The death of Jason Collins hit me harder than I expected. Maybe it is because I am a big Black gay man who played basketball. Maybe it is because I know what it feels like to navigate spaces where people assume they already know who you are before you even speak. Maybe it is because, for so many of us, Jason represented possibility.

For younger LGBTQ+ folks today, especially in sports, it might be hard to fully grasp just how groundbreaking Jason Collins was.

In 2013, when Jason came out publicly, he became the first openly gay NBA player and the first openly gay athlete actively playing in one of the four major men’s professional sports leagues in the United States. That might sound like a statistic, but it was so much bigger than that. It was cultural. It was spiritual. It was deeply human.

Sports, especially men’s sports, have long been places where masculinity gets narrowly defined. As a Black man who grew up around basketball, I know those expectations well. Strength is celebrated, but vulnerability often is not. Difference is tolerated only if it stays quiet. You can belong, but only if certain parts of yourself stay hidden.

Jason challenged all of that.

He stepped into the light in a world that had not made room for him. He did not come out after retirement, when the risks might have felt smaller. He came out while still actively playing, knowing full well the criticism, jokes, assumptions, and scrutiny that would follow. That kind of courage matters.

And for Black LGBTQ+ people, especially Black queer men, visibility matters in a different way.

We know what it means to live at intersections. To be too Black in some spaces and too gay in others. To constantly negotiate belonging. To wonder whether we will be accepted if people know all of who we are. Seeing someone like Jason, a tall, strong, athletic Black man, living openly and unapologetically, mattered more than many people understood.

He expanded the imagination of what was possible.

As Acting Executive Director of the Open and Affirming Coalition, I think often about what affirmation really means. It is not simply tolerance. It is not merely saying “you are welcome here.” True affirmation creates the conditions for people to live fully, openly, honestly, and safely as themselves.

Jason Collins helped make that world possible.

Because of his courage, countless athletes today are able to imagine lives that do not require secrecy. Young LGBTQ+ kids, especially young queer athletes, can now look at professional sports and see people who remind them of themselves.

Representation alone does not solve injustice. But representation can save lives. Representation can plant hope.

And hope matters.

Jason once said that the years after coming out were the best of his life because he finally got to live as his true self. There is something sacred in that truth. There is freedom in no longer hiding. There is power in authenticity.

We mourn Jason Collins not simply because he was the first, but because of the example he gave us. Courage. Integrity. Humanity. The willingness to step forward when no roadmap existed.

May he rest in power.

And may we honor his legacy by continuing to build a world where no one has to choose between belonging and being fully themselves.

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Click here to donate to this campaign to help us equip churches with new microgrants.  

Yesterday, I had to do one of the hardest things that I have ever done in my life. I had to put my beloved fur baby to sleep and say goodbye. The above photograph was taken about 10 minutes before her procedure. I knew it would be our last photo together, and I sense that she knew it as well. After I snapped our final selfie, I broke down. And just like the dutiful companion she has been for over a decade, she comforted me in her final moments.

Since then, I’ve been sitting with a lot of grief, trying to figure out how to hold it without letting it take me under. For the last few years, I have talked a lot about joy. Finding it. Protecting it. Holding onto it. Encouraging it. Recognizing it. Joy is important, especially now. Many of us are on the front lines of the fight against authoritarianism, fascism, and injustice. We are doing real work, and it is draining. As we work and fight, we constantly talk about protecting our peace and practicing self-care. But one of the most overlooked sources of that peace is the emotional support, love, strength, and courage we receive from our pets.

They are some of the most faithful, quiet supporters of this movement. They slow us down. They pull us outside. They make us laugh when we don’t feel like it. They sit with us when we’re tired. They love us in ways that are simple and steady, no matter what is happening in the world. Not everyone in our community has children, but many of us have fur babies or other beloved pet companions who show up every single day with love, play, and comfort. They help sustain us, and they help sustain this work.

As a child, I used to watch Touched by an Angel with my grandmother (it was a sort of millennial rights of passage lol), and I will never forget an episode where someone lost a pet and one of the angels said that having a pet teaches you to love without fear, because they will almost always leave before us and we love them anyway. That stayed with me. And now I understand it even more deeply. As a Black queer man navigating a world that often asks me to shrink, I know what it means to love without fear. Our pets teach us that every single day.

So as I try to keep my girl’s memory alive, and not lose myself to grief, I want to turn that love outward.

Introducing ONA’s Spring Campaign: Love Without Fear.

This is our way of honoring the companions who have loved us well by making space for joy, memory, and continued impact in our community.  Here’s how you can be part of it. Share a photo and story of your pet, and we will lift them up on our social media through the end of May as a way of celebrating joy and honoring the companions who help carry us. Help us raise $5,000. These funds will go directly into a new microgrant program launching in June, offering up to $500 to help ONA churches connect their work beyond their walls.

Let us honor our beloved companions by acknowledging their presence and importance in our lives as we keep doing good in the world. Spring is a season of new life. It feels right to mark it this way, with memory, with tenderness, and with action.

Click here to complete a form to submit your photos and stories. 

Click here to donate to this campaign to help us equip churches with new microgrants.  

Let us love without fear. Let us keep going.

With gratitude and a grieving, hopeful heart,

Rev. Derek Terry, Acting Executive Director
Open and Affirming Coalition

Today, we pause to honor the life and legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a leader whose vision of love, justice, and peace continues to inspire us all. Dr. King’s dream of a world rooted in equality and compassion remains as urgent and relevant today as it was during the Civil Rights Movement. His powerful words remind us of the transformative power of love and light:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

On this day, we affirm our commitment to Dr. King’s vision—a world where every person is valued and every community is a sanctuary of love, inclusion, and justice. At the Open and Affirming Coalition, we believe that Dr. King’s dream calls us to action: to dismantle systems of oppression, challenge hatred in all its forms, and embrace the work of building a better world together.

Dr. King taught us that justice is not passive; it is something we create every day through our words, actions, and the love we show one another. As we honor his legacy, let us also reflect on how we can embody his spirit in our lives. Let us be the light that drives out darkness and the love that overcomes hate.

Today, we remember. Today, we honor. Today, we affirm our commitment to the work of peace, justice, and love.

The Open and Affirming Coalition of the United Church of Christ offers our deepest sympathies to the Rev. Ann B. Day and all who mourn the passing of Donna Enberg. We hold Ann, their loved ones, and all who grieve in our hearts and prayers, asking for peace and comfort during this time of profound loss.

Donna, along with her wife, Ann, created the UCC’s Open and Affirming (ONA) program in 1987. Enberg continued as the program’s treasurer for 20 years until her retirement in 2007.

Together, Ann and Donna were instrumental in developing the most successful and fastest-growing LGBTQ+-affirming church movement in the world. Building on General Synod’s 1985 resolution urging congregations to adopt “Open and Affirming covenants,” they designed the resources and training programs that empowered hundreds of congregations in the UCC to open their doors to LGBTQ+ members and seekers.

The ONA resolution is one of the most impactful in the history of the UCC, transforming the church and saving thousands of lives. This transformation was made possible through the tireless work of supporting congregations on their journeys toward inclusion and justice.

Donna Enberg’s legacy is honored through her lifelong commitment to inclusion and justice in the church. David Lohman’s hymn, For All the Children, was written in recognition of Donna and Ann’s retirement from the ONA program in 2007 and remains a fitting tribute to Donna’s transformative work. A recording of the hymn can be found here:

For more information about Donna’s life and contributions, her biography can be found at lgbtqreligiousarchives.org.

With deepest honor and respect,

The Open and Affirming Coalition of the United Church of Christ