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A Gracious Heresy: The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet
Take one wildly naive, deeply flawed, completely unconventional woman and stir in God. Add to the mix that she is a lesbian, feminist, army brat, and single mom, and what you get is an earnestly radical Christian on a mission. Her response to an insistent call to prophetic ministry is acutely human and terminally messy. Prone to veer off course, she wrestles angels who repeatedly return her to her trajectory. The prophetic ministry to which she is called ends up taking place in hundreds of small daily acts rather than the great act that she had hoped for.
195 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
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November 15, 2018
I’ve heard the story from my Presbyterian colleagues about the Rev. David Bailey Sindt, who stood up at the 1974 General Assembly with a sign that read, “Is anybody else out there gay?” Other mainline denominations have their semi-famous gay icons, but what of the gay and lesbian people who took their own stands on less-remembered occasions?
Connie L. Tuttle was one of them. The first out lesbian to graduate from Columbia Theological Seminary, Rev. Tuttle stood in protest during an Atlanta Presbytery meeting in the 1990s, compelling those in attendance to remember that they were discussing people, not merely policy, as they considered Amendment B. That event forms the spine of her memoir, A Gracious Heresy: The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet (Resource Publications, 2018). She had no official standing to speak at the meeting, yet she stood, in a visible yet silent protest.
Tuttle tells her at times tumultuous life story in frank prose. She does not spare herself and thereby gains the credibility that allows her to tell the truth, as any worthy prophet would, about the people whose preferences and prejudices affected her along the way. The narrative is grounded in the events of the world, giving the reader a sense of what it was like to be a young woman formed by the social and political climate of the late 1960s. Her childhood experiences as an Army brat exposed Tuttle to a non-denominational and accepting form of church, and that is what she hoped to find when, as a 20-something lesbian single mother, she began searching for a spiritual home and found it for a time in a Presbyterian congregation. In response to a strong sense of calling, she went to college in her 20s at Agnes Scott, with the goal of then going onto seminary.
"Call is not so much words as it is feeling. Not the imposition of feeling but the rise of relationship beyond words." (p. 23)
Tuttle’s writing voice communicates a sense of her energy and drive, whether she is remembering cooking for a community meal, taking a road trip, or learning how to be present to patients as a chaplain. Throughout she shares a vision of community in which people care for and nurture one another, despite the unkindness she faces from sexist and homophobic church and academic leaders. (For those who know anything about the Southern Presbyterian Church in the 1970s and 80s, many familiar names appear in the text.) She takes us into classrooms and meetings with faculty, including a story from her first day of classes, when the professor teaching “Formation of Ministry” informed the students they must guard against “zipper problems.”
"Shocked, I looked around. Zipper problems? Two things bothered me about this statement. One: there were enough women in the room for him to have come up with a different euphemism. Or did this just refer to male clergy? And two: WHAT? You mean to tell me that the people who are supposed to model the highest standards of ethics are no more than clay-footed mongrels panting after any women in heat?" (p. 143)
As I said above, her tone is frank, and that frankness was much-appreciated by this reader. Sexism and homophobia have not gone away in the decades since Tuttle graduated from Columbia, in the church or in the wider world. I take great encouragement from her determination to push back even then, and from the cause of that determination: she had a call to follow, and she was going to find a way to respond to what God put in her heart.
When asked to describe her gifts for ministry during an assessment required for her seminary graduation, Tuttle explained that her wide experiences prepared her to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, particularly those who had been hurt by the church.
"I want my life to be prophetic and my actions to be pastoral." (p. 182)
What a worthy aspiration!
Connie Tuttle was never ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA). She went on to found Circle of Grace, “a small, progressive, ecumenical, feminist, Christian house church” in Atlanta, Georgia. She is part of the RevGalBlogPals blogging community; you can find her writing at The Gracious Heretic. I recommend her book to all who love to read call stories, and especially to readers who wonder why LGBTQ+ people stick with the church. (Short version: God called us.) Rev. Tuttle may be a heretic; she is certainly a prophet; she is also a hero.
I received a copy of the book in exchange for my honest review.
Connie L. Tuttle was one of them. The first out lesbian to graduate from Columbia Theological Seminary, Rev. Tuttle stood in protest during an Atlanta Presbytery meeting in the 1990s, compelling those in attendance to remember that they were discussing people, not merely policy, as they considered Amendment B. That event forms the spine of her memoir, A Gracious Heresy: The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet (Resource Publications, 2018). She had no official standing to speak at the meeting, yet she stood, in a visible yet silent protest.
