One of the more courageous spiritual movements happening today is not taking place in progressive seminaries or liberal churches. It is happening inside deeply conservative faith traditions, where individuals are beginning to ask whether love, relationship and lived human experience deserve a larger place in the conversation than fear has historically allowed.

An Ashby pastor, Rev. Dr. Deborah Moylan is part of that movement.

Ashby Pastor Rev. Dr. Deborah Moylan. (COURTESY OF FIRST CHURCH OF LANCASTER)

An ordained minister within the Assemblies of God tradition — a Pentecostal denomination known for its firm opposition to same-sex relationships and LGBTQ+ affirmation — Deborah has spent years wrestling publicly and spiritually with questions many people inside conservative Christianity are often afraid to voice aloud. Her work and ministry explore the possibility that LGBTQ+ inclusion is not a departure from the spirit of Christ, but perhaps a deeper expression of it.

What makes Deborah’s voice especially significant is not merely that she supports LGBTQ+ inclusion. Many people do. It is that she does so from within a theological world where such advocacy can come at considerable personal and professional cost. Her ministry is rooted not in abstract ideology, but in relationship, prayer, scripture, pastoral care, and the lived experiences of real human beings trying to reconcile faith with authenticity.

And that matters.

Because the first thing many people misunderstand about LGBTQ+ Christians is this: faith is not always a social identity. Sometimes it is simply love. Sometimes it is longing. Sometimes it is the quiet voice that still calls to someone in the night, even after institutions, families, or entire communities have rejected them.

There are gay Christians who remain in the church not because the church has always loved them well, but because Christ still matters to them.

For many LGBTQ+ people, Christianity has become associated not with compassion, liberation, or spiritual depth, but with shame, exclusion, political hostility, and trauma. That perception did not arise from nowhere. Entire generations were told they were disordered, sinful, dangerous, broken or unwelcome in the eyes of God. Some lost families. Some lost churches. Some lost themselves.

So it is understandable that many LGBTQ+ people view Christianity with suspicion or pain.

But there is another wound that receives less attention: the experience of LGBTQ+ Christians themselves — people who often find themselves spiritually homeless, standing between worlds that both distrust them.

Within conservative Christianity, they are frequently asked to suppress essential parts of themselves in order to belong. Their relationships may be condemned. Their leadership questioned. Their identities debated as abstractions rather than lived realities.

Yet, gay Christians are often viewed by their own community with grave skepticism — as though remaining connected to Christianity is a betrayal of queer liberation itself. Some are treated as self-loathing or complicit simply because they still pray, still read scripture, still love Jesus, or still feel spiritually rooted in Christian tradition.

To be both openly LGBTQ+ and authentically Christian can therefore become an experience of dual exile. That is part of why Deborah Moylan’s ministry has such far-reaching implications.

Her willingness to advocate for inclusion from within the Assemblies of God tradition does more than challenge denominational assumptions. It creates spiritual oxygen for people who have spent years suffocating between incompatible expectations. It tells LGBTQ+ Christians that they are not spiritually absurd for continuing to seek relationship with Christ. It tells conservative Christians that LGBTQ+ people are not theoretical “issues,” but sacred human beings capable of profound faith, prayer, wisdom, and devotion.

Too often, theological debates about LGBTQ+ people occur without LGBTQ+ people being treated as fully sacred participants in the conversation. Their lives become “positions.” Their relationships become “controversies.” Their humanity becomes secondary to doctrinal certainty.

But ministry rooted in relationship changes the emotional chemistry of the conversation. It asks people not merely, “What do you believe?” but “Can you still recognize the image of God in someone who has been taught to fear your rejection?”

As someone who focuses more on the practical teachings of Jesus rather than its more dogmatic articles of faith, I personally approach Christianity less through rigid metaphysical formulations and more through lived alignment with compassion, awakening, mercy, and transformative love. To me, “the way” matters more than doctrinal gatekeeping. But I also deeply believe that people have the right to their beliefs, including more traditionally held ones.

The deeper spiritual question is not whether disagreement exists. Human beings have always disagreed about theology. The question is whether disagreement must require dehumanization.

Can Christians hold convictions while still recognizing the spiritual dignity of LGBTQ+ people?

Can LGBTQ+ communities make room for those within their own whose spirituality still genuinely flows through Christian language and relationship with Christ? Can there be space for such complexity?

Because many LGBTQ+ Christians are not trying to conquer Christianity. They are simply trying to survive inside it without amputating either their faith or themselves.

Across traditions, humanity is wrestling with whether religion will primarily function as a boundary marker or as a vehicle for transformation. Will faith become increasingly tribal and defensive? Or can it evolve toward greater honesty, humility, and compassion while still honoring the sincere convictions people hold?

History suggests that spiritual traditions survive not by refusing all change, but by rediscovering their deepest truths beneath layers of fear.

Again and again, the great spiritual teachers of humanity moved toward those whom society pushed away. Again and again, love expanded faster than doctrine expected.

That does not mean every theological tension disappears. But it may mean that the presence of love itself becomes spiritually revelatory.

And perhaps that is part of what makes Deborah Moylan’s witness so important right now. It is not merely an argument for inclusion as a political strategy. It is a testimony that people long divided from themselves might not have to choose between soul and belonging forever.

For some LGBTQ+ Christians, that possibility is not abstract theology. It is relief. And relief, too, can be holy.

Join us for my public conversation with Rev. Dr. Deborah Moylan on Tuesday, June 16, at 6:30 p.m. in Hawkins Hall at the Bulfinch Meetinghouse, 725 Main St., Lancaster. All are welcome. As it should be.

Wil Darcangelo, M.Div, is an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister of the First Church of Lancaster at the Bulfinch Meetinghouse in Massachusetts, progressive theologian and essayist on optimistic spirituality in the Information Age. Follow him on Substack, Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube.