Kelly Pickell CMIN 3300 Dr. James Lewis June 3, 1999

These verses come from the song Gotham City by mainstream artist R. Kelly. It was written a few years ago for the closing credits of the last Batman movie, but it reminds me now of the thoughts I had as I wandered the streets of New York City last week.

I was there with a Christian Ministry class looking at different ministries in the city. We spent seven days in New York City and then went to Washington DC for 5 more days. The days in New York City were spent visiting different ministries and seeing what they were about. It was clear after visiting those different ministries that God truly is working through his people to bring hope and change to the city.

As we went through the week my mind never seemed to stop thinking. I thought of all the things I had seen. I thought of the homeless men and woman who called the intersection of 47th and 5th Streets their home because the grates there blew out warm air occasionally. I thought of "Old Faithful", the homeless woman who could always be counted on to be sitting on the bench around the corner from the YMCA where we were staying either reading her newspaper or sleeping under it. I thought of the expressionless masses riding the subway to unannounced destinations. But more often than not, I thought of all the things I had not seen. And it would be those things I had not yet seen that would bother me for the remainder of the two weeks I would be in the cities.

Tuesday night I broke the rule that said we could only go somewhere if someone else was with us. I knew the city could be a dangerous place, especially for a naïve college student from Indiana, but I also knew there were things I wanted to do and see. I wanted to go to Barnes and Noble and pick up the latest issue of The Advocate magazine as well as see if they had anything else of interest. There was a Barnes and Noble bookstore right on the corner, but it was a small one and didn�t have a magazine section. The man working there suggested I go down to 53rd Street where there was a larger Barnes and Noble. It was approaching dusk and I didn�t feel like walking 6 short blocks, so I caught the M101 bus heading north. Before I knew it we had made it to 53rd Street, and before I knew it we were driving past 53rd Street. I hadn�t been paying much attention and forgot to push the strip of plastic to let the driver know I wanted off. Since we were already past my stop I decided to keep riding. I stared out the window in amazement at the city that seemed to go on forever. There were so many buildings, so many cars, so many taxis, so many people. I was already at 96th Street. An old lady was struggling down the steps of the bus. A younger man in a suit rolled his eyes and placed his head back against the window behind him as he waited for the bus to get moving again. As we approached 100th street we seemed to be going slightly higher up in altitude. I looked back and could see the skyline of the city. I pushed the plastic strip signaling for the driver to stop. I got off somewhere around 110th street, walked westward and found a small park. The view was great. I could look down on the city and see the skyline. The buildings protruded forth, each with random rooms illuminated by artificial light. It was fairly quiet at this spot with just a few people walking by and I had to laugh and the irony of the situation. Things were going on all around me. Crimes were being committed. Babies were crying. Ambulances were racing through the streets. Dogs were barking. Gunshots were being fired. A million television sets were blaring. But I didn�t hear any of it. Instead I heard a cricket chirping, and I knew that cricket didn�t give a damn about any of the hysteria happening around it. It was content to just be alive, sitting in a park. So was I.

I caught the M102 heading downtown and got off at 53rd Street where I did find the Barnes & Noble bookstore. I found the magazine section and made my way to the Gay and Lesbian section. I had been out of the closet about my sexual orientation for only two months, and I decided before coming on this trip that I wasn�t going to hide the fact that I was gay while I was on this trip. It had taken me years to come to grips with the fact that I was created gay and no amount of prayer had ever changed that. I was 22 years old and was finally realizing that God didn�t hate me for who I was. So, I proudly went over to the gay and lesbian section and found the Advocate magazine. Of all the gay and lesbian magazines out there The Advocate was my favorite. It was not stuck on sex like so many others. It was more like a Newsweek for the gay community. But while I was there in Barnes and Noble�s magazine section a different magazine caught my eye--Metrosource: The Gay and Lesbian Guide to New York City. I picked it up as well and headed to the register to pay. It was such a good feeling to be paying for those magazines without being embarrassed or fearing that the cashier would think I was gay. It�s probably not something I could ever explain to someone else, but to go from being ashamed about your sexuality, to embracing it is good feeling, and it felt good to not care what the cashier thought.

After paying, I walked the 6 blocks back to the YMCA and found that the rest of the group was still gone. They said they were going down to the Empire States Building or something. It was only about 8:30. I skimmed through the Metrosource Guidebook as I waited for them to return. I found the religion section and found a list of churches with special emphasis to the gay and lesbian community. I had never been to a gay-friendly church and for some reason I had the desire to visit one of those churches. At least take a picture of one.

It wasn�t much; just a normal brick building with a white marquee on the front that read "Metropolitan Community Church." Devona had come with me down to 138 22nd Street. James and Crystal said they were tired and had gone to bed, but Devona was bored and agreed to come with me to get a picture of the church. It was about 9:30 at this time and there were a few last people coming out of the church and a guy locking it up. I was too shy to go introduce myself or ask them anything so I just crossed the street and took a picture. Then we crossed back over and I read the list of programs they had on their wall. According to the list of services, these people were leaving "Queer Discipleship," whatever that meant. Two women were walking in front of us as we left to head back the direction we came. They were holding hands, and I thought back to a paper I had just written for a different class on the suicide rate of gay teenagers. We all long for love, but when you grow up in a homophobic environment you begin to feel like that longing will never be met.

I knew as I watched that couple hold hands down 22nd street that God was working in New York City in a way I hadn�t even been thinking about, but it all made sense. In suburban Indiana gay and lesbian teenagers have no role models to look up to. The only "godly" people in their lives tell them that they�re in a catch-22 lifestyle that will send them to hell. In New York City and Washington DC and Chicago and Detroit and every metropolitan area gays and lesbians come here to be among people who accept them for who they are.

It�s sad that gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered people have to retreat to the city in order to find acceptance, but change has to start somewhere. Sadly though, wherever God is working for good the devil is right there working for evil and the gay and lesbian community is an easy target for the devil�s schemes. Later in the week as I walked through Park Slope, the West Hollywood of New York City, I realized that all around me were bars and sex clubs where gays and lesbians tried to push all their problems away. They know drugs, alcohol and sex are only postponing their lives, not solving anything, but it�s the only thing they have. Until men and women of God reach out to the gay and lesbian community they�ll never find the true hope that doesn�t fade away. God does hold the answer for their problems, but it�s very difficult to go to church when its people have the door locked to gays and lesbians.

I paid close attention to the comments that were made about homosexuality during the week at the various ministries and I was impressed by what I saw. At the first ministry we visited the lady in charge suggested we look into a magazine called The Other Side. I smiled inside because I knew The Other Side was one of the few Christian magazines that supported the gay movement and didn�t think homosexuality was a sin. Later at Covenant House, our guide told about his first experience with a teenage boy who talked with him about his boyfriend. At first the guy was taken back but he told us that we would have to wrestle with it like he did and ended by saying he wasn�t sure if homosexuality was wrong or not, but that "the boy seemed happy." Later in Washington DC as our guide talked about a ministry called Food and Friends which served hot meals to persons with AIDS, he told us that although he thought homosexuality was a sin, he was more disturbed by the way homosexuals were treated by the church. Not everyone can understand homosexuality, but as more and more people try to understand what it�s like for us, the better the world gets for the gay and lesbian community.

Gays and Lesbians come to places like New York and Washington DC because they find acceptance there. Although it may still be an unfair world, there are glimmers of hope scattered throughout the city, which remind us that the world doesn�t have to stay like this. God has not given up on the city, and we shouldn�t either. As long as we can dream of a better place, we can work to make it better.