Queer Scripture Reflections – Rev. Carla Christopher Wilson

Image Description: photo of the book of Genesis and the ELM logo with the title: Queer Scripture Reflections.
John 12:4-6 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)
John 13:29 Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival”; or, that he should give something to the poor. 
Obscure and not often quoted scriptures, but ones that grip me when combing the scriptures for evidence of Jesus’ views and experiences of what it meant to be a family as an adult, since earlier in this blog series we explored the beautiful queerness of Jesus’ childhood multi-parent family. 
We know that Jesus asked 12 guys to leave behind their families to cleave to him for life using phrases very similar to traditional marriage vows. We know this group lived, ate, traveled, prayed, napped, and attended parties and weddings together. We know Jesus turned to them in fear and grief as his support network. We know they protected each other and were willing to fight for each other and worried about each other. They fought and forgave. They worked extensively at healthy and clear communication. Then there’s these Bible verses.
One of this created chosen family is referenced as keeping the common purse for Jesus and all the Disciples, not once, but twice. Not only does this unit of at least mostly same-gendered partners (I only trust pronoun translation so far after 2,000 years but that’s another blog) care for each other physically, emotionally, and spiritually, they are also united financially in a very practical and trusting way.
There is no mention in the texts about the Disciples if they were having sex. Nothing says they weren’t, as they traveled together and comforted each other. It’s almost as if intimate partnership could be aromantic, asexual OR romantic or sexual, and to name that as a primary definition of chosen family is of secondary importance. 
In short; the Disciples, queer. Beautifully, lovingly, richly, connected. The early church’s first and the New Testament’s most thoroughly documented and central family unit. There is much we can learn from their family/community of care.

The Rev. Carla Christopher Wilson (she/her/hers) is Assistant to the Bishop in Charge of Justice Ministries for Lower Susquehanna Synod and Associate Pastor of Faith Formation and Outreach for Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. CarlaChristopher.Com and @RevCarlaChristopher on Facebook or @Rev.CarlaChristopher on Instagram.

The Family of Jesus


by Alex Aivars

Then the people began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” 

– John 6:41-42


Image Description: photo of the book of Genesis and the ELM logo with the title: Queer Scripture Reflections.

I’ve been thinking more and more about having kids. My boyfriend and I have had a few conversations about the subject. 


A little research brings up a host of options for us. Those options include adoption, surrogacy, foster care, to name a few. 

With all of these options it will mean that for us to have a child and create a family with kids, it will involve more than simply the two of us. There will still always be at least one more person, maybe even more than one, or an organization, or some other type of legal entity, involved in the creation of our family with kids.

I see something similar in the creation of the family of Jesus.

At the conception of Jesus, yes, there were only two entities involved: God and Mary. When Joseph learns of this pregnancy without him, we are told that Joseph is thinking of leaving Mary. But God persuades Joseph to stay and for them to be husband and wife and raise Jesus as their own son.

This solidifies the family of Jesus. Except Jesus didn’t have only two parents, Mary and  Joseph. In the family of Jesus, there were three parents: Mary, Joseph, and God.

God became the third entity in the life and family of Jesus.

Those around Jesus didn’t understand the family structure that included Jesus. Those around him knew Jesus had earthly parents in Mary and Joseph. And yet, here was Jesus talking about coming down from heaven. At one point Jesus even says that he’s the Son of God. This made no sense to them. A person could only have two parents, not three. 

And yet, Jesus did indeed have three parents: Mary, Joseph, and God.

For myself and my boyfriend, the creation of a family with kids involves more than two people. Just like in the creation of the family of Jesus.

In our baptisms, we become part of this family of Jesus. God was, and continues to be, always with Jesus, doting on their son. God is always with us as well, doting on us. Because God will never leave us. All of us will always be children of God.


Alex Aivars (he/him) is currently in his first call as pastor of  St. Stephen Lutheran Church in Lansing, MI. Since this is a part-time call, he also develops websites for businesses, non-profits, and other churches. In his spare time he likes to read, hike, bike, ski, and make art out of post-in notes.


Letter to Myself: I Can Believe It For You

 (CN: mentions of sexual abuse, naming of abuser)


Oh Beloved,

There’s so much I want to tell you, dear one. We’ve had quite the adventure in our almost 30 years on this planet. It’s not been easy, that’s for sure. We’ve had some really, really, rough patches. But I promise you, from where I’m sitting today- things are looking pretty good. No, not everything is perfect- in fact, the world’s pretty messed up. But amidst the chaos of the world, we’re doing pretty good. 

