I originally joined Old Saint Paul’s to sing in their choir. I’d been a passionate lifelong choral singer and had heard how great their choir was.
I’ve always gone to church and, while I considered myself a liberal Christian, the fact that it was also gay-friendly did ‘t seem particularly relevant at the time. Still, the welcome I found went far beyond polite conversation over coffee and biscuits after the service. In its sermons, and in the way people treat one another, I found a place in which all are loved – regardless of what gender or sexuality you happen to be.
The people I came to know and love at the church reflected this; some were gay, some were straight. Some had a history of mental health problems, others did ‘t, but we had all felt like outsiders in one way or another, and somehow, through all our differences, imperfections and irritations, we were able to love each other.
My struggles to accept my sexuality
Still, while I was happy for others to fully embrace their sexuality, I had real problems with it. In my 20s, I’d made half-hearted attempts at coming out, before quickly running away again. Being told at the time that there was something psychologically wrong with me, that it was a phase, or against God’s created order, confirmed all of my underlying beliefs growing up. It was a sin – and it was disgusting. I made the decision to avoid my same-sex desires, as it was far less complicated than properly facing them.
Then came the night of my 30th birthday.
After a few too many drinks, I got chatting to a girl who confessed that she too was attracted to girls. As the drink-fuelled conversation progressed into flirting, she slowly but firmly stroked my back up and down. In my mind, this was really not good. Except‚ it felt really good. Things didn’t go any further that evening, but I knew on a profound level that I could no longer hide from myself.
How church helped me to finally come out
I met with a friend from church for coffee to try and make sense of what happened on my birthday. A gay woman from our young adults’ group, she did not appear remotely fazed as I reluctantly whispered the unutterable and shameful truth: “I…I‚…like women. There. I’d said it. Still, it took a lot of time and many similar conversations from church for me to feel even remotely comfortable. With each passing sermon about God’s love for all – including those in same-sex relationships – it began to sink in. I eventually began to feel “normal’.
My family at Old Saint Paul’s saw me through my attempts at dating women, welcomed my first girlfriend, and were there to pick up the pieces when it came to an end. I joined other Scottish Episcopalians at my first Pride, and went with church friends on trips to gay bars. As I became more open about my sexuality, I more passionately felt that people should not have to face conflict between their faith and sexuality.
Speaking on the equal marriage debate at General Synod
Last year, an opening came up to become a member of the General Synod, the Scottish Episcopal Church’s national decision-making body. It was also the year that the final vote took place to allow same-sex marriage in our churches. As I prepared an incredibly personal speech for the debate, I realised that the only way we could move forward as a church was through unity in our diversity. This was not a unity where all were in unanimous agreement, but rather a unity which accepts difference.
As I gave my speech – heart racing and legs wobbling – my eyes darted across the room. I saw so many faces looking on of those I knew and loved, people who had walked with me throughout my journey. The vote went through, but I know I couldn’t have stood there that day and given that speech without the continued love and support of my family at Old Saint Paul’s.
They are my LGBT family – but they’re also more than that. Whether straight or gay, young or old, grumpy or not so grumpy, we see each other at our best and worst, and we’re still there for one another. They’re friends for life, and they’re my family.
This article was written by me and published in the April 2018 edition of DIVA magazine. DIVA is Europe’s best-selling and most influential lifestyle magazine for lesbian, bisexual and queer women. divamag.co.uk