Tuttle tells her at times tumultuous life story in frank prose. She does not spare herself and thereby gains the credibility that allows her to tell the truth, as any worthy prophet would, about the people whose preferences and prejudices affected her along the way. The narrative is grounded in the events of the world, giving the reader a sense of what it was like to be a young woman formed by the social and political climate of the late 1960s. Her childhood experiences as an Army brat exposed Tuttle to a non-denominational and accepting form of church, and that is what she hoped to find when, as a 20-something lesbian single mother, she began searching for a spiritual home and found it for a time in a Presbyterian congregation. In response to a strong sense of calling, she went to college in her 20s at Agnes Scott, with the goal of then going onto seminary.
"Call is not so much words as it is feeling. Not the imposition of feeling but the rise of relationship beyond words." (p. 23)
Tuttle’s writing voice communicates a sense of her energy and drive, whether she is remembering cooking for a community meal, taking a road trip, or learning how to be present to patients as a chaplain. Throughout she shares a vision of community in which people care for and nurture one another, despite the unkindness she faces from sexist and homophobic church and academic leaders. (For those who know anything about the Southern Presbyterian Church in the 1970s and 80s, many familiar names appear in the text.) She takes us into classrooms and meetings with faculty, including a story from her first day of classes, when the professor teaching “Formation of Ministry” informed the students they must guard against “zipper problems.”
"Shocked, I looked around. Zipper problems? Two things bothered me about this statement. One: there were enough women in the room for him to have come up with a different euphemism. Or did this just refer to male clergy? And two: WHAT? You mean to tell me that the people who are supposed to model the highest standards of ethics are no more than clay-footed mongrels panting after any women in heat?" (p. 143)
As I said above, her tone is frank, and that frankness was much-appreciated by this reader. Sexism and homophobia have not gone away in the decades since Tuttle graduated from Columbia, in the church or in the wider world. I take great encouragement from her determination to push back even then, and from the cause of that determination: she had a call to follow, and she was going to find a way to respond to what God put in her heart.
When asked to describe her gifts for ministry during an assessment required for her seminary graduation, Tuttle explained that her wide experiences prepared her to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, particularly those who had been hurt by the church.
"I want my life to be prophetic and my actions to be pastoral." (p. 182)
What a worthy aspiration!
Connie Tuttle was never ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA). She went on to found Circle of Grace, “a small, progressive, ecumenical, feminist, Christian house church” in Atlanta, Georgia. She is part of the RevGalBlogPals blogging community; you can find her writing at The Gracious Heretic. I recommend her book to all who love to read call stories, and especially to readers who wonder why LGBTQ+ people stick with the church. (Short version: God called us.) Rev. Tuttle may be a heretic; she is certainly a prophet; she is also a hero.
I received a copy of the book in exchange for my honest review.
May 27, 2024
THE DEEPLY PERSONAL STORY OF A SPIRITUAL PIONEER---IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE
Author, Pastor, and trailblazer Connie L. Tuttle explained in the ‘Author’s Note’ section of this 2018 book, “This story is cobbled together from my memories… The conversations reported are not necessarily verbatim but are essence of my recollections…. There are no villains in this story. I experienced some of the actors as villains and relate this tale from the immediacy of my feelings at the time… Though I would not choose to live my life differently, I have learned that sometimes the dragon wins. And sometimes, over time, the dragon transforms… my hope is that I can add something to understanding the history behind changes in the church, to contemporary theological conversations, and to questions about who can be considered faithful of spiritual or even legitimate.”
She notes, “As a woman and a lesbian I wear the first hand scars of the injury done to my soul by sexism, heterosexism, and the not so subtle message that I am ‘less than.’ I also carry within me secondary scars of evil… God calls us to confront evil with love… But the activity of love is justice and God enlists human souls to do justice and BE justice as the antidote to evil.” (Pg. 37) She adds, “My experiences gave me the insight and intensified my call to proclaim the Gospel in which there are no ‘others.’” (Pg. 48)
The persistent issue running through the entire book is her struggle to become ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA); no “spoilers” here, but she remembers thinking, “If I can’t be ordained, then what? If the church doesn’t want me, who will? What the f___ are you thinking, God?” (Pg. 19-20) She flashes back and forth to this matter throughout the book.
