Month: November 2016

Giving Thanks on a Melancholy Morning

Posted in Grief, Native Peoples, ThanksgivingLeave a comment

I sit here on Thanksgiving morning with the blinds up looking out on this dreary Thursday morning. I’m sure the sun is shining in other parts of the country, but here in southern Illinois, the clouds reign queen for the moment. It’s as if the heavens are setting the stage for my mood today, giving me the perfect combination of cool and cloudy, maybe with a little bit of rain. I love days like this. There’s something about the melancholy that arrives within me that I embrace, allowing me to see the beauty of the grass that’s still a deep rich green, only enhanced by the contrast of gray skies. The deep burgundy of leaves desperately clinging to trees matched with the leaves that have already let go, admitted their time has come to an end and fallen to the ground. There’s a poetry that floats through the air, filling up my lungs and making me tear up from the beauty of life, of the way things die and come back to life every single year. It’s a profound truth that too often escapes me: that death usually begets life.

How fitting that the day we’re supposed to remember as a day of thankfulness for the somewhat mythical story about the Pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a pleasant meal together is a day that is dripping with melancholy. This dreariness reminds us that the myths we have built our nation upon have incurred great sadness and incredible loss to Native peoples. Today I feel what I can of the weight of Native American peoples, especially The Standing Rock tribe in the Dakotas who are protesting the Dakota Access Pipeline, also known as DAPL, because it is digging up and bulldozing its way through sacred sites of the tribe in the name of American enterprise and independence from East Asian oil. This is not a new thing, the oppression of Native American people, the bulldozing of their lands for the exploitation of the earth and its resources. We in the U.S., along with our President-elect, have a long history of treating the earth like we treat our women, with disrespect and degradation, taking what we want without permission and blaming it when it doesn’t behave accordingly.

Native peoples constantly remind us that the earth is not ours to take, not ours to pillage and exploit. The earth is our mother, our gift, our guidance; She is the one who will show us the way when we cannot find our way anymore. So, I’m taking this Thanksgiving morning to remember the sorrow, to sit for a while in the deep sadness we white folks have been a part of creating for quite some time now and to repent. As the clouds keep in the sky today, so too may I keep Native peoples and the earth in my sight as I sit around the table eating food from the earth and enjoying good company. May I not lose site of the grief we have caused in pursuit of a comfortable life and may I be changed by that grief, called into action. I pray that we as a nation can learn how to embrace the very people we stole life from in this land. Native Americans usually don’t say they own the land, but they do say that it is sacred and holy. And we are destroying the land like we’ve destroyed Native Americans through centuries.

As I give thanks today, I also beg God’s mercy on us, on our country that continues to take what isn’t ours to take, screaming at the world we’re doing it for Democracy, for the greater good, for Christianity, for God. I beg God’s grace and pardon upon us white folk as we learn to navigate our privilege, as we unlearn the myths we’ve so desperately built our history upon. I beg God’s deep and abiding love to heal the wounds we have caused, that we can learn to rectify our wrongs, and that we can learn from history so that we don’t repeat our mistakes. I pray that we can learn how to live in peace, lifting one another up, celebrating our differences. May we learn that being ‘colorblind’ is simply perpetuating racism and the oppression of people who are not white. May we learn to see our differences and celebrate them, not sweep them under the rug. I pray for the people of our nation to learn that greatness is not about taking what we want without permission, but that greatness is built upon kindness, gentleness, empathy, humility, and most of all, love. May we learn that love is the best kind of greatness we can be, that love is always the best answer, the right answer, the best virtue we can aspire to be as a nation. Today I will give thanks for love, for a Love that wins, that perseveres, that lasts through water cannons and tear gas and rubber bullets. I will give thanks for a Love so fierce for this earth and its inhabitants that it will put its own life at risk to stand up to an empire that only cares about exploitation for the sake of wealth and power.

Gay and Christian [Let Us Make America Great]

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I’ve been struggling the past week and a half with how to respond to the news of the election. I’m disheartened to say the least, appalled and outraged to say the most. I’ve been struggling with the words to express my disappointment in fellow Christians who voted for Donald Trump. I’ve been struggling to express the sheer lack of moral judgment that our new President-elect has shown, and how a group of people so damn set on morality could throw it out the door because ‘he might get the economy on track again’ or some other lame excuse for allowing xenophobic, homophobic, sexist, and racist comments to win this election and be our representative to the world. I’ve been struggling with how to cry out, “How have we come to this, the United States of America?!” Donald Trump wants to ‘Make America Great Again.’ When was it great? When it was enslaving African Americans for economic gain and killing Native Americans by the thousands as they marched across their own lands to be confined and designated an artifact of the new burgeoning empire? When was it great? When it was ignoring the Aids epidemic of the 80s and thousands of LGBTQ people were dying around this country? When was it great? When it was supporting tyrannical governments around the world since the early 1900s?

