At a certain point in my adulthood, I found myself in need of God again, and God brought me teachers like Jay Bakker, David Lewicki, and Dr. Arthur Caliandro, three straight, cisgender, white men who reminded me that God loves me. They showed me that I could be part of the Body of Christ just as I am. They re-introduced me to Jesus and introduced me to congregations whose love and support carry me even today.

But I hunger for something more. I hunger for justice and equality and righteousness. Those men, and the congregations that follow them, hunger for those things as well. But I hunger for a justice they cannot understand. I am grateful for their support, their leadership, and their welcome. I am grateful for their affirming words and actions. But I hunger for a new food. I hunger for the Bread of New Life. And New Life means new voices. I want to hear from people like Brian Gerald Murphy, Jules Kennedy, Shay Kearns, Roman Rimer, and Mieke Vandersall. These Queer people have taught me to love radically, to open myself up to the love of God, to reach out in service, and to create a table that is beyond what I could have imagined a few years ago.

With them and others I am building a new table out of new materials. This table will not turn others away, but at the same time it demands action. Everyone is invited, but people must be willing to sacrifice, to let things go. There are those who have already staked their claim in a kingdom who would deny me and others a share of God’s grace. Can you imagine the hubris?  That anyone would think they have “the answer” and that others ought to be excluded? I am reminded of the rich man and the camel. Jesus says it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. These men (they’re mostly men) of privilege who believe they can dictate who is in and who is out are the rich men of the parable. Sometimes they say they are inclusive or at the very most welcoming, but often they stop short of truly embracing me as a fully engaged member of the Body of Christ. I invite them to come to the table if they are willing to let go of their narrow-minded vision of inclusion. I invite them to come in the spirit of radical inclusion that bolsters my faith. To me radical inclusion means, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” your lesbian, gay, bi-, transgender, transsexual, trans-masculine, trans-feminine, trans*, queer, questioning, doubting, hungering, sexual, asexual, afraid-of-sex, indulging-in-sex, and more. Radical inclusion means I’m part of creating a new table that includes those who have not been. I don’t have to welcome those who hate/despise/judge/condemn me into my house. I am happy to dine with them somewhere in public, but not in my sanctuary. However, let them give up their judgment of my so-called sin, let them choose radical inclusion of all in the Body of Christ, let them proclaim from the rooftops that LGBTQ people are not just welcomed but affirmed in their congregations, and then we may all dine together in our holiest of places. We will then all see that we are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord. And they’ll know we are Christians by our Love.

The last thing I want to say is that I am not an expert at any of this. I try my best to live up to the notion of radical inclusion, and I surround myself with people who will challenge me when I falter. It certainly isn’t  easy, and yet it is simple. When I doubt, I try to remember that God loves me. When I doubt that, I listen to Jennifer Knapp remind me of God’s Grace. “His Grace Is Sufficient”