Speaking personally about LGBTQ+ welcome and affirmation

2026 is the 5th anniversary of when over 450 Canadian MBs signed an open letter asking the Canadian Conference of MB Churches to discuss the issue of LGBTQ+ welcome and affirmation. The Conference said no. Since that time, seven MB congregations have left or been expelled from the Conference for becoming welcoming and affirming of LGBTQ+ people—as reported by this blog. I paused the blog in 2024, after my church at the time, River East, was expelled. Five years later, I decided to check in with those congregations to hear their reflections and see how things are going. 

But before doing that, I thought I might share a bit about my own views on this topic—something I sought to keep out of the blog when I was reporting as a journalist about LGBTQ+ and the MB Conference. I’m sure my personal views were no secret (I was, after all, a member of River East at the time.) Like any good journalist, I tried to keep my those views out of the blog. Now that I am no longer MB, it doesn’t matter; I can be fully “out of the closet" and share about my journey to becoming affirming and welcoming of LGBTQ+ people.

Like many of my generation—I’m a boomer—who grew up in conservative Christianity, I believed homosexuality was a choice and a sin. For most of my life, it wasn’t even on my radar. So how did I end up changing my mind?

It happened the way it does for many people: I got to know LGBTQ+ Christians. Those experiences together helped me see them, and the Bible, in a different way. 

The first experience was in 2009, when my old college roommate sent me a letter to say he was gay—and had just married his partner. 

I had no idea, although people who heard the news said they suspected it all along. My “gaydar” is terrible. 

We lived together for three years and became best friends. But all that time he never told me his big secret. In fact, he told nobody knew it. Not his family, his church, his friends. 

Until he came out in 2005, he kept his secret from everyone—but Jesus. In his journal, parts of which were shared with me after his death from cancer in 2018, he wrote about never feeling at home with others since he couldn’t completely be himself with them.  “I am only myself to you, Lord Jesus,” he wrote. 

While serving as music director at a Baptist church, he wrote he wished he could tell his pastor he is gay. “Lord, I really don't want to burden him,” he wrote, knowing such knowledge would a problem for the pastor and the church. But “shouldn't a pastor know some of his flock are gay, and some of his flock have left because they are gay?” 

Despite his struggles, and his worry about what might happen if his secret was discovered—he would surely lose his job—he never lost his faith. 

“Let us follow this wonderful Jesus, whoever we are regardless of age, colour, beliefs, gender or sexual orientation,” he wrote in his journal. 

The incident that prompted him to come out was when he heard members of his church claim gay marriage needed to be opposed because homosexuals were a danger to children—something he knew wasn’t true. He began to secretly reach out to find other gay Christians and starting attending events for them. That’s where he met his partner. 

When he came out, some welcomed the news; others didn’t. But over time almost everyone came around to love and accept him the way he was—and he grew in his love and accept of himself. 

When I learned about his wedding, I immediately phoned him and gave him heck for not inviting me. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said. 

That was a blow. Of course I would have come, I said. He went on to explain that his family refused to come—only one sibling attended, and not his parents. My refusing to attend would have only been one more hurt, he explained. 

After that, we connected regularly by e-mail and in person. And at his funeral, I was invited to MC the sharing.

His former partner told me that what sustained my old roommate was “an experience in prayer, a mystical experience, in which he was overwhelmed by the love of God, a blessed assurance that stayed with him throughout all the turmoil.” 

That experience taught me that there are many people who quietly struggle not with who they are—they know—but with letting people like me know. It made me realize I needed to let others know I was a safe person to confide in, to be honest with. 

In his journal, my friend wrote: “Lord Jesus Christ, if you can use what I have suffered by being homosexual for the comfort of others and for your divine presence, please, please do!” 

He certainly used that experience to help me. 

The second experience that changed me was when a young Hutterite came into the life of our family. 

He was a friend of my daughter’s, a student at Canadian Mennonite University. After coming out, he was disowned by his family and colony, told he was going to burn in Hell. 

With nowhere to go, and fearing for his safety, we invited him to live with us for a time. We offered to “adopt” him as one of our own children, in absence of any other parents in his life. 

As we talked, we learned he knew he was gay from the age of 12. 

“Even as a small child I felt different,” he said. “It wasn’t until I reached my teenage years that I started to really understand those differences.” 

At first, he said, he cried and prayed things were different. But when he was about 20, he came to see that this was the way God made him—there was nothing wrong with how he was feeling. 

He stayed in the closet for a long time out of fear of how his family would react, and what people in his close-knit community would say. 

Over time, however, the closet “became an unsafe and toxic place,” he said. “It caused me to suffer from anxiety, depression and self-hate. I knew I needed to get out of the closet in order to prevent further harm.” 

In a letter to his parents about being gay, he thanked them for their love and care when he was a child. 

He concluded by saying: “I don’t know how you will react to this letter, but just know that I love you very much… it is my hope that my honesty about who I am will help bring us closer as a family.” 

His parents wrote back that they were angry and appalled and told him he was no longer welcome in their home—unless he repented and changed. 

He only stayed with us a short time. But the experience never left me; how could parents—Christian parents—act that way towards their own child? That’s surely not the way of Jesus. 

The final experience was an act of repentance and contrition on my part. 

When I was in middle school, there was a boy there named Lawrence. He was different from other boys in the school. He wasn't into sports. He was quiet, soft and gentle. 

So of course we called him “faggot.” 

We really had no idea what the word meant, or what was involved in being one. But we knew it was bad—our parents and churches told us so. And we were sure that Lawrence was one. 

But was he? We didn’t know. But we knew he was different. So we used that word to torment and isolate him, making him feel unwanted and alone. Years later, I could still see him in my mind, walking sadly away from a group of jeering boys. 

After my experiences with my college roommate and Hutterite “son,” I wondered about Lawrence. How was he doing? And what did he think about his life back then? 

Through a mutual friend from those days, I was able to track him down. I said I was sorry for the way we treated him, for the ideas that led to his isolation, for the thoughtlessness we all displayed. That I displayed. 

I told him I am doing everything I can to make sure nobody else goes through what he did—ever again.

Thankfully, Lawrence forgave me. He’s doing fine—and yes, he is LGBTQ+ and happily so. 

There were other experiences: Two lesbian women who began attending my church, a gay colleague at work, my own reading on the subject. And I was moved in 2015 when evangelical leader Tony Campolo came out in support of same-sex marriage and including LGBTQ+ people in the church. 

All those things added up to making me ready to support the same thing in 2019, when River East began its journey of inclusivity. 

There were no big "aha!" moments, no deep theological exploration (although the revelations that the translators of the RSV version of the Bible got it wrong when they erroneously used the word "homosexuality" in 1 Corinthians played a role). It was a transformation the way many people change their minds on this subject: Knowing LGBTQ+ people and realizing the table is big enough for all, that nobody should be excluded.

People like my old roommate, the Hutterian young man, and Lawrence. And anyone else.