Frank Schaefer speaks to reporters after being reinstated as a pastor in Germantown, Pennsylvania, in June. Credit:New York Times While victories for advocates of same-sex marriage are stacking up, in some American churches the divide over the issue is deepening. One of those who has found himself at the centre of this culture war is a man with a faint German accent, a demeanour that ranges from cheerful to downright exuberant and – as the United Methodist Church is learning – a thick rebellious streak. Reverend Frank Schaefer never planned to be an activist, though that is what he became one day in 2000 when he received a chilling phone call in the office of his church in small-town Pennsylvania. On the line was a church member who did not give her name. She told him that his teenage son Timothy was gay. She feared he was considering suicide. That evening Reverend Schaefer and his wife Brigitte asked Tim if it was true and his story broke their hearts.

Reverend Schaefer hugs a supporter after his reinstatement in June. Credit:New York Times Tim had known he was gay for years and his sexuality had tormented him. He remembered going to a church camp with Reverend Schaefer and sitting in on a debate over sin and sexuality. The prevailing sentiment was that homosexuals would not enter heaven. In the years afterwards Tim had regularly prayed for God to make him straight, then wept himself to sleep. "What really, really broke my heart was that my son was going through this for years and really being in agony," Reverend Schaefer recalls today. "He was feeling spiritual abuse by his own church that told him that you can't be gay and go to heaven, which is a horrible thing to say." Larissa Boose Williams, right, and her daughter Sedona, 10, hand out flowers to Tony London, left, and Tim Bostic after they become the first couple to obtain a gay marriage in the state of Virginia. Credit:AP Reverend Schaefer had long believed that Methodist doctrine on homosexuality was wrong, that human sexuality was not a choice and therefore could not be a sin. He told Tim that he was created in God's image, that God loved him and was proud of him.

In the coming years two more of the Schaefers' four children came out, each finding the process easier than the last. "When my daughter came out it was no surprise, we were like, 'what took you so long?'" Reverend Schaefer says. "She was able to talk about it with us even when she was questioning it in herself. This is how it should be, young people should have complete support from their families, their churches. This will become the new normal." In 2006 Tim, by then at Boston University, called his parents to tell them he was getting married to his partner Bobby. The ceremony was to be held in Massachusetts, which by then recognised gay marriage. He wanted his father to marry them. Reverend Schaefer was thrilled. It was only after he put the phone down that he realised he would be breaking church law and would likely be defrocked. Though he notified his bishop that he would be performing the marriage, sympathetic church elders let the matter quietly rest.

Over the coming years Reverend Schaefer worked to expand his small conservative church. He added a second service on Sundays and his progressive ministry began attracting a younger and more diverse congregation. The changes upset some of the older traditionalists and a division between those attending the two services became apparent. Eventually a conservative group began actively lobbying for Reverend Schaefer's dismissal. There were vicious rumours and false accusations. The reverend, it was said, had been seen having sex with a janitor in a bathroom. He was embezzling church funds. The church investigated and dismissed the allegations, but it was soon fielding daily complaints. Finally one of the so-called "concerned group" drove to Massachusetts to secure a transcript of Tim's wedding licence. Faced with this evidence the administration could no longer look away and in 2013, a month shy of the church's six-year statute of limitations, Reverend Schaefer was charged with performing a gay marriage and breaking the discipline of the church. 'All of a sudden these words bubbled out and they were just right.'

The United Methodist Church's Book of Discipline has very specific regulations about how ecclesiastical trials are to be carried out. They even describe how a courtroom should be laid out, down to where the jury and judge should sit in relation to the prosecution and the defence teams. Reverend Schaefer's trial was held in the same gymnasium where his son Tim had learned that he was not to be allowed into heaven all those years earlier. Interest in the case was huge and national media attended. The division in the church was stark – the traditionalists sat behind the prosecution, Reverend Schaefer's supporters sat behind him. The church's lawyer, the Reverend Christopher Fisher, told the jury in his opening statement that Reverend Schaefer clearly violated the Book of Discipline. He said the complainant, Jon Boger — a member of Reverend Schaefer's congregation — was dismayed and shocked when he learned about the wedding ceremony. Mr Boger, the church's sole witness, testified he felt betrayed when he found out that Reverend Schaefer, who had baptised his children and buried his grandparents, had presided over a gay wedding.

"When pastors take the law of the church in their own hand . . . it undermines their own credibility as a leader and also undermines the integrity of the church as a whole," Mr Boger said, according to the Associated Press. At the urging of his family, Reverend Schaefer and his counsel had carefully drafted and rehearsed a statement of contrition. He would not disavow gay marriage, but asked if he would perform one again he would simply say he could not predict the future. If he got the tone right he just might keep his job and his ministry. But looking into the crowd behind the defence table, a crowd that included not only his family – his son – but supporters from around the country and from many denominations, Reverend Schaefer found he could not bring himself to read the statement. "All I could see at that moment was the harm the church had done to my child, to my son Tim, and how he went through agony and had a plan in place to kill himself," he says.

