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A
Hey, everybody. The third annual Wayfarer Summer Festival is coming up on July 11th, and you are not going to want to miss this. We're bringing in some amazing speakers like Thomas McConkie, Christine Hogland, and Katherine Sontag to talk about spiritual attention in the age of AI, the history and future of Mormon utopianism, and what a Latter Day Saint cultural renaissance might look like. Plus, just lots of amazing time to connect with friends old and new. And we've got catered lunches, poetry readings, musical performances, breakout sessions, an art gallery, and everything taking place in the gorgeous Heber Valley. Space for this is extremely limited, so you won't want to delay. You can get tickets@wayfairmagazine.org or look for the link in the show notes. Hey, everybody. This is Aubrey Chavez from Faith Matters. Today we're sharing a really special conversation courtesy of our friends at Lift and Love. This is a conversation recorded at their first ever Gather Conference in 2023, the world's largest Christ centered gathering of LGBTQ Latter Day Saints and those who love them. In this session, two men sat down. Tom Kristofferson and Darius Gray. Both are devoted Latter Day Saint who know what it is to love the church while also having experienced real marginalization within it. Darius Gray is a black Latter Day Saint who was baptized on December 26, 1964, 14 years before the revelation that lifted the priesthood and temple ban. He entered the waters of baptism knowing that he could not hold the priesthood, and he built his faith anyway. He helped found the Genesis group. He waited, he worked, and on a day in June 1978, everything changed. So this June, we're sitting with what that means. There's something so powerful in Darius story. His rootedness, his patience, his refusal to let institutional limitations become the ceiling of his faith. And as a gay Latter Day Saint, Tom Kristofferson knows something about that, too. What you're about to hear is a conversation between two men who have walked, who are walking long roads, who are holding hard questions and bearing witness to a God whose work continues to unfold in their lives. It's warm and honest and so full of hope. And we think that you'll find, as we did, that it stays with you. And now, here's Tom Kristofferson and Darius Gray.
B
All right. You are a beautiful sight. One of the messages of this conference really is that none of us are alone. I think we are not alone in an ultimate sense because of our relationship with our heavenly parents and Savior. But we're also not alone in a rooms such as this with people who share our experiences. We're also not alone because of the people who've gone before us and blazed paths before us, whose experiences may not be exactly the same as our own, but whose lives can give us hope. I'd like to share a short little video as we begin with one of those heroes to me, Harvey Milk, who was the first out elected official in the United States in 1977. This was recorded shortly before he was assassinated in 1978.
C
Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there's a young gay person where all of a sudden realizes that here he is gay, knows that if the parents find out, they'll be tossed out of the house. The classmates would torrent the child. And the Anita Bryans and John Briggs are doing their bit on tv. And that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide. And then one day that child might open a paper and it says, homosexual elected from San Francisco. And there are two new options. An option is to go to California, stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call. The voice was quite young. He was from Altoona, Pennsylvania. And the person said, thanks. And you've got to let gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there's hope for a better world. There's hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, can only gaze at those blacks and the Asians, the disabled, seniors, the S's, the S's. Without hope, the S's give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone. The without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you and you, you've got to give them hope.
B
For us, hope is in Christ. And the experiences of lives that are dedicated to him give us hope as well in our own journeys. And one of those lives is that of my beloved brother, Darius Gray. I'd like to, in our conversation here, help you come to know his heart and his life a little better. Because it gives me hope to know him well. So, Darius, good brother, you were baptized, if I recall, in 1964, is that right? Those of us who are good at Math know that's 14 years before the revelation on priesthood and temple. So the night before you were baptized, you learned something interesting. Would you share?
D
I had met a new family upon returning home to Colorado, to my mom's home. And it was a white family in a neighborhood that was a blended family. But this family was different. The family introduced me to the gospel, which then caused me to explore it and slow the short Version is, it was the night before my scheduled baptism. It was on December 25, Christmas Day evening. It was a Friday, and I was to be baptized the next day, Saturday the 26th. And I met with the missionaries for what I call my exit interview, and had gone to their apartment, which I don't think is standard, but it was in this case. And as we talked, they were asking me the questions. Did I accept God as my, you know, Heavenly Father and is Christ my Redeemer? And, you know, I answered all the questions. But then they said, brother Gray, do you have any questions? And there was one that I had raised earlier in our discussions, and it was regarding the Lamanites and how they at times were darker and out of favor with God. And I asked, how does that relate to, to me? And the answer was, well, Brother Gray, this is a quote. The primary implication is that you won't be able to hold the priesthood. And I'll close the quote there, because I don't remember anything else after that. I, I, I just blanked out. I had come to know the value of that priesthood. I was a proud black man who had pride in my family, my race. And to hear that it just wasn't conscionable that I could join the church. So in my mind, there would be no baptism for me the following day.
