood up, we were both wiping tears from our eyes.

As we started filing out of the Tabernacle, an Affirmation member tapped me on the shoulder and introduced me to two women who had been sitting in front of  the section reserved for Affirmation. "He can answer your questions!" she said, gesturing to me to talk to the women. One of the women said, "Can you tell me what Affirmation is for? What you do?"

I said, "We provide support to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender Mormons, and their families and friends in navigating the challenges that are unique to being lesbian, gay, bi, transgender and Mormon." (I figured I better say the whole darn thing, because I was betting the acronym LGBT would go right over their heads!) I elaborated a bit by sharing something of my own faith and struggles and talking about how much it meant to me to have a community like Affirmation where I could experience unconditional love, openness and acceptance. I was getting a bit teary. Adry wandered up, and I introduced him to the women and said, "I want you to meet my brother who is visiting us from Mexico. I love him so much!" He smiled and shook hands with them, and I could see that they were starting to tear up too. One of the women said, "How can I find out more about Affirmation?" I replied "affirmation.org," which she dutifully wrote down on her program before we parted.

The night before the first day of the conference, I had a dream. Adry and Francisco were in the dream, as were many other Affirmation friends and loved ones. We were on a long journey through the desert, and we were trying to find a place to stay. We found a building that was stripped bare and too dilapidated to serve as safe shelter. We were thirsty. Trevor Cook found a water fountain near by. Unfortunately, when I took a closer look at the water fountain, I realized that the water was polluted, and we couldn't drink it, so we decided to leave and continue our journey on, in hopes of finding something better. We found a highway that made it easier to walk.

The dream made perfect sense to me. It was definitely about Affirmation. We are a community on a journey, through an inhospitable desert. We need shelter, and we need the living, pure waters. (That image in my dream sort of reminds me of Nephi's dream of the Tree of Life, and the pure waters of life flowing from it.) The dilapidated house and the polluted water fountain perhaps represented the things we're tempted to settle for that are less than the complete redemption, the complete reconciliation we seek. We might settle for less because the journey seems interminable, because we're thirsty and exhausted and we're not sure if there's water or shelter ahead. In my dream, even though we still lacked shelter and water, we found a road that made it easier for us to travel, maybe a reminder that God doesn't just magically transport us to the place we need to go, but he gives us strength to go without if we need to, and makes a way for us to get there, to find true shelter, and true and pure water, if we are willing to walk. In those circumstances, it takes courage to insist on "Zion or bust."

Randall Thacker, Todd Richardson and I have often said to each other that we are on a long journey. There were several times during the conference when Randall said something to the effect of, "If you think that the change you hope for will happen quickly, you will be sorely disappointed. Be prepared for a long, long, long, LONG journey." I don't know how long it will be. It may be shorter than many of us think. But however long or short the road is, it will take faith to get where we're going, and it will be worth it when we get there because it took faith to get there.

For They Shall Be Comforted

I love the beatitudes.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

To be "blessed" is not just an abstraction. It is real. If it were not, the phrase "blessed are they that mourn" would make no sense. When Paul described faith, he described it in terms of "substance" and "evidence" (Hebrews 11:1). Just because something is invisible doesn't mean it is not real, not substantial.

In recent years, some of the times when I have been most blessed have been times of worship, prayer, and testimony bearing with other lesbian, gay, bi and transgender Latter-day Saints. Shortly after first session of the Salt Lake City Affirmation Annual Conference, I found myself sitting next to other LGBT Mormons in a choir rehearsal, singing hymns of the Restoration, and I found tears welling up in my eyes. The Spirit was unmistakably present, as it was in so many other moments throughout that conference, such as at the Saturday night Testimony/Spiritual Story Sharing.

Each time I have anticipated another gathering of LGBT Mormons, I have wondered if the powerful presence of the Spirit I felt at the last gathering would repeat itself. I wondered it when Affirmation gathered in Seattle in 2012. I wondered it again before the Salt Lake Conference last year. I have wondered it before each of the leadership retreats we've had, in Potomac, Maryland in 2013, and in Nauvoo just last May. I wondered it before the regional conference I attended in Mexico City last February. I am starting to wonder less and less, though I still approach the upcoming conference in Salt Lake, September 12-15, 2014 with awe. I don't take the Spirit's presence for granted.

But I am coming to believe that, in spite of the rejection and the challenges and the misunderstanding we have faced, in spite of the injuries we've sustained, especially those which would tend to drive us away from our faith, when LGBT Saints nevertheless exercise faith, the Spirit is so much more present. We are blessed.

Faith is exercised in many different ways. It can be exercised in acts of patience and kindness with a loved one -- a parent, a sibling, a friend, a significant other. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. It can be a plea for help in prayer. Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. It can be studying the scriptures and gathering with others, even in spite of questions and doubt, and seeing what will happen when we gather in Christ's name. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

Affirmation conferences have been particularly powerful for me because there's no "right way" to express faith at these gatherings. Some have completely jettisoned the beliefs they grew up with, and are reconstructing a personal faith "line upon line." Some are trying to make things work within the context of traditional LDS heritage, but are open to new ways of looking at things. At an Affirmation Testimony Meeting/Spiritual Story sharing, I guarantee you will hear lots of stuff you'd never hear in a typical LDS Sacrament Meeting, but it is all the more powerful for that. And the Spirit is there. It blesses us. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

The "Circling the Wagons" Metaphor

One of the things I frankly wrestled with as LGBT or SSA Mormons and their families and friends gathered in Salt Lake City this past weekend under the phrase "Circling the Wagons" was the association of that phrase with a history of destructive imperialistic conflict between U.S. settlers and Native Americans on the U.S. frontier.

