October 6, 1998 marks the 30th anniversary of the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches -- the world's oldest and largest predominantly gay spirituality organization.
During 1968, three life-changing events deeply impacted the future of a defrocked Pentecostal minister by the name of Troy D. Perry -- and motivated him to look for a way to address the spiritual and social justice needs of the gay community.
First, in the midst of relationship break-up, Perry had unsuccessfully attempted suicide. Second, a friend by the name of Carlos was falsely arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department for "lewd conduct" -- a catch-all term used to oppress and harass the gay community. Third, in the face of police harassment, a group of gay men marched to the local Los Angeles police station and for the first time took a public stand for their dignity and civil rights.
These events took place one year before the historic Stonewall Riots.
And those events led to a dream of a church where gays and lesbians could worship in openness and authenticity.
Out of that dream, the Rev. Troy D. Perry held the first worship service of the UFMCC on Oct. 6, 1968.
The ancient Hebrew prophet Zechariah wrote, "Who has despised the day of small things?"
Those words certainly characterized that first MCC worship service as twelve worshipers gathered along with Troy Perry in the living room of his home in Huntington Park, California at 1:30 PM on October 6, 1968. But that small gathering held the promise of an international movement which would bring spiritual hope to hundreds of thousands of gays and lesbians -- and forever change the face of Christianity.
>From that first worship service, UFMCC has today become an international movement with more than 42,000 members and adherents in 15 countries, an annual income exceeding $15 million, and a powerful message of spiritual acceptance and affirmation for gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons.
The celebration of UFMCC's 30th Anniversary will begin in October 1998 and will culminate with the dedication of the UFMCC World Center in West Hollywood, CA and UFMCC International General Conference and World Jubilee in Los Angeles, CA in July, 1999.
EDITOR'S NOTE: The following text was written by Rev. Perry in the early 1970's and reflects the sensibilities of those times. In the intervening years, Rev. Perry and the UFMCC came to embrace the use of inclusive language; however, we have left these original writings unchanged as they reflect the actual conditions and mindset of the times in which they were written.
THE REV. TROY D. PERRY:
That first Sunday church service finally arrived.
I stood nervously watching the door, worried to death. I had cleaned out the living room, set up some chairs, used the coffee table for an altar. I had borrowed a robe from the Congregationalist minister that I had helped out previously. He insisted that I had to preach in a robe for that first service. I had borrowed some trays from some very close friends, Steve and his lover, Lynn. These were for communion.
I set up everything, and stood in the kitchen. Our house was one of those "shotgun" looking houses. From the front door, you could see all the way back. You could see right through to the back room. I could stand in the kitchen and look all the way down the hallway to the front door. I paced nervously around in my borrowed robe and clutched the Bible and thumbed through it and riffled the pages.
Then, people began to gather. Willie let them in. He greeted them, and saw that they sat down. One friend of ours brought his straight brother and the brother's girlfriend. Other people showed. Most had heard about it, but finally, three people showed up who had read the ad in The Advocate.
There were twelve in the living room, and I walked out, and asked everyone to stand up, and I said, "We'll go before the Lord in prayer." We joined hands and prayed. Then I said, "We'll sing some hymns." I invited everyone to turn to a page in the book. We'd borrowed the hymnals from the Congregationalist church where I had been a guest preacher the previous Easter.
No one knew what to expect. Everyone was as scared as I was. They all waited around for me to lead the singing and sing out. Well, I did. My mother always used to say, "My boys don't sing too well, but they sure sing loud." And that was never more true.
As we sang, I recalled Marianne Johnston's reaction to the church. She thought it was a lovely idea, but she said, "You'll be raided during your first service."
I laughed and said, "Well, I wish the police would come in. It wouldn't bother me at all."
We sang several hymns. They sounded a little thin and sour, but the spirit was what counted. We didn't have a piano or any kind of accompaniment. It seems strange now. Willie Smith was there, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it. He still didn't know just what to think.
I recall I had reassured Willie, just before we started, that God was in this. I said, "I know now that I'm going to be in God's perfect will. Not his permissive will as I was in my past life." When we sang the second hymn, I recalled this talk with Willie. I reached that part of the service where I had to get down to cases. We again prayed.