A self-described “Army brat,” she recounts her family’s travels due to her father’s military career. She recalls times with her father (with whom she had a fine relationship): “‘You can be anything you want,’ he told me. I believed it.” (Pg. 14) Her ecumenism began early: “Summer meant Vacation Bible School at the post chapel… We all, Protestants, Catholics, and Jews shared the same worship space… It is still who I am---a person who believes all religions point to the same God.” (Pg. 16-17)
When, in her late teens, she was arrested for possession of marijuana and was in juvenile detention for three days, “I realized I expected God to be there for me… and sheepishly acknowledged to God that I had not made a commitment back… ‘I am yours, God.’ I made the formal statement … What mattered were the commitment I made and my pledge to keep it.” (Pg. 55)
She also acknowledges, “I AM a Southerner… dishonest at times and frighteningly honest at others… Fearless and fearful, kind and cruel. I am a Southerner even when I wish I weren’t.” (Pg. 57) She recounts warm and loving friendships with people of all ethnicities, but also recalls witnessing incidents of racism and intolerance.
In 1969 (at age 17), she got pregnant from her teenage boyfriend, and they married in a Methodist church; she later realizes, “we were too young… I believed we were soul mates and couldn’t bear it when reality didn’t match my illusions.” (Pg. 69) They divorced after three years. However, her daughter Tanya was a lifelong blessing from this union.
She began to realize that she was a lesbian. Soon, she prayed, “Thank you, God, for helping me figure out who I am! Thank you for making me!” (Pg. 80) She and her partner bicycled around the country, and she thinks, “There should have been a billboard on the road to Northampton, Massachusetts that read, ‘Lesbian Mecca.’ There were lesbians everywhere… My tribe! I had never seen so many visible and out lesbians in one place before.” (Pg. 96) After they switched to a bus, Connie prayed, “‘Our Mother, who are in heaven.’ It felt right. God is my mother.” (Pg. 98) She realizes, “I want to be around other women… I want to … be a part of something bigger than myself… I felt isolated and sad and there was nowhere to go and no one to turn to…” (Pg. 102)
After the relationship broke up, she thought, “I want to know you, God… I looked to God with longing and saw the Light, and saw the Light watching my hand reaching… And I knew that God reached back and that God would always reach back and that God would do God’s work and I would do mine.” (Pg. 108) Not too long after, she found a liberal Presbyterian church: “I felt at home. This might just be my tribe.” (Pg. 113)
She told others, “I feel called to the ministry.” Thus begins her long struggle to enter the ordained ministry. But after admitting she was a lesbian, she was asked, “Can you keep it quiet?” (Pg. 114) She later notes, “I became the first open lesbian at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. The world was changing and I felt like a part of that inevitable change. It was a hopeful time.” (Pg 142) But one particularly insensitive faculty member told her, “There is no place for you in Christian ministry.” (Pg. 169) Still, “I waited for God to make a way out of no way.” (Pg. 176)
At her “professional assessment” for the ministry, she told the committee, “I know some people are frightened … by the idea of a lesbian in ministry. But I have also met many people who have children, siblings or friends who are gay and need to hear the Gospel of liberation, hope, love, and inclusiveness that is the heart of the Gospel… I can speak for those who have no voice… I want my life to be prophetic and my actions to be pastoral… If the Presbyterian Church won’t have me… then I will have to find another way.” (Pg. 182) You need to read this book to find out what transpired. (Yes, that’s a “book plug.”)
This is a heartfelt, engaging, and ultimately positive and hopeful memoir. Who should read (and enjoy) this book? Certainly, “progressive” (aka “liberal”) Christians; and those who view themselves as “spiritual, not religious”; plus those who are part of, or in sympathy with, the LGBTQIA community; as well as those concerned with issues of social justice; and just perhaps—even some conservative Christians not in agreement with the PCUSA’s 2012 actions (allowing inclusion of lesbians and gays to ordained ministry), but who are honest enough to be willing to hear and consider “the other side” of the matter.
Needless to say, I highly recommend this book. Perhaps Connie will favor us with a “sequel,” explaining the formation of the Circle of Grace congregation/community; forming a Christian community of any kind in the modern era is a major undertaking, and the “house church movement” is a fascinating topic in its own right.
