Through Christ …

What if we could see the older woman
clearly not having had an easy life
probably unhoused
quietly sitting at the back of the church
when she asked about a washroom
as someone who needed to pee
not as someone looking for a place to use

maybe she was
self-medicating might feel like her only option
but maybe she only wanted
a safe, warm, private place to pee
with dignity

What if we could be see the tents
outside our doors
be angry at the systems
that lead to people being unhoused
fight for justice and change
rather than being
angry at and afraid of
those seeking to survive
finding a place of shelter
outside our Walking Together Chapel
on land we may own
but that is not ours

What if we could see ...
see our neighbourhood through Christ ...
not figuratively ...
but literally?

What if rather than rose-coloured glasses
we saw through Christ-coloured glasses?
what if we asked not
what would Jesus do
but
What and who would Christ see in ...

How would Christ feel about ...
the city around us?
the people we encounter?
What would that look like?
What would we do differently?
How would our lives and
our neighbourhood
be transformed?
Photo of an etched glass window with an image of Christ on the cross looking through to Mason St in Victoria, BC. There is a yellow tent in visible outside the window.
Photo taken by Karencee of the Christ Crucified window (artist: Lutz Haufschild) in the Walking Together Chapel at the Anglican Church of St. John the Divine, Victoria, BC.

What if …

What if...

I gave myself permission ...
  to truly rest
  to stop striving
  to accept I am enough?

The world wouldn't end
  Life would continue
    I would still be loved

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to sit in silence
  to be still
  to breathe?

The world wouldn't cease turning
  Sounds would continue
    I would still be enough

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to savour each moment
  to revel in the joy
  to embrace the sorrow?

The world would continue on
  Life would still happen
    I would be able to sit with those things

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to fully be who I am created to be
  to embrace my idiosyncracies
  to express the depth of my queerness?

The world would still have space for me
  Life would be richer
    I would continue to find those who see me

With thanks to Alejandro, TJ, Sarah and Josh for creating and facilitating the beautiful online contemplative spirituality retreat – Sacred Rest: An Invitation to Sabbath and Renewal – where I had space to ask these questions.

Thanks as well to Joanna for ensuring the tech ran smoothly and didn’t become a distraction.

Thank you as well to the other participants. I don’t know whether any of you are likely to see this, but I’m glad all of us had this opportunity to rest together.

A little time

Give me a little time ...
  we didn't get here
  suddenly
  we won't find the path forward
  immediately

Give yourself a little time ...
  you burnt out
  you exhausted your reserves
  you won't be magically fixed
  without time to rest

Give us a little time ...
  to explore again
  who you are
  to grow into
  who you long to be

Inspired by the reading of Mary Oliver’s poem “Blue Iris” during tonight’s Lectio Divina practice.

Photo of purple irises in front of a stone wall
Photo: Karencee – Purple Irises (Somewhere I must have a photo of blue irises, but it’s hiding so purple will have to do)

As I have never been before

I am here
as I have never been
before

I've been on this path before
in this very spot before
so many times before
over countless years before

and yet ...

it is not the same
as it was before

I am not the same
as I was before

it does not have to be
as it was before

same path
same spot
new choices

I am here
as I have never been
before

With thanks to a couple lines from Wendell Berry’s poem “Rembember that it happened once” for inspiration found during our Lectio Divina practice a few weeks back.

The words I cannot unhear

The voice I heard inside my head
I'm not enough
I won't be good enough
no matter how hard I try
that voice was my father's

But I've learned that voice
does not speak truth
it speaks from his own childhood
I know that family story
I understand the source
I know it does not reflect who I am ...
... at least most days I do

The voice I hear inside my head
You're too fat
You're lazy
You just need to try harder
You could lose the weight
if only you tried
You'd be so much better then
that voice ...

it is my mother's

The one who was also
the voice of love
the safe place
the one who understood me
the one who was my rock
it is more complicated than I've admitted
to anyone ...
... including myself

My father's voice is silent
he can speak no more
I learned to stop listening to his hurt
before the end I knew he loved me
the best he knew how
and he was proud
of who I had become

My mother's voice???
her words was stolen years ago
by the disease that stole what made her
my rock, my safe place
my mom

But hers is the voice that still rings loudly
not the voice of her love
not the voice of her understanding
the voice unacknowledged for its complexity
for the hurt that it has caused
and still causes as I write these lines

those are the words I cannot unhear
those are the words I wish I could forget
those are words that feel like they were said yesterday
even though she hasn't spoken a comprehensible word in years
those are the words I must learn how to silence

