LGBTQ – Page 3 – Southwest Conference Blog

Compassion: Orlando

We mourn the loss of life of our brothers and sisters in Orlando and hold hope for healing and love for all the victims and their families and friends. May we all hold tight to the universal value of compassion, especially for the marginalized, and reach out to each other and to the source of life — the ground of all being, however you define it — for support in our grief.

I hear responses to this tragedy that seem to force a choice between love and accountability. We can hold these together; love provides both the means and the end.

We stand with the LGBTQ+ people and all those who are oppressed in the work of both love and justice, which must go together for either to have meaning.

We invite all to reclaim public space as safe space for human feeling and connection and to do so because, and not in spite of, our differences. Together only will we find our way to both honor the rich uniqueness of our cultures and wisdom traditions and celebrate our oneness as humanity. It’s OK that we don’t know how just yet. We will make mistakes but with the goal of compassion, we can stumble together to find our way to a new way of living and being together in which all beings are honored and have dignity.

Hate crimes and terrorist activity demand that we come together in love and solidarity. In Sacred Space this week, we’ll look with new eyes at the sayings of Jesus to help us stay sure-footed in both compassion and justice. We need not let beliefs, religions, race, gender or sexual orientation separate us anymore. We can be one.

May we all love, together, now. May we focus on our unity and strength and continue to draw encouragement from each other in and for the creation of beloved community. Let us look at our collective human heritage of the world’s wisdom traditions to teach us a new path. Let us get to know the stranger – the seeming other – in a way that heals the human species and the planet.

May we let our collective and rightful outrage fuel the changes for which we can no longer wait or assign to someone else. May we all feel now and act now.

Love Manifesto

by Karen MacDonald

In the midst of a disheartening, divisive election season, the last few days have brought even more disgust and deep dismay.

A Stanford University student who raped a young woman for “only” 20 minutes last year was given a 6-month jail sentence, and he could be released after 3 months for good behavior. Good behavior?!

On Friday in Orlando, FL, a young woman singer was shot by a man who came to her concert for that purpose, and she died shortly after.

In the early hours of this morning in Orlando, a young man walked into a LGBT nightclub with a handgun and an AR-15 assault rifle and massacred at least 50 patrons, injuring at least 50 more.

What the —– is going on?

As a woman, a defense mechanism, literally, is to recognize that I and my sisters are always potential targets of male power. As a lesbian woman, I know full well that I and my queer sisters and brothers, for all the legal progress being made, are still despised by many. It would be easy to put up a wall or to lash out or to pre-judge everyone harshly. It would be easy—and it would be deadly, to my spirit and to our communal life, to life itself.

Among many diverse spiritual sages over the centuries, Jesus taught another way. “Love your enemies.” “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled.” “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Our spiritual sages keep pointing us to what our spirits already know deep down—love is the only way. That takes faith and courage and community.

And it probably takes anger. And weeping. Both of those emotions are evidence that the way things are isn’t the way we want it to be. We don’t want hatred and fear and violence. So we weep when it seems like those things are holding sway, because our hearts are breaking. So we get angry at the suffering we humans continue to perpetrate, because we can be and do so much better.

And then we channel the energy that rises in weeping and anger to act for wholeness, for peace; we act in love. That will mean resisting powers-that-be, in politics, in economics, even in religious institutions, heck, maybe even in our families. Just make sure that our acting, our speaking, our resisting is done in a spirit of open-heartedness, rather than vengeance or defensiveness.

What’s going on? Let’s make sure love is going on….and on….and on…….

Review – Nomad: A spirituality for travelling light

by Ryan Gear

Brandan Robertson has written a book, just released in the UK, that any spiritually searching, thoughtful person can appreciate. This includes evangelicals, the expression of Christianity with which Brandan identifies. Contrary to some who have questioned their faith, Nomad is an honest story of a spiritual journey that has not left the author cynical. Brandon can’t be smugly written off with a label. There is no hint of academic elitism in his writing. He has not forsaken the Bible or become “just another one of those liberals.”

It’s clear from reading Nomad that Brandan loves God and the Scriptures and that he simply brave enough to say (or write) what many evangelicals are too afraid to admit… they have questions.

I first heard Brandan’s story when he shared it on a Sunday morning with the church I founded, One Church in Chandler, Arizona (onechurch.com). I can personally attest to his humble spirit and the grace that he writes about so beautifully in chapter 13. Brandon is not angry or vindictive. He is a loving, open-minded, young man who is an inspiration to anyone who wants to work out her or his salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12).

In the early chapters, Brandan tells his story of coming to faith in Christ in a high-octane fundamentalist KJV-only church when he was a teenager. He was so hungry to grow in his new relationship with Christ that he watched Charles Stanley before going to school in the morning. The church was a new family for him that modeled some level of love and healing in contrast to his hurting and dysfunctional family. Searching for belonging, he took on the same Bible-thumping ethos as his newly adopted church family. He began a teen evangelism, winning souls for Jesus and preaching against the Religious Right’s common enemies, abortion and homosexuality.

But then…

Questions.