So, here’s the thing, Beloved. I need to set something… well, not straight… Let me rephrase it this way. I need to make something clear to you, Beloved. Are you listening? It’s super important.

What happened to you was not your fault. Your relationship with TJ was an abusive one, from the first day he started grooming you in the library. So, let me repeat it: it was not your fault. It’s gonna take you a long time to come to terms with it, Beloved. First, that it was abuse, and then that you weren’t asking for it. 

Second: he did not break you. I know, Beloved. It’s so hard for you to trust people right now. And you wonder if this weirdness around relationships is something he caused in you- something he took or stole from you. But it’s not, dear one. Think back with me- on some level, you’ve always known you were different. You’ve always seen friendship differently than others. You’ve always loved others- loved in a way that felt different than what others were describing.

Sometimes, it feels like others are speaking a language you didn’t grow up with. One that you’ve picked up (sometimes a little too well), but it’s something you’ve worked hard to learn. There’s a reason for this, dear one. Most of the world was born speaking Allo. You, however, were born speaking A, but learned to communicate in Allo, because that’s what the world spoke. 

This might often feel like a curse, especially as you begin to realize how the differences in the languages permeate seemingly everything. But Beloved, your asexuality- your aromantic nature- these things are gifts. Pure gifts. Yes, you understand relationships through a different context. Your relationships aren’t hierarchical in nature- giving one person emphasis because of some perceived “most important” quality. You love freely and fiercely, and point to the ever overflowing abundant nature of God’s love. 

And the best part, Beloved? You’re not alone. There are other folks out there- just like you. Folks who are nonbinary, folks who are asexual, folks who are on the aromantic spectrum. There are folks who speak A fluently, and it is such a joy when we get to speak together. 

So, My Dear One, know this: you are beloved and holy and whole- just as God made you to be. All of you- the nonbinary, the asexual, the aromantic- God created, They celebrated, and they named Very Good. I know it can be difficult to believe sometimes. Even I struggle with it- still-. But, right now, it’s okay if you can’t believe it. Because I can believe it for you. You will survive. You will find your people. You will thrive. You are not alone- no, you are never alone. You walk with God, and They delight in you.

Rev. Tobi Fleck (they/them) currently serves as the associate pastor at The Dwelling, Winston-Salem, a faith community primarily for people who have or are currently experiencing homelessness. In their free time, they enjoy playing games with friends, reading young adult fiction, and spending time out in creation.

“Letter to Myself”: Breaking Expectations

By: Joseph Graumann

Dear former self: Queerness and Lutheranism are about liberation. Remember that.

In college, you learned that the “white man in the clouds pulling the strings” didn’t exist. You learned how faith and politics inform each other, and you encountered a daring faith. This faith put grace and justice alongside each other.

You also thought that ministry wasn’t for you, in part because the ELCA didn’t recognize the gifts of out queer leaders. You didn’t fit the expectations for ministry (straight cisgenderedness), though you caught wind that those expectations were about to change. They did.

Beware of a new captivity! Just because “they” let you in the club, don’t think that you have to play by all the unwritten rules. It’s now okay to be gay, but you’re going to hear that queer affirmation is a privilege, not a right. You’re going to be told to be grateful that you’re at the table. This is a starting point; this is not the end.

Broadly speaking, the church still expects its ministers to behave a certain way. We prefer tame clergy, who keep their opinions to themselves and spend their weekend nights reading. Humor is best left to the laity, and some people only care if you’re single so that they can plan that wedding.

Some expectations are good: teaching, preaching, and visiting the sick are part of the gig. So is honesty and integrity, and so is loving your neighbor. But in so many ways, dear baby Joe, you are going to break expectations.

You’re going to be too loud. You’re going to be too opinionated. You’re going to be too casually dressed for this or that event. You may even accidentally bring wine to a Baptist’s installation.

But, as it has been forever, your queerness is an asset. Speaking up makes a difference, especially when people don’t expect it. Being rooted in your self-understanding makes you a better pastor. To be queer is to understand that liberation is at the heart of your life, that morality takes a back seat to identity.