Author, Pastor, and trailblazer Connie L. Tuttle explained in the ‘Author’s Note’ section of this 2018 book, “This story is cobbled together from my memories… The conversations reported are not necessarily verbatim but are essence of my recollections…. There are no villains in this story. I experienced some of the actors as villains and relate this tale from the immediacy of my feelings at the time… Though I would not choose to live my life differently, I have learned that sometimes the dragon wins. And sometimes, over time, the dragon transforms… my hope is that I can add something to understanding the history behind changes in the church, to contemporary theological conversations, and to questions about who can be considered faithful of spiritual or even legitimate.”
She notes, “As a woman and a lesbian I wear the first hand scars of the injury done to my soul by sexism, heterosexism, and the not so subtle message that I am ‘less than.’ I also carry within me secondary scars of evil… God calls us to confront evil with love… But the activity of love is justice and God enlists human souls to do justice and BE justice as the antidote to evil.” (Pg. 37) She adds, “My experiences gave me the insight and intensified my call to proclaim the Gospel in which there are no ‘others.’” (Pg. 48)
The persistent issue running through the entire book is her struggle to become ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA); no “spoilers” here, but she remembers thinking, “If I can’t be ordained, then what? If the church doesn’t want me, who will? What the f___ are you thinking, God?” (Pg. 19-20) She flashes back and forth to this matter throughout the book.
A self-described “Army brat,” she recounts her family’s travels due to her father’s military career. She recalls times with her father (with whom she had a fine relationship): “‘You can be anything you want,’ he told me. I believed it.” (Pg. 14) Her ecumenism began early: “Summer meant Vacation Bible School at the post chapel… We all, Protestants, Catholics, and Jews shared the same worship space… It is still who I am---a person who believes all religions point to the same God.” (Pg. 16-17)
When, in her late teens, she was arrested for possession of marijuana and was in juvenile detention for three days, “I realized I expected God to be there for me… and sheepishly acknowledged to God that I had not made a commitment back… ‘I am yours, God.’ I made the formal statement … What mattered were the commitment I made and my pledge to keep it.” (Pg. 55)
She also acknowledges, “I AM a Southerner… dishonest at times and frighteningly honest at others… Fearless and fearful, kind and cruel. I am a Southerner even when I wish I weren’t.” (Pg. 57) She recounts warm and loving friendships with people of all ethnicities, but also recalls witnessing incidents of racism and intolerance.
In 1969 (at age 17), she got pregnant from her teenage boyfriend, and they married in a Methodist church; she later realizes, “we were too young… I believed we were soul mates and couldn’t bear it when reality didn’t match my illusions.” (Pg. 69) They divorced after three years. However, her daughter Tanya was a lifelong blessing from this union.
She began to realize that she was a lesbian. Soon, she prayed, “Thank you, God, for helping me figure out who I am! Thank you for making me!” (Pg. 80) She and her partner bicycled around the country, and she thinks, “There should have been a billboard on the road to Northampton, Massachusetts that read, ‘Lesbian Mecca.’ There were lesbians everywhere… My tribe! I had never seen so many visible and out lesbians in one place before.” (Pg. 96) After they switched to a bus, Connie prayed, “‘Our Mother, who are in heaven.’ It felt right. God is my mother.” (Pg. 98) She realizes, “I want to be around other women… I want to … be a part of something bigger than myself… I felt isolated and sad and there was nowhere to go and no one to turn to…” (Pg. 102)
After the relationship broke up, she thought, “I want to know you, God… I looked to God with longing and saw the Light, and saw the Light watching my hand reaching… And I knew that God reached back and that God would always reach back and that God would do God’s work and I would do mine.” (Pg. 108) Not too long after, she found a liberal Presbyterian church: “I felt at home. This might just be my tribe.” (Pg. 113)
She told others, “I feel called to the ministry.” Thus begins her long struggle to enter the ordained ministry. But after admitting she was a lesbian, she was asked, “Can you keep it quiet?” (Pg. 114) She later notes, “I became the first open lesbian at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. The world was changing and I felt like a part of that inevitable change. It was a hopeful time.” (Pg 142) But one particularly insensitive faculty member told her, “There is no place for you in Christian ministry.” (Pg. 169) Still, “I waited for God to make a way out of no way.” (Pg. 176)
At her “professional assessment” for the ministry, she told the committee, “I know some people are frightened … by the idea of a lesbian in ministry. But I have also met many people who have children, siblings or friends who are gay and need to hear the Gospel of liberation, hope, love, and inclusiveness that is the heart of the Gospel… I can speak for those who have no voice… I want my life to be prophetic and my actions to be pastoral… If the Presbyterian Church won’t have me… then I will have to find another way.” (Pg. 182) You need to read this book to find out what transpired. (Yes, that’s a “book plug.”)