Chapter 6 is the turning point of Nomad and of Brandan’s life. I love Brandan’s description of his first encounter with doubt while watching a History Channel Easter special at 13 years old (58). He was terrified that Jesus may not have been raised from the dead, but at 13, sobbed with relief at the fact that the Gospel of Matthew reported otherwise. Still in early teens, Brandan absorbed his church’s commitment to biblical inerrancy, but the doctrine would not go unquestioned forever.

Brandan addresses the common conservative evangelical conundrums of biblical contradictions, Bible class questions, and the favorite apologetics buzz phrase “absolute truth.” I was reminded of how tortured I felt as a teenager trying to make the Bible a cohesive document, like a term paper dropped out of heaven.

He identifies with so many serious-minded young evangelicals who learn to become intellectual circus acrobats as they try to harmonize Bible verses that clearly contradict one another. In fact, the term contradiction carries negative connotations, while the Bible is actually a collection of books, a library, and no one expects every book in a library to agree on every topic. The biblical books are more like a conversation, sometimes even an argument, than a term paper.

Later in his teens, Brandan bravely and honestly acknowledged his questions. He writes, “The beliefs that we once held to be absolute and certain suddenly become subjective and unclear. The answers that we once held to so tightly dissolve and new, terrifying questions emerge” (56-57).

In my own experience, once a crack of intellectual honesty appears in the dam, it won’t be long before a flood of questions rush through, breaking apart what was once thought to be an immoveable concrete wall. Honestly acknowledging the first question begins the journey of the spiritual nomad.

Brandon then relays his story of discovery, becoming acquainted with church history and the ancient rhythms of a spiritual life that were ignored in his conservative evangelical church. He studied Catholicism, Orthodoxy, and Anglicanism. He became aware of a new world of Christian history, belief, and practice.

He points out what many evangelicals are becoming aware of, that Christianity is much larger than one particular Baptist-y megachurch, and in fact, evangelical megachurches are still a minority in global Christianity:

“In the churches I grew up in, there was absolutely no sense of tradition or a broader narrative we participated in. Instead, we focused on our communities’ autonomy and God’s unique work in our midst. We were rarely connected to other churches in the area because all of us were focused on creating our own unique style and brand of Christianity” (83).

In chapter 11, the second major movement of Nomad is Brandan’s discovery of his fluid sexuality in his late teens. Of course, this is the current hot button issue in the U.S., and within American Christianity, one’s full acceptance or non-acceptance of LGBTQ persons is the litmus test of one’s orthodoxy.

Sadly, there will be evangelicals who write off Brandan’s spiritual journey due to their judgment of his sexuality. This is tragic, and one that will ultimately count as their loss. Brandon is a sweet-spirited, grace-filled evangelist who will likely lead a megachurch in the future. His humble and loving presence will win over many detractors, but unfortunately, some will not even give Brandan or Nomad the chance.

Those who do will discover an inspiring leader and communicator who does his best to live out his understanding of the Eucharist in chapter 12. It is one of the simplest and best descriptions of the Gospel you will read:

“The first was that at the Table of the Lord where the Eucharist was served, all people are equal… For one moment of time, all of us stood on level ground. All our prejudices and biases were forced to fade into the background. We came together as one broken but connected body in need of grace” (113).

“The Eucharist also reminded early believers of a second truth – the pattern of life that they were to live. When Christ commanded us to do this ritual ‘to remember and proclaim his death until he comes again’, he was asking us to remember the way of life that he lived and to follow him in it” (114).

The remaining chapters of Nomad, “Grace,” “Journey,” and “Wonder” offer practical examples of how Brandan attempts to live this eucharistic lifestyle. He tells a stirring story of reconciling with his abusive father after his father’s arrest and release. Brandan finishes his story with an invitation to journey through the questions, citing that the narrative arc of Scripture is one of a journey, and the only way to travel is with an attitude of wonder.

At its heart, Brandan’s honest sharing of his journey is an invitation to all readers, not to necessarily begin a new spiritual journey, but to be honest about the journey they are already on.

Mother’s Day Musings

by Karen Richter

I kinda hate Mother’s Day. There are reasons:

My family – and many many other families – feels pressure to spend money for things I don’t need to show their appreciation.
Progressive churches feel pulled in multiple ways: to recognize and appreciate mothers, to honor people who are nurturing others in various ways, to affirm persons who are not parents, to make some nod in the direction of gender equality and the feminist movement, to give at least passing attention to the neglected feminine images of the divine in our scripture and tradition. We end up doing none of these well.
I imagine that in a less patriarchal culture, Mother’s Day wouldn’t need to exist at all. In fact, I suspect that the more we wax nostalgic about motherhood, the less the actual, real life work of women is valued. More concretely, when we have an emotional attachment to the sacrifices parents (particularly women) make for their children’s benefit, we don’t push for public policies that makes families’ lives easier.
I’m encouraged to leave the dishes in the sink… “After all, it’s Mother’s Day!” which in some years just means that they are waiting for me on Monday morning.

Like many of us who think purposefully (and perhaps too often) about theology and gender, I’m conflicted about the whole idea.

Yet this year, almost by accident, I agreed to plan worship for Mother’s Day. There are several of us at Shadow Rock, a mix of clergy, staff, lay members, and members in discernment, that tackle certain liturgical seasons and apply our creativity and inspiration to the lectionary to plan our time together on Sunday mornings.