God created you just the way you are. In Baptism, you were made free in Christ. Act like it. Relax. Have fun. Be you.



The Rev. Joseph Graumann, Jr. (he/him), has been pastor of Saint Stephen Lutheran Church in Marlborough, Massachusetts for five years. He is a native of the Jersey Shore, and he thinks sand in his car is the mark of a summer well spent. Joe is a graduate of Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service and the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.


“Letter to Myself” – Jamie Ulrich

By: Jamie Ulrich


Dear younger me,

Hi there, kiddo. 

Right now, you are shy and closeted. You aren’t confident or sure of yourself. You feel like a nobody surrounded by lots of somebodies. You’re trying to figure out who you are in this big, wide world. You don’t want to disappoint anyone. You have high expectations for yourself and the person you want to become. 

But please, dear one, hear this good news: the person you are is exactly the person you should be. You are unique and full of life. You have deep compassion for others. You are deeply loved. And the fact of the matter is, the world needs you. They need your leadership, your passion, and your creative thinking. They need your voice. 

I want you to find comfort in the fact that the Creator has made you just the way you are. That you have been made in the very image of God. That God knit you together in Mom’s womb and that you have been fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Remember: You don’t have to change anything about yourself to conform to what other people need. You don’t have to conform to what society says you should be, or look like, or act like. You have been created by God just the way you are. And the way you are is good. 

I know you have a lot of questions about yourself right now, and that’s okay. One day, you’ll feel comfortable enough to explore those questions and find the answers you seek. One day, you will find peace with yourself and learn to love yourself for who you truly are. I want you to know that someday everything will make sense and everything will be okay.

I’m proud of who you are now and who you’ll become. 

With deep love and gratitude,



Jamie Ulrich (she/her) is a Candidate for Word and Sacrament Ministry in the Southwestern Pennsylvania Synod and is currently studying at Trinity Lutheran Seminary at Capital University. She is on internship at Epiphany Lutheran Church in Pickerington, Ohio. In her free time, Jamie enjoys reading fiction, hanging out with her cat, and watching The Great British Baking Show.

Letter to Myself: Impossible Possibilities

By: Chelsea Achterberg


Image Description: Photo of hand-writtern letters and ink pen with the words “Letter to Myself” in the center with the ELM logo, right of center. 

The week before this was published I turned 30. A day I didn’t really think would be possible. Not as an ordained pastor. Not married to a wonderful woman. Not serving as an Army Chaplain. Certainly not all of them at once. As I reflect on what I would tell my younger self it is this: the situation now is not how it will always be. You will not always be in a place that feels unsafe to be out. You will not always feel the heartache that your relationship won’t be seen as equal. You will not always wonder if serving in the military or the church openly will ever be possible.

What is impossible is relative. At various points the overturning of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell seemed impossible. The overturning of the Defense of Marriage Act seemed impossible. The overturning of the prohibition on out and partnered clergy seemed impossible. That I would be happy, healthy, and living authentically beyond my wildest dreams seemed impossible. But God shows up in the impossible.

This past Easter I performed my first baptism as a pastor. It was an extraordinary day, not simply because it was my first Easter and baptism as an ordained pastor or because babies in baptismal outfits make my heart giddy. No, it was extraordinary because that nearly two year old boy is a cousin of Matthew Shepard, whom he may well grow up to look rather a lot like. It was extraordinary because I poured water and anointed him with oil while wearing the vestments of Cindy Witt, a proclaimer from the historic roster forced out of ministry because of her sexual orientation and relationship. 

I reflected on the lead up to that Easter morning that we, he, his family, and I, were living into possibilities that simply had not existed a few decades earlier. Possibilities I’m not entirely sure any of us really thought might come to pass. And yet, I, an out and partnered pastor, performed a baptism of a little boy whose relative had been tortured and left to die for being the same as me, wearing the stole and chasuble of a pastor who was forced out of parish ministry long before her prime for being the same as me. And yet. 

And yet on Easter, the impossible is so near, the impossible is so close to the possible, that the impossible may well walk up and greet us in the unexpected place if we are only willing to go looking. 

To my younger queer self: the situation now is not how it will always be. Somedays the impossible may come so near to the possible as to be reality. With God, anything is possible. Thanks be to God.


