"Father, forgive them … for they know not what they do." - Luke 23:34
Could Jesus say the same to us today? Do we understand what we have done by letting the faith we claim be co-opted by empire? by letting the loudest voices speak hate in God's name? I'm glad I no longer believe we must earn forgiveness else all might truly be lost.
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" - Matthew 27:46
I remember being told "If God seems far away, guess who moved?" It wasn't Jesus who moved he followed the path laid out for him by the same God who now felt unreachable Maybe it wasn't me who moved either when darkness felt overwhelming and faith impossible Maybe sometimes it's just hard and that's okay too.
"He said to his mother, 'Woman, behold your son!'' Then he said to the disciple, 'Behold your mother'" - John 19:26-27
Not a biological family but a chosen family a found family a family birthed out of pain A family created nonetheless so no one is left on their own That sounds pretty queer to me
"I thirst" - John 19:28
Hydration, a basic human need we cannot live without and yet, by our actions we take it for granted assume there will always be water to slake our thirst Unless you belong to one of the 38 First Nations in Canada who still have long term drinking water advisories in 2026 or you live in Gaza, or Iran, or the Sudan or … I don't have to wonder what Jesus would think "I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. … Whatever you did not do for the least of these …"
"Today you will be with me in Paradise" - Luke 23:43
I stopped believing in a literal Hell a long time ago But I no longer know what I believe about "Paradise" Might it still exist? Sure, maybe, but also maybe not And I'm okay with that Jesus isn't my "get out of jail free" card or my fast pass to heaven any more I'd rather spend my time working to see the kingdom of heaven here on earth where all find wholeness and liberation What happens after I die doesn't scare me any more
"It is finished." - John 19:30
But is it? An ending of one thing is often the beginning of a new thing A single human life finished but the task remains both complete and yet ever continuing between the dreaming and the coming true The kingdom of heaven is here and the kingdom of heaven is still to come Or as Fannie Harmer said "Nobody's free until everybody's free." So the work isn't finished yet
"Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." - Luke 23:46
So much trust. Am I capable of that kind of faith anymore? I once aspired to that Felt like it depended on me doing it right believing the correct things But if faith in Christ is also the faith of Christ Then it's not about my faith and trust it's about God's faithfulness and care for us And that sounds more like Divine Love than what I used to believe
What if we stopped holding so tightly to all that has come before?
What if we made space for the divine to dwell with us within us around us beside us underneath us over us?
What if we let ourselves be made new?
Can we even imagine that might be possible?
Because what if it is?
Decided to go back and take a look at things I’ve written during the contemplative spirituality group I’m part of on Monday nights and see what might be ready to find its way out of my notebook. This one was started during Lectio Divina using Revelation 21:1-6 back in July 2023.
With many thanks to Derek Webb. Music has always been part of how I make sense of my world and my faith. As much as I hoped that wasn’t lost forever, it seemed likely that it was until I discovered your music. Thank you for being a complicated person and giving voice to the complexity of life and faith.
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 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.
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.
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”
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.
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.
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.
Poeming Out 