I must disagree with you, Mr. President-Elect. Our country is on its way to greatness the more it listens to and benefits all of the people who live here. I believe in the diversity of this country. I believe that our greatest strength is the many voices that are to be heard, listened to with charity and empathy, to be taken seriously for the betterment of our nation.  I believe that our country is coming the closest it ever has to greatness because it is finally hearing the voices of trans people, that their voices are being lifted up, even when so many are still trying to cast them down. It is coming the closest to greatness it ever has because our nasty rape culture is coming to light and so many people are intent upon changing this. It is coming the closest to greatness it ever has because black and brown bodies are standing up and saying, “Enough is enough. We will not tolerate the killing of our children anymore. We will not tolerate the unease of mind we have when going out in public for fear of racist remarks, actions, subtleties, or even incarceration for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And some of us are listening. Some of us are working to change ourselves and the system. Our country is on its way to greatness because I have married the man I love and we can show the world that love does indeed win, Mr. Trump. So, if I don’t have a whole post to write about the disastrous nature of your election, please forgive me because I have too much loving to do since you’ve given license to far too many radical supporters of yours to speak and act with hate that is, frankly, unAmerican.

So, in the midst of our mourning and our shock and our fighting back against hate, I’ll give you the end to my gay and Christian series, a little hope to make your day brighter. The ending of this series isn’t really an ending at all because Reed and I are just beginning this beautiful journey called marriage. While there were some people who didn’t respond kindly to our wedding invitations, we for the most part had a pleasant, usually down-right excited, response from people. Our wedding day was filled with people we love dearly, good food, excellent wine, and donuts. Always and forever donuts. I had a family friend tell me later that it was one of the best weddings he’d been to because we had beer and donuts. I couldn’t agree more! We had friends and family surround us as we made our vows, as we were pronounced Mr. and Mr. Burge-Lape, and as Reed leapt towards me and gave me a big, passionate kiss. We sang hymns, served communion (because what sort of seminary student would I be if we didn’t take communion at our wedding?!), and heard an excellent homily by our dear friend Amelia that I still remember today.

We picked the Colossians text on clothing yourselves with kindness, gentleness, patience, etc., and Amelia reminded us to always remember to put on our clothes of kindness in the morning, our clothes of patience, even when we didn’t want to. It’s an excellent reminder for me when I feel irritable, when I feel like lashing out because I’m tired or frustrated or hurt to put on my clothes of kindness and compassion and humility. All of these things are greatly needed in doing life with another human full-time. It’s hard enough to be a decent human when you’re going about your day and others are rude or mean, but then to come home and share a space with someone else (whom you love more than anyone else) can sometimes be challenging and difficult. But, I am ever reminded about clothing myself, especially with kindness and humility. I think those are the clothes I attempt to put on the most frequently.

A lot of life was pointing me in this direction. I believe that God was readying me for marriage to a man, that God was pushing, shaping, prodding me in the direction of loving myself in a way that allowed me to be an out and proud gay man of faith. While my sexuality and my faith are rarely the first things I tell people, I do take pride in saying, ‘husband.’ I cherish the sound on my lips, that so many saints have gone before me, fighting for my ability to use that word. I am forever grateful to the queer people before me who have fought and died for my freedom as a gay man. And I also love, just a little bit, the confusion that comes over people when I tell them I have my Masters of Divinity (partly because half the population has no idea what that degree is) and that I might want to work in a church some day.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by people at work, who take it in stride that I’m married to a man. I have had a middle-aged woman say, “Did you say you have a husband? I’ve never met a man who had a husband. That’s so cool!” And people ask about my husband, what he does, how long we’ve been together, etc. But, I’ve also had a woman ask what my wife’s name was and I told her I was married to a man and his name was Reed. She then said, in what I think was an attempt to sound like she was okay with my sexuality, “Well, that’s still like your wife.” I just smiled and kind of nodded, thinking to myself, “It’s actually not. He’s a man and thousands before me have fought for me to be able to say husband.”

All in all, coming out gets easier and easier. The longer Reed and I are married, the more authority I feel to be open, to be myself, to hold hands in public or display our affection (to an appropriate amount) in public. It’s still hard when we’re around family we know aren’t supportive to be as affectionate, to put a hand on each other’s back or call each other ‘babe.’ Sometimes it’s subtle and sometimes we don’t fully notice when we’re changing our behavior to make others more comfortable with our presence, but we’re slowly trying to change that. We’re slowly trying to ease/urge people into being okay with us, our shared life, the love that grows between us steadily each day. It’s a long process, to overcome twenty years of self-denial and at times, self-hate, but if we choose to let Love win in both big and small things, to let Love win in ourselves and for ourselves, we cannot help but let Love win for others.

