Ten Years Later: What Galileo Church Gave Me When I Was Falling Apart

The Church Who Held Space

 

In 2016, I walked into Galileo Church at one of the lowest points of my life.

I was broken in ways that didn’t show up neatly on the outside. I had questions, grief, identity shifts, spiritual wrestling, and a life that felt like it was quietly slipping through my fingers. Some pieces were already gone. Others were hanging by threads.

I had long cared about LGBTQ+ issues. Even while living mostly on the heterosexual side of my own bisexuality, I had always felt protective and drawn toward spaces that were safe for others. Galileo’s openness in that area is what first pulled me in.

But what I found there was far deeper than a single stance.

I found a kind of love that disarmed me.

I found creativity and intentionality woven into worship in ways I had never experienced before. Services weren’t thrown together. They were curated. Crafted. Thought through. Week after week, there was beauty. There was consistency. There was substance.

It felt like someone wrapping a warmed, heated blanket around you after you had been standing out in the cold for weeks.

Comfort — yes.

But also challenge.

Galileo didn’t just soothe me. It ignited something in me. It called me into purpose. Into identity. Into courage. Into a deeper understanding of who I was — and who God might still be inviting me to become.

Sometimes their social justice posture has leaned more liberal than my moderate instincts. I won’t pretend that every position has fit neatly into my personal framework. But the heart behind their message — the unmistakable love, the integrity, the refusal to perform — made the differences feel secondary.

Because love that is real disarms critique.

Over time, their five missional priorities stopped feeling like a church slogan and started feeling like something written into my own spiritual DNA:

OUR MISSIONAL PRIORITIES:

    1. We do justice for LGBTQ+ people, and support the people who love them.

    1. We do kindness around mental illness and mental health and celebrate neurodiversity.

    1. We do beauty for our God-Who-Is-Beautiful.

    1. We do real relationship, no bullshit, ever.

    1. We do whatever it takes to share this good news with the world God still loves.

These priorities shaped me.

They expanded my compassion.
They sharpened my discernment.
They reminded me that faith and honesty are not enemies.

For some Christians, Galileo’s differences from traditional church structures are hard to reconcile. I understand that tension. I’ve wrestled with tensions myself.

But when I think about the love I encountered there — the very real, embodied, inconvenient love — any target placed on them feels superficial. Hypocritical. Hollow.

Let me be clear: no church can save a person. No community can be everything to everyone. I am not holding Galileo up as a gold standard for all believers everywhere. That would be unfair — and honestly, hypocritical.

But I am saying this:

God knew these were the Christians I needed.

When the rest of my life was unraveling — and at times nearly disappeared altogether — this community helped anchor me. Not by fixing me. Not by rescuing me. But by loving me into wholeness.

This blog, in many ways, exists because of the courage and permission I absorbed in that space. Because of the beauty I witnessed. Because of the honesty modeled from the pulpit. Because of the way faith and justice were allowed to live in the same room without apology.

Ten years later, I’m still grateful.

Wrestling in the Silence: Witnesses, Not Fixers

There were seasons when I stepped away from Galileo Church because my darkness felt too heavy, my needs too great. I wrestled with God in those times, ashamed to face my own reflection. I craved validation and deeper acceptance or visibility in ways that were exhausting and consuming.

I remember a moment with Dr. Rev. Katie Hays that started a shift within me. I had flip-flopped on a choice, and in her careful explanation, she challenged me in a way that made me stop and consider: why was I so concerned with her approval? Why was I so focused on whether she understood or validated my decisions? It wasn’t warm or comforting at first, but it was prophetic — a nudge that pointed me back to God, back to my own wholeness.

Galileo Church has never been the puzzle I needed to solve my life. They weren’t the ones who could put every broken piece back together for me. But they were part of the bigger picture. They sat alongside me, witnessing, holding space, letting me wrestle, stumble, and learn what God was showing me.

They never truly chased— but they held space. They allowed me the solitude I needed to “figure out” God (if one could do such a thing), to face myself, to understand that God’s silence wasn’t absence. It was listening. It was God letting me discover that the wholeness I sought had already been given — that I had only been allowing doubt, shame, and external voices to chip it away.

They weren’t my saviors. They weren’t the puzzle. They were witnesses, companions, and custodians of a sacred space in which I could be made whole — piece by piece — on my own.

And sometimes, that is the greatest gift anyone can offer: to hold space, bear witness, and trust the work is God’s, not theirs.

No prompt here, but if you want to know more about Galileo Church or Dr. Rev. Katie Hays:

 

They can be found online at http://galileochurch.org. They have a very vibrant in-person and online community, but first…

 

🌟 Origins

Galileo Church is a non-traditional Christian congregation in Fort Worth, Texas. It was launched in 2013 by Rev. Dr. Katie Hays, who serves as the church’s Lead Evangelist. She had previously served in traditional church ministry for nearly two decades before starting Galileo with a group of younger adults seeking a different sort of faith community.

 

🧡 Mission and Identity

Galileo describes itself as a “next-church community of belonging in Jesus’ name.” It’s known for being welcoming and affirming to people who have felt excluded or hurt by traditional churches — especially LGBTQ+ people, neurodiverse folks, and “spiritual refugees.”

 

📍 Worship & Community

Galileo holds Sunday worship at 5 pm (Central) in a space on the I-20 service road in southeast Fort Worth. They also offer a livestream service online.  

Community outreach affiliated with the church has included initiatives like Finn’s Place, a community center for transgender and gender-diverse young people. Though the organization is structured as its own nonprofit, it grew out of Galileo’s mission and Dr. Hays’s leadership and advocacy.

 

📖 Leadership & Perspective

Dr. Rev. Katie Hays is known for writing sermons, blogs, and pastoral letters on inclusive theology, justice, and spirituality. She’s been featured in Christian publications and recognized as a voice for inclusive ministry.  Many of her books can be purchased Amazon, Barnes & Noble,and so forth.

 

If this sounds like some place in-person or online you’d like to experience, check them out!

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