This is a magical moment on the mountain top, the Transfiguration. A retelling of this scene appears in Matthew, Mark and Luke. The gospel of John misses out on this event that helps the disciples, and readers, understand who Jesus is: Jesus is in the prophetic line of Moses and Elijah, who also had powerful experiences with the Divine on top of mountains. And that dazzling robe Jesus is wearing can be seen as a nod to the coming tragedy of Jesus’ death: martyrs are often depicted in white robes.

While Jesus is the one that is transfigured before them, no doubt the disciples are also transformed in some ways by witnessing this event – even if they sleep through part of it. Each year we read this text the Sunday before Lent begins. In it, we see a foreshadowing of the resurrection (and the sleeping disciples) before we journey together toward Jerusalem and the cruelty of the cross.

One of the things that feminist, womanist and other liberation theologians teach us is that the context in which we are situated is part of what shapes our understanding of the biblical text. This year, at the beginning of March, my context, our context, is the tenth anniversary of the restoration of our congregation to full membership in Allegheny Mennonite Conference. How do we read this familiar story with that context in mind?

Since we have almost 30 households that have joined this congregation in the past 10 years, I will try to re-tell our story. Some of you who have been around for a while may have corrections or additions. Please share them. I hope re-visiting this story will not be re-traumatizing – though I have to admit that as I looked back on this history, I found my neck, shoulders and back tightening in a way I was not anticipating. On this Transfiguration Sunday, I hope telling our own story might help us see that glorious “God moments” happen, even among us.

Ten years ago, one of the first things I did after returning from a three-month sabbatical, was drive to PA for the spring delegate session of Allegheny Conference. Our congregation, along with other congregations in the conference, brought the full complement of delegates. We also brought a few visitors (and a journalist from The Atlantic magazine.) The meeting included a vote about how the conference would interpret church documents. It was far from clear how this vote would turn out.

I don’t want to take all day but really this story starts in 2003 with a phone call. Or maybe it starts in 1986 when the congregation voted to accept the first out gay man into membership. Or maybe it starts in 1952 when nine young adults found no meaning in the dress code imposed by the Cottage City Mennonite Church and decided to start a new congregation for Mennonites in the DC area.

Anyway, by 2003, we had been welcoming out-LGBTQ people into membership for 17 years. One summer day, the new pastoral team, Joe Roos and I, got a visit from our conference overseer Charles. He came to inform us that a complaint had been made against our congregation. The complaint was this: One of our delegates, Larry, brought his partner Stephen to the delegate session earlier that summer. There Steph and Larry made a giant and most magnificent, wild flower bouquet for the worship service. That evening, Larry and Stephen sat near the front, along with other HMCers. According to the complaining pastor, Larry and Steph sat too close together.

Over the ensuing months we tried our best to help the accusing pastor understand that sexual orientation (and now we would include gender identity) is not something that creates a barrier for participation or membership in this congregation. We tried to explain our church structure, our membership practices, our history. Explanations biblical, theological and ecclesiological were not understood or accepted. When we said we could not kick out our members who are LGBTQ, it was suggested that we create categories of membership; straight members could be conference delegates and LGBTQ people could stay home. We said no.

Conversations moved beyond the pastor level, to conference committees and then conference delegates. This went on for more than 2 years. Here at HMC, we had our own internal conversations. While we worshiped more intently, had extra prayer times, and talked with each other honestly, it became ever more clear that we could not close our minds or hearts or membership toward our LGBTQ friends. If we thought we understood our commitments to justice, now our understandings of who we were as a congregation were transformed into something much deeper and wider.

The conversations, emails, letters, phone calls and meetings culminated in November 2005. The Allegheny Conference delegates voted that our congregation was not following the teachings of the Confession of Faith or Membership Guidelines of Mennonite Church USA. The recalcitrant Hyattsville Mennonite Church would be “disciplined.” No one from the congregation could hold elected positions at the conference or denominational level. And HMC members could not be voting delegates at the conference or denominational level. This discipline would stay in place until the congregation changed its membership practice – or the church documents were understood differently. It felt like being excommunicated – but we were still connected since the conference continued to hold the credentials of the pastors.

