When I attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, my favorite place to eat was Pepper's Pizza on Franklin St. I loved their pizza. I loved their salads. I loved their prices. Most of all I loved the experience.

I was a naïve Southern Baptist young woman from tobacco country. It was just so cool to go to a place where people had tattoos (before it was commonplace- I'm old), where black shirts were de rigeour, and spiky hairdos sporting bright colors distinguished the servers from the customers. Most of us customers were straight from J. Crew catalogue wanna bes. We gained currency by hanging out with those who were alternative. Perhaps we thought that we could extrapolate coolness by association.

I guess that the craziest thing about Pepper's is that their very cool staff didn't care that I was a naïve Southern Baptist young woman, bookish, and slightly overweight. I didn't have good taste in music, but the people welcomed me every single time.

A few years ago I flew into RDU airport, rented my car to head west to my parents'
(probably a pesto slice with artichoke hearts and sundried tomatoes). When I drove to
Franklin St., I parked and walked up to Pepper's. It looked like they had a fire. The place was dark, deserted, and lifeless. My heart sunk; I just couldn't imagine it closed. Then my brain kicked into gear and I thought "But I just placed a take-out order." So I roamed Franklin St. a bit, but I couldn't see it. Finally I swallowed my out-of-touch because I live out-of-state pride and called. A different guy answered. When I asked "where are you?" he chuckled and told me that I didn't go far enough up the street. His chuckle let me know that he had heard that questions many, many times by that point. Pepper's relocated up the street.

I don't like their new location. Quite simply my favorite pizza place is no longer a hole
in the wall joint where it's too noisy, too crowded, and the booths move too much. The new place is much nicer. But still… the salads are great. Red sauce slice- great. Pesto slice- sensory overload. The ice is still chewable and they still serve Coke products. Some things change; some things merely grow up and relocate.

I am no longer Southern Baptist, but I am proud of the legacy that it gave to me. (My
family was and is progressive in ways that people can't appreciate. There are moderate
and progressive Baptists in this world.) I am a pastor and a member of the United Church of Christ. My liturgy and theology reflect the uber-liberal Baptist Church I attended in college (Binkley Baptist Church in Chapel Hill). I miss the red clay of North Carolina, but Maryland is my new home because the Immanuel United Church of Christ is my new home. Some things don't change; some things merely grow up and relocate.

That's me. I still want to spend quality time in friendly environments. Immanuel
United Church of Christ doesn't have a black T-shirt uniform for our members, but
that funkiness, that intelligence, that creativity, and that passion for social justice just lurks beneath the surface. Of course we're not like the naïve young Beth who blinked at tattoos; we are grateful to anyone and everyone who comes. We're committed to being an inclusive place. I grew up being comfortable at the gym, at church, and at hospitals when I would make visits with my Dad. (Coolrevdude, Sr.) Now I'm comfortable at Sheppard Pratt, Health Care for the Homeless, Earl's Place, or at Pride Festival.

I just don't think that things are so complicated. Jesus loves us all. All are welcome here. It's not our welcome we give, but the welcome of Christ. Each Sunday I say "no matter who you are or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here." That entails all of who we are and all of what we have experienced. You're welcome if you're old or young, single or with a family. You're welcome if you're divorced and broken or if you're sick or grieving. Or if you have no major drama or identifiers in your life. Of
course all of that stuff that sounds politically correct and is important, that's true here
too. Sexual orientation, gender identity, race, level of education, level of income, with or without physical disability, with or without mental illness- all are welcome here.

There's no perfect church. We aren't perfect, but we are committed to honoring your
gifts, talents, life experience, and freedom to make life choices based on your own
wisdom and your own conscience before God. Sexuality, criminal record, knowledge
of the Bible, familiarity with when to sit and when to stand- none of that matters. Jesus loves you therefore you are welcome here. We're going to do our best to make you feel welcome, to provide community, to tend your spiritual wounds, and to help you grow.

Anyone can take communion at Immanuel. Often I say before communion "Come
because you love the Lord a little and seek to love the Lord a lot." That was my Binkley pastor's address many years ago and it seems like exactly the right threshold. What matters is your heart. Your questions, your lack of questions, a certain minimum of faith—that stuff doesn't disqualify you from being part of this body of believers. The quality of mercy belongs to Jesus the Christ and that's how I base my understanding of God and the church.

Pepper's Pizza slogan was and is "A Sunny Place for Shady People." Some things don't
change; some things just grow up and relocate. Well, we're here. We're not moving,
but perhaps our welcome and our maturity means that we can become a sunny place for shady, or pasty, people. That seems like good news to me.