Some months back, I visited a new church led by an energetic team. I wanted to learn how our traditional church might find some regenerative energy.
Afterward, I asked what the team liked about their church. I heard several good answers, but one woman intrigued me.
“The first time I walked into this church, I could tell I’d found a wholesome place,” she said.
“Definitely a wholesome-looking bunch,” I said.
“Yes,” she added. “No one with piercings or tattoos.”
“Probably there are a few tattoos somewhere,” I said, thinking of my own.
“Yes, just regular people,” she said.
Her need for a “regular church” sounded like the demand my 16-year-old grandson uses when he wants a pizza. His “regular” is cheese and pepperoni.
“Wholesome and regular” isn’t what this woman would have thought at a Florida church I visited last year.
My wife Becky and I were greeted by a tall member wearing a wholesome dress. No observable tattoos.
She handed us a bulletin and said, “Hello Norris! I’m Frances and I’m looking forward to hearing you speak.”
Her deeper voice suggested a transgender woman, one my recent acquaintance would describe as not a “regular woman.”
I instantly felt a conflicted discomfort.
My inclusive self worked to assure me my greeter was OK. My evangelical self screamed to be heard.
My traditional self thought, This is highly irregular. Echoes of old arguments surfaced. What restroom does she use? Is she allowed to work with children?
But my rational self reminded me bathrooms have privacy stalls. And I figured children would be lucky to have such a caring soul around.
Pushing discomfort aside, I looked into her eyes, level with my 6-foot frame. I shook her hand and thanked her for the bulletin. I was determined to make this a learning opportunity.
I wish I could tell you I invited Frances for pizza to hear her story. But I didn’t.
Last month, I emailed Frances’ pastor, seeking background for this column.
“The church had always known Frances as Frank,” Pastor Annette’s reply began.
“But she came to me in 2016, pretty late in life, transitioning as a man dressed in women’s clothing. She asked if the congregation would welcome her back into worship. She was very kind and respectful with her question.
“I told her I had no problem with welcoming her and that while I couldn’t vouch for everyone in the congregation, it was my hope folks would be open, welcoming and kind.
“It has not always been easy for her or for others. We have lost people because of our choice to not only welcome her, but to treat her as anyone else.
“Frances’ presence and participation has definitely been part of our church journey to become more and more open and have an inclusive welcome for all.
“Is everyone comfortable with this inclusive welcome? Probably not yet.”
You’re right, Pastor Annette. I’m not always comfortable with fluid gender definitions. It’s something I’ve not had the opportunity to understand in my learning process. But I say amen to your email’s conclusion:
“We are all on a journey of sanctification and I’m grateful for God’s grace in that process.”
I’m still trying to work out some things as I consider the role of LBGTQ in the Christian community. Many pastors are. I hope Frances’ story advances our understanding.
She reminds me that the early New Testament church was likely very irregular.
They were broken people who set the bar for acceptance and became the earliest example of how to do church. As our church sign says, “This is a safe place to explore your faith.”
By the way, Annette, the next time I’m in town, let’s have Frances over for pizza, if she’ll have me. Order “regular” meat lover for me, with a side of humility and love.
Norris Burkes can be reached at comment@thechaplain.net. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento. Burkes is available for public speaking at civic organizations, places of worship, veterans groups and more. For details and fees, visit thechaplain.net.
