08/24/2026
Our story 💜
The first q***r church service in America started with 12 people in a living room. By the time the collection plate finished its rounds, they had raised enough money to keep going.
That gathering in 1968 became the Metropolitan Community Church, founded by Rev. Troy Perry, a former Pentecostal minister who had been told that being gay and being Christian were mutually exclusive. He decided the church was wrong.
It is hard to overstate how radical that idea was at the time.
In 1968, homosexuality was still criminalized across much of the country. Police raided gay bars. Newspapers printed names after arrests. Many churches preached that q***r people were sinners, broken, or beyond redemption. Perry’s response was simple: build a church where LGBTQ people could worship without apologizing for existing.
People showed up.
They came from every corner of Southern California. Some had been kicked out of their churches. Others had never set foot in one again after coming out. Many arrived carrying years of shame handed to them by families, pastors, and entire communities.
The congregation grew so quickly that living rooms were no longer enough. Services moved into larger spaces. Soon MCC was attracting national attention, not all of it welcome.
Police surveillance became routine. Officers monitored services and took notes. Congregants worried about losing jobs, housing, or custody of their children if their involvement became public. Simply walking through the church doors could carry real consequences.
In 1973, an arsonist set fire to MCC’s Los Angeles church building. The sanctuary was destroyed. Years of work went up in smoke overnight.
The congregation held services anyway.
That stubborn refusal to disappear became one of MCC’s defining traits. While many institutions treated LGBTQ people as a problem to solve, MCC treated them as members of the flock. The church performed same-sex commitment ceremonies years before legal recognition was even imaginable. It provided community during a period when q***r people were often isolated from both religious and secular support systems.
The growth was remarkable. What started with a dozen worshippers grew into an international movement with hundreds of congregations worldwide.
Perry’s message was never especially complicated. God loves q***r people exactly as they are.
Today, when affirming churches exist in nearly every major city, it is easy to forget how dangerous that position once was. The people who filled those early pews risked their reputations, livelihoods, and safety just to pray together.
They built something many people insisted was impossible: a church that refused to choose between faith and LGBTQ identity.
