Atlanta pastor leans on personal story to fight for LGBTQ equality, social justice

At its last global General Session in May, Methodist delegates voted to remove restrictions that banned “openly gay practicing” people from being ordained as clergy and that barred clergy from performing same-sex marriages. It also removed wording in its guiding Book of Discipline that stated that homosexuality was incompatible with Christian teaching.

Earlier this year, Woodworth, the 44-year-old pastor of Neighborhood Church in Candler Park, garnered attention when she became perhaps the first trans clergy to address the Georgia House of Representatives as “Chaplain of the Day.”

She used the occasion to promote her version of inclusiveness.

Credit: Ben Gray

Credit: Ben Gray

“The nature of our contentious political and social life means that we see the little letters after people’s names,” Woodworth told House members as she led the devotional prayer at the start of a day’s session. “Or we see skin color or we see a rainbow pin or team jersey or what kind of truck they’re driving and we begin to make assumptions about people. Assumptions that can, even in tiny ways, can cause us to see those other folks as slightly less human than we are.”

During her visit to the capitol, Woodworth, the granddaughter of a rural United Methodist pastor, recited a childhood nursery rhyme that her grandmother in Newborn, Ga. used to repeat to her.

“This is the church. This is the steeple. Open the doors and see all the people.”

It’s been her motto throughout her ministry — to see all the people.

Before she spoke to legislators, she had a chance to chat with House Speaker Jon Burns. They joked about Baptists and talked about living on the family farm, she said. They shared a history of Methodism.

“We just carried on,” she said. “I know how to be Georgian.”

Her most recent visit wasn’t her first time at the state Capitol.

Over the years, she has talked with lawmakers about various reproductive rights and LGBTQ issues.

“I figured that the best way to address my root concern, that all of us see all of us as full human beings, was to invite people to look beyond their regular patterns and ‘see all the people’ — not just LGBTQ people but other marginalized communities too.”

Would sharing the fact that she is a trans woman have risked her not being permitted to speak or result in people shutting down, rather than listening? She’s not sure.

“I also think trans people get to be present in public life, just like everyone does, and I don’t always have to or need to share everything about my story or identity. I can just be a pastor, sharing helpful words, and I also happen to be a woman of trans experience.”

Before she transitioned, Woodworth was married to the Rev. Anjie Peek Woodworth. They were assigned as co-pastors at the Candler Park location after two churches, Druid Hills United Methodist Church and Epworth UMC, were merged due to dwindling memberships.

Anjie Peek Woodworth said Andi Woodworth has a gift of being able to find common ground with others.

When Andi pastored a small church in small mill town in northwest Georgia before transitioning, she used to join other church members who would ride in a van and distribute food to people.

Many of those same people now identity as MAGA Republicans, said Anjie. “They’re very conservative and mostly listen to Fox News,” she said. “And this young pastor just went in and preached about Jesus. ... Even though they were diametrically on the right theologically, Andi found a way to work with them.”

When they co-pastored at Neighborhood Church, the Woodworths handed out frozen treats in a nearby playground, attended public meetings over things like roads and “crashed a lot of parties” in order to get to know their congregants and members of the community. They’ve marched in social justice rallies and held neighborhood festivals in front of the church.

Credit: Michelle Baruchman/AJC

Credit: Michelle Baruchman/AJC

Today, the church has a weekly attendance of between 65 and 70 people, with more than 200 tuning in online. They come from all over Atlanta and as far away as Marietta and Lawrenceville.

Since Andi transitioned, she and Anjie have divorced, but continue to share a sisterly bond and co-parent their three children, ages 12, 13 and 15. Anjie now pastors Eastside UMC in Atlanta.

“Andi the pastor now is the same pastor as Andi has always been. She just brings her whole self to the table,” Anjie said.

Jai Davis has known Andi for years. “Woodworth acknowledges her privilege as a white trans woman,” said Davis, also a United Methodist and faith coordinator for Georgia Equality.

Still, she “makes sure that activism, justice and equality are flowing throughout her sermons. She’s making sure that the congregation is not just affirming but advocates,” said Davis.

Andi’s mother, Linda Woodworth, who lives in Morgan County, remembers the time Andi returned home from summer camp as a teen, saying it was “creepy” because the campers were all white people and she had never been in that situation before.

Then, as an adult, Andi worked or volunteered at several Christian-based camps to “help them shift the culture and address the lack of diversity in campers,” even in terms of changing the music to make it appealing to more people,” said Linda Woodworth.

Andi’s personal journey has taken many years, and has not come without some anxiety. Before her transition, although she felt satisfaction as a minister, she always felt there was something missing in her life.

“Even though I had all the indicators of happiness that anybody could have — like a great career and vocation, a wonderful partnership and delightful children — something wasn’t quite right for me,” she said.

She said she had a deep “body sense” that something was off. By 2019 she was exploring hormone replacement therapy.

Then the pandemic hit. Like many Georgians, she stayed at home. Worship services moved online. And like others, she began to think about who she was and to question if she was being true to herself.

Andi worried about telling friends, family and her congregation. “The church says to love everybody and accept everybody, but I was worried that that wouldn’t actually be true when the rubber met the road. ... I was anxious about showing back up: ‘Surprise! There’s something different’.”

She also got support from her children. “They were like, ‘That’s great. What’s for dinner?’ They were ready to move on.”

A Grady High School graduate, Andi has been a UMC pastor for 15 years. Before that, she served as a youth minister at St. Paul UMC in Grant Park and worked in a camping ministry. She graduated from Oxford College and, later Emory University with a degree in religion then Emory’s Candler School of Theology.

She believes the church and its institutions should be radically inclusive, but it’s an issue that the United Methodist Church and other denominations have struggled with: the UMC only this year making decisions about LGBTQ inclusion and Southern Baptists still banning women pastors.

In one of her previous assignments, the church used to run a food pantry. Her heart broke when people would come in for food, look around and mention they had not been inside a church in years — or at all.

“My deepest heart is for the people who feel like God doesn’t want anything to do with them,” she said. “I want to help them know that God is in love with them and wants to be in a relationship with them.”

The Rev. Rex Kaney, a retired UMC clergy, was a member of one of the merged congregations and attends Neighborhood today. He said Woodworth “is extremely open, inviting, caring and certainly an inclusive person.”

On top of that “she’s a good preacher who tends to her flock,” he said. “In an age of divisiveness, all people are welcome here ... you are loved unconditionally.”

Andi also loves the idea of showing the many ways Christians can show up.

“It’s not all one way.” she said. Conservative evangelicals “do not speak for all of us. Trust, I’m not alone.”