A survivor of “conversion therapy” tries to find a church that won’t just tolerate him but embrace him.

The church service was exactly how I remembered it as a child. I raised my hands in praise as the worship team sang songs I had heard on the radio every day of my childhood. I swayed and closed my eyes as the feelings of love and community and honor to God filled every part of my body.

This was home. Or so I thought.

As head of advocacy and government affairs for the Trevor Project, the world’s largest crisis intervention and suicide prevention prevention for LGBTQ youth, I am no novice to the idea that many of the young people who call our 24/7 Lifeline are feeling rejected by their faith communities just like the one I was worshipping in. Every day, we hear about pain and sorrow caused by churches rather than the joy and hope a faith community could be offering. I hear that pain, but I also feel something so different.

I am a proud genderfluid bisexual Christian. So I walked into that Easter Sunday church service with prayer and longing to find a home. I had scoured the website of this church, as I am seeking a new church home, looking for any clues if it was welcoming and affirming. “Welcoming and affirming” is the common language that we in the queer faith community use to demonstrate that a church not only recognizes that LGBTQ people deserve respect, but also the affirmation that they are equally loved by God regardless of who they love or how they identify with their gender.

And so I worshipped. I listened intently to the sermon. I prayed. I was welcomed by the congregants beside me during the fellowship time. I put a dollar in the tithe bucket.

I can’t describe how much I was certain God wanted me in this room. It was palpable.

The pastor asked those of us who were new to stop by an informational section after the service, so I hurriedly walked there as the church service ended with a sense of hope and happiness. I was back. I was in a church that I could see myself coming to and bringing my children to (whenever I have them).

I smiled as I asked the lovely church lady if she could tell me if the church was welcoming and affirming. She paused. She looked me in the eyes and told me that although all are welcome, it was in the hope that they would leave “that life.”

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