Choosing Gratitude

unexpected
a name from the past
appears on my screen
my world tilts on its axis
forgetting for a moment
I am not the same

how easy to slip
back into old habits
back into anger
back to proecting myself
at all costs
seeking desperately to belong

suddenly
I'm the scared almost ten year old
still looking 
for a place to belong
at twenty
and even thirty years old

but I'm not
I have grown
I own my story

I understand now
what he meant in my life
why he had such power to hurt
what he taught me
and I can look back in gratitude
almost

gratitude
for believing in me
loving me
not trying to change me
accepting me
unconditionally
seeing worth and value
and beauty in me

gratitude
almost, but not quite
claiming my vulnerable story is new
old habits of fear
dig sharp claws deep

then I lived unknowing
unthinking
giving away my power
stuck in fear and shame

now I live 
understanding
able to choose
acceptance
forgiveness
gratitude

Written April 11, 2012 and originally published on my old blog.

Apparently I’ve forgotten things I knew then and also there were things then I hadn’t even begun to figure out. The story of that friendship makes much more sense now on this side of the closet door.

Also looking back … it never really was about unconditional love and acceptance, but that was how I experienced it at the time and how I remembered it when I wrote this. This side of the closet door and this far in the journey out of the toxic theology of evangelical Christianity, I have a different understanding of what those things mean.

What are we shouting?

We claim we are 
a church for all people
in the heart of Victoria
We seek to be inclusive
making a safe space for 2SLGBTQIA+ people
We work for justice
striving to make the world a better place
We prioritize reconciliation and healed relationships
with the Indigenous peoples of these lands
We commit to safeguard 
the integrity of God’s creation

But what does that mean 
if our inclusion ignores intersectionality
when our actions push aside
those already on the margins
so they are farther out and less valued
than they were before
because they lack the things
society requires for them 
to be seen as worthwhile
when we fear those who live outside our walls
when we say land belongs to us and
no one is welcome but those we allow inside

what are we shouting at 
our unhoused and Indigenous neighbours
who have stewarded these lands since
time immemorial
whose lands we've taken for our own purpose
and now said they are unwelcome 
without our permission

what are we shouting at
our unhoused and 2SLGBTQIA+ neighbours
who became unwelcome in their homes
because of lies and toxic theology 
taught in the name of the God we claim

what are we shouting at
our unhoused and disabled neighbours
when we have allowed governments
to strip away supports and funding
and dignity that has left them without

what are we shouting at
our unhoused and addicted neighbours
who have found the only solace they can 
in self-medication
because there were few other choices available
and we have criminalized their method of survival

what are we shouting at
our neighbours both unhoused and housed
when we are willing to decimate 
a green space of refuge 
in the heart of the city where few are found

and for what are we shouting?
a fence will not stop noise
a fence will not stop our unhoused neighbours
existing on our doorstep
a fence will not add safety
because a fence will not keep out fear
only love will do that

Tomorrow after church there will be a meeting to decided whether we will approve putting a fence down the middle of the green space between the church and the geared-to-income seniors housing building as part of fencing in the senior’s housing building as part of improving safety of the residents. We are, and have been for decades, a block from the majority of services for the unhoused community in our city.

I have strong feelings about what that decision will say to our community.

For context, I write this as a white, cisgender, able-bodied, queer, fat woman who is employeed full-time and struggles with depression and anxiety. I seek to understand the privilege I carry, and I know there is no true inclusion or progress if we are not all included.

I have sought to describe our unhoused neighbours with compassion and to the best of my ability and understanding, but if I have mispoken or misrepresented, please do not hesitate to let me know so that I can continue to learn and do better.

Goodbye GLBG (Good Little Baptist Girl)

once upon a time I knew
Child of God
Created in His image
Christian
Believer

or at least
I acted like I knew

I did believe
I wanted to believe
I was scared if I didn’t believe

The GLBG
“Good Little Baptist Girl”
was what I knew

all I knew how to be
all I thought
I should be

but The GLBG
was always afraid
what if someone finds out?

what if someone realizes
The GLBG doesn’t
read her Bible
or pray
everyday
or even
every week

what if someone discovers
The GLBG would rather do
anything other than
pray out loud
in a group

what if someone discerns
The GLBG doesn’t believe quite
as hard as they do
or that the GLBG can’t
just take it on faith
because the bible
or the church
or the pastor
says it is so

