At Oak Lawn United Methodist Church, Dustin Ward has found the true meaning of sanctuary.

From one day last December til one day this December, a journey toward understanding the true meaning of what one church can do

DUSTIN WARD | Guest Contributor
dustinlward@gmail.com

I have been in a full-blown identity crisis for almost a year. And for a control freak, a Libra and an oldest child, that has been a real struggle. I can pinpoint that one day last December, in 2022, when the crisis started, and, 12 months later, I had more questions than I do answers.

Then one day this December, my crisis began to morph into understanding and then acceptance when I finally began to identify what I was experiencing for myself: Sanctuary.

Full disclosure, I am not a religious person by any means. Curse words are as beloved to me as they are to a group of sailors. My television heroes are Karen Walker, David Rose and a little bit of Hyacinth Bucket — that’s Bouquet — and no one loves to spill the tea with their good Judys more than I do.

But in the spring of 2022, I found myself inside Oak Lawn United Methodist Church.

…………………

Christmas Eve Services
Oak Lawn United Methodist Church,
3014 Oak Lawn Ave., will hold Christmas
Eve services at 11 a.m., 7 p.m. and 11 p.m.
Regular Sunday Services are held each Sunday at 11 a.m. in person and streamed live on the church’s Facebook page, Facebook.com/OLUMC.

…………………

My partner, Thomas, grew up with and carried into adulthood his relationship with church, but the church into which he had invested his time, effort and resources turned its back on him for being gay. When I found out, I shrugged my shoulders and thought to myself, “What did you expect? That’s what churches do.” I could not empathize with how much this betrayal hurt him.

Then in the late summer of 2021, Thomas and I relocated to Dallas, more specifically to Oak Lawn. Once here, he told me that he saw a gay Pride flag flying at the entrance of a church at the corner of Oak Lawn and Cedar Springs. I was happy for him and understood he needed this. After his first Sunday service at OLUMC, Thomas was amazed and shocked: “This church baptized a trans individual into their chosen family today,” he said three times in a row.
He had found his new sanctuary.

OLUMC Santuary decorated for Christmas 2023

Thomas became increasingly more involved over the next few months, and when he became a full-fledged member of OLUMC on Easter Sunday of 2022, our best friend, Kim, and I went to support him. The sermon began, and our faces echoed the shock on Thomas’ face from months before: the Rev. Rachel Griffin, from the pulpit, preached on the role of women “getting shit done” since the beginning of time.

Considering I was sitting next to a woman who can get shit done better than anyone I know, the idea of that message was not startling. But the fact that I was hearing it in a church was.

Thus began the dipping of my toes into the OLUMC waters, albeit from my physical and mental arms-length-away spot in the second pew from the back.

Then came that one day in December 2022. It was the Thursday before Christmas to be exact. As an arctic blast brought Dallas/Fort Worth to a grinding halt, I had an encounter with an unsheltered stranger that would change my life forever.

This individual was navigating life in vastly different circumstances than I could imagine, and in single-digit temperatures, no less. At the end of my brief time with this stranger, I was overcome with emotion. I was angry at myself for making assumptions about how a person finds themselves on the streets in the freezing cold. I was ashamed because my father would not have hesitated to provide assistance, but I did. I was heartbroken knowing others were facing the coldness of the world alone.

My tears began and did not stop for hours.

In seeking advice as to what to do with my emotions, I was encouraged to volunteer at OLUMC’s Warming Shelter that evening. I had never volunteered in this capacity before. And twice in one day I found myself overwhelmed, this time by the miracle that happens at OLUMC when temperatures are below freezing.

In a moment’s notice, volunteers transform the entire first floor into a place where warmth, food and rest can be provided for more than 80 of our unsheltered neighbors. I will not lie and say I was not afraid and nervous, but along with food and rest, compassion and love were also being freely given to anyone who needed it — including me.

Volunteers at Oak Lawn UMC’s First Floor Clean-Out Day (Photos by Aaron Doughtery Photography)

After volunteering over the next couple of days, I attended Christmas Eve service at OLUMC. The church was magnificently beautiful. Just as the service was about to begin, our unsheltered neighbors who were still guests of OLUMC joined everyone for the program. Once again, tears began streaming down my face.

Here we were, individuals from all walks of life, collectively singing “Joy to the World” in a place of religious worship — finding sanctuary in a sanctuary.

The identity crisis had begun. What was this feeling inside of me? How was a connection between fear and kindness, in lessons learned and ignored, in wanting to be helpful and feeling nothing but helpless all coalescing in this moment?

And in a church of all places!

Church was supposed to represent exclusion and judgment and punishment, wasn’t it? The unrestrained love and acceptance being shared in that room brought me to my emotional knees. How did Thomas’ pain of rejection and an encounter with a cold stranger lead to this moment in this sanctuary?

The ensuing months of 2023 flew by. During that time, I have been blessed to witness many more miracles through OLUMC and the neighborhood that surrounds it. Strangers in pews have become the dearest of friends. Those of our neighbors in need continue to be clothed and fed by the many wonderful volunteers and donors who support great and worthy causes at OLUMC and beyond. Migrants to this country experience the best of humanity through the love and support of Pastor Isabel and all the amazing people involved with our Migrant Welcome Center.

The universe saw fit to bring into my life an employer and colleagues who have rallied behind the mission of OLUMC for a brighter and more beautiful future.
One day this December — Dec. 2, to be exact — the cloud of questioning that began last Christmas Eve started to clear.

It was a normal day of hustle and bustle at OLUMC. Our community clothing closet helped almost 40 people find the necessities they needed to have a more comfortable and dignified week. Several of the community groups who meet under the roof of OLUMC hosted their meetings, providing and receiving valuable support and encouragement. And the joyful celebration of a “gay bear wedding” brought friends and family together in the glorious space at 3014 Oak Lawn Avenue.

I am no more religious now than I was when I first moved to Dallas, but I had a light bulb moment that day after a conversation with one of the charming bear grooms. He looked at Pastor Ryan Wager and me and told us how he never thought the pipe organ, beauty and tradition found at OLUMC would have ever been allowed for him on his wedding day to his husband.

That was the moment the dots connected for me. The thread running through this last year, this building and this community is a mental, physical and spiritual place where the doors are open for us to gather and to share and receive the beauty of humanity. To find, for us as individuals and as a community, our sanctuary.