We’re still there

From Andrea Gibson’s The Definition of Love

You can find the full text of Andrea Gibson’s poem on their substack.
... where I come from beauty is in the eye
of anyone who sees what’s missing
but can’t stop pointing to what’s still there.
If there is no definition of love yet,
I think that’s a good one.
we're still there
   despite everything
        that has been missing
              we're still there
                    that is the definition of love
                          that is the evidence of our faith

Some context is important and if you follow me on Twitter, it won’t be surprising the context includes that I’ve been listening to Flamy Grant’s song Good Day, so I couldn’t help but hear Andrea’s words with that song as an underlying soundtrack during the Lectio Divina practice of the Monday Night Contemplative Spirituality Group I’m part of.

If somehow you haven’t heard Good Day yet, have a listen. You won’t regret it.

You can find the lyrics for Good Day on Flamy Grant’s Bandcamp page … and download the song too!

For my friend, when your calling is questionned

it's not just one of you
it's so many of you
I see their words
the quotation marks they use
questioning the legitimacy of your calling
because of who you are
because you're a woman 
because you're queer
because you're gay or lesbian
because you're trans or non-binary
because you're disabled or neurodivergent
because you're not who they think God could possibly call

and every time I see those words
my heart breaks for you
I know many of you have grown accustomed to this hate
have learned to ignore their outrage
have thickened your skin
and learned to lean into God's calling
regardless of the hate thrown your way
and that is a beautiful and powerful thing

but I also remember how those words land
not every time 
sometimes you laugh them off
sometimes you roll your eyes and sigh
and move on because God has given 
you much more important tasks

but sometimes the words stick
not a serious cut
just a tiny prick 
on top of so many 
tiny pricks and prods and pokes
in the tenderest spot
where you are both strongest and most vulnerable
the spot where you know God's calling

in those moments 
know that you are seen
know that those who have heard those same words
even if we've left our callings behind 
we feel that pain with you
we see how God has called you
not despite of what makes you uniquely you
but because of what makes you uniquely you
because you're a woman 
because you're queer
because you're gay or lesbian
because you're trans or non-binary
because you're disabled or neurodivergent
because you're not who they think God could possibly call
that is exactly why God has called you

and we stand alongside you
offering our strength and our care
our ears, virtual or real
our understanding and our prayers
and when we can, even ourselves as shields 
so you can stay focused on the work
to which you are most definitely called

This is only the second time I’ve recorded myself reading one of my poems, but words on a page didn’t seem enough.

For those of you this is written for, I wanted you to be able hear them these words from the voice of a friend, in case that’s what you need to remind you.

Where does that leave me?

I get it
You're angry
I get it
You've been hurt
Me too
It's not fair or right 
soooo many people 
take soooo long to become affirming
and even longer to "come out" as affirming

[yes, I know that phrase is going to annoy some of you
it kind of annoys me too when straight people use it
but we're more similar than we are different
and I'm rethinking my annoyance]

because tonight 
for the first time since I came out
I felt ashamed of my journey to figuring out I'm queer
and it wasn't the words or actions of 
a hateful Christian bigot that spawned the shame

it was vitriol directed at an ally who "came out" 
admitted he was wrong and 
apologized for what he'd previously believed
[and no, he didn't say he was "coming out" 
that's my word choice]

43 years it took me to figure it out
not broken and straight
queer and whole
and another 8 months to come out publicly

but before that 
41 years to become fully affirming
and only after I'd thrown church and faith away

I'd never walked away from friendships due to my faith
but I didn't know how to reconcile what I'd been taught 
with friends who'd come out (or were outed) years before
I loved them as best as I knew how
in the eighties and nineties and two thousands
but looking back it was ...
insufficient
because love the sinner, hate the sin always is
no matter how much you try to love the sinner
but I stayed and those friendships grew
and eventually I learned how to truly love them
and me

the person so many are mad at
he was honest 
it took him 9 years to get here

Can I be honest?
Or will this condemn me in your eyes?

I started asking the questions that eventually 
got me to realizing churches need rainbows 
when I was 17

so 9 years? 
that feels pretty short and pretty fast
24 years?
that's a lot of years I could have done things differently

so where does that leave me?
someone who is part of the community
someone who is queer
but also someone who took a lot longer on my journey 
to affirm and celebrate the dignity and diversity
of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community
than I wish it had

I can't change those years
You have no idea how much I wish I could
those regrets are mine to navigate

but please know when you rail against allies
who you think took too long
or didn't "come out" in quite the right way
I'm certain I'm not the only one who wonders
what you think of how long it took me

I don’t often link to my old blog, but I wrote about the moment when I finally became fully affirming. While I was specifically writing about a friend who was gay, my reference to the church needing rainbows was meant to include everyone within the 2SLGBTQIA+ community even though I didn’t have all the words for that back then.

Also, apologies, there are probably some typos in here that I’ll need to fix tomorrow, but it’s late and I need to go to sleep and, come what may, I need to say this out loud if I’m gong to have an likelihood of a decent sleep tonight.

Psalm 19:7-8 – I have questions

The law of the Lord is perfect,
          refreshing the soul.
     How have we turned them to something that drains all signs of life?

The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy,
          making wise the simple.
     How did we decide that everything is clear and literal?

The precepts of the Lord are right,
          giving joy to the heart.
     How have we transformed them into weapons of hate?

The commands of the Lord are radiant,
          giving light to the eyes.
     How did we use them to condemn those we don't understand to death?

So many times the Respond movement of our Monday Night Lectio Divina practice ends up with me choosing to write. Tonight, I had more questions than answers.

For my friend, about choices made before

I wish I could but
I cannot offer you absolution
Forgiveness is not mine to grant
I am not the one you left aside
For things she could not change

And so I offer you what I can 
As one who shares part of her path

Your affirmation of
Your lived out commitment to equality for
The whole of the LGBTQ+ community
Is seen and known by those within

I know that cannot take away 
Your grief
Or your regret

But ...
May you find comfort knowing
Your words and actions matter
You make the world safer
A better place for those still here

And ...
Somehow, somewhere
I believe she knows
You chose to follow the path of love
Because of her

i saw Jesus in him

i don't know his name
i've not seen him before or since
he arrived silently
backpack on his shoulders

tentative steps
looking around to see if
his presence would be allowed

he walked quietly
not tiptoeing but with no sound
he looked deeply 
seeming enchanted 
by stained glass windows

full circle
 around
then he arrived 
at the foot of the cross
he stood in silence

"Father, forgive them
for they know not
what they do."

he remained standing 
transfixed
as a poem began to be read
he sat for a moment
before he continued
exploring the part he had
not yet seen

he left on still silent feet
but paused again
at the foot of the cross
marked himself 
with the familiar sign
and continued on his way

some might have questioned
did he belong
but i know who i saw that day
a neighbour seeking
and i saw Jesus in him
A photo of a rough wooden cross set up on the dias in front of a wooden altar in an Anglican church. There is a trio of stained glass windows behind and organ pipes visible on either side.

Written on Good Friday 2023, during our time of meditation on the seven last words from the cross. I was tempted to take a photo, but even from the back, his coat was distinctive. Instead I wrote these words to ensure I would remember.

Photo credit: karencee (c) 2021