At a recent church meeting my denomination’s quagmirical impasse–what to do about “our brothers and sisters” in the LGBTQ community–kind of set me off.

Specifically, just reading a statement from the denomination’s executive board responding to a certain church’s licensing of a pastor who is in a same-sex relationship left me asthmatic–I find politics mixed with God-talk generally wearying–and has caused me to elevate to near-doctrine status our church’s simple motto: Sharing and growing together in Christ.

The inclusion–as members or pastors or anything–of LGBTQ folk by churches in my denomination is a line in the sand for many people. Because I have had few relevant interactions (particularly at church) with gay people, if I speak out for or against anything related to LGBTQ church issues, I must add that I really don’t know what I’m talking about.

What makes church meaningful for me is meeting with people who are similarly interested in learning how to “walk in the light,” whether that means taking care of each other or being challenged to respond to burglars in a peaceful way or choosing to value a variety of people and their perspectives simply because in the big scheme of things they are just as important as I think I am. We accept the questions posed by Jesus–and lots of other people, too–as central to our discussion, and from there share and grow together.

In that context of sharing and growing (rather than parsing policy and divining divisive doctrine) it seems to me that if the people of a congregation trust and respect someone–LGBTQ or not–enough to want that someone to be their pastor, I suspect it’s probably best to join Gamaliel in the spirit of his spoken one-minute moment of Biblical fame: “Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”

If a concern is that following Gamaliel’s advice (by allowing a fellow denominational church move out of a certain comfort zone to affirm someone’s pastoral work) is toeing a slippery slope toward universal destruction, then maybe it’s worth adding that just because somewhere a church in my denomination decides to have a pastor who is LGBTQ does not mean that all at once all churches will be taken over by gay pastors. Pastors are chosen by congregations because their leadership is valued, however that looks to each church; the expansion of our own understandings and comfortabilities is something that can happen as we learn to love and value all people who happen to enter our little spheres–in other words, in the context of personal relationships.

Denominationally speaking, I like an idea that I’ve learned isn’t my own: Let churches be a federation, joining together and networking for common purposes but retaining their own understandings of “sharing and growing.” As Jesus learned and modeled, it is through personal relationships within and across boundaries–and not through institutional hierarchy or mission statements or statements of faith–that true accountability exists and spirituality can make a positive impact.