---

Reflections on ONA from Rev. Heather McDuffee

When I came out as a lesbian, I was married to a man with two young children and I was a pastor of a large church. My husband and I had gone to therapy years before over my sexual orientation. I thought I could just “choose” my heterosexual marriage because I loved my husband and my little family. And, boy, did I try. 

But then I received the call from a church that was Open and Affirming. I thought it was safe to be my truest self. The full story is complicated and messy, but I cannot ignore that this ONA church wasn’t safe for the pastor. Turns out, churches that became ONA 20 years ago didn’t have a thoughtful process of inclusion, education and dialogue that it has now. So 20 years later, this church had the right words printed in their bulletin, but when it came time to show up—to really walk with their pastor—the silence was louder than any welcome. I left that church wounded, not by God, but by people who used God’s name to excuse their distance.

So I carried that hurt with me when I came to Community Church in Manitou Springs. I was cautious, protective of my story. And then I heard that this church had its own complicated history with being ONA. Twenty years ago, conflict broke out over the question of whether or not the pastor could perform same sex weddings at Community Church. It passed by one vote. And many members left the church. Even after that storm quieted, the path wasn’t easy. The church began the Open and Affirming (ONA) process several years ago but then quietly let it go, unfinished. The conversations were hard. The tension was real. And for some, the fear of division was greater than the hope of inclusion.

And yet—this past Sunday, June 1, 2025, our 145 year old congregation voted “Yes” to becoming an Open and Affirming church.

I am so proud of our church. And not because we all agree, but because some of the people who voted “yes” still wrestle with questions about LGBTQ+ identity and our public welcome of them. But they also said something else: This community is more important than my personal opinion. And that? That is church at its best.

I don’t claim to know much, but one thing I DO know is that being church isn’t about uniformity. It’s not about everyone having the same theology or preferences or political views. It’s about choosing each other—over and over again. It’s about putting love at the center, even when it’s uncomfortable. It’s about trusting that the Spirit can hold our differences and still make us one. 

The vote to become Open and Affirming wasn’t just a statement of support for LGBTQ+ people—though that matters deeply. It was also a declaration of who we want to be as a community: a people who are willing to put the well-being of others ahead of our own comfort. A people who say, “I don’t fully understand, but I trust you belong here.” A people who believe that the Gospel means welcome without condition.

There’s something holy in that kind of surrender. Something beautiful in that kind of courage. It will be the legacy of this sweet little church. 

To those who voted “yes” even while still holding questions—I thank you. Your vote is more than a political statement. It is a spiritual one. It says to people like me, who carry the wounds of rejection, “You are safe here. We will not be perfect, but we will be faithful to love.”

This vote doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t mean our work is done. But it is a beginning—and this time, a real one. We’re not just saying we’re Open and Affirming. We’re choosing to become Open and Affirming, day by day, in our relationships, our language, and our welcome.

Because the church isn’t a place for people who all agree. It’s a place for people who choose each other. And that is the kind of church I want to be part of. That is the kind of church we’re becoming.

Thanks be to God.