Thankful for the Journey

            On June 21, 1996, I timidly but with determination made my way to the front of a small non-denominational church in my hometown of Zanesville, Ohio.  I was hungry to find hope and meaning for my life.  I had begun attending the church a month before, and I wanted to be a part of this community where I felt that I had found a family.  The details are still etched in my mind as I slid from the center of the pew in which I was sitting, and another young man named Terry slid his legs to the side to let me pass.  This was a big moment for me, but I wasn’t sure it would be noticed by anyone else.  There were a lot of people at the altar already.  In churches like this, it isn’t uncommon for those who have already made commitments to their faith to come forward to make public their repentance or desire to connect with God.  There were steps leading up to the platform on either side of the sanctuary.  I sat on right side of the room facing the stage along with a lot of the other youth and young adults.  I knelt in front of the steps closest to me but just to the right of center.  A few seconds passed.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  I knew that there was a prayer I needed to say, but what if I said it wrong?  I strongly desired to connect with God, and I felt God calling me.  I didn’t want to mess this up by not doing it right.  Then, I heard the pastor’s voice speaking softly into his microphone, “ Lenny, talk to Josh.  Talk to Josh.”  As Lenny, who was the youth pastor at the time, led me through the sinner’s prayer, I felt the nervousness leave me and the warm embrace of God fill me.

            As I rose from the altar, the enormity of what had just happened began to sink in.  I had just gotten saved.  I was born again.  Now, that is not the way in which I would describe my faith relationship today.  Today, I would tell you that I am a follower of the teachings of Jesus.  That is no disrespect to those who use “saved” or “born again” language, but, to me, being “born again” was far more about the hereafter and the promise of a life after death while I consider being a follower of the teachings of Jesus to be more about making a difference in and through the life and the world that we have now.  I want you to understand where my mind was and what an enormous new world that I felt had just been opened up to me.

            Within another month or so, I had shared with some at the church about what I considered, at the time, to be my real struggle.  I was gay, and I didn’t want to be.  I knew that it went against God’s plan and that I was doomed to hell if I couldn’t get control over it and defeat it.  Anyone that I spoke to was very encouraging and supportive.  There had been a man who attended the church before me.  His name was Denny.  He identified as gay, but I was told that he had conquered his desires and turned away from homosexuality.  Unfortunately, he had passed away from complications related to HIV, and I never had the opportunity to meet him.  Still, his story became a source of hope to me.  When I would fall short in terms of my thought-life or succumbed to looking lustfully upon another man, I would feel that I had not only disappointed God but that I had disappointed Denny.

After I had been at the church for several months, some friends asked me if I wanted to go to a Christian concert.  There were two or three musical acts, but I honestly don’t remember who all was playing.  I believe the headliner might have been Audio Adrenaline, but I might be mixing that up with other experiences as I would end up going to many shows of this nature of the coming years.  The one performer that I do remember was a newcomer to the contemporary Christian music scene, but she was a star on the rise.  One of the organizers for the show was looking for volunteers to work the merchandise (merch) tables at the show, and my friends got me one of the volunteer slots.  I didn’t make much money at the time, and this was a way for me to get into the show without having to buy a ticket.  I was assigned the task of working the table for this new artist who was on her meteoric rise to fame.  Her name was Jennifer Knapp. 

It was the first time I’d ever heard the name, Jennifer Knapp.  I didn’t even get to meet her that night as she had to be rushed off to another show right after finishing this one.  There was a barrier separating the merch tables from the concert floor.  I could hear the music, but, in order to see the stage, I had to stretch to see over the barrier.  I caught a few glimpses of her, but I remember really liking her.  She was so simple.  It was just her and her guitar, and her lyrics seemed to have more depth and felt more personal than many of the other Christian artists I had heard.  As the years rolled on, I would end up owning a few of her CD’s mixed in with the others, but I didn’t really feel a special or personal connection to her music.  I did kick myself occasionally for not trying harder to meet her that night before she climbed her way to the pinnacle of Contemporary Christian Music.

Then, a few years ago, in 2009, I found myself in a crisis of faith.  After having spent the last thirteen years asking God to heal me of my homosexuality, my journey had led me to a point that I realized that one of two things had to be true:  God either was not fixing me because God was incapable of doing so (a conclusion that I could not make work within my personal theology) or God was not fixing me because I was not broken.  I did not know if it was possible for me to continue as a Christian, or as a person of faith of any kind, while also claiming my identity as a gay man, but I knew that I could not continue the inauthenticity of the life I had been living any longer.