Chelsea Achterberg (she/her) is a southerner who is enjoying adapting to Colorado life. She currently serves as Pastor at All Saints Lutheran Church in Aurora and as an Army Reserve Chaplain. Chelsea and her wife Mandy enjoy hiking, exploring the west, and the antics of their house rabbit Mosby.

Barriers Are Not the Future

By JJ Godwin


Image Description: A Photo of JJ Godwin smiling, with the ELM logo along with the words: Future Church

There was a video that got me started on my path in the ELCA as a ministry leader. The video indicated that ELCA churches, especially all across rural America, needed pastors because many were retiring in the next 5 – 10 years. While this is true there is another video which calls students into ministry claiming that there isn’t only one way to be a church leader. I often hear in church spaces that we only have open calls for pastors and not deacons; that it is impossible for queer folx to find calls, and I must relocate to find any call in this church. I am starting to realize that barriers are not the future of this church.

As someone who is called to the intersections of pastoral care and mental health; I live out loud as a queer individual and I am vulnerable about my own lived mental health experiences as a peer support specialist. I listen deeply and notice the current church expects individuals like me to fold myself into Pastor replacements. I don’t want to be a replacement, rather I want to be seen and heard for the unique gifts I bring to the church. I want to hear these stories of the awe and wonder of all of God’s creation. I notice how the future of this church is in becoming a culture of celebration of the diversity that is the body of Christ. (1 Cor. 12:12-27) 

I have realized that in our social media culture, our Covid-induced move to video worship in pajamas, and our global societal awakening of our own mental health challenges during isolation; mental health chaplaincy happens everywhere. Through these technologically supported interactions, ministry is able to reach more of the body of Christ than ever before. The future of this church recognizes the equity that comes with the use of technology and continues to advocate for equitable access to technology for all, including access to virtual mental health and pastoral care. (Psa. 33:5)

The church is more than it’s buildings, more than the congregational reports by church boards and call committees for Swiss army knife pastors. The church is partnerships and sharing of gifts and resources for the glory of God, in the name of Christ, Jesus. This approach might look like our church buildings housing non-profits, so they can grow and meet needs in the community, while obtaining grant funds to support these projects. This could look like diaconal ministers receiving church calls to support the service projects of the church, affording the solo pastor time for self-care. Also, virtual ministries which engage passion projects for the church, developing conversations about social justice issues. (Acts 6:1-7) The future of this church is found in inclusion, moved by the Holy Spirit to create safe spaces and places, physically and virtually, which empower and inspire the full expression of all of God’s creation to show up and be loved. 


JJ Godwin (they/them) is a genderqueer certified peer supporter living in Texas with their spouse, Michelle; their dog, Radar, and cat, Summit. JJ is in their final year at Luther Seminary studying Divinity and seeking ordination in the Word and Service roster of the ELCA. JJ is in candidacy with the Deaconess Community and a member of Proclaim. JJ is called to mental health chaplaincy and can be found in peer support group ministry on HeyPeers.com and PeerHopes.com. JJ practices self-care sabbath by taking their blue Nissan Frontier 4×4, named Buckbeak, out for hiking and bike riding in nearby state parks, with spouse and dog.

What Will the Future Look Like?

By: Tobi Fleck

Image Description: A Photo of Tobi Fleck’s eye (with glasses) & smile and the ELM logo with the words: Future Church

Dear Church, I’m the young adult you say you want. And I’ve got to admit this: Church, after waiting 18 months for a call because I’m queer, you came so damn close to losing me. I know that the Church as she is, is dying and that something new is being reborn. 

So what do I think the Future Church looks like? Honestly, I think it looks like the mission congregation I’m serving today: The Dwelling, Winston-Salem. At The Dwelling we’re focused on two main things: the sacraments and living into God’s active story among our community. 

The entire life of The Dwelling is centered in the sacraments. In addition to gathering together every week for a service of Holy Communion, we also eat together. A lot. We’re working on being able to host community meals every Sunday- and we’re halfway there. We gather together not only to receive grace through the meal of the eucharist, but to receive grace through communion with each other. 

As a community, we celebrate baptisms, welcoming sisters, brothers, and siblings into the community of faith. And twice a week, The Dwelling’s mobile Shower Trailer rolls out. Our shower trailer is a way that we can share God’s gift of water, and the cleansing, healing properties of water, with our community of folks experiencing homelessness. There are no boundaries around who can shower- if someone wants one, they can get one. 