This is a heartfelt, engaging, and ultimately positive and hopeful memoir. Who should read (and enjoy) this book? Certainly, “progressive” (aka “liberal”) Christians; and those who view themselves as “spiritual, not religious”; plus those who are part of, or in sympathy with, the LGBTQIA community; as well as those concerned with issues of social justice; and just perhaps—even some conservative Christians not in agreement with the PCUSA’s 2012 actions (allowing inclusion of lesbians and gays to ordained ministry), but who are honest enough to be willing to hear and consider “the other side” of the matter.
Needless to say, I highly recommend this book. Perhaps Connie will favor us with a “sequel,” explaining the formation of the Circle of Grace congregation/community; forming a Christian community of any kind in the modern era is a major undertaking, and the “house church movement” is a fascinating topic in its own right.
December 13, 2018
A Gracious Heresy is the perfect title for this book, which is gracious on several levels. The author, the pastor of a small progressive church in Atlanta, is very gracious as she tells her story, a story that will resonate with all who have come to terms with their sexuality and still want to hold on to their faith. I found many resonances with my own journey out of the closet as I read her story. The word gracious also applies to the sense of grace that pervades this book - a grace that is open to all.
November 17, 2018
Book Review: A Gracious Heresy: The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet by Connie L. Tuttle
Reverend Tuttle shares with us her journey of coming out in the sixties, and seventies, and her calling and journey into ministry.
Reverend Tuttle from the very beginning understood her call to ministry as being from God. Her journey in seminary was a painful, threatening journey as she was continually felt threatened by the administration to remove her because of being queer. But she remained committed to her call, and moved into ministry when the institutional church turned her down.
The heart of this book is that Connie experienced her call from God, she centered herself in God, and did not let the institution get in her way, and had no resentment toward the institution, she saw it for what it was, man made. God was moving through her, and she follows that movement.
The institutional Church for the most part is homophobic, even in the mainline denominations which are open and affirming there is an underlying homophobia. You see no youth groups for Queer youth, and it is understood: "We are all Christians and equal and move on," without the acknowledgment of the pain caused through the years.
This is a good book, the only criticism is that Reverend Tuttle did not go into detail about her ministry, but left us at the end of her journey with the institutional church, and a few words telling us of moving forward.
Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!
Reverend Tuttle shares with us her journey of coming out in the sixties, and seventies, and her calling and journey into ministry.
Reverend Tuttle from the very beginning understood her call to ministry as being from God. Her journey in seminary was a painful, threatening journey as she was continually felt threatened by the administration to remove her because of being queer. But she remained committed to her call, and moved into ministry when the institutional church turned her down.
The heart of this book is that Connie experienced her call from God, she centered herself in God, and did not let the institution get in her way, and had no resentment toward the institution, she saw it for what it was, man made. God was moving through her, and she follows that movement.
The institutional Church for the most part is homophobic, even in the mainline denominations which are open and affirming there is an underlying homophobia. You see no youth groups for Queer youth, and it is understood: "We are all Christians and equal and move on," without the acknowledgment of the pain caused through the years.
This is a good book, the only criticism is that Reverend Tuttle did not go into detail about her ministry, but left us at the end of her journey with the institutional church, and a few words telling us of moving forward.
Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!
March 24, 2019
A Gracious Heresy paints a portrait of great personal conviction and faith. Tuttle stands alone against all odds because she believes God has called her to be a minister. Her honesty in not hiding her identity as a lesbian puts her in the cross-hairs of authorities in divinity school and the Presbyterian church. Struggle and discomfort become familiar in her daily life as she attempts to meet each barrier they lay before her.
The face of the patriarchy is everywhere. This book is for men and women of all faiths or none.
Other reviews have detailed these struggles. In addition to these soul-questioning moments, Tuttle gives the reader glimpses into a heart illuminated and strengthened by her faith. It's a heart that has experienced divine love, which drives her resistance to the status quo and reinforces her persistence to overcome injustice and bias.
