It was a feeling of safety, of love, of community, of belonging. Nonetheless, I recognized the feeling permeating the club. There were barstools instead of pews, and bartenders standing in for ushers. I couldn't get past the sense that this place was a real church. The interior walls were black, and the lights had been dimmed throughout, but there was a lightness in the air. I'd been invited to step into my friend's world. To celebrate a friend's birthday, I'd just entered a gay bar for the first time. As we entered the main room, I found smiles all around, people hugging and talking. A small crowd gathered just past the foyer, while music boomed from within. The stairs creaked as I walked in the front door and turned the decorative metal knob. Last Saturday night, I was invited into its sanctuary. I've heard the building is just two shotgun style houses, put together, but the design reminds me of the little Methodist church in the town where I was born. The charcoal exterior of the A-frame design stands out against the urban Birmingham backdrop. There's a beautiful old building a few streets over from where my church meets to worship, and it catches my eye each time I drive past it.
