The LGBTQ Community, the United Methodist Church, and Me

I once was a proud member of the United Methodist Church. For an adolescent, I was viewed as wise beyond my years by some relatives and acquaintances, someone with an old soul. This view of my personhood has persisted in some people’s assessment to this day. The passion and thirst for knowledge in me was cultivated the most in me during my adolescence by my pastors at Salem United Methodist Church in the quaint rural town of Pigeon in Michigan’s Thumb. First by Steven, who saw to my inclusion of the administrative board of the church as a youth, oversaw my baptism and confirmation, and wove me firmly into the culture of the church. Then by Cal, who was present for my later teen years, taking me under his wing as a protégé. He taught me the tools that would’ve led to a fruitful path of ministerial leadership and expanded my presence in the framework of our church.

Taking my zeal for the Christian and Methodist faith to the next level, meant enrolling into Greenville College, a Free Methodist school in southern Illinois. I praised the almighty when I received my acceptance into such a fine school where I could either pursue a career path into Contemporary Christian Music or other Christian based endeavors including ministry. It was during my first of the two years that I spent at Greenville College that my Christian faith began to unravel. First my old soul started to view the Christian subculture for what it was during my full submersion in it, then my reintroduction to secular music via some truly hip and intelligent new friends opened my mind, and the tools that Cal taught me along with new tools I was picking up thanks to the faith and learning course and enlightened me to truer analytical thinking.

One of the issues that my mind began to reconcile was LGBTQ rights. During my teen years, I held a firm Christian belief that homosexuality was wrong, firmly reinforced by holy scripture. Considering Mosaic Law, it is no wonder that a zealous Christian would cling to such a belief, also Romans 1:26-27. In 1996, the UMC considered leniency on the LGBTQ community. I remember Cal, who was generally very warm and open while behind the pulpit, had become a modern Jonathan Edwards with brimstone in his voice and hellfire in his gestures while delivering a sermon one Sunday against such leniency. The UMC upheld its discrimination against LGBTQ+ people at that time. Then I was challenged about the true meaning of the Romans passage while at Greenville College. I would further consider that if Christianity got that wrong and what else it could be wrong about, especially after learning that the First Council of Nicaea was conducted under the supervision of the still pagan Constantine.

I chuckled when commercials started airing on television during my twenties for the UMC with the slogan “Open Hearts, Minds.” My heart and mind opened thanks to leaving the Christian and thus Methodist faith behind. I softened a little during my early thirties to Christianity and during a period in which I tried to find morsels of beauty from all religious traditions. Indeed, I did find morsels, but in my religious relativism I was also suspending some belief and reality anew. It was heartening to learn in recent months that some UMC churches were taking a stand against Trump’s abominable immigration policies by both voicing opposition in Sunday sermons and by providing sanctuary to individuals targeted by ICE.

Then at the end of February 2019, the UMC formally rejected a proposal to embrace same-sex weddings and gay clergy in a 449-374 vote. Instead they upheld the “Traditional Plan” in a firm and greater enforced LGBTQ ban within the church. While there is a small optimism in the minority 374 votes and the potential upheaval of an irreconcilable schism in the denomination stemming from this, it is deeply disappointing to see a such a rejection against love and humanity maintained. Though I’m not surprised. The church has defrocked pastors in recent years for officiating same sex weddings. Until bigotry is more profoundly weeded out of the broader Christian church, I’ll remain unshocked by news events such as this most recent one from the United Methodist Church.

In the meantime, my love goes out to my LGBTQ+ friends and family. You will continue to see me in your corner at every step. I am with you always.

Moja prababcia. Moje dziedzictwo. - My great-grandmother. My heritage.

Heritage isn’t just a stoic thing or aspect of life. It lives, breathes, and reaches throughout the centuries. In a sense, I'm like most Americans with more than one nationality in my family tree. Yet my confirmed lineage paints me as predominately Polish, Scottish and Irish. These lands are culture rich and have histories that are often misunderstood, at least on the western side of the great Atlantic pond. My insatiable thirst for knowledge and the ancient call in my blood led me to focus my college studies on European history, map my heritage in my poetry, trace back my family tree, and embody traditions...cooking, holidays, and language. 

My Great-Grandma Nauka is my most tangible connection to the old world. She is the only immigrant ancestor to American shores that I've been graced to dwell in the realm of the living with, even though it was only for a few years. I am blessed to hold her in treasured memory.

Below is a snapshot of her, a brief biography.

Mary Krawczyk migrated to the United States around 1913. Not long after her arrival she met and married another Polish immigrant, Louis Nauka (or was his name Lundgre or Ludwig?). They started their family in Detroit then moved north to the rural Thumb of Michigan. Shortly after the family’s move, Louis was found dead one morning. His death turned out to be as enigmatic as his own identity. Mary was left to raise their five sons on her own, which in turn forced John, the eldest, to assume adult responsibilities. The youngest sons, including my grandfather named after Louis, grew up not knowing their father. Mary never relinquished her native Polish as she added some English to spoken communication. She was a strong farmer and loving though stern grandmother to the children her sons produced. Mary took pride in being blessed to know her first two great-grandchildren before passing away. The firstborn is me, and I feel the pulse of the heritage that she’s bestowed within me.

From left to right: Great Uncle John Nauka, Great Grandma Mary Nauka, Great Aunt Eleanor Nauka, Great Uncle Eugene Nauka, Grandpa Louis Nauka, and Grandma Ivy Nauka.