Nevertheless, Tuttle's memoir is important for all those concerned about human dignity for everyone, including those "different" from us. Recognizing the many faces of institutionalized patriarchy and misogyny in our culture is necessary for social change. Just as Tuttle has demonstrated, an individual can make a difference and be an agent for change even while experiencing doubt and seeming to have no power.
The face of the patriarchy is everywhere. This book is for men and women of all faiths or none.
Other reviews have detailed these struggles. In addition to these soul-questioning moments, Tuttle gives the reader glimpses into a heart illuminated and strengthened by her faith. It's a heart that has experienced divine love, which drives her resistance to the status quo and reinforces her persistence to overcome injustice and bias.
Nevertheless, Tuttle's memoir is important for all those concerned about human dignity for everyone, including those "different" from us. Recognizing the many faces of institutionalized patriarchy and misogyny in our culture is necessary for social change. Just as Tuttle has demonstrated, an individual can make a difference and be an agent for change even while experiencing doubt and seeming to have no power.
September 3, 2018
We need this Truth
A story can move people to seek things; love, acceptance, spiritual awakening, entertainment, and even change. This book does that and more; it challenges ideas, opinions, even strongly held beliefs in a way that is not “in your face”. It opens up a door into a life that is unformed, evolving, yet seeking Truth. It exposes weaknesses in the author and the world, while simultaneously promising hope when none might be evident. It shares steps that many claim do not exist in the realm of sexuality and spirituality. And it challenges norms, bigotry, knowledge, racism, sexism, and closed doors. I saw God/Godde is so many of the author’s memories, and resonated in many scenarios shared. And while pain was shared, I have more hope in my faith and the call of God on my life now than I have for years. I encourage you to read this book no matter your background in life, faith, or religion. You will not regret it.
A story can move people to seek things; love, acceptance, spiritual awakening, entertainment, and even change. This book does that and more; it challenges ideas, opinions, even strongly held beliefs in a way that is not “in your face”. It opens up a door into a life that is unformed, evolving, yet seeking Truth. It exposes weaknesses in the author and the world, while simultaneously promising hope when none might be evident. It shares steps that many claim do not exist in the realm of sexuality and spirituality. And it challenges norms, bigotry, knowledge, racism, sexism, and closed doors. I saw God/Godde is so many of the author’s memories, and resonated in many scenarios shared. And while pain was shared, I have more hope in my faith and the call of God on my life now than I have for years. I encourage you to read this book no matter your background in life, faith, or religion. You will not regret it.
July 26, 2019
Author Connie L Tuttle offered a wonderful reading at United Christian Church, Renton, WA a few months ago. I have finally made time to read her outstanding book and want to recommend it wholeheartedly! Connie has a storyteller's gift, drawing us into her life-experience and way of being in the world, as she recounts her growing up as an international army kid, her coming of age and adventuring through young adulthood and young motherhood. Through it all she is called to be her unconventional self and called to serve a Godde of expansive love -moving with integrity (and the very human anxiety we all know) through all the barriers erected by church, denomination, and educational institutions. I find no heresy here, and an abundance of gracious honesty and hope. I encourage you to purchase and read this outstanding memoir of a real and faithful life.
March 16, 2023
3.75 Stars. Difficult for me to invest in at first but once we got past her childhood, this became much more of a page-turner for me. As someone currently writing a book about being called as a queer person, I didn’t get as much out of this book as I’d hoped, which was partially due to the author’s stylistic choices and partially due to the author having a different grounding when it comes to spirituality and religion than I do. That being said, I gleaned several useful nuggets from this and have recommended it to others in my life whose experiences I think align more with the author. All in all, I’m glad I took a risk on this book when I discovered it in my local library’s catalog.
August 31, 2018
Some memoirs are written, others are woven. This beautiful book is a tapestry of one woman’s beautiful life interlaced with the discovery of her Calling. Chapter by chapter - each delicately introduced by a poem, phrase or quote - you understand more about how each mile marker of her life revealed a Calling. The reader is granted the privilege of riding shotgun with Tuttle through this discovery and it is a ride worth sharing.
April 28, 2019
This book is for anyone who wants to live an honest, authentic, and loving life, despite the risks they might encounter by doing so. Connie Tuttle's spiritual journey is a must-read for anyone who has ever had to hide or even felt the need to hide who they are from the world. She demonstrates by example how difficult yet liberating living one's own spiritual and life truth can be. This book is for all of us.
