Sacred Spaces, Radical Grace: Building Community with Courage
Good morning friends, my name is Katie Vardy and I am the minister of Birchcliff Bluffs United Church. I am a candidate for ordained ministry in the United Church of Canada and working on my Supervised Ministry Education placement at BBUC. As part of my ministry at Birchcliff Bluffs United Church, I have been privileged to support the work of Rainbow Community Places.
Rainbow Community Places operates Toby’s Place and Dorothy’s Place and in 2023, RCP became an incorporated and registered charity.
In November 2016, Birchcliff Bluffs United Church took a bold and compassionate step forward, proudly becoming an Affirming congregation. Yet, as many know, in order to truly be Affirming, our words must be backed by action.
Back then, Scarborough was a quiet place for 2SLGBTQIA+ youth—perhaps too quiet. A survey by Planned Parenthood revealed what many feared: young queer and trans people had very few places to gather safely outside of the bustling heart of downtown Toronto. A safe haven, a sanctuary for connection and acceptance, was sorely missing.
Inspired by this need and moved by their Affirming commitment, BBUC opened its doors wider, offering its basement to a dream named Toby’s Place—named tenderly after Toby Dancer, a talented trans musician who passed away in 2004. Since September 2017, Toby’s Place has thrived in the church basement, becoming a beacon of hope, laughter, and resilience—a space where queer and trans youth can find community, safety, and solidarity in Scarborough.
Yet, the journey didn’t end there. They soon recognized another quiet, unmet need: the absence of community support for queer and trans adults and seniors outside downtown Toronto. And so, in October 2018, Dorothy’s Place came into being—a sanctuary offering warmth, healing, and companionship for those over 50. Here, connections flourish, stories intertwine, and healing becomes possible in community.
Together, Toby’s Pla rn from words made real, from compassion turned into community, and promises kept faithfully.
On a typical Monday, we welcome around 10 Dorothy’s Place participants; for Toby’s Place, we welcome anywhere from 15 to 25 participants. Both programs take a village to run smoothly. Our program coordinator, Paisley and I, along with our volunteer team, prepare and serve lunch for the seniors of Dorothy’s Place and dinner for the youth of Toby’s Place.
Both Toby’s Place and Dorothy’s Place are secular programs with no religious agenda. While we meet in the basement of a church, our space is open to all, regardless of faith or belief, and our focus is on creating a safe, affirming community for 2SLGBTQIA+ youth and seniors. Volunteers, including myself, serve in a secular capacity—offering support and practical resources. If someone wishes to discuss matters of faith, I am happy to share, but I never initiate those conversations. For me, supporting Rainbow Comm unity Places is an expression of my own calling to radical love and inclusion, based on Jesus’ teachings. However, this is my personal motivation, not the mission of the program. At its heart, Rainbow Community Places is about belonging, dignity, and care—no strings attached.
As I reflect on the work of Rainbow Community Places and my journey in ministry, I find myself drawing parallels between our scripture passage from the gospel of Luke and the work of both Dorothy’s Place and Toby’s Place.
The story of the Prodigal Son speaks deeply to the experiences of many queer and trans individuals, particularly those who have faced rejection, alienation, and marginalization. The younger son in the parable asks for his inheritance early. He leaves home and lives a life of excess, only to find himself destitute and estranged from his family. When he returns, ashamed and repentant, the father greets him with open arms, rejoicing in his return. This image of unconditional acceptance and love resonates with the journey of many queer and trans people, who often face a similar sense of rejection or estrangement from their families and communities when they come out or transition.
In the church and wider society, queer and trans folks have often been treated like the Prodigal Son, cast out, rejected, or told they don’t belong. Many have experienced the painful reality of being pushed away by their families, faith communities, or loved ones, as they were deemed “unacceptable” or “unworthy” for simply being who they are. Like the Prodigal Son, these individuals may find themselves in a metaphorical “foreign land,” disconnected and lost, struggling to find their way back to a place where they are loved and accepted for who they truly are.
Rainbow Community Places embodies the father’s heart in the story of the Prodigal Son. It is a ministry that opens its arms wide to welcome back those who have been hurt, rejected, or forgotten. Just as the father in the parable does not ask the son to prove his worthiness or apologize for his past, Rainbow Community Places does not require queer or trans individuals to change, hide, or apologize for who they are. Instead, it offers a space of unconditional acceptance, a community where people can find healing and the safety to be their authentic selves. This “homecoming” reflects the radical grace of God, who calls all people, especially those who have been marginalized or excluded, back into the embrace of divine love. Rainbow Community Places is more than just a safe space; it is a tangible expression of God’s justice, mercy, and inclusion, where queer and trans individuals can experience the restorative power of unconditional love—just like the Prodigal Son did when he was welcomed home.
