My name is Allie (or Brigs if you know me through the internet), pronouns They/Them. I have been part of the community for two years now; though I realized that I’m not fond of talking about myself and preferred to listen and follow along conversations. Trying to recount particular notable stories in my life can be a little challenging; maybe mostly because I see that my past life was generally unremarkable on a conservative standpoint, perhaps even a particularly noteworthy “soul-winning story” for some at the start. I hope that by the end of what I will share you will be taking something home with you.
I was a solo kid born to a career-oriented single mom, raised by my grandmother, your lola’s gorl. I always found myself fascinated by less conventional interests than the norm. Though I am interested in dolls, some of my favorite toys were cars and making “cityscapes” with the help of my older cousin; a thirst to know and learn as I marathon educational science shows.
Interestingly with my inclination toward science, I have also been fascinated with other religions, beliefs, schools of thought, and even unexplainable supernatural mysteries. My first exposure to spirituality was my Catholic mother teaching me to pray “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep”. It goes like this:
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my Soul to keep[;] If I should die before I’wake, I pray the Lord my Soul to take.
Your typical school kid who likes to pray and meditate at the Adoration Chapel during free time; looks in awe at the architectural wonders of churches and the multitude of depictions of the saints and the Blessed Virgin.
Despite all the interesting things and my efforts to connect to others, somehow I felt like I was more inclined to be alone. As my mom put it, it seems that I am perpetually searching for something. What can I say, I like to ask questions.
High school came around and showed me some more variance to the pool of people I was interacting with. Being a teenager, my desire for belonging and making a difference (or being of worth) was something that I tried to fill in with clubs. It was difficult for me to fit in, because of the “habits” I have and the way I spoke.
If you have not heard of the “Impressionable Years Hypothesis,” according to Krosnick & Alwin, in their 1989 journal article “Aging and susceptibility to attitude change” from the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, it states the following:
[…] individuals are highly susceptible to attitude change during late adolescence and early adulthood and that susceptibility drops precipitously immediately thereafter and remains low throughout the rest of the life cycle.
Of course, there are various factors that shaped my life aside from being a big My Chemical Romance fan. But in the simplest words, as a reflection about the hypothesis in my own life, I feel that at the time I was primed to be in a position where absorbing and subsequently living out the theology I followed vastly changed my life.
My partner at the time was specifically adamant that we should be “yoked equally” as partners, and seeing that I was not “saved,” I was “shared the Gospel to” by others. Throughout my high school I attended several Evangelical megachurches and did so, because of how convincing the “Word of God” was for me. I stopped asking questions. I was so deep into it that throughout my faith journey, I volunteered in different ministries such as Sunday school, youth, ushering, and stage design where I stayed late at the worship venue as a teenager. I shared God’s Word the best as I could everywhere, and to everyone even to my mom, who I converted. At the time, Allie was a conservative who believed in sola scriptura and raised an eyebrow when I heard about Pride Marches and the equality movement (and might have been protesting against it even if I was bold enough). I was active, even at the tail end of my college life doing my best to win youths’ souls for Christ which took most of my spare time, and even had a life verse to hold on to.
When I confided with my post-college sweetheart Danjo about my concerns with where we are spiritually, we realized that the feeling was mutual. We felt that whatever effort we tried such as building our bible study groups, tithing 10% every month, and trying to get along with people that we meet up with every week (sometimes twice a week even) in an apolitical “just pray for your leaders” church culture feels… exhausting. We then agreed simply slowly fading out and finding a community that suits us.
The Hermit in symbolism does not necessarily visualize a crab, as he is typically an old man standing at the peak of a mountain or a cliff, holding a lantern and a staff. There was a feeling of emptiness and conflict as I was examining myself. Like the Hermit seeking knowledge from within, I eventually let go of others telling me to just “pray my problems away” and that “the bible only says this and that.”
I felt that there was something wrong with me not realizing that all this time I was hurting myself and pushing my identity deep down to conform with a cookie cutter mold of what I was supposed to be… of what Danjo and I were supposed to be. I was in denial that I was someone that I myself hated. Eventually, I surrendered and accepted the fact that I was a nonbinary individual that ached for belonging, and a sense of self.
Coupled with a second wind of my now young adult angst, I did what I do best: I started asking questions again. I promised myself to keep myself open to new ideas and to stay curious. We tried different churches and eventually, I thought of searching for queer-affirming churches on Google where we found Open Table MCC.
