“We would like to invite you to our service that recognizes and blesses mental health providers. Would you like to come?”

That was my first invitation to Urban Abbey. I went and it also became the first time I fell in love with Urban Abbey. You see, at the time, I was searching for a church home and I didn’t quite yet, but this was to become my church home.

Let me back up. Everything in my life was changing or had changed. I am not being dramatic, everything was literally changing. I was going through (or had gone through, I can’t remember the timeline well) a divorce, I had come out as being bi, my then dog was now with my ex, my dad had passed away, I had changed homes, had changed jobs, changed families, and was soon to be changing churches. It was a crazy time in my life. I loved my church at the time—I was very involved and invested in my church. I was in Bible studies, loved worship, taught Sunday school to 3-4 year-olds (which was hilarious!) and had given of my time and finances. However, after I had come out, I had a long talk with my pastor and his wife. They were friends. They were loving and understanding and compassionate. But in the end, while they invited me to stay in my church home, they condemned my sexuality and said it was wrong. But I could stay. Why would I want to stay at a place that condemned my identity? And a piece of my identity that I can’t change? I think that is one of the biggest debates in Christianity—people think this is a “lifestyle” or “a choice” but in reality, you can’t choose whom you are attracted to, you just are. Anyway, so there I was, churchless for the first time in my life and not knowing where to go. I took some time to myself some Sundays, other times I would church hop or attend a specific place of worship for a certain amount of time. But I didn’t just want to attend church, I wanted to build community—to find friends, confidantes, people I could laugh with and pray with. It is how I grew up and where I could see God the clearest. I was sad to not have a faith community.

And then, at some point, I walked into this little coffee-shop, bookstore church. It was warm, inviting, and smelled of lovely roasted coffee. People were smiling and greeting strangers. There were books of all kinds—some nice, some naughty, but all drawing us closer to God and to each other. There were scarves, jewelry, and art from global fair trade. I was called up with other mental health providers, was prayed over and blessed and given a labyrinth to remind me of the journey with God and to take time to center. I was told that ALL are welcome to this place, that God loves each of us. Period. And then I was invited to the table of Hawaiian bread communion, without agenda or stipulation but all I needed was to be hungry. I’m not gonna lie, growing up in the conversative Christian church all my life, I was skeptical and a cynic of what appeared to be some fan-dangled new-agey-type church. HA! Until I learned that this was a METHODIST church and then my mind was truly blown! This was NOT the Methodist church that I knew about! My dad had grown up Methodist and many of my relatives are Methodist—but it wasn’t like this! I didn’t know that Methodists could be progressive and welcoming of all and validating of the many identities that reside in us humans! Urban Abbey revealed that to me and continues to do this to all it encounters.

I have learned that God comes in many forms to speak to us today. The greatest revelation of God obviously came in his son, Christ Jesus. But God also comes in the form of a short, white, loving Abbot; a singer-song writer gracing us with his music each week, a smiling barista who makes the best pumpkin pie lattes. And sometimes God shows up in a black woman who greets you lovingly, a Latino man who might open the door for you, and a drag queen who might read you a story on some sunny Saturday. Urban Abbey has taught me to look for God in all of us—to see where love is in its truest form. I didn’t grow up in a church that had repeated liturgy, or recited lines, or rituals. But now I have come to realize that those are sacraments, those are holy actions that remind of us a steady and loving God. I have come to love those rituals and do not take them for granted.

Lastly, I have come to understand that it is so important to have inclusive spaces of worship. Not because it is trendy or politically correct, but because it is truly the way we can get a glimpse of how big and diverse our God is. WE are made in God’s image. All of us. I didn’t always understand that, but Urban Abbey has taught me how important that is. Keeping these doors open is not only necessary, it is live saving. I couldn’t have imagined all those years ago that I would be fully and completely accepted by a faith community…until I walked through the doors of Urban Abbey and encountered Christ in a different way. I am grateful that I showed up and I am grateful that God met me there. To God be the glory. Amen.