The story of the Prodigal Son reminds me of one of our Toby’s Place participants, whom I will call Alex.
Alex is 17 years old, filled with hopes, dreams, and the promise of a future. But when Alex came out as trans to their family, their world turned upside down. What was once a place of love and comfort became one of rejection, fear, and hurt. School, too, became a battleground of silence and hostility.
But Alex found their way to Toby’s Place.
When they walked through our doors, something changed. For the first time in months, Alex was greeted by people who accepted them. People who used their name and pronouns without hesitation. They were offered more than food—they were offered care, kindness, and a space to belong. Alex said to me, “I didn’t know places like this existed. I didn’t know people like you existed.”
But it is not just young people who need this space.
One of our Dorothy’s Place participants, whom I will call Miss Eleanor, is 76. She grew up in a time when being open about who she was wasn’t just dangerous—it was unthinkable. For decades, she hid her identity, afraid of the world’s rejection. When she finally mustered the courage to live authentically, she feared it was too late to find community.
But then, she came to Dorothy’s Place.
Here, she met people who understood her experience, others who had walked a similar path. They embraced her, not just as a visitor, but as family. She found people who would laugh with her, cry with her, and offer her a sense of belonging she had never dreamed possible. A few weeks later, Eleanor said to me, with tears in her eyes, "I thought I’d be alone forever. But now, I have family again."
These stories—Alex’s, Eleanor’s—are why spaces like ours exist. They are why dedicated programs for queer and trans people are not just nice to have—they are necessary.
The story of the Prodigal Son reminds us that every person, regardless of their past, is a beloved child of God, worthy of love, belonging, and grace. Rainbow Community Places reflects this divine truth—extending a hand to those who feel lost, broken, or abandoned, and welcoming them back to a place of safety and unconditional love.
Recently, our program coordinator led a powerful workshop called Navigating Now, offering a space for reflection, resilience, and support. In a world where queer and trans rights are under attack, our youth are not oblivious to what is happening—they feel it deeply. They witness the injustice, they experience the collective heartbreak, and yet, they continue to navigate through it with courage. This workshop explored self-confidence in the face of adversity, the weight of shared grief, and the importance of taking care of ourselves and one another in difficult times. Our role as volunteers is to walk alongside them, equipping them with the tools, resources, and safe spaces where they can process, heal, and find strength. This is not just about surviving the moment—it’s about building a future where every young person knows they are valued, supported, and never alone.
This is holy work. It’s not just a program—it’s a reflection of God’s heart for us all.
But friends, this is work that we cannot do alone.
Our drop-in program relies on the gifts of many. Some people give their time, while others give their talents. But for those who cannot be physically present, there is another essential way to uphold this work: through financial support. Your gifts ensure that the doors stay open, that the meals keep coming, that every young person seeking refuge and every elder longing for connection has a place to turn.
We also know that times are tough. The cost of living is rising, and financial pressures weigh heavily on so many of us. We do not take that lightly. But we also believe in the power of collective giving—of many people contributing what they can to make something beautiful possible. Right now, we need approximately $6,500 per month to keep this ministry running. That may sound daunting, but when we break it down, it becomes clear how achievable this is: if 130 people gave $50 per month, or 260 people gave $25 per month, this work could be sustained. Every gift, no matter the size, matters. Every dollar stretches further than you might imagine, ensuring that the doors stay open, that the meals keep coming, and that every person who seeks refuge and connection finds a place of belonging.
If you are not able to financially support Rainbow Community Places right now, we understand entirely. But perhaps you know someone who is. Perhaps you have a friend, family member, or colleague who shares a passion for justice and inclusion. Perhaps your workplace, a local business, or a community organization has the capacity to give or a connection to corporate or foundation funding. Advocacy isn’t just about what we can give ourselves—it’s also about opening doors and making connections. A simple conversation, a shared story, or a warm introduction could be the spark that helps sustain this ministry for years to come.
And that’s where each of you can make a difference.
When you give to this program, you are participating in this sacred work. You are ensuring that every person who walks through our doors can feel the love and care they deserve. You are saying, "You belong here."
We are called to be a church that does not just say that all are welcome—but proves it.
We are called to be a community where love is louder than hate, where justice is not an afterthought, where belonging is more than just a word.
Thank you for ensuring that this ministry does not just exist for today but is sustained for all the tomorrows to come. Together, may we continue to make a way for one another, just as Christ has made a way for us.
Amen.
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