In 2010, I would attend my first Pride parade in Columbus Ohio.  I was taken aback by the number of churches marching in the parade, and a larger number of them were United Methodist Churches.  That began my journey towards connecting with the Reconciling Ministries Network and, eventually, becoming a member of a reconciling congregation.

In September of 2009, after having taken a seven-year hiatus from public life, Jennifer Knapp returned to the stage, and, in April of 2010, she announced to the world that she was a lesbian and had been in a committed relationship with another woman for eight years.  I respected her so much for being public about her relationship.  I knew the world that she had risen to stardom in, and I knew that she had just cut herself off from so much of that fan base.  I knew that they would not be able to open themselves up enough to accept her in light of this revelation.  She may very well be putting an end to her second go at a music career before it ever got started, but, having been on my own journey of self-discovery, I knew that, once you realize your own authenticity, you can’t, with any level of personal integrity, go back into a world of self-denial.

My mind went back to that show all those years ago in Zanesville, Ohio.  I was right there, so close to her, separated only by a fabric barrier and a couple of hundred enthusiastic music fans.  I began to ask questions life, “What if I had been able to speak to her back then?” and wondering if we would have been able to spare each other all those years of self denial.  It didn’t take me long to realize how futile it was to ponder such things.  Even if someone else had told me back then that it was okay to be me, I wasn’t ready to hear it.  I wasn’t ready to accept myself.  I would have viewed it as an attack upon my newfound Christian identity and responded with a, “Get thee behind me, satan.”  As much as I wish I could have gotten there more quickly, I needed to go on the journey that has brought me to where I am, and, while I didn’t yet know much about the details of Jennifer’s story, I imagined that she probably needed to as well.

Late last year, when Jennifer’s book, Facing the Music, was published, I eagerly downloaded and read it.  While I am surrounded by so many amazing people to encourage and support me in my faith and my life, I have few who can understand that evangelical chapter of my past.  I was excited to connect, through her book, to someone else who had been a part of that world.  I appreciated the transparency that she brought to her writing.  It put me back in those days so quickly and not in an unhealthy way.  It made me so appreciative of the fact that both she and I as well as so many others have found our way, not only to a place of self-acceptance but to self-embracing and, therefore, to a greater and wider understanding of love and God than we ever could have been open to before.

Jennifer's book, Facing the Music

This past weekend, I was in San Antonio Texas to come together with over seven hundred other progressive United Methodists to discuss the work of making our church more inclusive and bring it more into alignment with the teachings and practices of the historical Jesus.  On Saturday evening, there were two speakers.  One was Frank Schaefer, the amazing courageous United Methodist pastor turned equal rights advocate who was defrocked for performing the same-sex wedding of his son, Tim.  The other was Jennifer Knapp.  Following the banquet, I waited outside the hotel ballroom for her to come out.  I bought another copy of her book and asked her to sign it.  I wanted to say more, but I was a bit star-struck in the moment.  I took a picture with her and walked away, kicking myself for not letting her know more about how much her story and the timing of her coming out had encouraged me on my own journey.

Me and Jennifer Knapp at Gather at the River in San Antonio 

The next morning, I found myself in the hotel lobby when I saw Jennifer rush into the coffee shop at the hotel.  I waited for her to come out, and, when she did, I asked her if I could have a moment.  She graciously said yes, but she let me know that she had a car waiting to take her to Austin.  I walked and talked with her, sharing my story as we moved closer to the door and the waiting car.  Within a few minutes, I was able to share with her about the show in Zanesville, my years living as an ex-gay, the struggle that I had gone through to accept myself as a person faith, and my current journey as a seminarian to become a counselor and help others who find themselves conflicted in the areas of spirituality and sexuality.  I thanked her for sharing her story, and she thanked me for sharing mine with her.  She told me that she plays in Ohio a lot and told me to come see her the next time she is near me.  I told her that I would.  As we parted ways and she headed towards her car, I stood there, inwardly reflecting and smiling to myself.  I had finally had the conversation with her that I needed to have.  Also, I was thankful that we were both there in San Antonio at that moment and that both of our lives had brought us to a point where we were at peace in our faith, our relationships with other, and our lives as a whole.

~ Culbs

joshua.culbertson@gmail.com

Believe Out Loud!

My story was featured on Believe Out Loud today!  Check it out!