A friend of mine recently shared this quote from the "WiseGeek" web-site, discussing the history and true meaning of this phrase:

The idea that settlers of the west were often threatened by marauding Native American tribes and had to “circle the wagons” for protection is something of a myth. This idea has been perpetuated by many western movies that showed settlers in conflict with native tribes who would attack circled wagon trains in their territory. In fact, however, many Native American tribes were friendly to the settlers, and initially welcomed their presence.

When a wagon train was formed into a circle, the most common reason for this was one that was seldom portrayed in popular cinematic representations of the period. Wagon trains brought cattle along with them as they moved into the American West in search of new land to ranch and farm. At night, these cattle would need to be corralled so that they would not wander off, and the easiest way to do this was to bring the wagons into a circle around the herd to keep them fixed in one place. This would protect them from getting lost or injured in unknown terrain, and from being attacked by wild animals.

I love this more inclusive imagery. Settlers circled the wagons to keep in, to keep safe, rather than to keep out or to do battle. Replacing the "cowboys vs. Indians" imagery with the image of a protective, inclusive community is much more in line with the spirit of these conferences.

This image of settlers circling their wagons to keep their cattle safe could certainly also be cross referenced with the parable of the good Shepherd leaving the 90 and nine sheep to go rescue the one that is lost.

I also love the fact that this article points out that the idea U.S. settlers needed to "circle the wagons" to defend against Indian attack is "something of a myth." The dialog that took place over this past weekend in Salt Lake went a long way toward debunking the myth that people who disagree with us on issues related to "homosexuality" or "same-sex attraction" are enemies we need to circle the wagons against. We are all part of the same community, deserving a place within the circle of protection. 

Thanks, Shelly!

Navigating Tension and "Circling the Wagons"

This Friday, God willing and barring any major winter storms that shut airports down, I'll be setting out at 4 a.m. to catch an early flight to Salt Lake City so I can attend the Circling the Wagons conference.

Last night I had a phone conversation with Ty Mansfield to discuss a panel/workshop that he and I will be participating in at the conference, entitled, "Navigating Church Activity as an LGBTQ or SSA Mormon."

Ty and I had earlier that afternoon exchanged a few words on a post on the Mormons Building Bridges forum about Michael C. Hannon's article, "Against Heterosexuality," an article which Ty likes a lot, and I not so much. Ty's first words to me on the phone were an expression of concern -- worry that something he had said in our exchange might have hurt my feelings. And my first feeling upon hearing those words was relief, because I had been worried that it had been my words which might have been hurtful to him. I was relieved that Ty and I have a friendship in which we can disagree about things, and still be genuinely concerned about the other's well-being.

We discussed the LGBTQ/SSA Mormon landscape which -- despite some efforts at bridge-building -- remains a sharply divided and divisive landscape. Ty is in a "mixed-orientation marriage," and I am in a same-sex marriage. Ty is the president of Northstar, and I am the senior vice president of Affirmation, organizations that take very different approaches to the challenges that folks like Ty and I face. There are forums where Ty does not feel welcome and I do. There are forums where I don't feel welcome and Ty does. And there are places where both of us are personae non gratae. Going somewhere where you need to put on armor and be prepared for self-defense is not fun. It's draining. And as a general rule our lives are too busy, there are too many good things we need to be about without having to be emotionally drained by the need for self-defense.

The aspiration of the organizers of Circling the Wagons has always been to create a space and a forum where all are welcome, across the spectrum of LGBTQ/SSA Mormon experience. A place for LDS faithful, and a place for folks who have left the Church and need healing from painful experience in the Church; a place for folks with varying self-understandings and varying realities in relation to being gay, lesbian, bi, same-sex-attracted, trans, not sure, "just human," mixed-orientation married, same-sex married, single, celibate, or however you choose to identify yourself or however you've chosen to seek and build (or rebuild) family.

In spite of the best of aspirations, however, it's one thing to say "We are going to create an all-inclusive space" and to actually create such a space. The name of the conference itself, "Circling the Wagons," implies a need for self-defense. Organizers can have the best of intentions, but conferences are still attended by folks who may or may not have developed the skills to create and preserve welcoming and inclusive space.

I have to admit that as I read through the list of names of Circling the Wagons participants, I started to get a little bit nervous. I wondered how this was going to work. Was everybody on that list really going to commit to respect everybody else on that list?

Ty and I concluded, yes, there may be some stress and tension. It's probably unavoidable right now. But it won't always be unavoidable. Maybe, just maybe, each time we do this, we will get better at it. And Ty and I agreed that it is worth it to experience a bit of stress and tension if we can practice living the Gospel of Love more fully with one another.

That's why I'm going, and why I hope to see you there!

Affirmation Reborn

One year ago, Affirmation was at a crossroads. The fundamental question: What role will faith play in our organization?

Two years ago, the Kirtland Conference, organized under the presidency of David Melson, took Affirmation back to the early roots of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In a way, Kirtland was an acknowledgment of the desire on the part of gay Mormons to come to terms with their past. There are two ways of coming to terms with your past. One way is to make peace with it, and then to move on. Another way is to engage with it, to remember, to let it renew and re-energize your present.

I believe there was divine purpose in God granting stewardship of the Kirtland Temple to the Community of Christ. At least part of that purpose involved their willingness to share the temple with us, to grant us gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Saints access to those sacred precincts. The effect on those of us who have largely been shut out of our temples, out of the places most sacred to us as Latter-day Saints, was electrifying. Kirtland surprised us by revealing how many LGBT Mormons still have a deep yearning to draw from the wellsprings of our faith. In 1835, in the Kirtland Temple, a latter-day Pentecost filled the Saints with light and courage. In 2011 gay Mormons, gathering in the same space, experienced an outpouring of the same Spirit that was poured out on our ancestors in that place.