At that moment, and in the following years, we tried hard to hold onto our dignity, to not be victimized – and we were exhausted like the sleeping disciples. Our congregational leadership made a conscious decision not to talk about the conference discipline for two years. We needed time to rest, to be church with each other. And there were other things going on in the world: there was a war in Iraq, there were people to feed, families without homes to host in the church basement, beloved congregation members had cancer, babies were born…

While we did not initially have congregational meetings about the ongoing discipline, we continued to send representatives to delegate sessions three times a year and we continued to support the conference financially. After two years we tip-toed back into conversation together, wondering if we should stop giving money to AMC, if we should stop sending our children to summer camp or snow camp.

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The transfiguration story in the the bible is an event that seems to be out of time. It doesn’t last long or does it? What does time mean when you are having a God experience? The disciples are determined to hold onto the moment. They want to preserve the scene by building tents, maybe even creating one more religious holiday to celebrate. But who can capture the sun? Who can hold onto the voice of God?

Looking back now on those ten years of discipline from 2005-2015, time collapses. How could it have been ten years? And there are a few snap shots, bright and transfiguring moments, that I do remember clearly. Some of these remain as poignant as the scene on top of the mountain with Jesus and the disciples.

At a congregational meeting, the question is asked if we should just be done already with the conference. Why give them money? Why stick around? I can still see one of our queer members pleading with the congregation to keep showing up. “There are queer kids in those conference congregations. They need to know we are here for them.” What a bright light. It makes all the difference.

I hear privately from a pastor in a conference congregation. He tells me that his adult child has stopped going to church but he wonders if maybe our congregation would be a place where his kid could go. “I don’t believe like you all do but maybe there need to be churches like yours.” A strange light.

Our commitment to stay in relationship with the conference was hard. We had to keep reminding ourselves why we were showing up. I for one “put on the whole armor of God” when we went to meetings. Was this when I started wearing cowboy boots? I wonder how LGBTQ folks, family members of queer folks, conference leaders would describe those years.

The world keeps turning, the light keeps shifting. Marriage becomes legal for same sex couples in Washington DC. Another transfiguring moment: We are in a meeting to discuss this new reality. One older man, who I wrongly assume is against same-sex marriage says, “Of course we should support our pastors participating in these marriage ceremonies. These are our friends. Besides, what else can the conference do to us?” And so in 2010, this congregation empowers the pastors to officiate weddings for all committed couples. Let’s build a tent and stay here.

But six months after I officiated the legal wedding for J and C, the conference credentialing committee contacts me to say they need to review my credentials. One more potentially contentious meeting. Miraculously, there is no penalty. Another place to build a ten? But instead of staking a tent, we go back down the mountain to keep showing up at delegate sessions that feel like drudgery. We go back down the mountain to work with the Inclusive Mennonite Pastors and Pink Menno which feels like a breath of fresh air.

The time comes to hire another pastor. We are still under discipline. Another snap shot: We are in the church basement of University Park Church of the Brethren (because our building is under construction. UPCoB generously allows us to meet in their building for almost a year.) The question is asked: Are we open to hiring an LGBTQ person for our next pastor? There is complete silence. No one speaks. With trepidation, the question is asked again. We really need an answer. Are we open to hiring an LGBTQ person for our next pastor? And this time an answer comes. “Is it even a question? Of course we should consider all qualified candidates. Sexual orientation (and gender identity) is not a consideration. Besides, what else can the conference do to us.” A bright light, a God moment. Let’s build a tent to preserve this truth.

Even as we were being transformed and transfigured and hired Michelle, our beloved trans pastor, the conference was also changing. While some delegates found our presence at delegate sessions annoying and disrespectful, other people in the conference wanted to figure out if there was a way to reconcile with Hyattsville.

