I joined MFSA leadership in the summer of 2022 after a particularly hard annual conference for the Florida Conference. Our entire commissioning class was voted down for the inclusion of openly-queer candidates for provisional membership, and the conference was unprepared for the trauma, the trust erosion, and bridge building that would need to ensue over the next months and years. I found myself at a stand-still place, weighing the difficulties of continuing in pursuit of ordination as a queer person in the Southeastern Jurisdiction and the need for intersectional justice and radical inclusion in our United Methodist communities. I stepped into MFSA with hope for a countercultural movement that could lay the foundation for the conversations necessary for our Florida Conference to engage with in pursuit of the beloved community. 

As an immigrant female clergy, I have always felt drawn to spaces that advocate for people from the margins and causes of justice. I was drawn to MFSA because of its fearless, intersectional approach to advocacy. Seeing the organization actively stand on the right side of history—whether through LGBTQIA+ inclusion, care for the earth and its resources or reproductive justice—spoke directly to my faith. What cemented my involvement was our witnessing at General Conference, advocating for a eco-justice, and speaking out for racial justice.  I believe the work of MFSA is desperately needed today, to counter oppressive ideologies in the church and world. 

The Methodist Federation for Social Action provides a home for those of us who care deeply about the most marginalized members of the world. My belief is that Jesus calls me to love, include and empower the most marginalized in the kin-dom of God, and my commitment as a UMC Deaconess calls me to love, justice and service.

In 1990, I relocated to Buffalo, NY, with my spouse and our 6-month-old daughter. It was my first time serving a church outside my native Puerto Rico. I was assigned to a Latinx congregation that shared a building with a white congregation. For the first time, I experienced the unsettling reality of needing permission for nearly everything.

Very quickly I noticed that our congregation was blamed for anything that went wrong in the building. The white pastor was neither welcoming nor collaborative, and tensions only grew. At that time, I was one of only two Hispanic clergy in the entire conference. A colleague encouraged me to speak with our District Superintendent, and eventually I filed charges. When the news spread, I received a letter from an MFSA leader offering support and reminding me that I was not alone. That encouragement meant a great deal, even as I moved on to a new appointment in Northern Illinois in 1992.

In our current times, I often say community is resistance. Being together in a community with fellow justice-seekers from MFSA gives me hope. As people of faith, we can be counter-cultural to the narrative that often hijacks Christianity and the real message of Jesus.

As an MFSA community, we come together both in-person and virtually to take a stand against injustice, to learn together, and to be agents of change, doing our best to be bearers of God’s peace and justice to the world around us.

I’m still here—to continue that love, to help change the church, our state, the nation, and the world. MFSA gives me hope. It connects me to a long and proud history of faithful justice-seekers. It lifts up spiritual leaders who challenge injustice, promote inclusive theology, and offer educational opportunities for all. MFSA advocates for civil rights, addresses inequality in healthcare and poverty, and continues to push our church and world toward justice.

Being part of MFSA means I’m not standing alone. Together, we raise our voices, challenge injustice, and live out our faith with courage. I’m proud to be part of this community.