These days, when a church professes to be “inclusive”, that means it
welcomes anyone into its worship, no matter his race, culture,
political views, background, and sometimes even beliefs. It’s also
pretty safe to assume that an “inclusive” church calls itself so
because it has taken a stance in the last 10 or 20 years to welcome
people of any sexual orientation.
It struck me while working on this story that just a few decades ago, a
church that both literally and metaphorically proclaimed its intent to
“open the doors to anyone” was likely a white church welcoming blacks
into its midst, or vice versa. That may seem obvious to many of us now,
even anti-Christian to do otherwise, but it was a radical decision on
the part of churches in the ’60s and ’70s, especially in the South (no,
Texas is not categorically the South, but Dallasites often tell me that
in terms of race, it might as well be).
In the late ’80s, ‘90s and early 21st century, churches who welcome gay
and lesbian people as fellow worshippers and equal members are
considered radical. Episcopal Church of the Transfiguration
is one of those, and it has experienced its share of condemnation as a
result. But it is also a growing, thriving church, and leaders such as
Rector J.D. Godwin and congregational development director Ellen
Dingwall point to the church’s mission — “Respect the dignity and
freedom of every person and promise to seek and serve Christ in all
persons” — as the main reason for this.
While working on this story, pastors of more conservative or moderate
congregations told me off the record that they think the future of
churches will trend in the direction of being inclusive to people of
all sexual orientations, an the idea of excluding gay and lesbian
people will become ludicrous, just as the idea of a church today
stopping people at the door because of their skin color is ludicrous.
I have a hunch, though, that even if it becomes the norm in 10, 20, 30
years, the churches that will be able to best live out their call to
inclusivity will be the churches that took the stance early on. Those
who don’t will probably struggle, just as the churches that remained
closed off in the ’60s and ’70s, either officially or unofficially,
still struggle today to have a multi-racial congregation.
Many pastors I talked to admitted that, unfortunately, the words of the
late Martin Luther King Jr. — “the most segregated hour of Christian
America is eleven o'clock on Sunday morning” — are still true four
decades later. They were spoken in King’s last public sermon, as he christened the pulpit at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., and you can listen to excerpts here.
At the risk of wandering blindly into two highly charged areas, I have to ask this question: Why is a Barack Obama's now-former congregation laughing and cheering about Hillary Clinton being a cry-baby during a Sunday worship service? 