Instead Reverend Schaefer tried to explain why he believed the church could no longer reject its gay members. "I was feeling sick, I was so scared," he says. "I knew what I wanted to say, but I did not know if I could find the words. "I looked up and I saw my family and I saw my supporters and it was like a magical moment. All of a sudden these words bubbled out and they were just right." Reverend Schaefer began by telling the court about the first openly gay woman he welcomed to his congregation. He described how she had suffered a stroke and to walk she had to audibly instruct her brain to move. "It was so important for this sister to be part of the sacrament of communion. She stepped - literally stepped all the way up the aisle toward the altar saying 'step, step, step' every step of the way," he told the court.

"When people around her saw that - and I am talking about some people that were opposed to homosexuals to being a part of the church, being members of the church, or having rights - I noticed that as she approached the altar area, there was sobbing in the room. And I noticed that people were grabbing handkerchiefs and napkins and wiping the tears off their faces. This act of coming toward the altar of this young lesbian sister but wanting communion so badly that she was there even in her illness changed the minds and hearts of many that morning." As Reverend Schaefer told this story, many in the courtroom wept too. He explained to the jury that as his progressive stance on a range of issues became known, more people began attending his church and calling for his help. "I found myself being transformed into something that was totally new to me," he said. "I became an advocate for gays, lesbians, transgenders and bisexual people. I became a spokesperson for them. And I embraced that because I saw that as a new calling from God. I received I don't know how many dozens of letters and cards, emails, Facebook messages of people that are hurting. LGBT people, their parents, their relatives. And many of them shared stories with me that were so sad. Stories of rejection, of discrimination, of being harmed. And I am a minister. I was called to be a minister by God first and by the United Methodist Church after that. I have to minister to those who hurt. And that's what I'm doing. That's my new understanding of my calling that God has given me. I have to minister to my brothers and sisters that hurt. "So before you make a decision, please know that I will continue to minister to all people equally regardless of their gender, nationality, race, social status, economic status or sexual orientation. And my message is going to be that we as a church and as individuals need to stop judging people based on their sexual orientation or anything else. We have to stop the hate speech. We have to stop treating them as second-class Christians. We have to stop harming beloved children of God." After his statement the proceedings were brief. "Are you willing to repent of your actions you have been found guilty of and renounce your disobedience to the discipline of The United Methodist Church?" Reverend Fisher asked him.

" I cannot," said Reverend Schaefer. "Will you promise from henceforth never to perform another same-sex wedding and ceremony and from henceforth to uphold all the provisions of the Discipline?" "I cannot make that statement," said Reverend Schaefer. As the jury left the courtroom a crashing noise erupted. Some of Reverend Schaefer's supporters were upending chairs, symbolically re-enacting Jesus' overturning of the tables in the Temple. Church's final showdown



Reverend Schaefer's uncompromising stance and his extraordinary performance in the witness box had very publicly put the church in a difficult position. Its solution, says Reverend Schaefer, was "brilliant and cowardly". Rather than defrocking him, the court suspended him for 30 days, during which time he was to consider whether or not he felt he could abide by the Book of Discipline in its entirety. Or as Reverend Schaefer puts it, he was given 30 days to renounce gay marriage or defrock himself. He refused, and a month later his credentials as a United Methodist Church pastor were removed, but the legal fight continues. Reverend Schaefer's counsel successfully appealed last June, arguing that punishing him for refusing to promise not to perform more gay marriages in future was punishing him for an offence he had not yet committed. Reverend Schaefer says with a laugh that he was "refrocked". In turn the prosecutor, Reverend Fisher, who appears determined to prevent any softening of the church's stance on homosexuality, has appealed that decision.

On October 22 the Methodist Church's highest legal body, the Judicial Council, will convene in Memphis, Tennessee, with representatives from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin and North America, to finally decide Reverend Schaefer's fate. There is more at stake than his job. His stance is forcing the United Methodist Church to confront a division that can no longer be ignored. Both his supporters and opponents believe that a decision in his favour will have a direct impact on the church's General Conference, whose next quadrennial meeting is next year. The General Conference is the only body that has the authority to change church doctrine and the Book of Discipline. The UMC's entire stance on homosexuality could be overturned. And it is not just the Methodist Church that may be affected. Reverend Schaefer counts among his supporters members of all denominations, including Catholics already emboldened by the conciliatory language of Pope Francis. The revolution that Reverend Schaeffer began in Lebanon, Pennsylvania, could spread far.

Asked if he is fearful about the outcome of the coming trial, he says that he is not: "The one thing I have learnt through all this is if you stick with your conscience, good things happen."