Once we tasted of that Spirit, we wanted more of it. We learned in Seattle in 2012 that we did not need to gather in an LDS temple to experience an outpouring of the Spirit. All we needed to do was to ask God, "who giveth to all liberally and upbraideth not."

One year ago, inspired by the rich outpourings we experienced in Kirtland and then -- to our delight and surprise -- in Seattle, we dared to propose something radical. We dared to suggest that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender Mormons could ask for and receive and follow the promptings of the Spirit. We dared to insist that we did not have to choose between being gay and Mormon. We dared to believe that the integrity of our souls allowed that "we through our faith may begin to inherit the visions and blessings and glories of God."

Randall Thacker articulated that vision in terms that resonated with many. Randall was elected president and asked me and Tina Richerson to serve with him as the Executive Committee of Affirmation, and together we extended invitations to all who felt called to this work to join with us.

Randall is a gifted leader, but I don't believe it was ever any one individual or group of individuals who were or are responsible for the incredible influx of new members, new leaders, energy, time and financial resources that came into Affirmation in the coming months. It was the vision.

In the course of leadership gatherings in Washington, DC in January 2013 and in Salt Lake City in April 2013, that vision was hammered out into a plan of action. On the eve of our 2013 conference here in Salt Lake City, during a 2 a.m. Facebook convo with Randall, I looked at the goals we had set only nine months ago, and what we had accomplished since then, and I wept. Back then, they felt like dreams, and now they are flesh and blood reality.

Through the course of the conference I talked to many of the individuals who had been instrumental in bringing those plans to fruition. Again and again I heard the words, "I didn't do that much. I could have done more. I didn't do enough." It was a team effort, not the work of any one individual.

*****

From Seattle (2012) to Salt Lake (2013) conference registrations more than tripled, and our financial assets quintupled. More than 70% of those who participated in the Salt Lake City conference were first time attendees.

More astonishing and moving was the unprecedented numbers of LGBT participants who were accompanied by heterosexual family members, friends and allies -- mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and ward members.

The first night of the conference, the documentary Families are Forever, featuring the family of Tom and Wendy Montgomery, was presented. The Montgomery's were present with their gay teenage son Jordan. In the documentary, Tom and Wendy posed the painful, poignant question: Is there a future for our son in the Church? What is Heavenly Father's plan for his gay sons and daughters? I presented an award to the film's producer, Caitlin Ryan, a Roman Catholic ally I am proud to call my sister in Christ. As I did, I turned to Jordan, sitting on the front row. "We may not fully understand what it is, but our Heavenly Father does have a plan for us. It is our privilege to work it out and to learn what that plan is." The Spirit was thick. Pure joy was beaming from Jordan's face. He knew that whatever his future might be with the Church, his family and hosts of friends would be there with him and for him. Unconditionally.

Later in the conference, I attended a workshop on transgender Mormon experience. I wept at the grace and faith evident in the testimony of Sara Jade Woodhouse, who recognized that even with the intense pain and loss she had suffered as a transgender woman who came of age decades ago in southern Utah, there was good in her life that could not have come without the pain. I wept at the hope and the fervor of Grayson Moore, a transgender young man whose mother, Neca Allgood, had learned to become his fiercest advocate and defender. I honor Sara's bravery as a pioneer, and Grayson and Neca's model of what LDS family values should be all about.

Our sages were there, those who over decades of faithful witness have believed in us when no one else would, when even we had a difficult time believing in ourselves. Saturday morning, Carol Lynn Pearson, who has spent decades lovingly witnessing, hearing and telling and retelling our stories, bore us testimony of our story as she has observed it. We were not unworthy, undeserving and excommunicate. We were heroes. We -- reluctantly or not -- had accepted a call, faced our darkest demons, recovered the elixir of life, and were now called to return to our tribe to share with them the healing that both we and they most desperately needed.

Bob Rees, another of our mentors, presented a workshop with me and three other lesbian and gay Mormons who are active in the Church: Sam Noble, Ellen Koester and Tina Richerson. The title of the workshop was "Restoring our Relationships with the Restored Gospel and Church." Bob spoke compellingly of how the principle of restoration could operate in the lives of LGBT Mormons, healing injury and repairing brokenness. I and the other LGBT participants shared insights from our experience staying connected to the Church or returning to the Church. Basic principles of the gospel, first principles of faith in Jesus Christ and repentance, hope, patience and love had helped us navigate the treacherous challenges of coming out in communities blinded by homophobia. In turn, the challenges we had faced and overcome as LGBT Mormons had deepened our understanding of the Gospel and the Church. No magical answers, no doctrinal formulas; just faith, hope and love. The workshop participants were invited to share their own stories of restoration. The stories revealed pain that was still raw, but also that deep, deep yearning for faith and connection. The workshop was offered twice, because it had garnered the largest numbers of conference pre-registrants. Many of the participants stayed for both sessions of the workshop.

Other panels/workshops, which I unfortunately can't comment on since I didn't attend, included "Growing Up LGBT in America" (with HRC's Ann E. Nicoll and Sharon Groves); "Follow Your Heart: Breaking Through Stereotypes and Confronting Shame, a Guide in Being a Fearless Lesbian Mormon" (with Tina Richerson, Hollie Hancock, Berta Marquez, Kim Mack, Anna Empey and Amy Larson); "Circles of Empathy" (with Kendall Wilcox of the Far Between Project); the "LDS Family Fellowship" panel (with Kathryn Steffenson and the Abhau family, Oviatt family and the Weyman family); a panel on "Spiritual Partnerships" (with Karin Hendricks and Tawyna Smith); "Building Local Communities for LDS LGBT/SSA Individuals, Family and Friends" (with Bryan Hendrickson and Bryce Cook); a BYU USGA panel (with Adam White, Keith Trottier and others); and "Healing Our Spiritual Selves" (with Karin Hendricks, Tawnya Smith and Alaina Hendricks). In the afternoon there was a family/parents discussion group with the Montgomery's, Abhau's, Weymann's, and Oviatt's).