And, almost with a little wink at my inner conflict, several things began stirring…

First, May 8 roughly coincides with the end of our exhibition of the Shower of Stoles project. Planning around Annual Meeting, we arranged to receive about 80 stoles of LGBTQ pastors, deacons, church staffers, and other faith leaders. Each stole tells a story. For some it’s a story of terrible pain and a loss to the church of a potential leader as someone was denied their ministry because of their sexual orientation or gender identity. For others, it’s a journey of questioning and struggle ending in wonderful affirmation.

As I read the stories attached to the stoles, my heart was enlarged, swollen with tenderness for the lives the stoles represent.

What if this story were my child’s story?

Then I looked at the gospel reading for this Sunday, May 8. It’s John 17.20-26. I’ve heard John Dorhauer preach movingly on this same passage. “The prayer of our dying Savior,” he says. But this time I heard something different… a parent preparing to leave her children.

“I ask… that they may all be one.”

It’s good that I must leave you, Jesus says. You will go on to learn so much more, he promises. Are they really ready to live their faith independently, without the guidance of Jesus? Four times in this section of John’s Gospel, Jesus prays for unity. Do you feel his conflict? Anguish: at having to leave behind these dear friends, these precious beloved students and Confidence: with faith in their continued growth and guidance into all truth (16.13).

He sounds like Mom.

The final movement for me was a parenting meme I ran across online:

Next week, we celebrate Pentecost, the arrival of the Holy Spirit. This anticipation, too, tied in to the growing idea of Jesus the Mother. As a parent, I hope that my children have absorbed the best of my instruction and attitude as their inner voice. I pray that as adults, they hear my voice from the times when I was accepting and encouraging, peaceful and faith-filled… rather than the times when I failed to express my best intentions. And I wonder if, in the Garden in the midst of this prayer, Jesus wondered about the voice his friends and subsequent generations of Jesus People would hear as their inner voice, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit.

Now I don’t know if Sunday’s service will reflect in any way this series of ideas and stirrings that have happened for me as I wrote liturgy, prayed, and planned. Who knows what will happen in the hearts and minds of those gathered in the pews? I trust the Spirit will do what it will.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Joyous Pentecost.

May they be for us One Celebration… not of chocolates and Pajamagrams and brunch but love and fire and unity. Amen.

For the Love of Basic Needs and Dignity

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

Sigh. North Carolina. What a painful month for our trans sisters and brothers that reside there. It is so disheartening and fear-inducing to witness.

In the midst of this prejudice, bias, and discrimination, I’d like to draw us back to the humanity and dignity of transgender folks everywhere and remind us that we are loved by a still speaking God.

I lived in this world for 30 years being perceived as a girl and then a woman. I am transgender. My body was that of a female and my mind that of a male. Hard stuff when there isn’t room for such things in your understanding of the world. The flip side of that, though, is amazing gifts when there IS room for such things.

Transition is a radical act of love. My transition is a radical act of love for me, but it is also a radical act of love for you. I am saying, “Hey! I want to be all in with the care and connection we have, but I need something to be made visible in order for me to be authentic with you.” To share honestly is loving.

North Carolina is going through some stuff like a sullen teenager. It’s dressing in black and playing death metal through its headphones. It’s so over you, America, what with your equality and loving kindness in allowing queer folk to marry. It’s pretty insolent and sulky, but that turns quickly to being mean and a bully. It’s akin to a thirteen-year old that is sent to her room and she trashes it, not realizing that she just hurt herself more than anyone else since she now has to clean that up and lost some valuables while throwing a fit. Teenagers, am I right?

North Carolina is hurting itself by bullying and harming its own who are vulnerable and beautiful and, often, alone. I keep getting this image of the school bully hanging out in the bathroom between classes to grab the first person it sees and give that person a swirly. Poor unsuspecting kid trying to take care of his most basic needs, going to the bathroom, and the bully makes him wet his pants instead.

Do you see the indignity? Can you feel the undercurrent? “You are not human in the way we understand humans so you cannot exist. Your pee-pee and doo-doo are no good here. Move along.” Imagine going to work and trying to find the nearest non-gender specific bathroom so you can void your toxins while avoiding arrest. Or worse, attending school that legally locks you inside its walls during school hours and refuses you access to the bathroom. This is insane.

I have fantasies of asking Paul McCartney to remake “Let it Be” to “Let Us Pee”. Anyone know him? Let me know. Could be a hit. Another one of my fantasies is Kit Kat doing a commercial and changing up that jingle, “Give me a break. Give me a break. No, really, I could totally use a bathroom break. Seriously. Please. I really gotta pee.”

Did you know that I, along with many others, see being transgender as a gift? We are quite literally living Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now”. I know what it is like to walk this world being perceived as a girl and a woman. I know what it is like to try and be what the world demands of a woman. I know what it’s like to suffer rejection after rejection as girls and women harm each other so they can feel better about the ridiculous demands placed on femininity. I had this lived experience for thirty years.

My transition wasn’t because I didn’t like being a woman. I transitioned because I wasn’t a woman. My transition into manhood is affirming and gives me a sense of congruence where I had none before.

