By Cassie Jacobs

Coffee Shop Theology (Unsolicited)

The next part of my story finds me working at a bar in the window of one of my favorite coffee shops. What’s about to happen ends up marking me deeply…

A conversation strikes up between me and the man also working next to me. He’s kind, easy to chat with, and he mentions his partner frequently. I think nothing of it and assume it’s his work partner. It’s not.

One Minute We’re Talking Lattes, the Next—Leviticus

When I finally realize this, I am rocked. Our conversation has moved into the space of faith, and I’ve invited him to check out our local church (You know, the one where I worked.)

Moments before my realization, the conversation had been easy. Now, I feel like I’m drowning. I’m stumbling over my words and thoughts. I feel wildly ill-equipped for this conversation.

How do I talk about faith and a church community with a man in a relationship with another man?

He asks how welcoming our church would be to him and his partner.

I flash through mental images: warm hugs and open arms from some, tight smiles and strongly worded emails from others. I want to give him hope. But I also want to be honest.

I answer in fits and starts. It’s not great.

He asks about specific passages in the Bible concerning homosexuality and law—what does or doesn’t apply to us today. I don’t even remember what I said. If I’m being honest, I think I purposely blocked that part out for the safety of everyone involved.

The conversation ended.
We went our separate ways.
I never saw him again.
And I was never the same again.

Holy Disappointment, Batman

I walk away devastated.

I felt like I had failed him.
I felt like the Church had failed him.
And, if I’m being completely vulnerable, I felt like Jesus had failed him.

I asked a trusted Bible teacher about the scriptural questions my Coffee Shop Friend had posed. Their insight helped a little… but not enough.

So, I told the story again. And again. To friends. Over coffee. Over tears. Over so much pasta.

Why did this affect me so deeply?
Why weren’t followers of Jesus better equipped to love and walk with our LGBTQ+ neighbors?

Wait. Were followers of Jesus even allowed to have relationship with them?

Why wasn’t anyone in my world talking about this?!

Desperate for clarity, I go to a trusted pastor and friend.

I unburden my heart. I share everything.

Their response?

They shrugged.

They. Shrugged.

To say anger erupted in my guts would be accurate.
To say that anger still billows every time I remember that shrug would be putting it mildly.

I wanted answers. I was dismissed.

I felt defeated.
Something definitely wasn’t right about all this—but I didn’t know what to do next.

So, I did what any confused, mildly angry, emotionally exhausted person would do:

I did nothing.

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