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The sudden and tragic death of Lizzie Lowe on September 10th 2014 catapulted our church onto a path of radical inclusion that none of us would have been brave enough to follow had it not been for the enormity of the event that set the process in motion.

As the leader of a fairly large suburban evangelical Anglican church I have every sympathy with fellow leaders who wish to avoid the ‘LGBTQ’ topic at all costs. But as I found out to my shame there is a cost to this approach which really is too high to pay. Losing Lizzie blew a hole right through centre of our community and the discovery that her suicide was, in large part, caused by the gulf between faith and sexuality turned our community inside out and upside down. Lizzie’s death and the revelation that our praxis was partly to blame led us to a place of deep repentance and repentance is a messy and painful process.

In the months following the Coroner’s Hearing we moved quickly to adopt the Inclusive Church Statement of welcome. At the time I was surprised by how many people left our church community in disgust and anger at our newly arrived position. But in retrospect it highlighted how much energy sits repressed in in the pews of so many churches, particularly from my tradition. Had we not had the weight, guilt and enormity of Lizzie’s desperate testimony sitting on our consciences we would probably have taken a ‘talk-first’ approach to the changes we made, but time was a luxury we had already exploited for far too long. Those who stayed in our church community did eventually have the conversations that had been delayed for decades. We spent three very cathartic sessions listening and talking to members of the LGBT community, we prayed together and benefited from the teaching of both traditionalist and progressive voices. In the end we arrived at a position of radical inclusion and found a new peace within ourselves. I only wish we had been brave enough to talk, listen and act many years ago.

The St James and Emmanuel of today is a very different church to the one in which Lizzie sung her final songs. As I look around the congregations today not only do we have a thriving gay and lesbian contingent we also have an enormous Iranian community and a beautiful group of adults with learning disabilities. There is every colour, race and nationality present on Sunday. This cultural mix is not inherently any better than a more homogenous community but it is a sign that when you make the church safe and welcoming for the LGBTQ community you have made it safe and welcoming for everyone.

The St James and Emmanuel of today is a truly beautiful community, there is something special about it. This was Lizzie’s gift to us and it was grasped and made real through communal repentance and rebirth. My one regret, and a regret that will endure throughout my life, is that it took Lizzie’s death to bring about this transformation. I hope that Lizzie can be a gift to other churches too and that they can find the freedom we eventually found, but without the great cost.