ERIC BRADY The Roanoke Times

The Rev. Mark Graham speaks during a contemporary worship service at St. John Lutheran Church in Roanoke County.

Photos by ERIC BRADY The Roanoke Times

Parishioners pray with the Rev. Mark Graham through the laying on of hands at St. John Lutheran Church in Roanoke County.

Worshippers attend a contemporary service at St. John Lutheran Church. The Roanoke County church has grown to be one of the largest in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America's Virginia Synod.

Photos by ERIC BRADY The Roanoke Times

Churchgoers attend a worship service at St. John Lutheran Church in Roanoke County. After the church's decision to alter its national affiliation, weekly attendance has dipped from 600 to 450.

St. John Lutheran Church looks fine from the outside. Inside, it is a church in pain.

Married couples are at odds. So are parents and children. The oldest of friends are not speaking.

Many people have left the Southwest Roanoke County church altogether. One woman took her husband's ashes from the church columbarium with her. Some can't even bear to look at the building as they drive by.

At the root of it is the question of homosexuality and an August vote in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America to accept as clergy gay people in "publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous" relationships and to recognize and support such relationships in general. Previously, the church allowed gay clergy to serve only if they were celibate.

That was more than St. John's leaders could bear. They took it as a sign that the ELCA doesn't respect the authenticity of Scripture as it should, and they led a vote in September to break with the ELCA and affiliate with the smaller Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ.

And that in turn was more than some church members could bear.

"I've grieved more over this than I did over the passing of my mother and my father," said Richard Herring, 68, a charter member of the church.

The Herrings and others have left St. John in search of new church families. Sunday attendance is down from an average of 600 before the vote to 450, and contributions are down, too, the Rev. Mark Graham said.

"I knew this would be controversial," Graham said. "I did not anticipate the depth of the conflict and how personal the conflict has become."

"Six months ago, these people were our dearest friends," lamented Bethany Uhl, 59, a 13-year member who walked away. "Membership at a church is different from membership at Sam's Club. If you're a church, that's family."

To finalize its break from the ELCA, the congregation must ratify the first vote with a second on Jan. 10.

Few believe the result will change, but even while waiting, this church family is trying to find a way to heal itself, and wondering if it ever can.

Growing and changing

Before September, arguments in the church were over things like fixing the organ or adding on to the building.

But the issue of homosexuality "is something that's been rumbling in the distance for some time," said former church council president Doug Kirtley, a St. John member of 20 years who voted to break with the ELCA.

St. John has been changing slowly -- and growing -- for years.

When Graham was called as pastor at St. John 22 years ago, Sunday attendance was about 125.

"When I joined," Uhl said, "it was still small enough that you knew everyone's name."

But more recently, the church has grown dramatically, to a total membership of 1,200 or more, many of whom don't have Lutheran backgrounds.

Even those who have parted with Graham over the recent vote praise his gifts as a preacher and credit him with bringing new people into the church.

It's now one of the largest congregations in the ELCA's Virginia Synod, if not the largest.

And then, about eight years ago, Graham underwent a personal and theological change.

"I really liked to be liked," Graham said. "I was more concerned about pleasing people than about pleasing God."

He resolved to please God first, and part of that was a growing fervor for the authenticity of Scripture -- a belief that one can't compromise on the Bible. He began to believe that the ELCA was moving in a different direction.

Graham's evangelical fervor didn't sit well with everyone.

Some people left St. John long before the September vote because they didn't like where Graham was headed theologically.

People were "tired of the law, the law, the law," Uhl said.

"Pretty much the only sins we've heard about for the last six years are homosexuality and abortion," Herring said.

David Paxton, a recent church council president, disagreed with that assessment.

"The ministers have not gone out of their way to preach about this all the time," he said. "But when they have, it's been clear where they stand."

Six years is also about how long the ELCA's new social statement on human sexuality was in the making.

This spring, a draft of the social statement was released, which prompted a response from Graham and his associate pastors that was, in Graham's words, "quite negative. ... We were quite alarmed about the document."

The response takes on the statement point by point and cites Bible passages condemning homosexuality as an "abomination" and "contrary to nature."

For Graham, the question of homosexuality is only the smoke. "The fire is the issue of the authenticity of Scripture," he said.

To him, Scripture holds one consistent position on homosexuality: that it's a sin. To ignore the Bible on that point is to open the door to ignoring it on other points.

"If the Bible is wrong about marriage and sexuality, it could be wrong about Jesus Christ," he said.

That's been the concern raised in other denominations as they dealt with a desire to be more inclusive of gays.

Graham said this question is part of the "most major realignment of Christianity since the Protestant Reformation."

Heather Warren, a religion professor at the University of Virginia, wouldn't go that far, but called homosexuality the "biggest, most divisive issue" in American churches since slavery in the mid-19th century.

John Portmann, another UVa religion professor, puts the question in the even broader arena of churches grappling with how to get along in the modern world, and how much to bend to cultural change. The Catholic Church's Second Vatican Council in the 1960s was all about that question, Portmann said, as prompted by Pope John XXIII's call to throw open the windows of the church and let in some fresh air.

More recently, in 2003, the Episcopal Church, in choosing a noncelibate gay man as bishop of the Diocese of New Hampshire, prompted opponents to raise those same questions about respect for Scripture. Parishes and even some dioceses parted with their parent church over the issue.

But not everyone reads Scripture the same way.

"It's not that simple," said Harold Uhl. "It's clearly a matter of a broad view of the understanding of the openness of Jesus to people and where they are. ... Did God really mean those specific words, or is the overall openness of Jesus" what's important?

Herring put it this way: "How much hatred do we have to have for others to live as our Lord has commanded?"