Independence Day

Wow.  It’s difficult to believe that a little over a week has passed since the Supreme Court’s decision on Obergefell vs. Hodges.   I still have to stop and remind myself that it really happened.  Then, after I let it sink in that marriage is really legal for all loving and committed couples across the United States, I remind myself that this far from puts an end to the struggles of the LGBTQ community.  Then, I remind myself that we are still battling our racial prejudices and gender inequalities.  We celebrate this day, and I believe it is a day worth celebrating, as if it symbolizes the freedom of all citizens of the United States from all inequalities and tyrannies in our lives.  As much as I wish that were true, it simply is not.  Still, a major victory has been won.  As a nation we have taken a bold step forward, and I was glad to have been able to be a very small voice in the struggle to make it happen.

Love Wins Cookie

Columbus Doo Dah Parade

As much as I wish we truly could all sit back now and live as if the battle is won, I know that we cannot.  As long as people are being shot in churches because of the color of their skins, as long as people can be fired from their jobs because of who they love or because their gender doesn’t align with who people think they should be, as long as there is clear disparity between the compensation that a woman receives as compared to a man in the same role, there is work to be done.  Tonight, we set of fireworks and the celebrate what we have accomplished, and we have come far from where we began as a nation, but, tomorrow, it back to work, back to striving to become the nation that I know we can be, the nation that we should be, a nation where we are not ignorant of our differences, but where we embrace them and appreciate each other because of them.

 Let’s get back to work!

~Culbs

joshua.culbertson@gmail.com

© Joshua Culbertson 2015

Pride Fatigue

Pride fatigue is real.  After being at Pride festivals in Dayton, Springfield, Columbus, and Cincinnati, I am so happy to see July arrive.  It’s so strange though.  A few short years ago, in 2010, I stood on a sidewalk on N. High Street in Columbus and watched my first Pride parade.  I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be there.  I had reluctantly agreed to go with a friend.  He had run off to join a group of his friends and actually march in the parade.  I was standing there, trying to be invisible, and hoping that no one I knew would see me.

In 2011, I marched in my first Pride parade with my church, Broad Street United Methodist.  I boldly marched at the front of the group carrying a banner and waiving to the crowds, not caring who saw me because I was finally comfortable with who I was, and I didn’t care who saw me.  My primary focus was making sure that banner was visible to anyone and everyone who needed to see it, hoping that, if there was someone else out there in the same place that I was the year before, they would know that there was a safe place for them.

Me carrying banner for Broad Street UMC in 2011 

2011 was also the year that I connected with Equality Ohio, and I was bitten by the activism bug in a whole other arena.  I was engaged and ready to make my state, my church, and, if possible, the world a more open and accepting place for all people.  Pride changes for you at this point though.  It’s still fun.  It’s still rewarding, but it also becomes work, exhausting work.  When I see and connect with people around the state, it is all so worth it though.

In 2012, Equality Ohio announced that they would be launching the Equality Express, an RV tour throughout the state with a group of interns and a couple of staff to try to make connections with people all over the state.  Their first stop after leaving Columbus…my hometown of Zanesville, a small conservative town in southeastern Ohio.  There were maybe 30 to 40 people in attendance, a couple of ladies came from the Muskingum County Health Department and offered free HIV testing.  I shared that night about my journey and my first experience getting tested. I wanted to have an event that would welcome, the crew of the Equality Express into town and also make people aware of  the work that needed to be done to move Ohio forward.  I also wanted to create a space where people could meet local HIV testers in an environment where they could feel at ease and understand that they would not be judged based on who they were or who they were involved with sexually. 

Also, in 2012, I attended my first Pride festival in Dayton.  Dayton is a small city on the western side of Ohio that feels about the same size as Zanesville, and it made me feel like I was looking at what a Zanesville Pride festival would look like.  It made me smile, and it gave me hope for where things could go in the future.

In 2013 and 2014, I made it a goal to attend Dayton, Columbus, and Cincinnati Prides, marching with my church when I was in Columbus and with Equality Ohio when I was in Dayton and Cincinnati.  For me, Pride has always been less about partying and more about messaging, the getting the word out about whatever organization and/or cause I am representing in that moment

This year, in 2015, I attended Dayton Pride and marched with AIDS Resource Center (A.R.C.) Ohio to help promote PrEP, an HIV prevention pill that I recently began taking.  I was honored this year to also be able to go with A.R.C. Ohio to the first ever Pride festival in Springfield, Ohio.  It was exciting to see a new festival born in another small Ohio town.  It’s real evidence that things are moving forward.  Then, of course, I marched in a very wet Columbus Pride parade and, sadly, the festival in Goodale Park ended up having to be canceled only a couple of hours into the event.  Towards the end of June, I traveled down to Cincinnati for their Pride and stayed over to attend my former pastor’s church, Clifton United Methodist.  Then, I enjoyed an afternoon and evening at King’s Island on my way back to Columbus.

