Garce Beahm/Staff
The Rev. Robert Arrington (left) of Unity Fellowship Church and his partner, Theadore Robinson-Arrington, (second from right) with members Carolyn Luke and Vina Scott (right).
For some people, especially gays and lesbians, church is not a welcoming place but a place of judgment.
Rosie Judon used to attend a Baptist church that professed to be welcoming to all, but many of its members avoided her. During the passing of the peace, few reached for her hand or attempted an embrace, she said.
Sam Ruff was the son of a Southern Baptist minister, but that faith tradition would not accept Ruff for who he was.
Susan Storm didn't feel comfortable in the United Methodist churches she once attended. She was afraid of embarrassing her father, a lay leader in the church.
Raymond Cook, son of a Baptist minister, came to terms with his sexual identity late in life. His pastor was understanding, Cook said, but warned of inevitable conflict.
These and other gay and lesbian churchgoers in the Charleston area have found a spiritual home at the Metropolitan Community Church of Charleston, which caters to the gay community. They said religious institutions too often present an obstacle to congregational faith, creating either cynics who avoid church altogether or believers who must seek -- or create -- a church that won't condemn them for their sexual orientation.
The Charleston area is home to two churches founded by gays and lesbians and a few mainline Protestant churches that purposefully welcome them. They are part of a growing number of churches nationally finding a way to reconcile homosexuality with the Christian tradition, an effort that has created discord and controversy in various denominations but has opened a door to people who may have felt shut out.
Some who attend Metropolitan Community Church on Dorchester Road are rediscovering their faith, said Ruff, a lay leader at the church.
"Lots gave up long ago," he said. "You can forget what you're missing."
Finding a home
In the spring of 2010, the Rev. Robert Arrington started Unity Fellowship Church, currently housed in a commercial building on Ashley Phosphate Road in North Charleston. It is one in a network of 17 church branches in major U.S. cities. Unity Fellowship got its start in 1982 as a grass-roots AIDS ministry in California. It practices an evangelical form of Christianity based on liberation theology, Arrington said.
Homosexuality is considered a social justice issue, and the church is meant to provide a safe haven for believing gays and lesbians, especially in the black community (as well as sympathetic straight people), he said. It is a place for spiritual healing.
Arrington grew up in the Baptist Church and felt called to preach from an early age, he said. But his sexuality got in the way.
"Half my family said I had a demon in me," he said.
A North Carolina pastor who recognized Arrington's religious calling as legitimate convinced him to marry. "He said you have to get the gay demon out of you."
The marriage didn't last long. Arrington was miserable, he said.
Eventually, he was ordained as a "nonpracticing homosexual," but soon made his way to Charlotte, where he found a branch of Unity Fellowship, met Theadore Robinson and fell in love.
On Sept. 10, 2005, they were married in a symbolic church ceremony. The next year they moved to Rochester, N.Y., where Arrington served as pastor of a Unity Fellowship congregation. In 2009, they moved to the Charleston area.
The local congregation is small; no more than 18 show up on any given Sunday, Arrington said. But the church is new and the need large, he said. Homosexuality in the black community often is frowned upon, and many young black gays and lesbians are made to feel ostracized, he said.
'People of God'
Vina Scott, 55, and Carolyn Luke, 60, are partners who attend Unity Fellowship.
Scott, who was born and raised in Charleston and lived in California for 15 years before returning, said she never could feel comfortable in church because of the anti-gay message.
Luke, who was born in Montgomery, Ala., and lived in Atlanta for three decades before moving to Charleston, always has been a churchgoer, she said. In high school, she knew she was different but refused to admit her sexual orientation. She married twice and had children.
"For years I was unhappy and depressed because I wasn't living the life I was supposed to live," Luke said.
Five years ago, she met Scott using an online dating service. "My family thought I had really flipped out."
But little by little, they've gotten used to it, she said.
Scott, too, married and had children. At 30, she came out of the closet. "The whole world opened up to me," she said.
The difficulties have been monumental at times, but both women said church has provided necessary comfort.
And Arrington has found his place. "Sexuality is just a small part of who we are," he said. "We are people of God."
Mainline views
The question of whether homosexuality is a sinful lifestyle choice versus a fixed identity or orientation, perhaps even assigned by God, is at the heart of the current debate among Christians.
For Marvin Wood, pastor of Tall Pines Baptist Church in Ladson, and for other conservatives, certain biblical truths are being cast as optional by a secular social order that advocates tolerance and inclusiveness at the expense of religion.
"You have swung away from Scripture because you are influenced by things other than Scripture," he said.
An effective church is one that combines compassion with doctrine, Wood said.
The Charleston area is home not only to two churches started by gays and lesbians, but to a few mainline churches that have gained a reputation in the gay community for providing a nonjudgmental religious environment.
Circular Congregational Church, affiliated with the United Church of Christ, long has offered area residents a progressive Christianity that "welcome(s) people of different sexual orientations," and the Unitarian Church of Charleston also has provided sanctuary to members of the gay community.
St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Charleston has made a point of emphasizing in its official vision statement that it is "a place of comfort for all people without regard to gender, age, marital status, economic status, sexual orientation, disability, race or cultural heritage."
St. Stephen's Episcopal Church also has welcomed gays and lesbians.
Its rector, the Rev. David Williams, praised "gay-specific" churches for their outreach, noting that many gays and lesbians, though they hunger for church, are reluctant to join. But in a way, targeted outreach only perpetuates the problem, he added.
If the only way for gays and lesbians to have a spiritual life within a community is to attend a church geared specifically for them, then differences are bolstered and continued instead of dissolved, he said.
"The harder problem is incorporating gays and lesbians into traditional churches," he said. "Churches that have made an intentional effort to be inclusive don't have to go after one group or another."
And equality runs both ways, he said. Special privileges such as private baptisms should be avoided, and all members must have access to leadership positions.
A community church
The Metropolitan Community Church of Charleston was established in 1981, and its fledgling congregation first was hosted by the Circular Congregational Church and Unitarian Church in Charleston before it moved to its current building in 1997.
The Eucharist is celebrated weekly, and its theology is based on historic Christian creeds. The denomination was founded in Los Angeles in 1968 by the Rev. Troy Perry and now consists of about 250 affiliated congregations.
Cook discovered the church when he lived in Myrtle Beach. Feeling rejected by his Southern Baptist tradition, he was not inclined to give up his faith, he said.
Cook's partner, Ruff, said the church "is a place where people can be 100 percent comfortable," but it's also a place that provides anonymity to those not ready to share their sexual orientation with the wider community.
Storm, who is choir director and head of the worship committee, said the church accommodates people from many kinds of faith traditions and employs a variety of musical styles. When years ago she abandoned the United Methodist Church, she was left disoriented, she said.
"I wasn't sure where I stood in God's eyes."
She discovered Metropolitan Church by accident. She noticed an advertisement at the Asian market next door. She learned of the Wednesday Bible study, Sunday school for kids, open communion and Christ-centered worship service.
"This is a place where God loves me and where I know I have a place in the church," Storm said.
Many others attend seeking spiritual healing, she said, pointing to boxes of tissues that sit in each pew, "because there is a lot of pain here."
Judon said some gays and lesbians feel as though they have been thoroughly rejected by society. "The church congregation is all the family they have," she said.
Reach Adam Parker at 937-5902. Visit him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/aparkerwriter.
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