“I don’t know how to thank you for coming here. My friends and I have been talking about [faith and identity] ever since your presentation this morning, and we are going to keep talking about it.”

“Thank you.”

Hearing myself say “it’s my pleasure” for the umpteenth time in just half an hour, I paused to reflect inwardly on the truth of that sentiment—truly, it is my pleasure to converse with students so genuinely eager to learn, to challenge themselves and others, and to grow in truth as a community.

The responsiveness of the Seattle Pacific University student body, and the strength of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender population on campus, has unequivocally confirmed the need for a genuinely safe and affirming space at SPU, where LGBT voices are not merely tolerated, but celebrated. After speaking with administrators who conceded that no policy exists precluding the creation of such a space, with faculty and staff who identified themselves as allies, and with students who expressed an overwhelming desire to continue the conversation about faith and identity, I believe that change is forthcoming.

In his morning presentation, an SPU faculty member described change within the church as “glacial”. The April 11th issue of the school paper certainly had a glacial quality in many of its articles, including a cartoon suggesting that recognition of the worth and dignity of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people is equivalent to a failure to think and reason critically (I would argue that just the opposite is true – that recognition of heterosexual privilege is a function of critical thinking of the highest order). Nevertheless, couched between assertions of heterosexual superiority, and shifting the “burden” of equality to the shoulders of those of us who live without it—a classic move in regard to oppression of all kinds—I felt the pulse of a people standing firm in their LGBT and allied identities. These are the people for whom glacial change is unacceptable.

When morality is at stake—recognizing that equality and human dignity are at the heart of morality; when the family is at stake—recognizing that condemnation of LGBT people has undermined and even destroyed families; when safety is at stake—recognizing that Scriptural justification for anti-gay and anti-trans violence is commonplace; when community is at stake—recognizing that sanctioned exclusion of any person on the basis of that person’s identity undermines the strength of the community and opens the door for Othering of many varieties; a swift response is not optional or debatable—it is imperative. I cannot and will not “agree to disagree” on the value of my own life or on the space allotted to me and to the people I love most.

I leave Washington and head toward Idaho inspired by the gratitude and resolve of people who are ready and able to move forward. With a challenging route ahead, the open hearts and minds that we encountered at Seattle Pacific University serve as a motivation for what I know is possible–open dialogue and real change.

I want to open with a meditation and a series of questions that I posed in a recent letter to my friends back home, honoring the two-week mark of the 2007 Equality Ride.

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:19).

One week of training. One week on the road. I search within myself for a place to begin this entry.

How do I recreate for you, with any accuracy, the profound sense of self that I feel when I stand vigil outside a property line, or step onto a closed campus, creating with my body that space which has been denied?

How do I recreate for you the moment when a student says, “Thank you. No one has ever done this before. Most people just ignore our school” – the moment when a student joins the vigil line – the moment when a student stands up in the face of so much hostility and says, without apology, “This is who I am”?

How do I recreate for you the moment when a community member says, “We are going to continue what you started” – the moment when a hotel worker says, “I should be out there with you; thank you for standing up for me” – the moment when a trucker honks and waves in solidarity as our bus rolls through Iowa?

How do I recreate for you the pride that I feel when I am associated – through uniform, proximity, and/or company – with the slogan: Social Justice for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender People?

How do I recreate for you a student’s tentative steps out of the closet – whether that be a closeted identity or a closeted mind, well-meaning but steeped in misinformation?

How do I recreate for you the significance of having my own grandparents, my sister, and my sister’s boyfriend in attendance at Equality Ride events, personalizing this journey for me in a way that I could never have imagined?

How do I recreate for you the waves of love and respect that flow over and through me when I stand and survey my courageous Equality Ride community – fifty-six people who have sacrificed so much (promotions, jobs, homes, relationships, comfort, control) to put themselves physically in the gap between condemnation and hope?

These are the things I hold in my heart: 14 days, 336 hours, 20,160 minutes, 1,209,600 moments to treasure and ponder.

There is so much to say. I hope that, over time, in conversation and in letters like this one, I am able to share with you the breadth and depth of the work that alternately (and often simultaneously) consumes, exhausts, excites, depletes, and rejuvenates me.

As we commenced our training day in Denver, CO, I could not help but make note of the parallel between our environment and the work that we do. Colorado is arguably THE most beautiful state in our nation (I say this with the biased pride of somebody who lived in Colorado for part of my childhood). It is also a stronghold for a fundamentalist Christianity that actively seeks to deny lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people equality and full fellowship in the church and in society. The disconnect between such a beautiful creation and such ugly prejudice is jarring.

In much the same way, the disconnect between the beautiful people that we meet and the ugly prejudice that many of those same people hold is both jarring and deeply motivating. The communities of faith that we visit are populated by students, faculty, and administration with a tremendous capacity for love, service, and hospitality. I can sense the beauty of their hearts and spirits as I walk among them. At the same time, I am aware that many of these individuals suffer from misinformation that leads them to actively discriminate against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people on their respective campuses. I recognize that the oppression their policies and beliefs perpetuate is as destructive as their hearts and intentions are sincere.

I also recognize that they are capable of so much more. This is where the motivation kicks in. MidAmerica Nazarene confirmed to me that many well-meaning and genuinely loving people continue to be dangerously misinformed, putting my people at risk for physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual violence. It is a privilege to bring my newfound friends and others like them a message of hope and reconciliation, knowing that the love they have as a community, when liberated from oppressive thinking, can be channeled into a truly powerful force for good.

From a trans presentation in a fraternity house, to a Black Church Week of Prayer to Heal AIDS service, to a beautiful welcoming reception, to a Women’s History Month film festival, our west bus family has made the most of every minute in Madison and Milwaukee. Special thanks to State Representative Mark Pocan and Senator Tim Carpenter, both of whom served as keynote speakers at events held in our honor, and to State Representative Tammy Baldwin for her letter of encouragement. Thanks, also, to Perfect Harmony Men’s Chorus and the phenomenal female acapella team Tangled Up in Blue – your gift of music rejuvenated our spirits as we prepare to reach out to Wisconsin Lutheran College. And lastly, thanks to my beloved bus-mate, Justin Hager, for planning this stop and rocking Wisconsin for all it’s worth. We go forward empowered by the unconditional love and support of your family, friends, and community.

For me personally, these two days in Madison and Milwaukee have served as a period of both rejuvenation and reflection. I recall the apathy we encountered at Notre Dame and ask myself whether prejudice is better served by hostility or by passivity – by a physical or verbal attack, for example, or by invisibility and silence. Can inaction be violent? After Notre Dame, I believe that it can – indeed, that the choice NOT to act, speak, welcome, listen, hear, think, reflect, question – is often the most violent and damaging choice of all. The absence of space is a psychological barbed wire fence, as limiting to the human spirit as any prison.

Given the apathy and the absence of space, did we do something – anything – important at Notre Dame? I think of the myriad of students who expressed shock that their school would take such drastic measures to avoid a conversation about lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender equality. For these students, and for the friends with whom they share their surprise, a bit of the apathy has chipped away. LGBT equality is no longer perceived to be a non-issue at Notre Dame.

May questions and conversations like these multiply across and beyond the campus. May the students who spoke out so courageously call on that transformative sense of self as they use their bodies and voices to create space where none is granted. I feel honored to have walked beside them, if only for a moment, in their journey toward full equality, and I carry them in my heart as we go forward.

While physically I am already tired (perhaps because it is 2:15 a.m., and I am still working!), mentally, emotionally, and spiritually I could not be more ready to move.