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.

Pieces

selling my soul
piece by tiny piece
all in the effort
to be what someone else
wants me to be

I've stayed here
longer than I planned
commitment made
commitment must be kept
even if I didn't know the cost

piece by tiny piece
heart hardened to avoid pain
emotions shut off to avoid anger
joy lost in the midst of frustration

the end is almost here
commitement soon fulfilled
piece by tiny piece
sold not to disappoint
the ones who matter

no one see the cost
piece by tiny piece
hard won contentment chipped away
long searched for faith stretched to breaking
soon release will come
will the pieces be found again

Written May 24, 2009 during a sermon I clearly wasn’t paying attention to at the church I was attending back then, but not for much longer. I guess you could say this was the start of what would become my deconstruction story.

Finding light in the darkness

it looks different now
in part because I know its name
which makes it both harder and easier
in a way I don't know how to navigate
but I've found my way out of darkness before

the darkness of the closet
the darkness of shame
the darkness of grief
the darkness of depression

I've found the window of light
the one I worked so hard to recognize before
it's still there, I've just lost track of it
the darkness didn't extinguish it then
the darkness hasn't consumed it now

the hard-earned light of past travail
sometimes that's the window of light to surprise you
sometimes that's a crack "that's how the light gets in"
sometimes that's what motivates you 
"to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight"
sometimes that's what reminds you the pain now won't be for 
evermore

It’s Monday night … tonight’s context for this writing during our Lectio Divina practice was Taylor Swift’s song Evermore and John O’Donohue’s blessing “For Suffering” and also the discussion that happened as we shared what we had heard in our listening that drew connections deeper and richer than I had heard on my own. I am so grateful for this community.

And yes, I’m also grateful for Canadian poet-songwriters Leonard Cohen and Bruce Cockburn.

Image of a sunset at the horizon, with white text superimposed.
Text:
For Suffering by John O'Donohue
May you be blessed in the holy names of those
Who, without you knowing it,
Help to carry and lighten your pain.
May you know serenity
When you are called
To enter the house of suffering.
May a window of light always surprise you.
May you be granted the wisdom
To avoid false resistance;
When suffering knocks on the door of your life,
May you glimpse its eventual gifts.
May you be able to receive the fruits of suffering.
May memory bless and protect you
With the hard-earned light of past travail;
To remind you that you have survived before
And though the darkness now is deep,
You will soon see the approaching light.
May the grace of time heal your wounds.
May you know that though the storm might rage,
Not a hair of your head will be harmed.
Image created by Matt Nightingale

Faith without doubt … isn’t faith

I remember when I wanted proof
Proof that God exists
Proof that the flood happened
Proof that Jericho's walls fell
Proof that Jesus was crucified
Proof that Jesus rose from the dead
Proof that the Jesus in scripture was historically accurate
     (I literally wrote a paper on that once upon a time)
Proof that I had been saved
Proof that I would not be damned to hell
Proof that God had called me to ministry
Proof that what I believed in faith
Was truth beyond a reasonable doubt

Until I didn't want it anymore
Until I had to let it go because I couldn't stay
Until I knew I would lose the very thing
I was holding so tightly in my clenched fists
Until I had to leave

So I threw it away
Walked deliberately far from everything 
The community where I knew how to seem like I belonged
What answers to give to show my faith
What beliefs had shaped my thinking
What boundaries had formed my world
Gone tossed aside

And chose to recreate my world
One story at a time
One belief at a time
One relationship at a time

Nowadays they call it deconstructing
I suppose that works
Except it looked more like a bulldozer
Until it didn't
Until suddenly I found myself drawn in

Drawn in to a faith which required 
No contortions of mind to create certainty
No proof just relationship
Just acceptance of being beloved
No right answers just questions
Just exploring what love looks like lived out

My fists ... unclenched
My heart ... open to learn
My beliefs ... held lightly
Because it's not about proof
It was never meant to be
It was always about faith

And faith cannot exist 
without the option for doubt

A thread from the Rev. Daniel Brereton got me thinking about how I used to want proof for what I believed. Screenshots below of that thread and his original tweet that led to the thread.

Oh, there’s also a link to the old blog that I kept during that time when I had thrown things away. I’m not really sure what to do with that space any more, but it’s still there and maybe those stories are still helpful to someone else, if you want to browse around.

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.

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.