Rev. Derek Terry: Annual Meeting Keynote Speech

Standing Stones: Bravery, Not Just Welcome

Rev. Derek A. Terry – Keynote for the New Hampshire Conference of the UCC (10/25/2025)

Cincinnati has a women’s choir. Muse: Cincinnati Women’s Choir. A member of

my church was a long time singer in the choir invited me to hear her choir sing.

And I’ll be honest with you, I went begrudgingly.

I’ve heard a lot of choirs in my life, and I thought, ‘Alright, this is going to be

sweet — maybe a little corny.’

But I was wrong. It was powerful — deeply moving.

That night, Melanie DeMore stood before the choir and began to talk about being a

standing stone.

She said, ‘Sometimes you can’t fix anything. You can’t find the right words. You

can’t take away someone’s pain. All you can do is stand by them. Be their stone.’

And then she asked, ‘Who are you standing with? Who are you holding up?’

That question has stayed with me ever since.

“That night changed me.”

Melanie sang “I will be your standing stone, I will stand by you.. “I will be your

standing stone, I will stand by you.”

As Melanie sang, I thought about my grandmother. I thought about how helpless I

felt.

I couldn’t heal her. I couldn’t make her stay. But I could stand by her.

So I closed my eyes, and I cried.

Not because I was broken — but because I was being held.

The music, the community, the spirit in that room — it stood with me.

It reminded me that even in grief, there can be grace.

That’s what this music does. It teaches us how to stand by one another, how to hold

each other through the storm.”

The music, the community, the Spirit in that room — it stood with me.

It reminded me that even in grief, there can be grace.

That’s what that night taught me:

Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is stand by someone

when there’s nothing else left to do.

“I will be your standing stone, I will stand by you.

I will be your standing stone, I will stand by you.”

That’s what being a standing stone means to me.

It’s not about fixing; it’s about faithfulness.

It’s not about always having the right words; it’s about presence.

It’s about showing up when someone can’t stand alone

and saying, “I will stand by you.”

In the book of Exodus, there’s a story about Moses.

As long as Moses held his hands up, the Israelites prevailed in battle —

but when his arms grew tired, they began to lose ground.

So his friends, Aaron and Hur, came and held his hands up and litterally placed a

stone under him to rest upon.

They stood beside him.

They became his standing stones.

That’s what we’re called to be for one another —

when the weight is too heavy,

when the fight is too long,

when the world feels too cruel.

Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is stand by someone

and keep their arms lifted

until hope rises again.

But let’s be real — the winds are howling right now.

LGBTQ+ people are under attack in ways many haven’t seen in decades and some

of us have never seen.

Especially those of us who carry multiple marginalized identities —

Black, Brown, Trans, Poor, Disabled.

Just this month, the U.S. Supreme Court signaled sympathy toward overturning

laws that ban so-called “conversion therapy” for minors — calling that practice a

matter of free speech.

And at the same time, a few days ago that same court,

announced the they will revisit marriage equality…

These aren’t distant headlines.

These are our lives.

Our marriages.

Our children.

Our churches.

Every time we start to breathe a little easier, systems of oppression find new ways

to press down.

Every time justice starts to bloom, those same systems come with new tools to

choke it out.

But the people of God—we don’t crumble. We stand.

That’s what standing stones do: they hold the ground when everything else shifts.

In the United Church of Christ, we love to say,

“No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome

here.”

That’s a beautiful start —

but the time calls for more than welcome. we need…

“Welcome” is passive — it opens the door.

“Affirmation” says, come sit at the table.

“Bravery” says, we’ll stand with you when they come for you.

“Advocacy” says, we’ll fight for you when you can’t fight for yourself.

“Transformation” says, we’ll build a world where you don’t have to fight to exist.

We don’t just need safe churches —

we need brave churches.

Churches that will act out their faith in the face of fear.

Churches that will refuse to let Jesus or the Gospel be co-opted by hate,

nationalism, or fear.

At the Open and Affirming Coalition, we’re calling for churches to ACT: OUT —

Advocacy, Community, Transformation.

Advocacy means speaking truth and showing up.

It means writing letters, making calls, and refusing to be silent

while people use our faith to justify their fear.

Don’t let the Jesus of liberation become the mascot of oppression.

Community means creating belonging, not just membership.

A brave space where queer and trans people, people of color, and those on the

margins don’t just survive — they lead.

It’s about building relationships that outlast policy and trend.

Transformation means ONA is not the finish line — it’s the starting point.

A church that claims to be “Open and Affirming” must live it daily —

in how it spends its money, preaches its sermons, and shows up in its

neighborhood.

Ask yourself:

What does it mean to be a standing stone in your church?

In your community?

In your town?

Who are you standing with when it’s risky, not easy?

Because being a standing stone isn’t just a metaphor —

it’s a ministry.

I am big.

I am Black.

I am gay.

I am poor.

Traveling — whether driving or flying — can be scary.

I serve a church.

People know where I’ll be every Sunday.

I’ve been threatened.

My church has been vandalized.

And yet — like the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 8:

“For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor

powers,

nor things present, nor things to come,

nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature,

shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our

Lord.”

Nothing can separate us.

So if you see me standing — know this:

I’m not standing alone.

I’m standing with the ancestors.

I’m standing with the oppressed.

I’m standing with every queer kid wondering if the church still loves them.

I’m standing with Jesus —

who stood with the outcast, the leper, the widow, the poor.

And I’m asking you, beloved church —

will you be a standing stone too?

Will you hold somebody up when their arms get tired?

Will you keep standing when the world says sit down?

Because the world needs the church to stand again —

not for respectability, but for righteousness.

Not just for safety, but for solidarity.

Not just to say, “you are welcome here,”

but to declare, “We will stand by you.”

“I will be your standing stone, I will stand by you…”