I want you to work on something for me if you can. It will help, I promise you that:

If someone you previously thought to be a woman tells you that he is actually a man and requests you use male pronouns (he/him/his), rather than thinking this is a woman who wants to be a man, think this is a man who is revealing more about himself to me. He is already a man.
If someone you previously thought to be a man tells you she is actually a woman and requests you use female pronouns (she/her/hers) rather than thinking this is a man who wants to be a woman, think this is a woman who is revealing more about herself to me. She is already a woman.
If someone you know is fluid in gender expression and identity, think this is a person who is revealing more about themselves to me. Ask which pronoun would be best and prepare to learn other pronouns that may be unfamiliar. It’ll be clunky at times, but it will also be okay.

The reason this will assist us all in transition or expanding our awareness of gender is because we are saying to the person who is revealing their gender identity, “You know more about yourself than I know about you. I believe you. I see you.”

The work of our reconciling church is very much in the midst of all of this. That radical act of love I do believe is what was meant when we were invited to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself.” That’s the work. That’s the call. Oh, and, by the way… This call for us to love extends to the bully lurking in the bathroom. If there is one thing I know about bullies, they are the ones that often have the most need for love and the smallest amount of capacity to create that in their own lives.

To the bullying powers that be in North Carolina: this Trans guy sees your fear, your uncertainty, and your anger. I see it. This is hard stuff for you, all this change and uncertainty. Gender is so foundational in your thoughts about life and God and country. This is upending a lot for you. You have fear. I have amazing news for you, though. Ready? Love drives out fear. Give it a go, this choosing of love over fear. I think you might really like it. It may even allow for you to emerge from that dark, dingy bathroom and into the sun.

Let us pee…

View what’s possible: an astonishing experience of the infinite

By Kelly Kahlstrom

I don’t know if you recall the View-master’s from childhood. A “reel” of slides could be dropped into the stereoscope and with a click the slides would change and tell a story. Even the slogan “View-master- View what’s possible” held great intrigue for me. I am asking you to imagine this blog as a story in a View-master.

*click*

Title: ChazzyBear: a story in four pictures.

*click*

I was in the car driving to Tucson for a weekend with my grandchildren. I hurriedly leave right after work hoping to arrive before they go to bed; a few minutes of Oma time and perhaps a few books before lights out. Just outside of Marana I received the text. Chaz was dead. So many questions I could not address in the car nor adequately from Tucson. I was alone with my thoughts and my time with the kids was frequently punctuated with images of Chaz. Chaz my love…such a short life you had…woefully packed with more than your fair share of demons…Early life trauma begat addictions to food, nicotine, alcohol and pain meds which seemed to manage you for much of your life as did the medical complications that followed…Your anxiety and alternatively your depression seemed immeasurable and endless… You had aged out of services but were not yet ready to fly… You did not fit the gender binary… So many obstacles for one young person to have to hurdle in a thousand lifetimes of trying…The pathology was overwhelming… And then you were gone… a death out of the normal sequence of time…suddenly, regrettably, but sadly, not unexpectedly.

*click*

Now imagine her peer group huddled together in disbelief at this turn of events. It had been 3 days since the news broke of her accidental overdose. Skillfully encouraged by an adult volunteer, her peers offered their expressions of remembrance…Silly, brave, fun, divine, daredevil, genuine, compassionate, funny, artistic, wonderful, thoughtful, mindful, deep, enduring, laughter, real, outspoken, smile, caring, open, sharing, friend, courageous, supporter, leader, sassy, survivor, inspirational, powerful, heartfelt, dancer, joyous, empathetic, rebel, charismatic, non-apologetic, beautiful, challenger, fearless, forward, radiant, sparkle, confident, loved.

To her peers she was a bad-a** woman who was not afraid to own her issues, and who expressed her pain and joy through music and dance.

*click*

Flashback, if you will, to a time before photography, at the turn of the 19th century, in the center of cultural life in Berlin. The literary salon; “a simple tea-table with a charming hostess, enthusiasm for reading and discussing literature, sparkling conversation and an atmosphere of friendship”. The Aufklärung, or the Enlightenment, dominated the world of ideas shared in these salons. Reason was fast becoming the primary source of authority and legitimacy. Yet, one member of Henriette Herz’s salon was something of an enigma to the typical salon participant. A brilliant and gifted conversationalist, by all appearances an Enlightenment thinker, but also a cleric who retained his Moravian roots and, seemingly, the antiquated beliefs of the church. For his 29th birthday, the salon participants gave him free reign to “explain himself” to the “cultured despisers” of his day. This is what he said to them:

You think religion is only about priests and rules (or knowing and doing). It is not.
This is what I think religion is: an astonishing experience of the infinite which can be found in the most mundane, finite moments of our lives if we are awake to them.
Learning to “stay awake” must be cultivated and takes practice.
These experiences of the infinite are so cool that they beg to be shared with others. The more they are shared with others the better each of us are at recognizing the infinite when we see it.
There is a social structure already set up to cultivate and talk about these experiences. It is called church. You should try it sometime. The only differences between the experiences of those inside church and those outside of church is that the church calls these experiences God.

Young Friedrich Schleiermacher was able to convince some of his closest friends to consider this possibility.

