I didn’t grow up in the Friends tradition. I grew up in a small, missionary baptist church in rural Arkansas. As a queer and trans person, it didn’t take long for me to realize that that was not the most conducive environment for my spiritual growth. Still, I am grateful for the introduction to Jesus that I experienced there. For years, I searched high and low for a church that would celebrate me and all of my gifts, including my gender identity, my sexual orientation, and my call to pastoral ministry.

There were few churches in my hometown that fit that description, and none of them were a good fit for me theologically. In the summer of 2014, I stumbled upon some information about the Religious Society of Friends and, with cautious curiosity, I drove two and a half hours to Memphis Friends Meeting. We sat in complete silence for an hour, a small group of Friends/strangers took me out for lunch, and then I drove home. I knew very little about Friends at the time, but I knew of the peace and equality testimonies, and of their commitment to seeking the Light of God within everyone. I spent the next few weeks reading every Brent Bill book I could get my hands on, watching all of the QuakerSpeak videos, and dreaming of living close enough to a Friends meeting or church to be an active attender.

A year later, I knew it was time. I was offered a fellowship with the Quaker Voluntary Service, and in August 2015, I packed up a suitcase and moved to Portland, OR for a year of service, intentional community, and spiritual exploration. Now, I’m halfway through my second year of service with QVS. I’m a pastoral intern at West Hills Friends (a community that I love!) And while I have actively engaged in the life of my local church, I have learned that there is something desperately missing from my Quaker experience:

I don’t have a yearly meeting. I am not connected to a wider body of local Friends churches. I have never attended a yearly meeting session. My spirituality lacks the gifts of accountability, group discernment, and collaboration that come with yearly meeting relationships.

The month before I moved to Portland for QVS, my church, West Hills Friends, was asked to leave the Northwest Yearly Meeting. WHF is open and affirming of LGBTQ+ folks; Northwest Yearly Meeting is not. After months and months of appeals and discussions, we received news last weekend that WHF and three other churches are officially being asked to split from NWYM. “Restructuring,” they say. We are to start a new yearly meeting, along with any other churches who wish to join us.

I have been mostly disengaged from the conversations about WHF and NWYM, until this week. I saw no promise or future for myself within the yearly meeting and knew that inevitably, if I hoped to serve as a pastor, I would need to find a new yearly meeting or leave the Friends tradition altogether.

While I certainly sympathize with my friends and church family that are grieving this separation, I also feel more hopeful than I’ve felt in a while about continuing my relationship with the Society of Friends. Here’s why:

it is imperative that LGBTQ+ Friends have equal leadership opportunities. It is time to empower new leaders—leaders that are LGBTQ+, people of color, women, disabled, as well as those who choose not to pursue formal theological education. I believe it will be a grave mistake to trust that even allies with the best intentions will be able to act on behalf of marginalized people to create a welcoming environment. After all, intention is far different than impact. Queer and trans folks can (and should) be part of leadership. If our goal is to truly be an inclusive community of Friends, thenIt is time to empower new leaders—leaders that are LGBTQ+, people of color, women, disabled, as well as those who choose not to pursue formal theological education. I believe it will be a grave mistake to trust that even allies with the best intentions will be able to act on behalf of marginalized people to create a welcoming environment. After all, intention is far different than impact.

In progressive communities, we often use the analogy of “the seat at the table.” Everyone is welcome here, we say. LGBTQ+ folks, women, people of color, people with disabilities—-come, we will make room for you. To a degree, this is a helpful image! But it also gives us the impression that the table belongs to the straight folks, to men, to white people, to people who do not experience systemic marginalization. It gives us the impression that it is their table, and that they get to choose when and how to make space for us—the Other. It gives us the impression that we are a guest. There is a lack of permanence. As Friends, we know that the table belongs to God. We know that that of God is within each of us, beckoning us closer, beckoning us to take a seat, beckoning us to Friendship. At this table, there has always been and will always be plenty of room for each of us. At this table, we never have to fear that we might lose our seat. At this table, we have a kindred community with Christ and with one another.

In progressive communities, we often use the analogy of “the seat at the table.” Everyone is welcome here, we say. LGBTQ+ folks, women, people of color, people with disabilities—-come, we will make room for you. To a degree, this is a helpful image! But it also gives us the impression that the table belongs to the straight folks, to men, to white people, to people who do not experience systemic marginalization. It gives us the impression that it is their table, and that they get to choose when and how to make space for us—the Other. It gives us the impression that we are a guest. There is a lack of permanence. As Friends, we know that the table belongs to God. We know that that of God is within each of us, beckoning us closer, beckoning us to take a seat, beckoning us to Friendship. At this table, there has always been and will always be plenty of room for each of us. At this table, we never have to fear that we might lose our seat. At this table, we have a kindred community with Christ and with one another. We can say, with integrity, that even the formation of our new yearly meeting will be Spirit-led. In fact, we were asked to leave NWYM because of a Spirit-led decision to be open and affirming. I trust that that is evidence of our prophetic ministry and our willingness to submit to the leadings of the Holy One. Forming a foundation of trust in Jesus, our Inner Teacher, will be crucial as we move forward. We will not be forced to work within the systems of oppression, hierarchy, and exclusivity of the Northwest Yearly Meeting. As the George Fox Song (or “Walk in the Light”) says:



and a bell, and a key.

They would bind you forever,

but they can’t!” says he.

“For the book—it will perish,

and the steeple will fall,

but the Light will be shining

at the end of it all.”

We are being released to do the continuing work of God. Over the past several years, more conversations within NWYM have been devoted to the topic of WHF and our inclusive stance than any other issue. We have required more emotional and spiritual labor from our community than necessary. I believe it is time to live into our Quaker legacy of prophetic ministry. Now is the time. It is the time to listen, quietly, to what God is leading us to do and how to walk cheerfully and faithfully in a tumultuous world. It is time, my Friends. The steeple might be falling, but the Light will be shining at the end of it all.