New York Post

TEST OF FAITH

A pastor’s beliefs were rocked when his religious father transition­ed from Paul to Paula. Here, the pair explains how they moved forward with grace

- By RACHELLE BERGSTEIN

A LMOST three years after his father came out as transgende­r, Jonathan Williams found himself standing in a Midtown hotel hallway, hesitating outside his father’s room. As he raised his hand to knock, the surrealism of the situation struck him: The person he was meeting was both a beloved family member and a complete stranger.

A curly haired woman named Paula opened the door.

“She looked nothing like my dad,” Jonathan, a church pastor, tells The Post. “It was almost otherworld­ly. I tried not to pass out.”

Since learning that his father — also a pastor — identified as a woman in the fall of 2012, Jonathan, who writes about coping with his dad’s transition in the new book “She’s My Dad,” had struggled profoundly with the news.

Growing up in a fundamenta­list Christian household, he had been raised with certain beliefs, including that a man who wanted to wear women’s clothes was sick or depraved. Although Jonathan considered himself more progressiv­e than his parents — he scoffed at the church’s dismissal of evolution, for instance — his father’s revelation shook him. He felt betrayed, angry and filled with grief.

“In some ways, it felt like dealing with death,” Jonathan, now 41, says of that time. He had hoped meeting in person might help, but it just made things harder. After he met Paula, he shut her out for months.

His reaction was exactly what had “terrified” Paula about transition­ing.

“All I ever wanted was to be a good father,” the 67-year-old, who contribute­s her thoughts to the book as well, tells The Post. Although she knew she was female since the age of 3, “I thought I could just fight it, or cure it with marriage,” Paula says. She had a highly successful life as a man, raising a family on Long Island and rising to the top of the Orchard Group, a conservati­ve organizati­on that establishe­s new evangelica­l churches around the world.

It wasn’t until she was 61 years old that “the call to authentici­ty” struck her. She told her wife she was going to start living as a woman and began taking hormones. Their marriage didn’t survive the shift.

Paula lost her job soon, too, and was shunned by her former friends and colleagues. But she says that by far the hardest part of her transition was telling her kids.

“I loved being a father. That was the part of being male that always felt comfortabl­e.”

Jonathan and his two sisters wrestled with the news.

“I was depressed,” says Jonathan, a married father of two who founded Brooklyn’s Forefront Church just three months before Paula came out. “I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning.” He says he drank heavily to get through his social commitment­s — which, as a new pastor, were extensive — and wondered how much of his fundamenta­list background he should continue weaving into his work as a religious leader.

But, eventually, a mix of therapy and time helped Jonathan start com- ing to terms with his father’s new life. Eight months after meeting Paula for the first time, he asked her to come back to New York.

Paula says that she understand­s why it took him so long to come around.

“I exploded the family narrative,” she says. She told her son, “You’re allowed to have the feelings you have.”

One sunny morning in May 2016, the pair took a long walk from Jonathan’s apartment in Carroll Gardens and ended up by the waterfront. There, in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, Jonathan was finally honest about the effect Paula’s transition had had on him.

“It wasn’t just, ‘I can’t believe you became a woman,’ ” Jonathan says. “It was also like, ‘When I was a teenager you came down really hard on me.’ Pandora’s box opened up.”

Paula opened up, too. “Basically, she was like, ‘Start seeing things from my perspectiv­e, as someone who is repressing their identity,’ ” Jonathan remembers.

“That was a real eye-opener to me,” says Jonathan, who apologized that day. “I love my dad, dearly. At the end of the day, estrangeme­nt wasn’t an option.”

Weeks after that conversati­on, he risked the future of his fledgling evangelica­l church and began openly welcoming people from the LGBTQ community.

“I think seeing Paula go through what she went through makes me feel like this is almost a calling,” he says. He estimates that today, roughly a quarter of Forefront’s 300 members identify as LGBTQ.

Much to her own surprise, Paula returned to the church, too.

“My rejection from that world was rather complete,” she says. So when she found herself compelled back to the pulpit, preaching a new, more inclusive gospel, “It was like, ‘Holy s - - t, wow.’ ”

Nine months ago, the divorcée formally started a progressiv­e congregati­on called Left Hand Church in Longmont, Colo. It’s fronted by her, as well as two gay pastors (Jonathan is a proud investor).

Although they still have the occasional “tough” moment, Paula says that conversati­on with Jonathan under the bridge was a turning point for them as parent and child.

“There was a sense of something redemptive and holy going on,” she says. “I knew that the worst of it was over.”

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 ??  ?? Paula Stone Williams in 2013, prior to transition­ing.
Paula Stone Williams in 2013, prior to transition­ing.

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