Take off the armor: six years later
In May of 2020, I came out publicly as a gay man through a series of blogs called Take Off the Armor. In those first few months of sharing things I knew to be true from a very young age, I found that some people were willing to hold that truth, and others couldn't.
Six years later, some things have changed, and some things remain the same. I've moved from one part of Jacksonville to another. I got busier and worked harder than I thought possible. I’ve stepped away from some roles and stepped into new ones. My younger brother, Maurice, passed away suddenly in September of 2022, my dog Winston died in October 2025, and the brewery I’ve worked at for years closed in April. Lots of changes.
At the same time, there are aspects of my life that remain the same. While no longer officially in campus ministry, I am still deeply committed to the next generation — specifically college students. My life continues to be centered on the UMC, even as jobs and roles have shifted. I’m the same nerdy church guy.
All that to say, it felt like it was a good time to update this series. Six years later, still committed to Jesus, still committed to His church, still committed to living honestly in the world. And yes, still gay (same gender loving to be precise).
Okay. PAUSE.
Some are aware that once upon a time, my great fascination was all things Hillsong Church in Sydney, Australia. I spent so much time paying attention to this church, its leaders and its evolution. I took 10 trips to the great Southland. I learned almost every song they published from 1994-2006 (the Darlene era IYKYK). I tracked their strategies and followed their ministry innovations. A lot has happened at Hillsong in the last few years. I learned a lot from Hillsong, and as it turns out, I have had to let go of some of what I learned from them.
One of their principles, often repeated year after year at Hillsong Conference, was rooted in Psalm 92:13: Those who are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish. Knowing what I know now, the way they interpreted and acted on this text should've raised some flags. But go figure, in the purest sense, one way of summing up the last six years could simply be: I have been planted in a local church, and I can say that it (or more accurately, they) have been one of the primary reasons I feel like I am thriving. Who knew this would be one of the things Hillsong got right.
Alright. UNPAUSE.
My local church is San Marco UMC (aka SMC) in Jacksonville, Fl. SMC is a small, reconciling, and community-engaged congregation. I wear many hats there. During the week, I am the volunteer operations lead. My role is less about decision-making, and more about coordinating and connecting. A lot of the work is behind the scenes and deep in the weeds of things. Some days, it's keeping up with email and Slack, other days it's giving community partners access to the building from an app on my phone - that part is so cool tbh. I am absent on some Sundays due to my travel schedule and preaching invitations. But when I am in town on a Sunday, you’ll most often see me as the emcee for the worship service. Every now and then you'll catch me singing with the band and leading worship (blast from the past for some of my readers). And once in a while, my pastor asks me to bring the message. My favorite role is sitting behind the computer and running the slides - a fact that should make sense to all who know me.
I love being a part of SMC. In some ways, I get to do things I never thought I'd be able to do for a local church. In other ways, I was raised to organize my life in this way. It isn’t about payment or position, it’s about finding my place inside a community of folks who are all on their own spiritual journeys. I love my local church and it has meant so much to me that I get to serve there. I’ve been a part of two other local congregations in my lifetime; while they each hold special meaning for me and my journey, SMC has been the place where I’ve been able to serve and lead without armor on. And that has made all the difference.
A few Sundays ago, I found myself at church with no official responsibilities. I did come in early to update the slide deck for the worship service, and I helped the production manager prepare communion elements. Other than that, I just sat in the booth and watched the service from the back. It was a very chill Sunday for me. As I drove home, it dawned on me that this is the reason coming out was so important for me. I was in church, doing very little, but also and very significantly, without any armor on. While going to church regularly isn’t new for me - I’ve been doing that my entire life - going to church without armor is a new normal. And more often than not, it was the roles and responsibilities themselves that kept the armor strapped on. So a chill Sunday with few responsibilities becomes a fresh reminder that this black, gay (same gender loving) man is loved, seen and celebrated in the house and family of God. Sometimes, you need a day with less responsibility to be struck by the incredible grace and welcome of a loving Savior, and the memory that this was not always my lived experience in the church.
As you can probably tell, San Marco Church is a special place for me. It is a place where I do not have to wear armor to belong. When I drive up to our building, I am not afraid of being seen for who I am. I know in a very deep place that even if I had more chill Sundays, even if I stepped away from all of my roles, my congregation would still love me. And they love me knowing a particular thing about me that, once upon a time, I was certain a congregation never would.
For many people like me, church is a place of anxiety and fear. A place where you put on armor so that you can belong. So that you can be included. So that you can offer your gifts and participate in ministry. I know what it's like to put on armor, to hide who you really are, just so you can be in the room. To be true, this does not only happen in churches. But the entire series, Take Off the Armor, centered on my church experience because it is genuinely heartbreaking to imagine that it's in the church that one must wear armor.
Quick PAUSE
Some will read the “without armor” statements and immediately think about Ephesians 6 and the full armor of God. Let’s be clear - you know that’s not the kind of armor I’m talking about. But to those who may need to hear this: if you really think I’m walking out of my house in 2026 without the full armor of God on (and a praying mother as well), then you haven’t been paying attention. So let’s now mix metaphors or scripture passages (or biblical authors, pre-modern worldviews, theological paradigms, etc) today. Mmkay? Thanks!
UNPAUSE (and much love!!)
For many folks who identify as LGBTQ+, people who on some days struggle with their sexuality and on other days decide to hide it, walking into religious spaces means putting on armor. It is so hard to hear words of affirmation, and receive acts of grace, when you’re wearing armor that is meant to keep the real you inside. I am so glad that I, along with a few others, have found San Marco Church to be a place where armor is not needed.
Now don’t get me wrong - life in a congregation still asks a lot of me. I'm still on my journey of sanctification. I'm still opening myself to the Spirit's desire to make me more and more like Jesus. On more than one occasion things happen that call me to let go of my old nature and put on a new one. Yes, the call to “come and die” still resonates even in a progressive Christian space. But all of that includes being honest about who God has made me to be. When I walk into San Marco Church, I know I am loved, accepted and celebrated. I also know I am called, graced and sent forth to embody God’s grace for the sake of the world. I am planted in that congregation, planted in that house. My gifts, my energy, all the beautiful things I get to do the other seven days of the week — they all come back to that local church. That's what Take Off the Armor was always really about.
Yes, being able to exist in a denomination that supports me matters. Yes, the changes in the United Methodist Church's Book of Discipline matter. But at the end of the day, it was all for this one thing: I just wanted to be able to go to church without armor on. I wanted to walk through those doors and be honest about who I am, and still belong. Still be planted.
The day this post publishes will be a Sunday. I was in town and I was at San Marco Church. On this particular Sunday, my role was worship leader. I sang For Everyone Born and Jesus at the Center. I listened to a solid message from Pastor Steve. We affirmed our faith with the Apostle’s Creed and received from the Lord's table. It was a typical Sunday in many ways, and I counted it all an honor that I got to be there with such great people.
Planted in the house of the Lord.
Without armor.
In May 2020, I came out as a gay man who follows Jesus. I talked about my journey using the story of David and Goliath and the image of armor that doesn't fit. Take Off the Armor is currently a 9-part series, starting with the first set of posts where I went public with my sexuality, talked about my adolescent depression, acknowledged the "older brother" voices, confessed to my own silence and hiding, and pointed to much more interesting things about me. I followed up a few months later with three posts outlining the things I did to prepare to come out: I got a therapist, I found my people, deepened my trust in Jesus. I posted an update in May 2021, then another six years later. Thanks for reading, friends!