Quiet Revolution

Growing up, Ryan says, he was “well-behaved, but lost in my own world,” a quiet and imaginative kid who spent hours pretending he had powers like characters from Avatar. His adolescence, he reflects, was “emotionally intense,” yet he remembers it as a time when he was in “one of my most authentic forms.”

Before visiting The Open Table/Luther House, Ryan had little connection to campus ministry. “I had heard of campus ministries,” he explains, “but I thought they all followed the typical evangelical church model, that kind of mega-church vibe.” He had already graduated from the University of New Mexico when he first heard about The Open Table Connection through First Congregational Church, where he now works. What he discovered at The Open Table was nothing like what he expected.

His first experience came when Martha invited him to a dinner. “It was pretty chill,” Ryan recalls, “very laid back and casual.” But what stayed with him wasn’t just who he met, it was how he met them. “The conversation, and I mean this not in a bad way,” he says with a smile, “was just a conversation.” There was no agenda, no theological debate, no pressure. “There was no weight to perform,” he explains. “No pressure to prove you’re a good Christian.”

That simple conversation became a quiet revelation. Ryan realized that this wasn’t just a ministry, it was a refuge. “I think it’s incredibly important to create a space of spiritual exploration, especially for queer and trans people,” he shares.

Since joining our Board of Directors in 2023, Ryan has witnessed the ministry remain true to its purpose while expanding its reach. “I’ve grown to appreciate the ability to create an environment that is very low-stakes,” he explains. “You have elders interacting with undergrads and sometimes high schoolers, and that’s beautiful to see.”

Today, Ryan says serving with The Open Table enriches his life both personally and professionally. “As a member of the clergy, it’s lovely to interact with other clergy outside of their typical context,” he says. But more than that, it gives him hope. A ministry that welcomes every identity, every question, every voice, that’s rare. “It’s a safe space to explore,” he says quietly, “without fear, without judgment.”

For Ryan, The Open Table isn’t just a ministry. It’s a reminder that spiritual community can be gentle. It can be honest. It can be healing. And it can begin, simply, with a table and an invitation to sit down.