*click*

Now picture the conference office, fondly called the 917, filled to capacity and decked out in flowers, candles, and pink and purple balloons. A video projector played a loop of the many pictures of Chaz dancing, singing, and participating in the life of this community. Through the outreach efforts of Elizabeth Youngberg, pastor of Rebel & Divine, Chaz’s mother, younger brother and maternal grandmother were present for the service. It was peer led; her friends offered the prayers, the music, the poetry readings, and the remembrances. Simple…Heartfelt…Tearful…Beautiful.

This was the environment that Chaz’s brother stepped into when he stood to say a few words. He was, by his own admission, as shy and introverted as Chaz was outgoing. The dress shirt and pants purchased for the occasion seemed uncomfortably out of character for him. He apologized for his perceived lack of eloquence and then, with quiet sincerity, he shared his thoughts. He was surprised to learn of Chaz’s attachment to this community – a community that we call church. And through this experience, he realized that he had never really known his sister. This led to a request for conversation; an open invitation to all who knew Chaz to share their stories with him so that he could fill in the gaps of his own, and perhaps fractured, experience of her.

*click*

Epilogue: Only Chaz’s brother can say if the service and fellowship afterward constituted an experience of the infinite for him. It certainly was for me. Like the View-master slogan- “View what is possible,” I am continually amazed at the opportunities we have to adjust (and by this I mean broaden) our own perceptions when we actively participate in the life of a community. Especially a community that finds experiences of the infinite so cool that they beg to be shared with others; whether or not they can call these experiences God. ChazzyBear…you left bigger shoes to fill than I first imagined. Rest in peace.

It’s About Love

by Jeffrey Dirrim

Ruth 1:16-17 Message (MSG)
But Ruth said, “Do not pressure me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die— There will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!”

On the morning of October 17, 2014, U.S. District Judge John W. Sedwick’s ruled on two federal cases, declaring Arizona’s ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional. Arizona’s Attorney General Tom Horne advised the state would not appeal the ruling and instructed the county clerks to immediately begin issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

That evening, there were tears of joy flowing like a fountain at our UCC Southwest Conference office in central Phoenix. Everyone in the packed room and those listening from speakers outside cheered as our then Conference Minister, Rev. Dr. John Dorhauer, announced to a standing-room only crowd that he had performed Arizona’s first legal gay marriage ceremony. As is John’s nature, he quickly turned the attention away from himself and focused on the true meaning of that historic day. “It’s about love,” he said.

The Spirit was thick in the room and I feel it now as I recall hearing that simple sermon over and over again. I first heard it on the radio that morning through Phoenix Mayor Greg Stanton’s voice as he witnessed a judge marrying a gay couple in his office. I saw nervous brides and grooms at the Maricopa County Courthouse receiving this message when offered free flower bouquets and celebratory bubbles by Dena Covey and other laity. I first heard it in person while taking pictures for fellow clergy members Barbara and Rich Doerrer-Peacock as they co-officiated a lesbian couple’s service on the front steps of that same courthouse. And I read them in a beautifully colored sign waved gleefully by a young daughter as I married her two moms late in the afternoon.

The book of Ruth shares the story of hope through the unlikely pairing of two destitute foreign women. During a bleak famine in Naomi’s homeland of Judah, her family decides to move to the pagan land of Moab. Instead of answered prayers, she finds more misery over the course of the next decade. Her husband dies, her two sons marry Moabite wives, and neither marriage brings her grandchildren. Naomi feels God has judged her too as both of her sons die. It is in the deep grief of these tragedies Naomi decides to return home to Bethlehem.

Ruth is the young poor Moabite widow of Naomi’s son Mahlon. She understands the hopelessness shared by the much older and wiser Naomi who tries to persuade her to stay in Moab. But determined to support her, no matter the outcome, Ruth accompanies Naomi home responding “where you go, I’ll go.” There Ruth is working in the fields during the next harvest when a wealthy landowner by the name of Boaz first sees her. Based on the customs at the time Boaz is able to act as a brother to Naomi and eventually he marries Ruth. Like any good soap opera, Naomi’s shenanigans play a part leading to Ruth’s wedding. It isn’t until the conclusion of their misery-filled story we learn they have played a part in bringing God’s plan together for the future of the Israelites. Through Ruth’s and Boaz’s son Obed, father of Jesse, Naomi becomes the great-grandmother of King David and is a direct ancestor of Jesus. It’s a surprise to find that hope can be found in hopelessness.

What is hope? It’s expressed through the imperfect lives of Ruth and Naomi as being faithful, patient, trusting, kind, selfless, and even strong in conviction. It’s believing God will provide in the midst of great tragedy. It’s knowing in those seemingly Godless moments that we have a purpose and we keep moving forward. Hope is God’s love for each of us.

As we celebrate the first anniversary of legal same-gender marriages in Arizona, we’ll be celebrating it with newlyweds Nelda Majors and Karen Bailey. Nelda and Karen were the lead plaintiffs in the federal lawsuit that eventually overturned Arizona’s ban on gay marriage. In fact, Nelda and Karen were the first couple to receive a marriage license in Arizona. Karen told me the nuptials that followed a short time later “were a celebration.” They have publicly shared how they lived their lives in hope, but never really thought they would be allowed to legally wed. Nelda and Karen, like most of Arizona’s lesbian and gay couples who’ve married over the last year, have been together a long time. The State’s recognition of their relationship is simply an affirmation of what God has witnessed for decades.

