The Speed of Grace: Leading for Justice Without Leaving the Flock Behind

There is an old, sharp maxim that has long circulated among those called to public and spiritual service:

"My ministry comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable."

For as long as I can remember, this has not just been a catchy phrase to me; it has been a guiding compass. I was born into a household where advocacy was the default language. My earliest memories are of my father arguing cases before judges and my mother fighting fiercely for causes before the city council.

Naturally, that fire caught in me early. My very first "case" came at the age of fifteen, when I fought to save the historic, sprawling lawn of Theodore Roosevelt High School in Des Moines, IA, from being turned into baseball practice fields. Today, more than fifty years later, that green lawn still stands unblemished. Since then, the battles shifted to broader, deeper horizons: LGBTQIA+ rights, reproductive freedom, anti-racism, and countless other causes where my values and my spirit compelled me to stand.

For me, Jesus and Justice have never been separate. They are two sides of the same sacred coin. The gospel is inherently liberating, designed to normalize and demarginalize the outcast, the powerless, and the forgotten.

But a lifetime of standing on the front lines - and loving many friends and family members in whom this particular fire does not burn quite as hotly - has taught me a humbling truth:

The path to liberation is rarely a straight line, and normativity has a death grip on the human imagination.

The Gap Between Urgency and Readiness

In my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) unit, I learned deeply about the "ministry of presence" - the quiet, vital art of simply sitting with people in their deepest pain. Comforting the afflicted is a clear, beautiful charge.

The harder, more delicate task is the second half of that equation: gently prodding the beloved community to expand the seats at the table. Not just the physical table of the church, but the internal tables of our own minds, biases, and hearts.

As a future pastor, I often encounter a profound tension. Matters of justice and liberation that seem glaringly obvious, urgent, and non-negotiable to me are often not yet visible or urgent to the people in the pews. It is easy in those moments for a leader to feel impatient, frustrated, or even righteous.

But several wise mentors have gifted me with a piece of advice that I carry in my pocket every single day:

"You should never get so far ahead of the people you lead that they are unable to follow you."

If I run a mile ahead and scream back at the congregation to catch up, I am no longer leading them; I am just running alone.

A Case in Point: Shifting from Structure to Quality

As a student of Queer Theology - and as a queer pastor - I see this play out vividly in the evolving conversation around Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM).

For many years, ENM has been a lived reality within the queer community, quietly and intentionally practiced outside the bounds of a normative culture that did not recognize the sacredness of ANY LGBTQIA+ relationship. Today, ENM has stepped into the public square and popular culture across all sexual orientations. What I find so striking is that the large, growing community of practitioners is emphasizing language and ethical behaviors that resonate profoundly with core UCC values: consent, mutual care, radical honesty, love, and covenant.

Yet, for many in our pews, the strict normative structure of monogamy is an unquestioned, sacred default. The shift from evaluating a relationship based on its structure to evaluating it based on its quality - its capacity for honesty, safety, and mutual flourishing - is a massive paradigm shift.

Though this conversation has begun in the church, it is far from over. Documented cases of UCC MIDs not being ordained, pastors being called before fitness reviews, and pastors not being called to churches explicitly because of their ENM relationship structures highlights the urgent need for dialogue on this issue. Without a clear, collectively discerned perspective on this topic, the UCC runs the risk not only of alienating talented clergy from the church, but alienating an entire portion of potential church members who are made to feel invisible and unwelcome. Generally in the UCC, we try to avoid that from happening.

Thankfully, innovative UCC conferences like the Southwest Conference have started to include discussions of Ethical Non-Monogamy in mandatory clergy training, beginning the work of widening Christ's table to all those who seek to live in loving relationship with God and one another.

It will take years of patient discussion, education, setbacks, and a lot of deep prayer before our communities can untangle themselves from the heavy, historical weight of relationship normativity. If I or any other leader demand that a congregation leap from traditional assumptions to a full, immediate embrace of ENM overnight, we will only breed fear, confusion, and defensive barriers. The destination is an expansive, quality-focused view of love; the path there must be a gently paved road.

Architecting the Journey

This realization requires a shift from activist to shepherd. It means acknowledging that while I may hold a strong, sacred conviction in my heart, a community cannot be dragged to a collective destination. They must be walked there.

If we want to get a community from point A to point Z, we have to respect the alphabet. We cannot skip the letters in between. True, transformative spiritual leadership means:

• Taking the starting point into account: We must meet people exactly where they are, not where we wish they were. If we do not understand their starting line, we cannot guide their first step.

• Educating over indicting: People often resist change not out of malice, but out of fear or lack of exposure. Patient, loving education opens doors that guilt-tripping firmly locks shut.

• Enrolling and listening: True change requires buy-in. We must listen to the hesitations, the grief over what is changing, and the fears of the unknown.

• Pacing the journey: Some battles are mine to fight on my own time. But the battles of the church must be a meticulously, lovingly architected journey of faith.

The Patience of Jesus

When we look at the ministry of Jesus, he was constantly dealing with disciples who didn't quite "get it" yet. They misunderstood his parables, argued about who was the greatest, and repeatedly faltered. Yet, he didn't abandon them or find a new team. He cooked them breakfast, retold the stories, answered their questions, and walked the dusty roads with them day after day.

To nudge the beloved community toward a wider table is holy work. But the nudging must be done with deep empathy. We are asking people to dismantle ways of thinking that have kept them safe, comfortable, or certain for decades. That is no small request.

So, to the congregations I serve, my promise is this: I will never stop looking toward the horizon of justice. I will never stop pointing toward a larger, more inclusive table. But I promise to hold your hand while we walk there. We will take the steps together - sometimes slow, sometimes stumbling, but always forward, wrapped in the speed of grace.