Over lunch, Daniel Parkinson presented a montage of testimonies of LGBT Mormons who had, at the end of deep heartache, often on the verge of suicide, turned to God and been rewarded with powerful personal assurances of divine acceptance and approval.

As in previous years, the heart and soul of conference was in our worship and testimony together. Prayer, hymns, and the conference choir (rehearsals and performance) were heartfelt. The first evening choir rehearsal, I couldn't make it through our singing of "The Spirit of God" without getting choked up at the thought of what it meant to us for the Lord to "extend the Saints' understanding" through returning "visions and blessings" and our anticipation of a day when "the lamb and the lion shall lie down together without any ire." The testimony meeting, this year held Saturday evening to a standing-room-only crowd, was filled with raw authenticity; belief and hope rendered all the more poignant by honest admissions of doubt; a man who wept as he told of an experience in which God healed shattering self-hate. Peter VanDerWalt who had traveled all the way from South Africa, reduced many of us to tears as he told of how he had read the Book of Mormon with the intention to prove the absurdity of religion, and had come away with a testimony of God.

At the "Evening of Affirmation" Saturday night, Judy Finch, featured on the MormonsAndGays.org website, told the story of how her understanding unfolded through decades of wrestling to come to terms with the homosexuality of a son and a grandson. Steve Young used an analogy of faith that LGBT Mormons could relate to when he described the experience of "throwing blind," striving for a goal that you can't see. His wife Barb Young spoke passionately about the pain caused by Proposition 8, and the story of a heterosexual LDS friend of hers whose life and understanding were transformed by the forgiveness of her lesbian next-door neighbors.

Both Friday night and Saturday night, Benji Schwimmer shared his own testimony of the power of authenticity and love, through words and then through dance. My feet didn't dance, but my heart did.

*****

The conference isn't over yet. We will be gathering at the Tabernacle later this morning, and then for a final luncheon in which Mormon ally Erika Munson will speak to us. I risk being a zombie today, having forgone my night's rest in favor of publishing this post.

I could not sleep partly because I miss my husband, whom I wish could have been here with me to witness this richness of love and exuberance and hope. But it was also that I lay in bed, the visions and blessings of the last few days washing over me, replaying again and again in my mind and heart, drawing out tears of gratitude. This conference exceeded all our hopes and expectations.

Affirmation experienced a kind of rebirth this weekend. We've gone back to Affirmation's roots, to the hopes and dreams of Affirmation's founders in the 1970s that LGBT Mormons might find faith, hope, and love against all odds in a Church that denied the possibility of gay Mormon virtue. We've gone back to the roots of our faith as Latter-day Saints, blossomed from the yearning of a 14-year-old farm boy for wisdom greater than that he possessed, who dared to "ask of God."

We too dare to ask.

Dynamic Tension: Affirmation's Constituency and Mission

Affirmation, the world's oldest and largest organization of, by and for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Mormons and their families and friends, has, since its inception in the late 1970s, had to deal with tension along the spectrum of how individuals understand their Mormon identity and manage their relationship with the LDS Church. Bluntly put, Affirmation has always experienced tension between those who are fundamentally committed to the LDS belief system and to some form of connection with the institutional Church, and those who see the LDS faith and Church at fundamental odds with being self-affirming as an LGBT person. As a result, in its three and a half decades or so of existence, both at the international and local levels, the organization has experienced a number of pendulum swings between approaches that are, on the one hand, secular, activist and confrontational, and, on the other hand, devout, conciliatory and committed to the Church.

There has been a tendency for individuals on both poles to see these “modes” of managing the tensions implicit in being gay and Mormon as fundamentally at odds. The assumption has been that the organization has had to choose between being fundamentally secular and activist or being fundamentally religious and devout. If the organization emphasized the former approach, it is often assumed, then those who valued their ties to Mormonism would not and could not feel comfortable participating in the organization. If the organization favored the latter, it is correlatively assumed, then those who saw their primary commitment as secular activism would secede from the organization. This “either/or” approach or mentality is unwarranted, unnecessary and harmful to the organization, for three reasons.

First, an organization that prioritizes one approach over the other cannot effectively reach or serve Affirmation's stated constituency: LGBT Mormons. There will always be LGBT Mormons in both categories, and an organization that chooses one approach over the other will always fail to serve a significant portion of those it claims to serve.

Second, very few if any members of Affirmation have always been or will always be adherents of one approach over the other. People can and do, in their individual life journeys, experience their own pendulum swings between faith and doubt, confrontation and conciliation, activism and quietism. Some leave faith and then come back. Some experience a conversion, and then later wrestle with doubt. If Affirmation chooses one pole over the other, it will effectively only serve people in one mode of their life journeys, and will fail to support folks at the most crucial times in their lives: when they are in transition!

Third, and most importantly, despite the persistence of perceptions to the contrary, significant goals of individual members of the organization can best be accomplished if the full range of view points and responses is present within the organization. In short, we need each other, and our fundamental goals are not as incompatible as we sometimes assume. It is this last point that this essay will explore in a bit more depth.

What I offer here is obviously a bit of an oversimplification. I'll draw the two poles or modes as “ideal types,” in their most extreme mode, in order to demonstrate my point. Obviously, real-life members of the organization may have more nuanced views and approaches to the fundamental problem.