Their journey began during the late 1950s with a new college friendship. Within the first year they became a couple and have now been together longer than they’ve been apart. Nelda and Karen share a love story of light even in the darker times they spent living in the closet. What I’ve witness in them is a faithful pairing. Two people that stuck together, determined to move beyond the odds. Two people that created a beautiful family. Two people whose heartfelt confidence in each other led to creating a better world for the rest of us. It’s true there are similarities between their journey and Ruth and Naomi’s story. While sweet, that is not what I’m left discerning on this historic anniversary.

I’m wondering why so many couples identify with the Ruth and Naomi story? Is it the early tragedies they feel and/or the hope they seek? Or are they merely wanting confirmation of a happy ending before they promise to stick around through thick and thin? While life is beautiful, the Bible reminds us it isn’t fair. And where do we fit in the story? Is it possible that Nelda’s and Karen’s journey offers us Naomi’s sage wisdom? What a wonderful representation of Naomi that would be today! And If so, does that mean we are Ruth in relationship to them? If our postmodern Christian faith rests in a call to action, what are we supposed to be doing after all the cameras have gone and we start moving toward Karen and Nelda’s second anniversary?

One of the most powerful pieces of the marriage liturgy we celebrate through Rebel & Divine UCC is a moment after the vows when the spouses are asked to turn and face all of those present. They recognize their chosen family of witnesses and realize, sometimes for the first time, who is there to support them. AND THEN the community creates a covenant with them. Through love they promise the newlyweds to be there in both good times and bad. The covenant is supportive, patient, forgiving, trusting, steadfast, and loyal. It recognizes the divinity within love. Acknowledges it is bigger than all of us. Knowing wherever we find love, we find God, and it is holy. Whether straight, gay, or somewhere in between.

Maybe the story of Ruth is calling us to do the hard back-breaking work in the fields as she once did? Can our first anniversary gift to Arizona’s same-gender loving newlyweds be a promise? Can we join with our churches to keep pushing our southwestern states toward full LGBTQ equality? First, by fighting for justice in healthcare, taxes, housing, adoption, and employment? Second, by practicing kindness through intentionally finding ways to recognize the milestones in the lives of LGBTQ families with simple rituals? Third, by remaining hopeful in the midst of great social change? This weekend we celebrate how our diversity makes us stronger. Ruth remained steadfast and loyal while living into a difficult decision and new way of living. Her patience rewarded everyone. Will we follow her lead?

PRAYER
Where You Go, I’ll Go! Ever faithful God of many names, languages, and voices. Help us to move beyond current laws and perspectives as we live into a hope-filled new world. A heaven on earth where we recognize you in our love for each other. This weekend we celebrate the first anniversaries of legally wed same-gender couples in Arizona. In doing so we ask you to bless them and all of the couples (straight, gay, and somewhere in between) whose life journeys are lovingly leading them toward the ever-evolving institution of marriage. Amen and let it be so.

I Just Wanted to Tell You Something

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I just wanted to tell you something. I think it’s time that I did.
I’m 37 when I write this.
I’ve known a lot of people who have died.
I’ve never been to war.
I don’t live in a prolific crime area.
I don’t work in a hospice. I don’t spend time in places where one would expect the end result to be death. Yet I have known a lot of people who have died.

“Get a suit. You are going to go to a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals.” Someone said this to me in 2011 when I admitted I had a problem with drugs and alcohol and wanted a different path. I spend time in places where one would hope the end result to be extension of life. Yet, I know a lot of people who have died.

What’s more is I have known a lot of people who have died recently. Their families are still reeling, recounting lost moments, angry conversations, desperate pleas, wishing they had done things differently. Their friends are still tearing up with the thought, “I can’t believe you are gone.” Their voice still hangs in the part of the brain where one can swear they JUST HEARD IT. It’s fresh grief because they just died last month, even the last week of the last month. It is likely going to happen today where I live that someone who is attempting to alleviate the endless aching of deep, deep soul pain will use the solution that always worked before and this time it will kill them.

This is nothing new. As long as there has been access to life threatening mind-altering drugs, people have used them and people have died. There is nothing new under the sun. Yet, I can still hear their laugh and their intention to stop as they wished for something better so I think I need to tell you a few things that will make me feel really vulnerable. I do feel vulnerable in this writing, but I also feel called so, here it goes…

I was different in my faith tradition and spiritual practice when I was younger. I was a super, uber born-again, biblical literalism Christian as a teen with values of complete abstinence from drugs and alcohol. I took myself to church when my friends were taking themselves to parties. I was scared of drugs and alcohol. I had lived experience of addiction from adults in my life since I was very young and I desperately wanted a life where none of that existed. I sought after a life where none of that existed.Though my values and my attempts at daily living were to walk away from any situation where drugs and alcohol were involved, there was also a deep aching for me where my sexuality and gender identity were concerned. Since this did not match the teachings and beliefs the broader church that I subscribed to at the time held, I very much felt intense shame and pain, constant preparation for rejection, a feeling of otherness at a level that sometimes relegated me to exist alone and isolated in my room, feeling desperate for love. It also led me to thinking of dying nearly all the time until I was 21. I am a queer person and transgender and this pain is a common story. My story is one of so many.

