“The BMC”, as it is commonly called, is short for The Brethren Council on Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender Interests. I know the name is long and very forgettable but the people who are part of the BMC definitely aren’t . This year the BMC celebrated 35 years of fierceness and fabulousness. That’s nine years longer than I’ve been alive. Some of the people I met this weekend were advocating for LGBT inclusion before I knew I was gay and even before I was born. For over three decades these people’s voices have been silenced by both Mennonite and Brethren denominations and yet they keep working, keep advocating, and most surprisingly they keep laughing.

The laughing part is what most surprised me; these people have some painful stories to tell but they also have some absolutely hysterical ones. Everyone had stories to tell and so many of these stories resulted in hearty laughter. Whether it’s an awkward coming out story or taking a family picture in plain drag, these queer folk have some amazing stories.

The weekend started off with the basic meet and greet and then went into hearing a little about the organization for us newcomers. Saturday morning we had workshops on some of the issues that affect LGBT folk. Saturday afternoon we had a great time just hanging out and getting to know each other. I was able to meet so many amazing people and there were many women and men there that a young person just coming out could learn from. I know this is a common observation but I was struck by how normal and typical some of the couples were. Couples who met at church or church retreats, a couple who had been together for decades and had 5 kids! I know these things should not surprise me but it has taken me awhile to reorient my thinking of what it means to be queer having grown up in a conservative home and struggling for so long to reconcile my identity with my faith.

But the best part came Saturday evening when we had story time followed by more story time around a camp fire. Wow! Fantastic endless laughter- I couldn’t begin to relate these stories in any way that would do justice to them so just know if you’ve never hung out with queer anabaptists and heard their stories, well, you haven’t lived. As hard as it is for me to know that we are excluded from so many anabaptist congregations I realized this weekend it’s the people who are doing the excluding that are really missing out.

On Sunday morning we had a good old-fashioned hymn sing (with plenty of tenors and altos), a sermon and communion. We meditated on the parable of the the salt and light and lit candles for those who had gone before us, both queer and straight-ally anabaptists, who started the work of making our denominations and churches more welcoming places. I’ve realized how fortunate I am to be a gay anabaptist today and how much I owe to thos who have been working for inclusion these past three decades. I know I am a crazy optimist but I’m sure that I will see the work of those anabaptists come to fruition soon and I’m so thankful for the work they’ve done to make many of our churches more welcoming places.

Of all the stories this group of people has to tell I believe the most compelling one is to be filled with joy in the face of adversity and to keep telling your story over and over to anyone who will listen. I’m reminded of the story in Romans about the Jerusalem council when the in crowd of Jewish christians was trying to keep the gentile christians out of their congregations. Finally after a long debate Peter told stories of the work the Holy Spirit had been doing among the gentiles and the in crowd fell silent.

So I will keep telling stories of the work the holy spirit is doing in my life and the lives of my queer sisters and brothers, praying that one day the in crowd will fall silent and together we can come out and be the kind of queer church we were meant to be.

I have to admit that since I became convinced of Anabaptist theology sometime after college I’ve never been a fan of any man in the military. In fact I cringe at the thought and I’m very uncomfortable around such people. Even still on Wednesday when I watched this video I was thrilled and encouraged. To be fair my reaction had little to do with the fact that he’s a soldier and more to do with the response he received but nonetheless I became a fan of a soldier.

When Steven R Phillips sat down in that chair (showing his face for the first time and officially coming out of the end of DADT) and said he was going to call his Dad then mentioning that his Dad was in Alabama (where he was from) I couldn’t help but be afraid for him. I don’t know any Dads from Alabama but I do know conservative Dad’s from rural states (specifically my own) and it didn’t give me much hope for what he might hear on the other end of the line. As the phone rang Steven mentioned that his heart was racing and I could imagine. In fact it was very easy for me to put myself in this man’s shoes as I anticipated the day that I might tell my own Dad that I’m gay and I knew exactly how he must be feeling. When his Dad picked up the phone and Steven responds with “Hey Daddy” in true southern fashion and I heard his Dad’s accent I fear that my presumptions are correct.

Needless to say by the end of the conversation after hearing all his “Daddy’s” encouraging words my fears were relieved and with Steven I breathed a huge sigh of relief and I don’t think I could express the feeling better myself than Steven when he whistles and says “Oh my Lord!”

In my heart I rejoice with with Steven and all the men and women in the military who are coming out for the first time. At the same time my mind says “are you crazy?” these people are in the military they are responsible for the deaths of many innocent lives and perpetuate this awful cycle of violence. Furthermore why should I care if these oppressive institutions are slightly less oppressive than they were a few a days ago. Also why should I care that these violent oppressors are not being as oppressed themselves any longer? My heart has no answers for my mind and my mind does not convince my heart to feel otherwise. So here I sit in the paradox a gay Mennonite rejoicing and yet in conflict with my emotions at the end of DADT.