I'll start with the “LDS devout” ideal type (since that's the type I currently identify with). Folks in this category fully identify as Mormon or as LDS. They might describe themselves as having some sort of “testimony” of the Gospel. They value their connection to the Church, and this implies some deference to the lines of priesthood authority and leadership in the Church. They hope for positive relationships with Church leaders and members. They hope to be involved, as much as possible, as active, faithful Church members. They recognize the Church's long history of poor treatment of LGBT individuals, and they recognize that many Church doctrines and practices (specifically focussed around temple marriage) don't seem to recognize the legitimacy of gay identities or relationships. But they still don't see this as an insuperable obstacle to the full and equal participation of LGBT individuals in the Church. In the history of the Church, past teachings have been refined or revised in light of expanded understanding; and the Church still holds to the doctrine of continuing revelation.

Goals of individuals in this “LDS devout” category typically include:

• to live a devout life that includes prayer and worship with others of like mind (both gay and straight) and to feel and respond to the promptings of the Holy Spirit
• to find some personal spiritual/theological resolution to the dilemmas inherent in being gay in a Church that in its public, institutional forums makes little space for being gay
• to participate in dialog with Church members and leaders about homosexuality, with a goal of greater inclusiveness in the Church

The other ideal type might be called the “secular activist” type.

Though I don't currently identify with this type, I did for almost two decades, so I think I am capable of treating it with empathy. Since the purpose of this paper is understanding, I encourage any who currently identify with this ideal type to let me know if my presentation of it is deficient, as my goal is to develop a common platform within Affirmation across these two poles of “devout” versus “activist.”

“Secular activist” members of Affirmation have disaffiliated from the LDS Church, and no longer believe it to be “the” or even “a” “true church.” However, they may have family members or friends who are active, believing LDS, and may hope for positive relationships with those individuals, even if only on the basis of “agreeing to disagree.” They may consider themselves “culturally” Mormon, in much the same sense that “secular Jews” consider themselves Jews. Their primary concern in relation to the LDS Church revolves around the active harm they see the Church doing by inculcating LGBT youth with negative attitudes toward homosexuality that will eventually lead to severe internal conflict, including depression and suicide, and contribute to other social problems such as homelessness among LGBT youth, and various other forms of self-destructive behavior among LGBT youth and adults. Their personal solution to the problem of uncharitable and inequitable treatment of LGBT people in the Church has been to remove themselves from the Church. If the Church maintained political neutrality, that might be enough. However, to the extent that the LDS Church gets involved in political campaigns to deny equal rights and equal treatment of LGBT people in the larger society, they feel a moral obligation to protest and resist such efforts. They feel that as former Mormons, they are in a unique position to be able to address what they see as some of the more extreme abuses of the Church.

Goals of individuals in this “secular activist” category typically include:

• getting a sense of personal closure in relation to their former faith, and then moving on, perhaps with no faith at all, or perhaps in another community of faith that they see as more welcoming of LGBT people and more congenial to their values
• “saving” LGBT Mormon youth from “internalized homophobia”
• working for full political and social equality of LGBT people or working to serve the LGBT community (through political efforts to pass anti-discrimination laws and/or marriage equality, and through AIDS outreach work, outreach to homeless youth, etc.)

Of course the constellation of concerns I've identified within these two “ideal types” are not mutually exclusive. A devout member of the Church with a testimony could also believe in marriage equality and be concerned about helping homeless youth or people living with AIDS. A person who has left the LDS Church and is no longer affiliated with it in any way might still value aspects of his or her Mormon upbringing, and might value various forms of worship, personal piety and spiritual expression (albeit in a community of faith other than the LDS Church). That's why, I think, it's important to address some of the “fears” and “stereotypes” that typically drive tension and conflict between folks who identify with one of these poles or another. My purpose in identifying “fears” and “stereotypes” is not to perpetuate them, but hopefully to deflate them.

Individuals who choose to affiliate with the Church are not “mindlessly obedient” to the dictates of Church leaders. They haven't “turned off their brains” or closed themselves off to “rational critiques” of Mormon belief. The fact that they choose to affiliate is usually actually a sign of the opposite; that they are willing to wrestle to find a thoughtful faith that works for them. They are not unwilling to dialog, but they do tend to get weary of constant carping about everything that's negative in the Church. They are not unconcerned about social action; in fact, they may be very activist. But they seek ways to do activism that involve building alliances with faithful Church members and that avoid harsh public criticism of the Church or its leaders. They do not have it as a goal to “force” members of Affirmation to “believe” a certain way; but they do want the organization to be friendly to expressions of traditional LDS devotion, and they want the organization to present a public face that will not automatically turn off their active LDS family members, friends, and fellow parishioners.

Individuals who choose not to affiliate with the Church are not “angry naysayers” or people who have “left the Church but can't leave it alone.” They are not “anti-Mormon.” Rather, they see dissent and criticism as constructive, as something that could help those active in the Church make it a better Church if they were only willing to listen. They do not deny Mormonism a rightful place in the world; indeed, they see their commitment to separation of Church and state as Mormonism's likeliest, best guarantee of that rightful place, given that everywhere but in small portions of the Intermountain West, Mormons are less than 1-2% of the population. They don't want Affirmation to be unfriendly to individuals who identify as Mormon. In fact, they recognize that Affirmation will fail in its mission long term if it doesn't appeal to people in this category. But they want to be able to express themselves without feeling they have to censor themselves, and they don't generally have much interest in participating in activities where LDS-style devotion is a prominent feature.