Then I relaxed. I introduced myself. I told about where I was born, my age, my name, my marriage, my sons, my religious background, where I went to high school and college. I talked about the churches I had pastored in Florida, Illinois and California. I said that one in Santa Ana had been the last I pastored in 1963, and here we were now, after my army hitch. I told them that I was a division manager with one of the largest retailers in Los Angeles, and that I would continue as such until the church was large enough to support a full-time minister. Even then, I was sure that that time would come.
Then I introduced the church. I said the church was organized to serve the religious, spiritual, and social needs of the homosexual community of greater Los Angeles, but I expected it to grow to reach homosexuals wherever they might be. I made it clear that we were not a gay church - we were a Christian church, and I said that in my first sermon. I also told them that we would be a general Protestant church to be all-inclusive. Then I prayed again. And then I went into my Biblical message.
My sermon was entitled, "Be True to You." It was actually inspired by Polonius' advice to his son, Laertes, when the young man was about to leave. It's early in Shakespeare's play, Hamlet, and it's from those lines that go:
"This above all: To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."
I then moved from Shakespeare to the story of Job, to the Book of Job, chapter 19, and I read them aloud.
"Then Job answered and said, How long will you vex my soul, and break me in pieces with words?
"Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard: I cry aloud, but there is no judgement. My brethren are far from me, and mine acquaintances are estranged from me. My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me. They that dwell in mine house, and my maids, count me for a stranger; I am an alien in their sight. My breath is strange to my wife, though I entreated for the children's sake of mine own body. Yes, young children despised me; I arose, and they spake against me. All my inward friends abhorred me; and they whom I loved are turned against me. My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, and I am escaped with the skin of my teeth.
"Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O you my friends; for the hand of God has touched me. Why do you persecute me as God, and are not satisfied with my flesh?
"Oh that my words were now written! Oh that they were printed in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever! For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God."
Job had learned to be true to himself. He never wavered once he made up his mind, and knew that he was called of God. His friends came and told him that he must have sinned for some reason or he wouldn't be visited by all these bad nasty things that plagued him. He lost his family. Everything terrible happened to him. But Job's remark to them was, "Though God slay me, yet I'll trust Him. I'll come forth as pure as gold." Even going through the refiner's fire, he knew that he would make it. And I knew that we at Metropolitan Community Church could do that too.
I also preached about David and Goliath. David said that the same God that protected him when he had to do battle once with a bear, and once with a lion would protect him again. Even when things look awfully bad to us in the gay community, God can help. And we can win, even though it looks like everything is stacked against us. So, I said, "Be true to you. Believe in yourself, and believe in God. You have to believe in yourself as a human being first, and then God is able to help you. You are not just an individual in circumstances, but you always are the created being of God."
And then I told the story of J. C. Penney, the gentleman who developed one of the biggest retail chains in the world. I talked of his trust, his belief in the Golden Rule and what that did for him. He was true to himself, no matter how he was ridiculed. Some laughed at his mixing his belief in his version of the Christian principles with retailing. But he stuck to it and developed the second biggest retail chain in the country.
I pointed out that we must be humble human beings first, homosexuals second. We must love and build, free ourselves, and free others from their feelings against us. I closed my sermon with a quote from the Epistle of St. Paul, the Apostle to the Philippians, fourth chapter, thirteenth verse, which says, "I can do all things through Christ, which strengthen me."
After I finished preaching, I closed my Bible, and I knew that God was in the place. I prayed again, and when I looked up, and said, "We're going to have open communion," there wasn't a dry eye in the place. Everybody in that small living room was weeping silently. We all felt that we were a part of something great. God was fixing to move. We were to see His handiwork, and that would be unbelievable.
Marianne Johnston had given me a glass plate to serve the communion bread from. The bread had been supplied by my Congregationalist minister friend. It was the same type of wafer that is used in Catholic and other services. Two friends had given me a cup for the wine. It was not really a chalice; it was a "Jefferson Cup." They gave it to me personally as a souvenir of the occasion. I still have it, and I prize it very highly.
I offered communion. Only three came forward to take the bread and wine, but they were weeping. And then I served communion to myself. We dismissed with a prayer of benediction. Then I invited everyone to stay for coffee and cake. We gathered and we just couldn't quit crying. We all sat around and said we had felt the spirit of the Lord.