This pain accompanied me. One day, I tried alcohol. Hello, sweet relief! No pain, no worry, no fear. And the people I drank with did not care one bit that being a girl and female didn’t ever fit for me, but I was super glad it fit for them: “Hey girl, how you doing? Come here often?” I could tell the truth about the person I was and they did not reject me. With that first drink, my internal and external world had congruency. So I sought that moment over the next many years, again and again and again. Richard Rohr poses that the only reason we do something again is that the last time we did it, it wasn’t entirely satisfying. We were left wanting. The alcohol that flowed into places never touched before and met a need I never knew could be met before, awakened a wanting that would never leave. I wanted to feel that way forever and ever and ever. Amen.

I also did not want that addiction thing I grew up despising. The loss of control for me was gradual. I had dreams, I had wishes, I had hopes and even though I found sweet surrender in alcohol, it took some time for that to become my focus. It was gradual, seductive and debilitating. Without too many details, this ebb and flow of trying to be in the world and follow dreams, live values, be authentic, seek spirit while also trying to meet this ever growing need that took me further away from everything that was life-giving became a tsunami of pain, loss and certain death. I expedited this when I discovered opiates.

People often die when they combine opiates and alcohol. This combination is one of the deadliest in the world. They may not die the first time, often not the second, but if it continues, they will die at a higher rate than either alone. I know that. The reason I know that is that when all of this was happening in my life, I worked professionally as someone trying to help people who were in addiction and asking for help. It is my craft and my career. Those words, on paper, in front of me now, seem ridiculous. I was drowning trying to help those drowning. Here’s the thing, though, I didn’t know I was drowning. That’s the trickiness of this whole painful disease: you often don’t know you have it until it nearly kills you. And I thought I was breathing fine as the tsunami overtook me.

I knew if I took these pills and I drank, I could die. I didn’t consciously want to die. I had developed a lot to live for. There was incredible pain deep within that beckoned me to consider death, but I wasn’t aware of it most days. I drank and I took those pills. A few things led me to ask for help. We got that alcohol thing in check. That just freed me, though, to really start taking those pills. And I was addicted to opiates in nearly no time at all.

There are stages of addiction. It is a deadly disease, once activated, it often ends in death, but along the way, it separates the sufferer from experiencing anything loving and life-giving at all. It depletes the world from light; darkness overtakes everything in its final stages. What’s so awful, though, what’s so incredible soul wrenching, is when it started, I felt like I had finally found light. Isn’t that the worst thing ever? I finally felt peace. Ease. I felt equanimity, truly. I feel sacrilegious for that statement since there is nothing I know more soul stealing than addiction, but it finally gave me that “We are meant to love and be loved” awareness that overtook everything bad. And then it immediately started killing me.

Opiate addiction is its own animal in so many ways. I have a teacher in my life, Dr. Wen Cai, an expert in the field, who gives an amazing talk about opiate addiction I have listened to a number of times. One of the things he talks about is viewing this as the disease that it is. He describes opiate addiction as the cancer of addiction. People are dying at an alarming rate if it is not interrupted. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reports that every day in the United States 44 people die from prescription opioid overdose. Add another 21 people who die every day due to heroin overdose. Put another way to help us fully understand this magnitude, there are now more deaths from opiate overdose than all motor vehicle accidents and the numbers are growing. And how do we fare in Arizona? Arizona is ranked in the top 10 states struggling with this epidemic.

When someone activates the disease of addiction with their first use, opiates commonly administered the first time in pill form, they are stepping into a life and death situation. It’s a gamble every time a person uses. That alone is awful. You know what makes it even worse? The person putting that pill to their lips for the first time is often a teenager wondering what this thing their loved one has been taking feels like. And they just activated a disease that could have them dead before they ever have a chance to live.

I’m 37 when I write this and I have a full life expectancy because my disease, for all intents and purposes, is in remission due to the work I do daily to maintain recovery. If I were to use again, I would be back in the gamble of life and death.

I have known a lot of people who have died and I desperately want that reality to change. It is the work of the church with extravagant welcome to consider our role in addressing what the CDC has described as the worst outbreak of opiate and heroin addiction in the history of the world. This submission to you is just a start for a conversation I hope will be very much ongoing.

I just wanted to tell you something. I have the disease of addiction and I have hope.

Why We Need to Say It

by Tyler Connoley

Shortly after Pope Francis visited the United States, the news-o-sphere exploded when lawyers for Kim Davis, the county clerk who gained national attention for her opposition to same-gender marriage, announced the Pope had met secretly with Davis and commended her for her courage. Initially, the Vatican refused to comment on the meeting, and in subsequent days they made statements saying Davis was part of a larger group and did not receive a private audience.

We may never know what really happened that day, because there appear to have been no cameras, sound recordings, or videos, and its now a matter of “he said, she said.” However, for millions of LGBT people in the world, the meeting confirmed they already believed — all Christians, be they conservative protestants or environmentalist Catholics, are anti-gay. Christians, so the common wisdom goes, can disagree on many things, but they will always come together on their hatred of LGBT people.

