Uncertain, TX

When I moved to Dallas in 1987 I tried to interview every member of the congregation to hear what they believed was their vision for the church. After that was done, the board of directors and I went on a retreat to Jefferson, Texas. We stayed in a bed-and-breakfast called the Roseville Inn. It was owned by two church members who had moved out there.

We spent two days talking about the vision and the future of the church. One thing I had heard again and again in my interviews was that people believed their church was called to be big. At first I thought this was just a Texas thing, but, after a while, I began to hear quite clearly that the church was called to be big enough to reach lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people, especially teens living in isolation in small towns.

We spent a lot of time talking about how we could do this. Frankly, the task seemed more than a little overwhelming. Remember: this was the late 1980s, and none of us had email, let alone any idea how the Internet would connect the world. It also was the worst of the AIDS crisis; in fact, most of the men on that retreat are now dead.

Still, that group of women and men trusted that, if God had called us, God would make away. Although we had no idea how, we were excited that night as we piled in our cars to go to dinner.

The owner of the bed-and-breakfast suggested that we eat at the Bayou Landing, a seafood restaurant about 16 miles down the road. We headed out, but I noticed that the blacktop road we were on kept getting smaller and smaller until it finally turned into a dirt road. The road just stopped at a bayou on Lake Caddo, and I saw the city limits sign welcoming us to Uncertain, Texas, population 169.

Yes, there really is a place called Uncertain, Texas, and, if you are ever there, I’d recommend the Bayou Landing. The meal was great, and we had the nelliest waiter who flirted non-stop with one member of the board. We laughed and observed that we, indeed, are everywhere.

As we left the restaurant that night, we were standing in the parking lot when the waiter came out to the car. He asked us who we were and what we were doing in Uncertain. We explained that we were a church board there for a retreat. “Oh,” he said, “what church?”

When we told him his face lit up. “I used to attend your church when I lived in Dallas.” We were not a bit surprised. Then he said, “You know, you guys should start a church or a bible study or something out here. You have no idea how many gay and lesbian people there are in these woods.”

Right there, in the parking lot of that restaurant in Uncertain, Texas, a holy hush fell over us all. It was as if God had sent an angel—a messenger—to confirm that what we had talked about all day was, in fact, what God was calling us to do.

We knew that we would never have the millions of dollars to counter the relentless message of exclusion from the Religious Right. Their media empires raise more than a billion dollars a year, often playing on people’s fear and prejudice. We also realized that we didn’t have to match them broadcast for broadcast, dollar for dollar because one candle can dispel a lot of darkness. A seed of hope may be a tiny and fragile thing, but, in the hands of the Spirit, it can defeat an awful lot of despair.

by Michael Piazza
Center for Progressive Renewal