B
That's not the end of the story.
D
I was not honest with the missionaries. I, I just smiled and I thought I had taken candy from a stranger and hadn't heeded the warnings of my mot, who had concerns about me being involved with that faith, went home, let mom know that I was in the house. We were the only two. The girls were gone. Dad had died. And just letting mom know that I was in the house. And because she had warned me she had concerns about the LDS faith, I couldn't talk to her about how I felt. But this is in Colorado springs, Colorado, over 6,000ft in elevation, December 25th. Evening, and cool in Colorado at that time and at those elevations. And yet I always had a habit, whatever the season. I pushed back the curtain that my mother had made and slid open the window, which was just by the bed. The bed and the windowsill were even. And I would always look into the night sky and have prayer. And I did that this evening and was just expressing my confusion and angst at what I had just learned. After months, no one prior had told me anything about the restriction on black people, those of African descent, within the LDS faith. And I couldn't make peace with it. I closed that prayer closed the window and the curtain. I couldn't go to sleep. Went through the process a second time, opening all and looking to the night sky. And this time it was different. I heard the words, this is the restored Gospel, and you are to join. Nothing else. Not a word about this is a just restriction, or this restriction isn't just, or it is of God, or it isn't of God. Simply, this is the restored gospel and you are to join. And with that, I was able to sleep. And with that, the next day, I entered into the waters of baptism.
B
It's interesting, isn't it, how it is line upon line. The Lord does not answer all of our questions at the outset, and some of them perhaps only get answered in the doing. You were baptized and then had the experience of being a black member of the church in a time before the revelation. Would you share a little bit about kind of the. How does a congregation make you feel that you are wanted even in the face of maybe some institutional challenges? And I guess the contrary. How does a congregation make it clear that they're a little less comfortable?
D
Then? The next day was Saturday. I was baptized. Sunday I went to church for the first time as a full member. And a member of that family that had introduced me to the gospel said that bishop wanted me to speak to the ward as the newest member. And I had never done anything like that and had the fear of public speaking. And what do I say? And she said, well, you start by saying brothers and sisters, and then you end at the name of Jesus Christ. And I said, well, what about the middle? And she said, that's up to you. I found myself in that overflow area at the back of the chapel that can be opened for expansion. And the lights were low, only half of them, I think, were on. And I was just pacing back and forth trying to figure out what I was going to say. And one of the double doors at the far end flew open and in came a little girl. I'm going to say she was 4 or 5, and with the light being low, she didn't see me. And she was coming through this face and coming my way, and she was skipping. And I remember that because her hair was bouncy, she was in pigtails or ponytail. And finally she saw me and she stopped and I spoke to her and said something. Hi. And she then ran past me. Mommy, Mommy. And I won't use the word, the N word, as she went through the door on back of me. So that was my entrance into the ward that was less than 24 hours after having entered into the waters of baptism. And it sort of set the tone for the experience in the Lord in those days in 1964.
B
I think you and I have both had experience from time to time of, I think what you call walkabout, I called a vacation until my brother told me I was actually absent without leave. It was. I had to stop saying vacation. But there can be times when we feel for our health or whatever that we need to have a little distance, perhaps from the organization. And yet the Lord certainly never lets us be comfortable. Or maybe the better said he is always calling us home. What's your experience been in that regard?
D
I was active. I left Colorado Springs for BYU six months later. And of course, it was very inviting. There were tons and tons of black people there. Actually, there was a black Panamanian, Edwin. There was a young black woman from Cincinnati, and I can't remember her name, and there were three or four Nigerians. And it took me the better part of a year to find all of them. And I was the darkest thing walking down the street in Provo. And it was interesting. It was interesting. People were kind, People smiled. Many came up to me speaking Spanish or Portuguese. But, yeah, if you ever want to feel alone, be a black convert at the church at BYU in 1965. So it was more receptive there than it was in my home ward. But it has been a time that I'm sure many of you can relate to, where you're not automatically comfortable or you're not automatically embraced, where someone isn't quite comfortable with you. And so there was a period when I went on walkabout. I just needed to have some distance, did not lose my testimony of the gospel. But I needed space. For a time prior to that, I had been Brother Gray. And Brother Gray, at one point had his membership papers held at church offices. And I was out almost every week, I'd say at least three out of the four weeks of a month speaking in some ward. And that got tiring. Got tiring. So, yes, I went on walkabout. But I'm happy to say my testimony of the restored gospel is strong and has been. And it's not because of me. I give glory and honor to God because I heard those words that night. This is the restored Gospel, and you are to join.