Now, I can hear you spluttering already: I’m not anti-gay! My church is welcoming of everyone! I belong to the UCC, because I love how affirming they are of LGBT people!

I’m sure that’s true. What I’m highlighting is how Pope Francis and Kim Davis helped fuel the common misperception that all Christians are anti-gay — even you.

And that’s why we have to say it. It’s not enough to say, “We welcome everyone,” because LGBT people will assume that doesn’t mean them. We’ve been burned too many times by people who appeared liberal on issues like homelessness and the environment, but remain firmly opposed to same-gender relationships. We’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when we hear that the Pope met with Kim Davis, we think, “Of course. That makes sense to me.”

So, does your church celebrate everyone? And when you say that, do you mean people in gay relationships and people whose gender is queer? If so, then you better say it directly, because their are a lot of LGBT people who assume you don’t mean them when you say, “all are welcome.”

They Don’t Need Glitter

by Jeffrey Dirrim

Matthew 5:47-48 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

“And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

The smell of wet glue and drying paint lingered near the kitchen table filled with new arts and craft projects. My sister asked if I could tell which of the creative pieces had been made especially for me? I nodded no and then she slowly began to point out all the ones with glitter. We hadn’t yet talked to the kids about my sexuality, but as an out gender-queer gay person I chuckled with her at what my young nieces and nephew had seemingly picked up on.

I’m not personally a fan of glitter, but it’s been around a long time. It can be traced all the way back to cave paintings in 40,000 B.C. Ancient civilizations (including the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans) used it. It’s quite possible glitter could have been a part of any number of our Bible stories. Maybe the dramatic Bathsheba wore it in shimmering make up long before the androgynous Ziggy Stardust in the early 1970’s? Maybe the prodigal son had celebrated with it like the New York City club kids did in the 1990’s?

The at-risk and homeless LGBTQ youth I minister with LOVE glitter for all the reasons I don’t. Glitter reflects light, it covers up imperfections, and it has a dark side. Yes a dark side, because it gives a false impression. For these beloved youth, glitter brings sanctuary. Through their experiences they’ve been taught they’re unattractive, unworthy, and disposable. The glitter hides deep scars and makes the ugliness of their world appear more beautiful. God knows they deserve some beauty.

Skylar Lee became a statistic this week. He was a 16-year old high school student and transgender advocate with a bright future. He was an accomplished writer and had just published a story about his difficult journey to self-discovery. Identifying as a queer transgender person of color, he found it difficult to survive while sharing messages of hope to other young struggling trans teens. Last Monday Skylar posted a suicide note on Tumblr and then took his own life. Social media was abuzz.

We act surprised. We grieve. But let’s keep it real. A 2014 analysis of the National Transgender Discrimination Survey by the Williams Institute found that more than 50% of the students who were bullied in school due to anti-transgender bias had attempted suicide. If that wasn’t bad enough, the number of reported suicide attempts jump to 78% for students who’ve experienced physical or sexual violence at school. And surveys of shelters in 2011 & 2012 found that 40% of homeless teens identified as LGBT. That number is staggering when you consider what a small percentage of homeless teens actually identify as LGBT. These are our children. Why are we so apathetic to their plight? Why do we reinforce the negative lessons they’ve learned, through our silence? Why aren’t we diligently working to create positive systemic changes for them? Why don’t we realize they’re dying?

The Hebrew word for “perfect” is “tamiym.” It’s translated as without blemish, whole, and complete. I believe our LGBTQ youth/young adults are perfect. They’re almost all survivors of the worst neglect and/or abuses. I thank God every day for the miracle that they are still alive, and fighting to remain so. A few have served time in prison, a few have issues with alcohol and/or drugs, a few sell their bodies for food and shelter; and I’d like to believe in God’s eye’s they all remain unblemished. We need to be the adults. We need to take responsibility for relegating so many of our own children to the gutter. We’re the imperfect ones, we should be carrying their scars.

In faith we are asked if we are greeting anyone besides our own brothers and sisters. We are asked to move into perfection ourselves by caring for the unlovable stranger. I’ve heard it preached that perfection in the Bible is often referred to as blameless. Skylar Lee was blameless. We failed to teach Skylar of his worth and now he’s gone. No doubt there will soon be another announcement of an LGBTQ youth/young adult committing suicide.

Isn’t Skylar’s life enough? What are we going to do? What are our churches going to do? When will we attempt to move toward perfection by making a difference in the lives of today’s LGBTQ youth and young adults? They don’t need glitter. They need us.

PRAYER

While dreaming of a world where glitter is no longer needed, we pray to our unlimited and unconditionally loving God. You have called us toward perfection. May we be moved toward you by loving the unlovable. May we be moved toward you by giving voice to those told they are disposable. Move us through our complacency to action as we bring health, wholeness, and justice to our LGBTQ children. Amen, let it be so.

DID YOU KNOW?

The first American transgender suicide helpline, entirely staffed by transgender people, has just opened. God’s transgender children can call the Trans Lifeline at 877-565-8860. Please share some light and spread the word.