My experience as a first-timer was met with a warm welcome, a stark contrast to where the chapel was located (which was then the easy-to-miss De Oro building next to the MRT Boni station). Coming from megachurches, Danjo and I were not used to such a small community, even in an older facility, but we wanted to give it a chance. Who knows, maybe we can discover something new- a place where we can be ourselves or at the very least, a place we would maybe attend every once in a while. We were genuinely curious so we decided to attend one September afternoon, removing our footwear and opening the blue door with narrow office blinds. *Shalom*
I am, to this day, a big believer in messages of what the universe is trying to tell me, and my attention was caught when the reading and interpretation were spoken. Luke 15:1-7. The Parable of the Lost Sheep. I feel that something was struck within me. How ironic it was that Danjo and I were searching for belonging, when maybe we were the sheep, with a spring in our step, were quite foolish wandering off… And who would have known that we would find God again, in a little chapel with such welcoming spirits despite my literal resting bitch face? We were a conventionally heterosexual presenting couple as guests, in a dominantly queer presenting community. Like us, we all had similar concerns— careers, family, friends, and a desire for a better tomorrow. After the service and the chikahan, Danjo and I agreed that we liked the vibe, and we’d try again next Sunday.
Remember the Impressionable Years Hypothesis mentioned earlier? Well, let’s say that despite being highly saturated in my old crowd, I changed perspective. As part of my faith deconstruction, I realized that the past 14 (!) years of my life were full of hostile discriminatory thinking and a lot of legalisms instead of meaningful connections, love, and acceptance. I feel like I transformed in truly the most radical way: from someone who was a quiet hateful conservative, to a (still reserved) nonbinary individual enjoying life. Never in a million years would 19-year-old Allie see themself as a queer person who has a much bigger heart that has so much love for my partners. Someone who can reconcile their identity and faith; and, at the same time challenge and ask questions of what we ought to do to share the grace that we once longed to feel towards others.
As much as I want to fully trash talk about my religious background, I can’t simply nuke it from myself. 14 years is a long time, and I forgive past Allie who thought that it was the right thing to do. I feel that past Allie was trying their best to keep the fire going within them. I learned to take full accountability with my faults back then and admit that I was wrong in not respecting boundaries, in creating such a hostile space for others. God’s grace is also present in admitting I was wrong and did wrong in the past. Perhaps this is also redemption both by the grace of God that led me and Danjo to Open Table MCC and by the redemption coming from personal accountability.
To be clear, I want to remind everyone that this community will not be perfect for everyone. There will always be something different between us, and that’s where the beauty is. Sometimes those differences might be strange, hard to understand or even challenging because the beauty of community is like a true work of art. It is not without the artistic struggle to create. Knowing that we, despite our differences, can share a safe space if we put in the work, is what makes a community and a work of God’s art through our human hands.
My involvement in Open Table MCC may not have been as intense as where I have been in the past. This time I’m going through it at my own pace, where I am not running a numbers game or doing all of this to fit a mold. Whether you are someone who is new to spirituality or have been long finding a home church that you can call as your people, I hope you do your best to see the good, the opportunities ahead, and the things that can be changed. And, don’t be afraid to ask questions, because God is mostly in questions.
To close, I want to reclaim a verse that I fully believed in, and even sandwiched in my phone case before as a remembrance of my spiritual journey. Kumbaga, the life verse I have placed out of context to be the “Philippians 4:13” of my life.
As a backgrounder, the passage I am about to share is one of Paul’s letters. This is not his first letter, but already one of many. Corinth, the church to whom is the recipient of this letter, was a diverse city, with complex and colorful people from various backgrounds. As tension and confusion rises in the community, Paul decided to write to them to help address these concerns. The resurrection was meant to bring them together and not split them apart.
The verse in 1 Corinthians 15:58 reads:
Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.
Paul’s message in 1 Corinthians 15 speaks of the power of the resurrection. A gift of a new life, transformation and hope-for all. For those in the queer community, who often face rejection or feel “less than” because of society or traditional religious views, Paul’s words can be a profound affirmation.
My brothers, sisters, and siblings in Christ, remember that as impossible as it seems… People can change for the better. I am, as they say, a work in progress. Just as Christ’s resurrection broke through death and brought new life, so can all of us no matter our identity or orientation can find hope and renewal in God’s love. Not as toxic positivity, but knowing that there is opportunity for growth in allowing yourself to stop for a moment— to ask.
Be encouraged that your efforts in seeking truth in love especially through social justice work is valuable. What we are doing is truly important: we hold space for those who are weary, for the marginalized, people who are hurt. For the queer child who feels alienated and abandoned, and for the people who feel they lost their way. As we ourselves got lost once like sheep, through living and learning from our decisions, let us also be the shepherd in another’s life.
Let’s welcome them with joy, knowing that they will be part of our lives and we will be part of theirs. I leave you with something to think about: regardless of how big or small, how has someone impacted you, and how have you been part of someone else’s life today?
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