Having gotten some of that out of the way (certainly not in any comprehensive way), I think it's worth pointing out now how having both types of members active and visible in the organization will be critical to serving Affirmation's primary constituency, and achieving the goals that different members of the organization have.

First, I hope it will be more obvious now than it was when I earlier stated it in this essay that having a diversity of viewpoints in the organization will actually be more functional for individuals who are wrestling or struggling or in transition in relation to their faith and/or sexuality. Seeing that there are a variety of healthy ways to respond to the challenges of being LGBT and Mormon will give people choices. It will empower individuals to make their own decisions about precisely how faith fits or does not fit into his or her life. They will see different ways to manage choices about relationships, and seeing the outcomes in others' lives of trying to manage these choices in different ways. They can encounter individuals who are single and dating, or individuals who are celibate; individuals who have been or who currently are in so-called “mixed orientation marriages,” as well as individuals in same-sex marriages or committed relationships. They can encounter individuals who are finding various positive ways to make LDS faith work in their lives, and judge for themselves whether they find it healthier to sever their ties with Mormonism. Personal authenticity and autonomy can only be enhanced through participation in a healthy community that embraces diversity. Authenticity (honesty) and autonomy (or “agency” in Mormonspeak) are strong, positive values for folks on both ends of the spectrum discussed here.

For those who value constructive dialog with the Church, it will be good to have relationships with individuals who have left the Church. The Church needs to hear the stories of disaffiliated LGBT people to fully understand the nature of the challenges faced by LGBT LDS people. Political activism will have the effect of promoting discussion in the Church, even when that discussion starts out in a negative way. For instance, the backlash experienced by the Church in the wake of Proposition 8 has had a leavening effect on dialog within the Church, and has motivated large numbers of Church members to open up a dialog they were previously unwilling to engage in.

For those outside the Church, who want to see the Church “do less harm” to LGBT youth, the presence and activity of devout LGBT members can only be seen as a positive thing; they should be supportive and encouraging of those who find ways to be present and visible in the Church. Those individuals' presence will also promote the kinds of dialog that might eventually persuade Church leaders to be more conciliatory in the public, political sphere. The Church is unlikely to feel motivated to examine teachings and doctrines that have a history of causing heartache and harm if they don't see a solid core of LGBT individuals who have a deep love for the Church and are committed to it, even as they struggle with some of its teachings.

Affirmation needs to be an organization where devout LDS LGBT people can come together to pray, sing hymns, wrestle with faith questions from a faithful perspective, and find support in the challenges of being LGBT and faithful. Affirmation also needs to be an organization where people can come together and unburden their doubts, ask difficult questions, and process difficult emotions (including anger and grieving that come along with leaving the Church or experiencing family rejection). An organization that would do all those things would serve all of its members far better.

In the last few years, Affirmation has been moving toward a more Church- and faith-positive position, and this move has attracted a large influx of members, energy and new leaders. It has also turned some folks off. Some have posed the question: Will Affirmation now become unfriendly to questioners or those who have disaffiliated from the Church? The only honest answer, I think, is it could but it doesn't have to. I've tried to make a case here for why it shouldn't, and I do so as one of the advocates of incorporating a stronger faith-positive component into the organization. It would be nice to see Affirmation find a healthy balance and an optimal, dynamic tension between the two poles described here, rather than constantly being in some devout-LDS vs. secular-activist pendulum swing.

The kinds of tensions that Affirmation is experiencing are not unique in the Mormon world. Other organizations such as the “Mormon Stories” and “Circling the Wagons” communities, “Mormons Building Bridges,” and the “Sunstone” symposia and affiliated communities have wrestled with the same tensions. I believe that developing a core ethic of empathy along the lines developed by the “Empathy First Intiative” and “Circles of Empathy” may be a key to moving forward. The better we can do at asking questions rather than making assumptions, and allowing for changing organizational dynamics without assuming the worst about these changes, the more staying power and dynamism we will have as an organization.

The End of Ex-Gay Ministry

There are celebrations in Munchkinland right now. Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

Exodus International, the world's largest and most prestigious "ex-gay ministry" and proponent of "reparative therapy" has announced they are shutting down. Their president is publicly apologizing to the LGBT community.

This gay man says, Apology accepted. If you finally want to engage in real Christian ministry, I will consider it a privilege to serve by your side.

I personally don't believe Exodus International (or any of the other "ex-gay" groups -- the Mormon analog being Evergreen International) were "evil." Exodus was not the Wicked Witch of the East, and Evergreen is not the Wicked Witch of the West.

The reparative therapy movement was part of a process of trying to figure things out. It came out of a genuine belief that homosexuality was wrong and that it was amenable to change. The Exodus International web site is still using the word "change," but now they are applying it to their own attitudes.

Exodus and other similar ministries were and are the source of much pain. Many lives were damaged by what they did. Some people committed suicide -- damage that can't be fixed. By their own admission.

But many of those who participated in these ministries were gay men and lesbians who themselves believed they were broken in their sexual orientation and needed to be fixed. Those who eventually turned away broken-hearted had learned from experience that reparative therapy was wrong. I never tried reparative therapy, but my process of figuring out what it meant to be gay was similar. I made similar mistakes until I finally figured it out.

It took many years of such experiences for the organization, collectively, to figure it out. The end of Exodus is proof that collectively and organizationally we do learn. We do, eventually, repent of our mistakes.

It is further proof to me that the Holy Spirit is in process with all of us. It is capable of teaching us, if we are willing to learn. There's a lot in me that still needs to change, and I pray for the wisdom to know what that is and to work on it.

But today, I take a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and give thanks.

Hallelujah! Literally, praise God.