B
Another profound experience of your life was the creation of the Genesis group. So working with three apostles, each of whom became president of the church at a later point. But would you just share a bit of the. The impetus for Genesis.
D
I was baptized in 64, a gentleman by the name of Ruffin Bridgeforth, a native of Louisiana who had come to Utah during the late 40s, had joined the church in 1953 here in Utah. Ruffin Bridgeforth. I met him. He was the most Christ like man I've ever met. There was a young man that I met probably, I think, in early 68, his name, Eugene Orr. And Gene was at the. What was it, the jobs program. But he was from Florida, and he had met a woman and had been asking questions about the church. She called me because I was visible and said that she had this young con or not convert, but investigator. And when I speak with him. And that's when I met Gene. Well, the three of us met and had gotten together on several occasions, and primarily because Gene and that woman who had introduced us, they married and they were putting on picnics for a couple of years in their backyard for black members of the church. Many were descendants of early black members. And at any rate, we finally met one day at the University of Utah in a classroom. And Gene worked there. And it was during his lunch hour. And these three black men knelt in prayer, asking God to guide us. What is it we could do? Because so many of the black Mormons had fallen away from the church. They were on walkabout. And what could we do? Well, since Gene was the youngest, we nominated him to contact the Brethren, and he did that. And we were assigned three junior apostles, Gordon B. Hinckley, Thomas S. Monson and Boyd K. Baker. And the six of us met on a frequent basis talking about the issues that were facing black members of the church. And Gene was the young firebrand, Ruffin was the calm statesman. And I just was hanging around. That's serious. But Gene was the one who would say to President Packer, well, why can't blacks have the priesthood? I mean, he was just very direct. Well, others who look like me have the priesthood. You know, they may be from a foreign land, but it was the sort of thing where we die a lot. And we. We became brothers, the six of us. And on October 19, 1971, there was a solemn assembly in a Little building at 7th south and just off of State Street. It was a building that we shared with the Danish and Norwegian branches. We were easy to pick out. We had that solemn assembly and we were called and set apart as a presidency, a black presidency and a Relief Society presidency and all of the other auxiliaries, young men's and young women's programs. Primary genesis yet exists from 1971 we have always met only on one Sunday a month, the first Sunday at night, so as not to conflict with any other church program. And if you would like to attend, anytime you show up, you will feel at home and welcome. We are a blend. It is not racially exclusive. There are times when we have more people of color than we do white, and other times quite the reverse. But you will feel welcomed. You are all invited. Get there early. We have a choir and the music is sublime and the people come, if for nothing else than to just listen to the music. So oftentimes you'll have problems finding parking. Plus, the spirit isn't bad there.
B
It is a wonderful experience and you need to get there early to get a seat as well. We are going to run short on time here, but would you share your experience with the revelation on priesthood and if you have a thought or two, the work you put into the gospel topic essay on blacks and priesthood. Just, I guess it's really just kind of how to bring us up to speed for the continuing work of engagement for our black brothers and sisters in the church.
