I identify with the “disoriented” descriptor because—in many ways—white Christian nationalism still disorients me. Having grown up in a denomination where most people refuse to say the pledge of allegiance, I find myself utterly confused when I meet Christians who revere the flag as if God Himself created it. I still find myself thrown totally off-guard when people start talking about the United States as if it is a new Israel or pull scripture out of context and try to apply it to the United States. I know that all of this is a thing. Despite all of the consciousness of the dangers of mixing Jesus and country in the Quaker church, I still see it happen, so I am mentally aware of it. But it surprises me every single time.

“Deconstructing” also resonates with me because I think that I am very much still in the process of shedding some of this ideology from my life and faith. Something that I struggle with is inappropriate caretaking. Growing up, it was always my job—as the oldest sister—to mother my siblings. When my husband began to struggle with alcoholism in the early years of our marriage, I fell into the role of mothering him. And unfortunately, I sometimes bring this energy into my other relationships. I think I know what is best for everyone, and that is very much—in addition to weird family dynamics and response to trying to save my husband—a product of white Christian nationalism. I have to work very hard to pull myself back when I feel this tendency and others coming up. I almost wonder if I will always be deconstructing this, to a certain extent.

Some next steps for me are to keep learning and to keep disentangling. Also, however, I think that a big next step for me lies in that concept of being that we have been talking so much about. I have to keep reminding myself that I am beloved, and so is everyone else. I have to keep allowing God’s love and grace to be the thing that humbles me, guides me, and girds me.

2.) My primary sphere of influence is Clinton County, Ohio. As a Quaker pastor, most of my influence is concentrated in the Quaker world, but it reaches out into the community in general as well.

3.) People—specifically the people who are a part of my meeting and the surrounding neighborhood. I don’t like leadership itself as much as I enjoy the people.

4.) How do we flip the script on fear and choose peace over violence?

5.) I was interested in Journey of Hope because I like the everyday peacemaking approach that Global Immersion takes. A lot of Quaker peacemaking efforts/programs are focused on crisis management or on lobbying, which are fine and good, but my soul was craving a program that is more day-to-day focused. Now seemed to be a good time because of an experience that I had recently with gun violence. I walked away from that experience feeling a deep knowing that the world needs more peacemakers.

In one of our journalism classes, Judi introduced me to the framework of peace journalism and prompted me to think deeply about the role of stories in the work of reconciliation. She pointed out that most media outlets reflexively focus on conflict, because conflict gets attention. High-conflict drive readership — ultimately garnering the ad funding that fuels news outlets. But while conflict was profitable, Judi didn’t think it was always ethical. She invited my peers and me to consider other ways of framing stories.

“What if you focus on areas of overlap, or people who are bringing communities together or otherwise helping to negotiate conflict?” Judi asked us. “What if you cover people and initiatives that are the seeds of peace?” 

Judi’s teaching changed the way I saw the news around me. Her point about centering conflict was certainly true for coverage of warring groups and competing political candidates. I saw it in stories about a mosque planned for downtown Manhattan, and debates over environmental conservation restrictions. When I went on to intern at an NPR station, I realized just how much this two-sided, oppositional framing was baked into reporting. My manager would guide me on how to frame stories and who to interview: “Oh, there’s a new study about the dangers of indoor smoking? Call Joe for a quote, he’s the restaurant owner who’s been so outspoken against smoking bans.” 

My career path eventually steered away from journalism, but I still read the news with peace journalism in the back of my mind. This was especially true during the early 2010s as the Supreme Court heard a range of cases about same sex marriage. The news coverage typically featured Christians on one side, and LGBTQ advocates on the other. 

I recognized these mainstream stories had a void: people like me who are both queer and religious. Being both was so unthinkable that even I overlooked my religious identity much of the time. I never once saw an interview with a queer, religious voice speaking in favor of same sex marriage. I genuinely wondered, “How do other people in this intersection make sense of their spiritual lives?”

I eventually set out on a pilgrimage to interview LGBTQ people of faith about their religious lives. Those conversations have been transformative in their own way. Many people modeled a deep integration, and they have helped me to become reconciled within myself. I met people living out reconciliation and peacemaking work within their religious communities and denominations. I also saw the deep grief that people felt when they conceived of their sexuality or gender as incompatible with their religious lives, and could not be at peace with themselves or their communities. 

I continue to live in the imprint of those encounters. I carry their stories with me, and hear the wisdom that was whispered to me years ago. All of this richness is a legacy of Judi’s instruction to look at the spaces of unexpected overlap, and the reconciliation that may be happening there.