Affirmation Leadership at General Conference

For some of us, it was a gesture of good will.  Not all members of the Affirmation leadership team that gathered in Salt Lake this past weekend are active Church members or believers in the LDS gospel, but attended the Saturday morning session of General Conference as a way of demonstrating their desire for reconciliation between members and leaders of the LDS Church and the larger LGBT community.  But for some of us -- myself included -- it was not so much an act of good will as of faith.

Fourteen of us attended General Conference together as a group.  That group included Göran's and my 16-year-old son, who came carrying the triple combination Book of Mormon/D&C/Pearl of Great Price he had begged me to give him as a gift the week before we flew out to Salt Lake.   Göran boycotted the conference for the same reason he generally refuses to attend the LDS Church with me.  As he puts it, when they allow me to be baptized without having to divorce him, then he'll come.  Our son came, mainly as a gesture of solidarity with me.  "If anyone says anything bad to you," he warned, "I'll spit them in the eye."  (He hadn't needed to worry -- we were warmly welcomed!)  For me, it was an incredible experience attending General Conference live for the very first time, and being able to do it with my son.  A few months ago, I had a dream about attending General Conference with my husband, and if that dream was prophetic, the prophecy is yet to be fulfilled.  Though not because the Church would have excluded us.

When I asked my son afterwards which talk had been his favorite, he told me it was Boyd K. Packer's.  He'd loved the poem at the beginning about growing old, and about not wishing to trade old age for youth because of the reward that old age offers: a greater understanding of the truth.  It's a poem I could relate to.  Elder Packer took an oh-so-common (albeit indirect) swipe at same-sex marriage by bemoaning "these times" when the family is "under attack."  Maybe same-sex marriage wasn't in his mind at all.  Families certainly face many painful challenges in these difficult times.  Of course I know better than to hope Elder Packer was thinking about something else with that coded reference.  But if my son caught it, it didn't phase him.  He still liked Elder Packer's talk best.

I refer to "my son" at my son's insistence.  Technically, he's our "foster son."  But shortly after he was placed with us, he took me aside one day and said, "When you introduce me to people, don't tell them I'm your 'foster son.'  Tell them I'm your son.  And you're my dad."  We are his "dads."  He knows people won't assume I'm his biological father, because he's African American and I'm very, very Scandinavian American. Before being placed with us, he had never had a father in his life, and he feels very lucky to have two dads now. During conference, he wanted to hold my hand, and would occasionally lean his head on my shoulder. He saw another father at conference affectionately massaging his teenage son's back as they listened to conference.  He knows better than most young men in that room what it means for a family to be in crisis, to be torn apart by forces seemingly beyond the control of its individual members.  And he knew better than most of the other young men in that room how lucky a young man could be to have a loving father by his side at a gathering like General Conference.  He had his own context for hearing and understanding, and being grateful for, Elder Packer's words about the importance of family.

Thursday evening, I met with Randall Thacker and Tina Richerson, the other members of the Affirmation Executive Committee, to discuss our work together as a team.  All day Friday there were Affirmation leadership team activities.  (By the way...  If you feel called to serve, you are a part of the leadership team!  Contact me if you want to know more!)  We discussed our progress in achieving the goals that had been set at our leadership gathering in Washington DC this past January, and we engaged in planning for the upcoming months, including for our annual conference, September 12-15, 2013, in Salt Lake.

Both in the Affirmation board meeting Friday morning, and in a Friday afternoon gathering hosted by Kendall Wilcox and Anne Peffer, who discussed their "Circles of Empathy" model for reconciling perceived conflicts between being LGBT and Mormon, we discussed the challenges of diversity within the Affirmation community.  Many members of Affirmation left the Church long ago, and have no desire for "reconciliation" with the Church any more.  For them, that ship has long sailed.  Some of us -- like myself -- left the Church for a time and now, through some surprising twists and turns in our personal journeys, find ourselves coming back.  Some of us never left the Church.  A few of us, even, have never been Mormon, but find ourselves drawn to the Church.  The only thing we all have in common is some intersection of LGBT-ness or same-sex-attractedness (if you prefer that language) and Mormonism (whether that connection to Mormonism be a profound faith commitment, or just a cultural or familial connection).

Some of us are still processing the anger and pain we feel about experiencing rejection by our Church and our families.  (Anger, by the way, is not a sin; it's a natural reaction to rejection and unfairness that we all need to wrestle with honestly at some point in our lives.)  Some of us have healed in various degrees.  Some of us are ready to move on and become healers.

In addition to attending the Saturday morning session of General Conference with the Affirmation leadership team, I was privileged to attend the Priesthood session Saturday evening, also with my son, and with a member of the Affirmation board.  During Dieter F. Uchtdorf's incredible talk, that board member leaned over and whispered in my ear: "This is what Affirmation's mission is."  President Uchtdorf talked about not judging each other.  He talked about celebrating diversity within the Church.  We should not, he warned, "confuse differences of personality with sin."  For members of the Church to demand conformity would "contradict the intent and purpose of the Church of Jesus Christ."  But it was toward the end of the talk that his words struck me with the greatest force.  "YOU ARE NEEDED BY YOUR CHURCH," he said.  That call was regardless of where we found ourselves, regardless of whether we held a calling in the Church.  He reminded us, "GOD HATH CHOSEN THE WEAK THINGS OF THE WORLD TO CONFOUND THE STRONG."  We are children of God, we are disciples, we are heirs, but one of our most important roles, he emphasized, was as "healers."

It reminded me of the exchange I had with James Kent last year after the Seattle Affirmation Conference was over, when he took me aside in the hallway and reminded me that as an organization we urgently needed "spiritual healing."  Affirmation's current board and leadership teams urgently understand this need, and we are determined to become a healing force within the LGBTQ communities touched by our lives, and within the Church, for those of us who feel called to be a part of the Church community.