Thus began another process, of listening and looking for common ground. LeAnne, Keith, Phil and I drove to a neutral spot in Lancaster every 8 weeks or so to meet with representatives from the conference. After more than a year it didn’t seem like we were any closer to agreement. And some of the delegates were getting restless. This apostate congregation needed to repent or be completely thrown out.

On March 7, 2015, after storytelling, hymn singing, prayer, and attempts to amend the ballot, the delegates were given the resolution. The question before the delegates was this: Is the conference “willing to live together with theological disagreements” using the Confession of Faith in a Mennonite Perspective as a “guiding document, not a disciplinary document.”

After all the months and years of conversation, this was as far as we could go – could we agree to disagree? In a vote of 72-70, the delegates said yes, we will use the church documents as guides, not disciplinary tools (or weapons.)

While the vote allowed HMC to once again be a full member in the conference, it didn’t feel like a transfiguring or transformational moment. There was no joy or laughter. Instead there were gasps and a voice shouting from the back of the church, “God save you all” before we heard the door slam.

Michelle and I asked if we could make a statement after the vote. Part of what Michelle said was this: Today, we are not the same as we were ten years ago, not as a conference, not as congregation, not as individuals. New people have joined us, some people have left, and each of us has grown and changed as we walked together. One thing has not changed – Ten years ago we did not all agree about qualifications for membership, marriage and ministry. Today we still do not all agree. But I hope we can agree that we are siblings in Christ, that we are united in our commitment to love God and love our neighbors.

What Michelle said in 2015 is still true in 2025. We are not the same as a conference or as a congregation. We have grown and changed as we walked together. And though we are united in our commitment to love God and love our neighbors – not every last person in the conference agrees on exactly what that should look like when our neighbors are LGBTQ, though on the whole, a large majority of the people are way more united than we were ten years ago. (And the conference holds credentials for at least three queer pastors.)

So why tell this story in 2025 – again? What has happened in ten years? In reading The Atlantic article again I read that the reporter quoted me saying, “I don’t think I’m brave enough to mention this, but in one draft of my speech (for after the vote), I said: In 10 years, we will thank the conference for disciplining us, because it has forced us to be clear about who we are.”

Here we are, ten years later. I may have been optimistic about my ability to thank the conference for disciplining us. But those ten years of discipline did force us to be clear and  reinforced our commitments to our queer friends and neighbors, to each other, to the community as a whole.

Transfiguration is not a one time event that leaves us at the same place where we started. Hopefully a transfiguring experience, a Bright Light, a God Moment, changes us, shifts our understandings or at least opens our hearts.

It is strange that in Luke’s telling of the transfiguration, the disciples have this amazing experience, want to preserve it for all time – and then don’t tell anyone about it. They kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. Maybe it’s like Luke says earlier of Mary, they are treasuring all these things in their hearts.

But we, dear friends, we have not kept our mouths shut. We have seen the Holy working among us, and we continue to share that Good News with others. We continue speaking out, and living out, how good it is for queer people to be in church, in all capacities, at all ages.

Those years of conflict, disagreement, discipline and reconciliation have formed us in ways that make us more open to others who may be treated unjustly. Our commitments to working with Life After Release, San Mateo and Congregation Action Network, the Day Center, asylum seekers – this work is built on our years of knowing just a little bit, what it is like to be sidelined. The Bright and Transfiguring Light shows up in our work with these groups.

The power of transfiguration is that it gives us a reference point for the next hard things. It doesn’t take the difficulties away, but there is something to go back to, an experience to remember. And that experience is strength for the things to come. (And if we thought the empire of Allegheny Conference was difficult… Thank God for those years of discipline?)

Thanks be to God that the Spirit shows up here among us, in bright lights and in more subtle ways. Let us treasure this in our hearts, and share it, to strengthen us for the next transforming work.