February 22, 2019
Connie Tuttle's "A Gracious Heresy" is a brave story. It's a woman's story, but not just a woman's story. Connie's calling to a spiritual life is threatened by adversity. When she chooses to confront adversity with truth, it makes for a fascinating life, and a great, not just a good, read.
September 17, 2019
An honest, no-holds-barred memoir by Connie of her life, this, in my opinion, is a book that will help others in telling their own story. From a young age, Connie was aware that the spirit of God was stirring deep within. She relays her life experiences with clarity and courage. As I read of her resolve to follow the call of God to use her gifts, have her call affirmed, and serve in the ministry of the church in community, I felt the pain of the road blocks she encountered. But in Connie's words, I am reminded, once again, of the faithfulness of the One who calls.
Rev. Jennifer Hornbuckle
Rev. Jennifer Hornbuckle
Read
August 16, 2018There is in me a tendency towards leniency when reviewing an author’s first book, even more so if it’s a memoir. The author takes her first tentative steps into the murky waters of public exposure hoping for warm approval, and I am loathe to dump an ice bucket over her head.
However, all that goes out the window when the author identifies herself as a prophet. Leniency is not called for under those circumstances, but rather a vigorous and critical review of her work, and possibly a recommendation the author seek some intense therapy.
The subtitle of Connie Tuttle’s book, A Gracious Heresy reads “The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet,” and I’ll admit I was wary. But I determined to consider the book, first for its literary merits, and then for its message, and see where that left me.
As to the first point, there is no doubt the woman can write. Her prose is fresh, compelling and always engaging. She moves from narrative to dialogue smoothly, never concentrating so much on one or the other that the reader gets bored. For a memoir, it moves at the brisk pace and covers a great deal of ground in a few pages. She generally handles moments of pathos and outrage with restraint, and more than once I found myself laughing out loud at the author’s wry sense of humour. The story of Tuttle’s life is an adventure story, and I confess I was irritated when I had to put the book down and return to the demands of everyday life. In short, Tuttle’s book is a great read.
But what about the message, yes? Even good writers can be completely deluded. Is Connie Tuttle a prophet like she says she is?
I don’t think I’ve ever met a real prophet, so I don’t have that experience to draw from. But if I ever do, would she be any more persuasive than Reverend Tuttle? Would she show the same humility and uncertainty over her own inadequacies as she doggedly perseveres in responding to the insistent call of the Divine? Would she persist in the face of the most hateful opposition from those who call themselves Christian and counter with steadfast gentleness knowing hate comes from fear? Would she work tirelessly for justice for one of the most persecuted sectors of society today, the LGBTQ community, particularly as it pertains to full inclusion in Christian ministry, even if it meant she would be the solitary standard bearer at the beginning? I’m no expert in this area, but I have a strong suspicion Reverend Tuttle is, in fact, what she says she is.
Jesus said, “By their fruits ye shall know them,” and I cannot deny Reverend Tuttle’s message is bearing fruit in my own life. The Presbyterian Church in Canada has referred the question of the ordination of openly gay candidates to committee, and it’s likely it will be five years or more before a decision is reached. How blithely I received this news and how comfortably I’ve abided this injustice. A Gracious Heresy has reawakened in me an activist’s anger and put an end to my self-satisfied neutrality. I’m casting in my lot with Reverend Tuttle and all who, like her, recognise the Divine is doing “a new thing” in our time.
“Now it springs forth. Do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)
However, all that goes out the window when the author identifies herself as a prophet. Leniency is not called for under those circumstances, but rather a vigorous and critical review of her work, and possibly a recommendation the author seek some intense therapy.
The subtitle of Connie Tuttle’s book, A Gracious Heresy reads “The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet,” and I’ll admit I was wary. But I determined to consider the book, first for its literary merits, and then for its message, and see where that left me.
As to the first point, there is no doubt the woman can write. Her prose is fresh, compelling and always engaging. She moves from narrative to dialogue smoothly, never concentrating so much on one or the other that the reader gets bored. For a memoir, it moves at the brisk pace and covers a great deal of ground in a few pages. She generally handles moments of pathos and outrage with restraint, and more than once I found myself laughing out loud at the author’s wry sense of humour. The story of Tuttle’s life is an adventure story, and I confess I was irritated when I had to put the book down and return to the demands of everyday life. In short, Tuttle’s book is a great read.
But what about the message, yes? Even good writers can be completely deluded. Is Connie Tuttle a prophet like she says she is?