I was vividly reminded again of our call as healers the moment our plane touched the runway in Minneapolis.  Göran and I received an urgent call from our number one son, Glen.  He had just received a call from his mother.  His sister had been in a terrible car accident.  His sister's fiancé was dead by the time they were able to pry him from the wreckage.  His sister died late last night, with her family gathered around her, in the hospital.  We'd been traveling since 3:30 a.m., and had gotten straight into a rental car at the airport to drive down to Rochester, Minnesota to be with Glen and his family.  Families face too many challenges in this world for us not to become acquainted with the healer's art.

It is ironic that some of the worst wounds we sustain in life can be inflicted by the members of our own families or by the members of our own church.  Ironic, because, if we are to be healed, it is in family, and in community.

We have a work ahead of us.

Two Words on Criticism

I've just arrived home from an exhausting, deeply satisfying weekend gathering of the new Affirmation leadership.  It was spiritual, powerful, and exciting.  I have never come away from a gathering of gay Mormons feeling more deeply bonded to brothers and sisters who are committed to such an important work of gathering, reconciling, and healing.

We rolled up our sleeves, worked hard, and accomplished the difficult task we set out to accomplish, namely, translating a broad vision into concrete goals and objectives, with measurable outcomes that will tell us whether we're succeeding or failing.

Seeing that word "failing" in front of me in black and white on the video screen reminds me that there are lives at stake.  It's sobering.

We also had plenty of time to relax together.  We were gathered in a city full of sights that I had no desire to see.  I couldn't pull myself away from the fellowship of this astounding, inspiring group of LGBT Mormons and our brave, energetic, wise, straight allies.  We ate, we talked and talked and talked and talked, we played games, sang hymns around the piano (God is very pleased when the gays sing!), and then we talked some more.  We needed that time of bonding because the work ahead will be difficult and will stress us in different ways, sometimes to our limits.

Sunday afternoon, the majority of the gathering participants had dispersed.  A few of us still waiting for late flights, however, had gathered in the home of Greg Prince (author of David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism).  We spent the entire afternoon in scintillating conversation on a variety of topics related to faith, Mormon history, and the "gay Mormon moment."  Our conversation always ranged back into the topic at hand; serious reflection on the work Affirmation has cut out for itself.

At some point, individuals brought to my attention scathing on-line criticism of Affirmation's new leadership.  The miracles of modern technology and social networking meant they could show me in real time our names (my name!), singled out for attack, and from more than one source.  In one source that was pointed out to me, we were being attacked by an LDS conservative.  In another source, we were being savaged by an LGBT ex-Mormon.  One criticism had been brought to my attention by a long-time straight ally, the other by one of the youngest and newest members of the Affirmation team.

To be honest, I wasn't surprised in the least, given the sources.  In fact I don't generally read in those sources and don't worry too much what they have to say, because the kind of criticism that was being leveled against us was pretty predictable, and nothing I would normally bother to respond to.  But I saw the pained look in the eyes and sensed the worry of the individuals who'd brought them to my attention.

Here's what I will say.  I'll confine myself to two short words on the subject.

Word 1: If you are being criticized by no one, it is the surest sign that you are doing no thing of any good to anybody.  The easiest way to avoid public criticism all together is to do nothing.  And the more difficult and important the work you are trying to do, the more certain you are to garner criticism, and the harsher that criticism is likely to be.

So do not be dismayed by harsh criticism, especially when you are acting out of a passion that flows from deep within, as we are in Affirmation right now.  That criticism is the surest sign that we are on the path that needs to be trodden, right here and right now.

One of our central tasks has to do with reconciliation.  That means there are sides that are unreconciled.  That means we have volunteered to enter an arena where we will inevitably take fire from both sides.  So all is well.  Criticism means we're right in the spot we intended to put ourselves.

Word 2: If someone is taking the time to criticize you, it means they feel some stake in what you are trying to accomplish.  What they say may be unfair, it may not take all the facts into account (because they are not in a position to know the facts), it may be mean spirited or lazy.  (The most vocal critics are often the ones who will gladly take up a poison pen, but not lift a finger to help.)  But if they have a stake in what we're trying to do, they have the right to criticize and we may have an obligation to at least consider the import of what they say to the outcomes we hope to achieve.

At the very least criticism may have the benefit of showing us our blind spots, or reminding us of the very real challenges we face.  So -- while we shouldn't let criticism dissuade us from pursuing our passions -- if we can find the largesse of spirit to consider whether there is something to it, it may strengthen us.

It should, in any event, be a reminder to us of the seriousness with which we should take important work.  Criticism can be like the lights on the edges of an airport runway, showing us the extremes we're trying to steer between as we're coming in for a landing.

Bottom line...  Criticism is no cause for discouragement, but rather the opposite.  Take heart in the fact that no great reward will come to us without engaging ourselves in ways that expose us to critics.  And let their criticism spur us to commit ourselves more deeply to a cause, the success of which will benefit not only us, but ultimately our critics as well.

Finally, the sting of criticism can remind us of the value of words of encouragement, love and support.  We LGBT folks have already experienced deeply the sting of unsparing judgment by folks who don't understand the challenges we face.  Those of us who are united in a good cause need to use criticism like salt -- sparingly!  We need to love each other unconditionally and be unstinting in our praise for the good we see around us.  Of course there will be times when we need to collectively reevaluate and critique our own efforts.  If we didn't, we wouldn't be serious about the work.  But I find I'm most empowered to self-criticize when I am able to do so in an environment of unconditional love and support. 

If we are truly doing this for all of us, and our actions always flow from our love and our truest, deepest passions, we will find a way.