If I would have been told as a first year student at Macalester that I was going to have a religious vocation and return to Macalester five years after graduation in the role of the chaplain I would have fallen down. I would have probably dropped out and transferred to Reed or Oberlin in an effort to ensure that I would not have to live out such a dreadful fate.

As a first year student I identified as agnostic. I have a distinct memory of engaging in a discussion on the grotesque hypocrisy of the church over coffee with Chaplain, now colleague, Lucy Forster-Smith. Though I was somewhat active in my church in suburban Wisconsin, it was exactly this white bread Christianity that I was trying to escape by coming to a school like Macalester. The Christian church was patriarchal and heterosexist; it had a painfully racist and violent history and by coming to Macalester I felt a newfound freedom to ignore religion.

To my dismay, I quickly discovered that it was impossible to ignore religion on Macalester’s campus. Religious imagery, themes and people popped up in all my classes, community service life and relationships. I would even say I was “religio-phobic” in most of those first encounters. Yes, I was legitimately afraid of the injustices done in the name of religion. Yet I think another aspect of this fear came out of a place deep inside of me that wanted to explore life’s meaning, yearned to love deeper, to search for hope in a dismal world but was terrified to be identified with what I knew to be “religious.”

The summer before my sophomore year I started caregiving for people living with AIDS at an assisted living residency called Agape Home. Most of my fellow co-workers and volunteers were gay, lesbian and transgender people whose lives and relationships had been totally decimated by the disease. They came tirelessly after work each night to repair and paint an old south side house in time turning it into a real home. When our first residents arrived their compassion was like none other in my experience. They became a family for those residents who had no one to care for them; often staying all night by the bedside of someone dying or just in need of a long conversation.

To my surprise, many of the gay, lesbian and transgender caregivers were also Christians. This blew my mind. Views that promote the self-hatred and judgment behind queer teen suicide and hate crimes are often rooted in Christian teaching. How could they share a Christian identity with those who oppress and despise them?

After awhile I stopped questioning their Christianity and realized that I simply wanted to be in community with them regardless of their religious beliefs. I wanted to live an existence that acknowledged the sacredness of everyday life. I wanted to learn to live and love with my heart turned towards the world and I knew these queer Christian folks would be great companions for the journey.

I entered back into Christianity slowly. I entered in from a new location, from that of an oppressed group of people who didn’t find value in following petty moralisms or being model citizens, but from experiencing the real saving power in movements for justice and loving those whom society deems expendable. During my junior year I would come to learn about liberation theology in a class taught by Religious Studies Professor Anthony Pinn. I would marvel at the reality that a theology in which God is on the side of oppressed people is not just found in academia or abroad, but lives and breaths today in communities as close as Minneapolis.

At the end of my senior year I started identifying as a Christian. It was a little scary at first; as I started to come out to my friends here at Macalester as a Christian most wrestled with how to respond. Many recognized the energy and life it brought me and went beyond mere tolerance to celebrate my new identity alongside me.

Now five years later I am a minister and back at Macalester as the Associate Chaplain. I have been called to work in the exact community that nurtured me into my faith and vocation. What I learned at Macalester is that the struggle for authenticity can have startling and unexpected ends, but that this act of deeply searching ourselves is essential to our personal and vocational success. Working at Macalester I am able to continue on my vocational path once again in a community that values total authenticity and for this I feel extremely grateful.