I don’t think I’ve ever met a real prophet, so I don’t have that experience to draw from. But if I ever do, would she be any more persuasive than Reverend Tuttle? Would she show the same humility and uncertainty over her own inadequacies as she doggedly perseveres in responding to the insistent call of the Divine? Would she persist in the face of the most hateful opposition from those who call themselves Christian and counter with steadfast gentleness knowing hate comes from fear? Would she work tirelessly for justice for one of the most persecuted sectors of society today, the LGBTQ community, particularly as it pertains to full inclusion in Christian ministry, even if it meant she would be the solitary standard bearer at the beginning? I’m no expert in this area, but I have a strong suspicion Reverend Tuttle is, in fact, what she says she is.
Jesus said, “By their fruits ye shall know them,” and I cannot deny Reverend Tuttle’s message is bearing fruit in my own life. The Presbyterian Church in Canada has referred the question of the ordination of openly gay candidates to committee, and it’s likely it will be five years or more before a decision is reached. How blithely I received this news and how comfortably I’ve abided this injustice. A Gracious Heresy has reawakened in me an activist’s anger and put an end to my self-satisfied neutrality. I’m casting in my lot with Reverend Tuttle and all who, like her, recognise the Divine is doing “a new thing” in our time.
“Now it springs forth. Do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)
January 24, 2019
This book about a woman who hears her calling to the Ministry but finds her sexual orientation a major barrier is a compelling read. The tale of someone who overcomes great obstacles to achieve his/her goal has been told many times, but there are so many variations on this theme one never tires of it, especially when well-written. "A Gracious Heresy" takes you on Tuttle's life journey as she encounters injustice in the forms of racism, sexism and homophobia; discovers her true gender identity, and explores the United States during some tumultuous times. Her fight to be recognized as a minister should inspire anyone who is having difficulty achieving a life goal due to sexual orientation. I know Connie Tuttle, and she is a wonderful person, full of life and laughter. Her book is, too.
February 2, 2019
In her book, A Gracious Heresy, The Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet, Connie Tuttle tells her life story from childhood through confused teenager and young adult to ordained minister. It begins with an admission: I am not perfect. In today’s world of “best life now” and “blab and grab” theology, this is a refreshing change of pace. Conceived in an outhouse and raised as a wandering army brat, Connie illustrates how her encounters with other children around the globe taught that, at heart, there’s really not much differentiating us from one another. Color, status, orientation, identity, all are irrelevant when it comes to God’s love and grace.
Connie tells how in her spiritual journey she was misled, misused, and taken advantage of. But through it all she held God close and kept seeking him. Despite being told time and time again that she was unqualified, unworthy, and unrepentant, Connie followed her calling and persisted.
For the quality of the writing itself, I would strongly recommend this book. While it’s an autobiography, it certainly doesn’t read like one. The narration is not dry, the dialog doesn’t feel forced. It was deeply engaging and hard to put down.
I would encourage anyone who has at some point struggled with the idea of homosexual clergy (or even the relationship between Christianity and homosexuality in general) to read this book. Will it change your mind if you disagree? Probably not. But it will, however, give you a view through the eyes of someone who feels called by God, but is told by religious leaders that she’s not worthy, not clean, not able.
Connie tells how in her spiritual journey she was misled, misused, and taken advantage of. But through it all she held God close and kept seeking him. Despite being told time and time again that she was unqualified, unworthy, and unrepentant, Connie followed her calling and persisted.
For the quality of the writing itself, I would strongly recommend this book. While it’s an autobiography, it certainly doesn’t read like one. The narration is not dry, the dialog doesn’t feel forced. It was deeply engaging and hard to put down.
I would encourage anyone who has at some point struggled with the idea of homosexual clergy (or even the relationship between Christianity and homosexuality in general) to read this book. Will it change your mind if you disagree? Probably not. But it will, however, give you a view through the eyes of someone who feels called by God, but is told by religious leaders that she’s not worthy, not clean, not able.
Read
February 14, 2019Connie Tuttle’s moving memoir is both deeply personal and absolutely universal. By sharing her difficult and inspiring journey toward ministry as a self-described lesbian, she speaks to the aspiration within most of us to be our truest selves, committed to our highest calling. The book itself is a delight to read, each chapter introduced by a thought-provoking poem which sets the stage for the dramatic episode to follow. It’s also a real page-turner with a powerful narrative drive, which makes it a quick read. Highly recommend!
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