The GLBG always knew
if she were known
she would be cast out
adrift
cut off
unwanted
unloved
because she was never
enough

Not good enough
Not spiritual enough
Not … something she didn’t even have words for …
enough

The GLBG knew if anyone
God included
looked deep enough
she would be found out

The GLBG hung on to faith
for as long as she could
she hid her GLBG heritage
and tried to live into
the faith she claimed
with freedom
and compassion
and grace

but eventually
she failed

even freedom
compassion
and grace are not enough
when you don’t actually believe
they could ever apply
to you
 
so I left
I wandered
I explored
I listened

eventually
I found words
for what was deep inside

I cried
I raged
I hated
I loved
I listened some more

The GLBG
slipped away
I learned
not to be afraid
not to hide

Goodbye GLBG
I don’t need you anymore
I am enough

unexpectedly
my path wandered back
I didn’t plan it
I tried to avoid it
but I found myself
at home in a church
where I am not afraid
where I hear words from the pulpit
that assure me of
unconditional love
grace
acceptance
as I am

a queer person
of faith
who doesn’t really know
what she believes
but does know
that if god
by whatever name you call
is to be found
they

(singular or plural
you choose
but definitely
non-gender specific)

they will be found
in the depths
in the darkness
in the margins
in the hopeless
in the lost
in the wanderers

Originally published on my old blog in January 2017 as my entry in that year’s Queer Theology Synchroblog on the theme of “Identity”

For a friend and sibling, whose name I do not know

for the one whose name I do not know
whose story I do not know 
except for a few tiny and life-changing details

you recently told your family
that you wanted them to use 
new pronouns for you
I do not know why you chose the ones you did 
but I know you chose they/them

the only other thing I know
one of your family members
asked online friends, followers and strangers
to pray for you

I hope you didn't see what he asked
you deserve better and more from those
called family

I wish I could say he asked for comfort
for you on this journey to living out 
who you truly are
who you were created to be
but he didn't
and my heart broke for you

I did say I'd pray 
though not for what he asked
because coming out is a precious journey
and you, like every trans or queer person, 
deserve to know that you are loved
and accepted
and valued
and supported
whatever label you claim in our rainbow family

so I prayed for you
to know peace and love from those most dear to you
to feel confidence as you take this step

and I prayed for your family
for changed hearts 
for willingness to set aside theology held tightly 
beliefs that would lead them to think
you are somehow less than 
perfectly
 loved and created by God 
exactly as you are
as queerly as you are
as whatever gender you know yourself to be

but in case their hearts cannot see you
in case they cling to to tightly 
to what was never true
I prayed for courage to walk the path you need
to honour who you are
and for comfort if you must grieve their loss
so you can move confidently forward
and bravery that you already have 
to find companions for the road ahead 
chosen family who know and love you

I don’t know the specific person I was praying for yesterday, but I encountered their brother on Twitter (nope, I’m not calling it any other name).

I wish … I wish so many things, but mainly I wish for a world where every 2SLGBTQIA+ person didn’t have to wonder if the people who are supposed to love them unconditionally would really be able to do that. I particulary wish that for those who have grown up in the church.

I am ever so grateful that by the time I finally figured out I was queer, my family had already made it to affirming (at least mainly), but I also know that version of the story is far too rare. So, really, this prayer is for far more than just one person whose name I don’t know but whose pronouns I do, it is for all of my rainbow siblings, in or out of the closet, whatever label, whatever gender identity or sexuality you know to be yours, whose families haven’t yet been able to see you for who you are. Some day may they change and until then, may you know that your rainbow family loves you and sees you.

You are queer enough and you are loved.

What do I mean …

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
It means that in my heart, and maybe physically,
I've lit a candle and quietly spoken your name
in the presence of the divine, whatever that might mean to you or me

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
Not what I meant when faith was certain
when I was sure I knew God's heart
or at least wanted you to believe I did

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
It means I am seeking light for you
that when it is dark there will be a glimmer
the tiniest spark to lead you on your path

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
Not what I meant when prayer was used as a weapon
to judge and shame and convict without compassion
when prayer was a way to sanctify gossip

What do I meant when I say I'm praying for you?
It means an offer of love and support 
as unconditional as I know how to give
so we both know we are not alone on the journey

I’ve been thinking a lot about what prayer means to me now that faith is both less certain and yet deeper and richer. Similarly, prayer is now both more and less than it once was.