D
On that day In June in 1978, I was working at Zellerbach Paper Company and a credit assistant had stuck her head in my door and said, hey, Neris, I hear they're going to give the Negroes the priesthood. She was a gravely voiced, hard nosed credit assistant. She was a collector. And, and I, I looked up and I said, dixie, that's not funny. Get out. And. And she persisted and said the same thing. And it was irritating, it was touching, a sore spot. And so this time I swore, damn it, Dixie, get out. That's, that's not funny. And because of who she was, she did not give up. And she said she had been on the phone with our largest customer, the church, and that the rumor was going around that this was going to occur. I had an office where I had a television, a little television and a radio. And anything of that nature, I was sure would be on media. So I turned both on and there was nothing. And yet she was so insistent. I thought the only logical thing to do would be to pick up the phone and call President Kimball, which I did. And because of the relationships that we have had, I got his secretary. He had left to go back to the temple, but the secretary confirmed for me that indeed that was the case. I had not known from that night in December until that day in June, those 14 years later whether the restriction was of God or of man, whether it was just or unjust. But to hear that it was going away. It was unbelievable. I did not anticipate that. I thought I would have to wait until the second coming to get an answer. Long story short, I went out to the airport to pick up another office mate from Seattle of the Zotterback Paper Company. And on the way back it was on the radio and now it was all the buzz. And this brother that we picked up was not lds, but he said it had been announced, this change in the priesthood availability. Availability had been announced while he was in flight. It was that sort of news. I know of one other person, Catherine Stokes. Some of you hopefully know Sister Stokes. She was en route to Hawaii and it was announced. So it was such a momentous day. It has changed everything not only today for persons of African descent to be able to have the benefits of the priesthood and temple service, men and women being able to serve missions and positions, but it has reached back in time. The Church has always, not always has done genealogy for years. And it used to be when they came across a name going through a census record or local record and the name indicated that the person was black, it went into a bucket, so to speak. Temple work was not performed for them. With that change of June 8, 1978, we were able to reach back in time and do work for tens of thousands of people. I know specifically of 484,083 that were recipients of work. So it has changed everything in the past, currently and in the future.
B
I wish we could go on and on. I should let you have the last word since I can't speak, but I hope you have had a chance to feel what I feel in each encounter with Darius, someone who is converted to Christ and willing to follow him in spite of challenges. So let me do give you the last word.
D
I want to thank you all. I'm at home here. I have heard more of the teachings of the Savior and of our Father here today than I hear in most sacrament meetings. Congratulations to all of you. A few of you I know and I'm so grateful for and others I don't know. But I know who we are. We are truly brothers and sisters of the same heavenly parents. We have the same senior brother. And I am so grateful that we share that and can feel that and can testify of that. And I thank you for that in the name of Jesus Christ.
A
All right, thanks so much for listening. We're really grateful to our friends at Lift and Love for allowing us to share this conversation from their gather conference in 2023. If this episode resonated with you. You can learn more about Lift and Love, listen to their podcast, and find details about their upcoming Gather Conference in Provo this November@liftinlove.org org we're grateful for the work that they're doing to build Christ centered belonging and community, and so grateful that they share this conversation with us. As always, thanks so much for listening. We're glad to be on this journey with you.
Episode: Witnesses from the Margins: Tom Christofferson and Darius Gray
Date: June 14, 2026
Guests: Tom Christofferson, Darius Gray
Context: Recorded at the first Lift and Love Gather Conference (2023), the world’s largest Christ-centered gathering of LGBTQ Latter-Day Saints and allies.
This moving episode features a deeply personal dialogue between Tom Christofferson, a gay Latter-day Saint, and Darius Gray, a Black Latter-day Saint leader. Both share their journeys of faith, belonging, and marginalization within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Their conversation centers on what it means to "bear witness from the margins"—to maintain faith, hope, and commitment even amid exclusion or unresolved questions within their faith community. The episode is characterized by warmth, honesty, and hope, offering encouragement to anyone struggling to feel seen or valued in religious spaces.
Tom Christofferson frames the conversation:
Tom connects Milk's message to faith in Christ as the ultimate source of hope. (04:33)
Tom Christofferson expresses gratitude for Darius’s example:
"…someone who is converted to Christ and willing to follow him in spite of challenges."
Darius Gray offers a moving benediction:
Harvey Milk (video), 03:19:
"Without hope...life is not worth living. And you, and you and you, you've got to give them hope."
Darius Gray, 08:38:
"This is the restored gospel and you are to join."
(Revelation that carried him through exclusion and pain.)
Darius Gray, 11:31:
"…she ran past me. Mommy, Mommy. And I won't use the word, the N word, as she went through the door on back of me...and it set the tone for the experience."
Darius Gray, 14:51:
"My testimony of the restored gospel is strong...And it's not because of me. I give glory and honor to God because I heard those words that night."
Darius Gray, 18:38:
"Anytime you show up, you will feel at home and welcome..." (On Genesis Group)
Darius Gray, 22:43:
"I had not known...whether the restriction was of God or of man...But to hear that it was going away. It was unbelievable."
Darius Gray, 24:56:
"We are truly brothers and sisters of the same heavenly parents. We have the same senior brother [Christ]."
This episode stands as a testament to the resilience of faith in the face of exclusion. Tom Christofferson and Darius Gray model vulnerability, patience, and unapologetic love for both the Church and those at its margins. Their stories remind listeners that true belonging and hope are rooted in Christ, and that everyone—no matter their path—benefits when others “give them hope.”