Clifton UMC

King's Island

To cap off my Pride month, on June 29^th I hosted an event, Zanesville Pride Night, for Equality Ohio in my hometown of Zanesville, which is a small conservative town in southeastern Ohio.  There were roughly a hundred people in attendance.  A member of Zanesville City Council spoke.  I had a United Methodist deacon there to share an affirming message of faith.  A father shared about his son’s coming out to him.  The Field Director for Equality Ohio shared about the work that still needs to be done to secure non-discrimination protections for LGBTQ people in Ohio.  Oh, and, after this past Friday’s Supreme Court ruling, we added a wedding to the agenda.  In my closing remarks at the event, I encouraged local people to take up this work and to keep moving Zanesville and the surrounding area forward.

The very next day, a local group in Zanesville was formed, and they are already planning to have an organizational meeting to begin doing this work.  I am so excited to see where things go from here.   For now though, I am most thankful to be getting a chance to take a bit of a breather.  So looking forward to this weekend.  With marriage equality being the law of the land, I think Independence Day is going to feel an little extra special this year!

~ Culbs

joshua.culbertson@gmail.com

© Joshua Culbertson 2015

VICTORY!

Love wins!

Waiting Anxiously...

Continuing in the theme of my post from last night, this morning is like those anxious Christmas mornings as a child where maybe you woke well before your parents were ready to get up.  Of course, you went to their room and suggested that this would be an excellent time to get up, and they strongly suggested that, perhaps, you should return to bed lest your over eagerness resulted in Santa taking repossession of your gifts.  Then, you just had to return to your room and crawl back into bed.  You know that there's no going back to sleep though.  That just isn't going to happen.  So, you lay there, mind racing, wondering what the final outcome will be.  Will you get that gift you wanted?  (Side note: For those who don't know me, please take this for illustrative purposes only.  If you are not someone who celebrates Christmas because you adhere to a different faith perspective or to none at all, please know that I accept, support, and affirm you in your way of believing and being in the world.)

Today is a lot like those anxious, tense moments, laying in bed and waiting for the all-clear to return to the foot of the Christmas tree to find out what Santa's verdict was and whether or not you ended up on the naughty list or the nice one.  Well, when SCOTUS hands down this much anticipated decision in Obergefell vs. Hodges, I hope that all members of the LGBTQ community finally find our names written upon the scrolls of society's and the law's approved list, that we can finally stop being second-class citizens in terms of our families and relationships.  Of course, I don't need a court to tell me that we have value, but I do need a court to tell me that they see that value as well and that they see the harm that is caused by keeping our relationships with the people we love just outside the recognition and the protection of the law.  May, today, we receive Justice.

~ Culbs 

T'was the Night Before SCOTUS

Tonight has such a weird feeling to it.  It's like Christmas night as a child except on a much grander scale.  Tomorrow I may find the most amazing gift waiting for me, a large lump of coal, or, possibly, a gift that is like a piece of clothing that is nice but isn't quite the right size or color.  I'm hoping, of course, for the first possibility.  

Tomorrow, I will awaken early and head downtown to gather with others in hopes that the Supreme Court of the United States not only validates the legally performed marriages of same-sex couples in other states, but that they also open the door for loving, committed same-sex couples to express their love for each other by joining together in legally recognized marriages here in Ohio.  

For a single guy with no prospects for a committed relationship on the horizon, this might not seem like a big deal, but it's about so much more than marriage.  For someone who spent most of their life trying to find acceptance not only from society but also from myself, this decision represents validation on the highest level.  For the highest court in the nation to look at me and every other member of the LGBTQ community and say that I am just as worthy of love and acceptance as anyone else in the country will mean more than any gift I could even imagine.

Sadly, it won't mean that the battle is over.  I still live in one of 29 states where, even if marriage suddenly becomes the law of the land, a couple could get married on Saturday and find themselves fired from their jobs or evicted from their home on Monday.  Still, if the Supreme Court hands us a victory tomorrow and gives us the mountain top, I'll be happy to climb back down and conquer the rest of the mountain.  Our work won't be done until everyone is able to live in a world where, not only are they free to build a life and committed relationship together, they can also live out that life without fear of suddenly having their incomes or the roof over their heads taken away from them.

Well, time for bed.  I have a feeling that this is going to be a restless night.

~ Culbs