“We’re returning from exile…” — Sermon for Sunday August 21, 2022

Some of the great privileges and also heavy burdens of the vocation of being a pastor are the many holy and sacred moments that we get to experience with people. The times when they shed their façade of everything being alright and show their real selves — being vulnerable with their brokenness, pain, and suffering.

Sacred moments like having conversations with people who have finally come to terms with who they are. And they struggle with how to tell their loved ones out of fear of being rejected or hated as if their life together was a lie. Scared of how the church will react and respond.

Sacred moments of people sharing their stories that leaves me speechless. Like stories of women who were raped just off a sanctuary right before a pastor would go in to lead worship.

You hear stories from people talk about someone coming right up to them, spewing hatred about their sexuality, race, gender, nation of origin, and more. Unfortunately, it is often “Christians” who are doing the spewing of such hatred.

I have female colleagues and colleagues that are LGBTQ that share stories about how congregations absolutely refuse to even consider them as a pastor because of their gender or sexuality. To put this in practical terms white straight male pastors can get a call in 6 months where as women, people of color, and LGBTQ pastors will wait on average 2 years or more for a call.