One young man came up to me, and said, "Oh, Troy, God was here this morning! I haven't been in a church in eight years. And even when I left the church, the one I'd been in, I never felt anything like I felt here this morning, in this living room."
When that service was finally over, Willie Smith said that he had really been moved by it. He insisted that he didn't know yet about whether the church would actually take a hold and grow. I said, "Willie, only God knows the answer to that."
But Willie said, "It just might, and I want you to know I'm with you all the way, 100%. And I'll do anything I can to make it work." And he has. He started right then. For the next Sunday, he scrounged up a phonograph and records of some religious music so that we could all sing to it. Aside from being an ace projectionist, Willie is also a singer, and music director. He made that his job. He still has it. And it grows all the time.
The next Sunday, we were 14 instead of 13. I got up and looked around and said, "If you love the Lord this morning would you say, Amen!" They all shouted "amen" back to me. It's been that way, too, since then. I also praised the Lord because we were growing.
The next Sunday we had 16, and I got up and said, "Well look at this. Thank you Jesus, we're on the move!" But, the fourth Sunday, we had only nine, and I almost died. But here again, God had prepared me. He gave me a sermon entitled "Despise Not the Day of Small Things." And God gave me that sermon for Troy Perry, not for anyone there.
Lee, a friend from my army days, and now one of the regulars, said, "That morning, when you looked out in the group, and saw that it had shrunk, I could tell that you were upset. You got up and you preached, and you preached as though you meant it. I could tell you really meant it."
I said, "Well, that's the sermon God gave me for me." The next Sunday we had 22 in attendance. We'd jumped back up, and we've never dropped since.
As we started to grow and attract people from all kinds of different backgrounds, I knew that we would have to get down to cases about settling problems of organization, administration, doctrine and the church services. They had to be settled soon, so that everyone would be able to know and rely on the church, to really be a part of its body, of its identity.
I knew that I was not starting another Pentecostal church. I was starting a church that would be truly ecumenical. I had asked the religious backgrounds of those first twelve. They were Catholic, Episcopal, and of various Protestant sects. I fervently sought to serve a really broad spectrum of our population. It would have to be a church that most could understand and easily identify with, and accept it as not being unusual or odd. It seemed to me that it should be traditional, almost like those they attended in childhood, or not too different from that. It wouldn't work if we tried to update it like some cults where Christ came out of a flying saucer. It had to be completely honest. I knew that I couldn't play games.
My sermons would have to do as they had always done, relate to the Scriptures and to God. This, I knew, would be the hard part. I am not an intellectual. I have never claimed to be the type of speaker that required the listeners to bring a dictionary to each session. I always regarded myself as a preacher, not as a teacher. Now, I knew that I must be both, especially for those who came to church either for the first time or after years of having no contact with God or established religion. But I also had to reestablish old links with God, but do it in a new way, that would be meaningful in our community.
Although I became the pastor and founder, I don't really feel like a pastor, at least not in the sense I'm used to thinking of pastoring. A pastor has all the time in the world to devote to his congregation. He knows all of them on a first-name basis. I used to be that way, but it wasn't long before we'd grown so much that it was impossible. I am an exhorter, a preacher from the pulpit, an evangelist.
At the start, I wanted everyone to relate to me as their pastor. Some had trouble doing this because I wasn't wearing a Roman collar, or wearing robes. I talked to those from the more informal sects about this, and they said, "Well, it's not going to bother us. You're still going to be Troy, and no matter what you wear, that's not going to change your preaching." Some said, "As long as it doesn't change your preaching style, or your message, we're for it." So I went out and bought full pulpit attire to help some of my flock relate better. It did help, and it's never hurt anybody. The important thing is that they feel the spirit of the Lord. What I wear doesn't stop them.
We kept our ad running in The Advocate. And we also got some great news coverage from that paper. We were news in the gay community. Most regular papers, especially the religious columns, ignored us. They felt that if they just ignored us, we weren't there. People kept coming, and we kept growing. My house was bursting at the seams. We were looking for another place to hold services. We needed help on all fronts. I needed other theological minds to help me really finalize the way it was all developing.
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