The Dwelling also focuses on finding God active in our community today. No one is barred from entering God’s church at The Dwelling, and we have several folks in active addiction and various levels of recovery. Our leadership team is made up of folks currently experiencing homelessness and folks who have experienced homelessness, but are currently housed. There are no barriers to our leadership team. If someone wants to serve, then The Dwelling finds a place for them to serve. 

This type of community- one that focuses not on the brokenness the world names, but on the Belovedness that God names, is the future of the Church. It is a place that acknowledges all are at least a bit broken, and no one has all the answers. It’s a place where folks, even marginalized folks, are leaders of ministry and not solely guests to ministry. It’s a place that listens to the movement of the Holy Spirit and finds ways to join in her dance. 

So Church, what will the future look like? My bets are on this.


Rev. Tobi Fleck (they/them) currently serves as the associate pastor at The Dwelling, Winston-Salem, a faith community primarily for people who have or are currently experiencing homelessness. In their free time, they enjoy playing games with friends, reading young adult fiction, and spending time out in creation.


This Is Me

by Rev. Analyse Triolo

I love a good musical. Growing up, I was the quintessential theatre nerd: I ate, slept, and breathed theatre for many, many years. I first became aware of racism and the complexities of my multiethnic identity while watching West Side Story — not understanding, as a 7-year-old, why half of my identity was considered good and the other half bad. I fought for the opportunity to see the upcoming RENT film when complimentary movie tickets were donated to local schools in the area. I even had a conversation with Adam Pascal, star of RENT on Broadway and film, that made a huge impact on me while I worked on the youth production of the show. I first learned to waltz in Cinderella and would go on to compete in ballroom dance two years later. My life belonged to the arts and I couldn’t see myself doing anything else. I loved Broadway and anything Broadway adjacent. If I’m being honest with myself I still do, though my tastes have varied as I’ve gotten older. 

Image Description: A Photo of Rev. Analyse Triolo with words on a pink background that state, ” ‘This is Me’ was an anthem, not just for the group of outcasts that were singing the words, but it’s an anthem for queer outcasts everywhere. It’s been one of the anthems of my ministry since before I heard the first note.”

In spite of that I never saw The Greatest Showman until I was quarantined in the parsonage in Queens, NY. I was afraid that the hype would only lead to disappointment, and at that point in my life, disappointment was something I had in spades. I watched, mesmerized, recognizing lifts I’d done in my own ballroom routines present in the film’s choreography. When I heard Broadway actress Keala Settle perform “This is Me” I wept. A lot. The song was an anthem, not just for the group of outcasts that were singing the words, but it’s an anthem for queer outcasts everywhere. It’s been one of the anthems of my ministry since before I heard the first note.

I am not a stranger to the dark

Hide away, they say

‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts

I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars

Run away, they say

No one’ll love you as you are

Ministry has come dangerously close to breaking me several times over the last decade as I coped with my Mom’s cancer diagnosis and passing, a grueling and often demeaning call process, and then finally beginning ministry five weeks prior to finding myself within 5 minutes of the first Coronavirus Epicenter. 

I am brave, I am bruised

I am who I’m meant to be, this is me

I’ve had to fight my entire life. It’s not uncommon for the women in my family, it turns out. I had to fight in my first middle school because I wasn’t white enough, and again in my second school when I was not Hispanic enough. I’ve had to fight bisexual erasure, informing people that it isn’t just a phase. I’ve had to battle my own perceptions of what being bisexual enough even meant. I still do.

And I know that I deserve your love

There’s nothing I’m not worthy of

Let me tell you, walking into the 2019 Churchwide Assembly felt like how I imagine Lettie Lutz and the rest of the performers walking into that reception at the start of the song. I was armed with rage fueled by years of rejection, heartbreak, and silencers that spoke louder than any words could’ve. It’s what had brought me there with a singular goal of sharing my story publicly, and to do one of the boldest things I’ve ever done in my life at the end of the Assembly’s first plenary session. I tracked down the newly elected Bishop of my assigned synod, introduced myself, and politely informed him I hadn’t heard from his office in six months. Two weeks after the conclusion of my time in Milwaukee I had an apology from the Synod and paperwork for the church that would eventually call me. 