The vote

The ELCA approved the controversial social statement and related resolutions on Aug. 21.

On Aug. 30, the St. John council voted to put the question of leaving the ELCA before the congregation.

Church members learned in a letter dated Sept. 2 that they would vote on the matter on Sept. 27. In all, 106 ELCA congregations out of 10,400 have taken a vote to leave the parent church over the issue, including three in Virginia, the ELCA said, with 71 getting the two-thirds majority needed for approval.

"We've been talking about this for 10 years," Graham said. "The Bible's not changing. We felt like it was good leadership and good shepherding" to deal with the question quickly.

But the quick turnaround on the vote left people on the losing end of it feeling bewildered, rushed and even suspicious.

"There was very little chance for honest conversation," Bethany Uhl said. "People were shocked. ... To think we were going to leave the family, oh my goodness."

Herring said the decision was "rammed down our throats." To him, it felt like Graham saying, "Hey folks, I've got the votes. I've been waiting for this, planning for this, and if you don't like it, there's the door. Good luck, and God bless you."

A week before the vote, there was a forum at the church that, by all accounts, was tense, emotional and at times angry.

"There was no kindness," Bethany Uhl said.

A week later, the measure passed 342-143.

'This is like a divorce'

The ELCA recognized the social statement might alienate some, and urged people to respectfully agree to disagree and remain together for greater purposes.

Just as St. John's leadership couldn't do that, neither could some of the church's dissidents. They walked away.

And they are hurt that, as they see it, their church family appeared content to let them go.

Graham called the Uhls and some others, for which the Uhls give him great credit. But as for their friends, "not one of them has called me up and said, 'How are you doing?' " Bethany Uhl said. "This is like a divorce, except that he [Graham] got custody of all the friends, and he got to keep the house."

Those feelings have cut both ways.

"I have friends who won't even say hello to me," said Mark Peters, 78, a vocal proponent of leaving the ELCA. "It hurts me to see people being separated by a division that's being created by the current environment in America" and pressure to be "culturally correct."

Peters said he still loves his old friends, and would like to see all who have left St. John "return and accept the decision 70 percent of our congregation made."

Paxton, the former church council president who favors leaving the ELCA, has been surprised at how much anger is directed at Graham personally.

"Mark is one of the most conflict avoidant people I know. I mean, this is killing him."

The dissidents admit they feel a personal betrayal by Graham that's fueled partly by their great trust and friendship with him in the past.

"What pastor could I trust again?" Herring asked.

Some, such as the Uhls, have fundamental theological disagreements with Graham and his supporters.

But the Uhls also believe in the ELCA's mission and believe the power of St. John's ministry is boosted by membership in the ELCA and its vast network of churches.

Others, such as the Herrings, don't argue that homosexuality is a sin, though Richard Herring's deceased brother was gay.

"Where we diverge is there are so many other sins that we're not paying attention to," Herring said. Practically, he believes very few congregations will actually call a gay pastor. So why not stay in the ELCA and be a voice of dissent?

Graham and others lament the pain the decision has caused, but say they can't compromise on Scripture.

"There are good people on both sides of this," said Doug Kirtley.

Graham admits to waking up many nights, worried that St. John is now thought of as "Roanoke's anti-gay church."

The language about homosexuality in Scripture isn't as loving as he'd like, Graham said, but "to me, to say this is a sin is the ultimate act of love."

This is not about homophobia, said associate pastor Elijah Mwitanti, who joined St. John 10 months ago. "My issue with homosexuality has more to do with not having a biblical mandate to celebrate the relationship."

Graham and Mwitanti want gays to feel welcome at St. John and believe that can happen.

"It would be wrong for me, just on the basis of [sexual] identity, to say, 'You know what? You're a sinner,' " Mwitanti said. "St. John is not a place where we have guards at the door to check your sexual orientation."

For gay people to feel truly welcome, Paxton said, "I think we have to make it a priority. We have to be really purposeful about it because words don't really mean very much."

'Being intentional'

"Maybe we need to be more assertive."

Bethany Uhl had to admit that while old friends hadn't called her, she and her husband hadn't called them either.

Since being interviewed for this story, they've begun to call some friends to check in. And friends have been calling them.

Paxton has done the same.

"You try to pursue people you really care about," he said.

Their differences may be irreconcilable in the long run, but that doesn't mean they can't reunite with old friends. It may have just taken some time for people to be ready.

For its part, St. John and its pastors, along with its lay Stephen Ministry, have hosted a series of forums focused on reconciliation and healing divisions in the church.

Mwitanti led one, during which he found the talk honest and calm.

"Not one person stormed out. People lingered and hugged and talked" after the meeting was over, he said.

"I'm glad we're being intentional, and I'm glad we waited the right amount of time before we started," Paxton said of the forums.

There is still a vote yet to come.

The dissidents don't seem to be of one mind on what to do about that. They meet for potluck dinners at least once a month, with usually about 60 people there. They make a point of having fellowship and worship and not commiserating about St. John and all that's happened, Bethany Uhl said.

Some may return for the vote on Jan. 10, if for no other reason than to make a final stand.

That date has come to mean the day of moving on for both sides.

For Graham, if the second vote goes as the first, it'll be a relief to have broken what's been for him and others an uncomfortable tie to the ELCA.

"For me, we'll all be more free to pursue living out the Gospel of Jesus Christ," he said. "The people that remain will have counted the costs" and decided to stay.

Mwitanti's hope is that people will recognize that "being on one side of this issue doesn't define you as being saved or unsaved."

And people need to think about the day after the vote, too.

"I'd like for people to be able to look themselves in the mirror and say they've been sincere, they've been loving, they've been caring and they've been Christian," he said. "And each person can give an account to God about their role in this, and God would be pleased."