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At the turning point of C. S. Lewis's beloved, "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," several significant characters encourage each other with reports that Aslan,
the great lion and true ruler of oppressed Narnia, has reappeared to fight the evil witch. Their words of encouragement to each other are as potent as they are to the point:
"Aslan is on the move." The opening words of this morning's text have the same intended effect on the reader: "He set his face to go to Jerusalem."
Luke wants us to know that Jesus was now moving forward with purpose. He was resolute and determined. He would not be side-tracked or distracted from his destiny.
But even if Jesus was on the move, it wasn't the most direct path. In fact, there seems to be no easy way to identify the route Jesus followed.
The LGBT community is also on the move. We, too, have set our face toward our own destiny. Like Jesus, we are now moving forward with purpose; we are resolute, single-minded,
and determined. We are in it for the long haul. Our face was first set to our destiny 44 years ago on June 28, 1969 during a police raid at
a bar in Greenwich Village called the Stonewall Inn. The Stonewall Inn catered to an assortment of patrons, but it was known to be popular with the poorest
and most marginalized people in the gay community: drag queens, representatives of a newly self-aware transgender community, effeminate young men, male prostitutes,
and homeless youth. Police raids on gay bars were routine in the 1960s, but officers quickly lost control of the situation at the Stonewall Inn,
and attracted a crowd that was incited to riot. Tensions between New York City police and gay residents of Greenwich Village erupted into more protests the next evening,
and again several nights later. Within weeks, Village residents quickly organized into activist groups to concentrate efforts on establishing places for gays and lesbians
to be open about their *** orientation without fear of being arrested. On June 28, 1969 the face of the LGBT community was set for our destiny.
It would be a destiny that would take it beyond the safe confines of the bar. And for people of faith, it is a destiny that goes beyond the safety of a church sanctuary.
As much as we may experience spiritual nourishment among like-minded people of faith, we are called to a destiny that is beyond our walls.
The good news that we have received – the news that God loves each of us just as we are, not in spite of who we are – that news still needs to be taken out to the rest of the world.
And like the path which Jesus chose, ours may not be the most direct. There will be setbacks. We won't always move forward at the pace we would like.
For the past 17 years the LGBT community has been held back with the existence of DOMA. We were told that we were not equal citizens of the U.S.
We were told that we were not entitled to the same rights as other citizens, simply because of who and how we love. But our face was set to our destiny. We stuck with it
and four days ago the Supreme Court affirmed our rights. The Supreme Court rulings prove that the Constitution applies to all of us, regardless of *** orientation or gender identity.
But even as we celebrate our victories, we must remember that the fight is not over. We have a long road before us. The course which Jesus chose
took him beyond familiar boundaries into Samaritan territory. Samaritans were a different race and theirs was a different religion. They believed differently.
Since Jesus had set his face toward Jerusalem, this would have offended the beliefs and sensibilities of many Samaritans. And so our text tells us he was turned away,
rejected by the particular Samaritan town that he and his disciples had intended on passing through. On our journey toward equal rights for all people,
the LGBT population has been rejected by its own share of communities. Because of the destiny to which our face has been set, many of us have been abandoned by our houses of worship
which are supposed to be proclaiming a God of love and grace. We have been cast off by the legal system which was set up to protect the rights of all people.
And worst of all, many members of the LGBT community have even been rejected by their own families which have become obsessed with shaping and molding us into their own *** images.
We have encountered organizations, like Exodus International, whose agenda was upheld with its own brand of pseudo-science. In a press release last week,
Exodus International, a large Christian ministry that claimed to offer a "cure" for homosexuality, announced the closing of its doors. The closure came less than a day after apologizing
to the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community for years of undue judgment by the organization and from the Christian Church as a whole.
But how does one really say, "Oops. I'm sorry. Can't we just have a do-over for all the suicides, deaths, lost years and damage to families we have caused?"
How does one say I'm sorry for 15-year old Raymond in South Africa, who was sent by his mother to a three-month training course designed to make "men out of boys,"
and who died after being chained to his bed, beaten with planks and sticks, electrocuted and forced to eat his own feces? The LGBT community
has had its share of Samaritan villages over the years. We have been rejected and abandoned by the ones we trusted the most. We have been persecuted by those
who have claimed to be doing it for our own good. And so, we have several options before us. One response is that of fear. Harvey Milk's assassination in 1978,
Matthew Shepard's crucifixion in 1998, and Raymond's torture and death in 2011 may be all the writing on the wall that some of us need to go back into our closets.
It's a dangerous world out there, we say to ourselves – one that is more powerful than any force we could muster together. And so we convince ourselves
that no one will bother us as long as we behave ourselves and pretend to be someone who we are not. That's certainly one option. And sadly, it's
an option that has been chosen by some within the LGBT community. I don't believe that is the destiny to which God calls us. I believe God calls us to something bigger than that.
Had the disciples remained behind the locked doors of the upper room following the death and resurrection of Jesus, we never would have had the gospel.
And if the LGBT community stays locked away in its closets, we will never know the freedom that comes with living our lives in the way that God intends for us to live them.
Or like, James and John in this morning's text, we can respond to our setbacks and rejections with anger: "Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and
consume them?" How dare those people who believe differently than us be allowed to exist?! Many members of the LGBT community see their roles as that of the judge,
jury, and executioner. If others hold opinions different than theirs, well, they just need to be eliminated – the opinions, as well as those who hold them.
But the fire that we most often rain down upon our opposition is the violent language we use to stab and cut down our enemies. We are hurt and outraged by their rejection
and so our tactic is to make the other hurt as much as we do. This is such a popular approach that sometimes we even use it upon our own community.
If one group or another within the LGBT community isn't using what we see as the most direct path to Jerusalem, if their priorities aren't our own, if their agenda doesn't meet our approval,
then we rain down our own brand of fire upon them. In both of these two responses – in the response of fear and that of anger –
we have been distracted from our destiny, our purpose. But there is a third option. We can respond by not reacting. We can stay focused on our calling.
We can refrain from the distractions that would keep us from that calling, and fear and anger are two of those distractions. You see, James and John had forgotten Jesus'
instruction earlier in the chapter: "Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town," he said, "shake the dust off your feet." Walk on and let it go.
Don't hold onto your resentment. Keep focused on what your calling is and stick to it. Don't let the opinions of others keep you from that calling.
James and John forgot that instruction from Jesus, and so when they wanted to respond to their opposition with anger, Jesus rebuked them. He called them down.
Some people say we just need to learn how to channel our anger into something positive. I'm not so sure I agree; channeled anger is still anger.
I think, instead, we need to transform our anger into something positive – that positive thing being loving-kindness. God calls us to our destiny –
a destiny in which everyone sits together at the banquet table of God's grace. As MCC pastor, Rev. DeWayne Davis, says: "In shining forth the light as people within whom God dwells,
we are called to hospitable table fellowship, to be a healing presence, and to proclaim God’s beloved community. "The LGBT community in general, and MCC in particular,
have been forerunners for the nation in preparing the church and society to be more accepting and more inclusive of their LGBT sisters and brothers.
MCC has gone to every town and place with the truth that God's LGBT children are loved and beloved of God."
May we continue in our commitment to this destiny to which God calls us each and every day. Amen.