I suspect I’ll be fighting for the rest of my life in one way or another. Fighting to face my own demons. Fighting to love the messy parts of myself I often try to hide. And fighting to leave this world better than I found it for those who come after me. I haven’t had the easiest journey, but I haven’t had the hardest one either, and I take pride in doing the work.

This is me.

Rev. Analyse Triolo (she/her) is a year and a half into the wild adventure of Pandemic Pastoring in the mystical land of Queens, NY. In her spare time, she enjoys reading comics, Greek Mythology, and planning out her bi-furious half-elven rogue (Tiefling Rogue? She can’t decide…) for her next D&D Campaign. She also loves singing showtunes so loud her neighbors can hear. Analyse multi-classed as a Master of Divinity while at the Wake Forest University School of Divinity, and as a Master of Arts in Ministry at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. Roll for initiative!



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By: Kelsey Brown

There are not many places in the world made for Black Queer folks

As June rolls around I see the pride advertisements pop up like a field of dandelions 

A sea of white

That’s not to say that Black folks have been absent from the movement for LGBTQIA+ equality  

In fact, we would not have Pride, or a reason to celebrate without the risks taken by Black and Latino Trans Women from San Francisco to Stonewall 

But being Black and being Queer have never been something I’ve taken for granted 

I stand on the shoulders of these powerhouse people who made a way long before I was even a twinkle in my mothers’ eye.

Image Description: Grayscale image of Kelsey Brown with arms outstretched, with the words, “Because we were left out of the publicized Gay rights movement, we created our own spaces where freedom, fluidity and fashions reigned supreme.” Photo Credit: Emily Ann Garcia

Because we were left out of the publicized Gay rights movement, we created our own spaces where freedom, fluidity and fashions reigned supreme. 

Ballroom and the culture surrounding it transforms the lives of all who encounter it 

It’s so much more than “Yass Queen” and “Spilling the tea” 

It’s a safe space where the outcast and turned away are welcomed into a new family, one that uplifts and affirms 

Houses become safe havens and strangers become inseparable 

Now don’t get me wrong 

Going to a ball is an extravagant affair 

And walking the floor in the hopes of securing a trophy for your house is an honor 

But the joy that permeates the room is so much more than rainbow capitalism or a “show” 

It’s a battle – it’s a place to say “look at me” in a world that would shove us back into the closet – out of sight out of mind. 

Shows like Pose on FX and Legendary on HBO Max have provided the world an insider look into the Ballroom scene and has given the “children” an education of sorts on the before, during and after of a still wildly active community of misfits. 

These shows pull back the curtain on the lives of the underrepresented – 

in Ballroom trans women are idolized, not ostracized. 

Houseless folks are taken in and given place and purpose. 

The different become the divas and the function doesn’t stop for anything

We leave it all on the floor

Pride month can be difficult for a variety of reasons 

We’re all just trying to find our place 

Use our voices 


Especially after the year and a half we’ve had 

But my call to you dear friends is to remember the reason why this celebration exists in the first place 

Because of injustice, because of police brutality 

Our ancestors took bricks 

Broke windows 


And fought back 

So that we could dance in the streets

So, we could leave our broken relationships and find our chosen family 

So that even after they were gone 

We could live 

So, get out there friends – 




May the joy and opulence found in ballroom inspire you this pride season to be your most authentic self. To take up ALL the space and to, when things get tough – leave it on the floor.  

Rev. Kelsey Brown (she/her) describes herself as sometimes funny, very queer, frequently anxious, and completely absurd. A 20-something hailing from Long Island, New York – she comes equipped with the accent & attitude to back it up. In her free time, she is falling back in love with spoken word poetry, breaking it down on the dance floor, and ritual creation. She believes with her full heart that God’s delight in diversity is call for us all to embrace the fullness of humanity. Racial justice and advocacy work fuel her fire, while deep friendships and long naps quench her thirst. She can be seen in her natural habitat – quoting showtunes, doubled over in laughter and challenging others to “do the work.” Her ministry in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has taken many courses including camping ministry in New Jersey, Synod work in Metro New York and Internship in sunny Southern California. She is blessed to serve as the Pastor of Jehu’s Table, a Lutheran Church in Brooklyn – Pastor Kelsey brings to the Church a pulse of integrity and personhood for all people, a love of preaching and deep care for the other.



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