If you’re someone who has been reading most or all of my blog posts, especially on this topic, I thank you. If you’re someone who’s just stumbled upon this, I thank you too. I encourage you to keep reading things by LGBTQ people. I’ve compiled a list below, separated into things I have read and things I haven’t, of books and essays I think would be helpful in learning more about LGBTQ people. We must keep learning and we must keep educating ourselves if we want a better world for ourselves and the generations to come after us. It is imperative and we keep learning how to better love one another because while sometimes love is deeply innate, it is oftentimes a learned skill. So, let us love each other more fully.

Books I’ve read that have had a profound effect on me:

Homosexuality and Christian Faith edited by Walter Wink – The first book I read that allowed me to think about same-sex marriage and Christianity not being conflictual. A book filled with small essays covering numerous topics.

Struggling with Scripture by Blount, Brueggemann, and Placher – A small book by Presbyterian leaders speaking to their denomination on same-sex marriage. Excellent read and quick.

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell – The first book I ever read with two of the main characters being gay. It’s young adult fiction, but it’s forever engrained upon my heart.

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan – A young adult fiction that made me think more about all the queer people who have come before me and fought for my ability to be married to the man I love.

The God Box by Alex Sanchez – A young adult fiction work that intimately captures the struggle of a young evangelical boy struggling with his faith and sexuality.

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeannette Winterson – A book about a woman in England raised by a strict evangelical mother who comes to realize that men aren’t for her.

Beyond Magenta by Susan Kuklin – This is about transgender teens sharing their stories. It’s spectacular.

How to Gender by Colleen Toole – http://bit.ly/1ZoOfjN – A helpful guide to inclusion of queer people in the church, written by a friend from Seminary. They’re brilliant and this guide is essential for people working in the church or people just wanted to learn how to be sensitive and inclusive.

Reimagining God by Johanna W.H. van Wijk-Bos – An excellent book on the way Scripture conceives of God as feminine.

Books I haven’t read, but I believe to be helpful:

A Time to Embrace by William Stacy Johnson – For more mainline Protestants who want to read about LGBTQ people in the church.

Love is an Orientation by Andrew Marin – My mom read this and loved it. It’s for people who don’t agree with same-sex marriage or aren’t sure where they stand, but believe God calls us to love and to have empathy for others.

God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines – A definite read for any evangelical who is looking for a Scriptural account of sexuality.

Torn by Justin Lee – An evangelical read for those looking to bridge the gap between people who are on different sides of this issue.

There’s a lot here. But also do your own research. Look up authors who think differently than you, read them, and give them consideration. Look up authors who are different from you; trans authors, black authors, women authors, Muslim authors. Read and listen. Read and listen. You will be amazed at how listening to another human’s story will transform you.

Gay and Christian [Falling in Love]

Posted in Faith, Love, SexualityLeave a comment

When I fell in love, it didn’t happen in one fell swoop. It took three years of a deepening friendship and numerous people asking if we were interested in each other for the eyes of my heart to open. And when they did, it was a floodgate that opened. I fell hard, and it took me at least two months before I could admit to myself what was happening. At first, I would berate myself for thinking of my best friend in that way, but eventually I learned to accept it, to embrace it, no matter how weird it seemed. Then at some point senior year of college I was able to admit it to myself, to say, “I like him. And it hurts so bad that no one knows.” So, I told one of my best friends at the time, and she could hardly handle her excitement and not freak out at the same time. I cautiously began opening myself up to a few other trusted friends during that time and told them that I liked my best friend and not soon enough, I told him on a chilly February night on our way back from our regular shopping trip/doing homework at Starbucks routine that we had come to love that year. (Basically, we were going on dates before we were going on dates.)

At that time, he told me that he didn’t like me, but that nothing would change about our friendship. And it didn’t. It was wonderful, and it led him down the path of questioning whether or not he liked me, which he found that he did and that he couldn’t imagine his life without me. We started dating the summer after college, right before I went to seminary in New Jersey. He spent the summer in Colorado and then Bolivia. We saw each other only a few times after we started dating before I moved to NJ.  We delved right into a long distance relationship. I don’t think we could have managed it if we hadn’t had four years of friendship under our belts.

That first year of our relationship, though, was magical. He’d come visit me in Princeton, or I’d visit him in Illinois, and we’d get to hang out, play games, talk about life and bask in being in each other’s presence. Oh, and we’d make out like crazy.  Our mental/emotional relationship was growing steadily over phone conversations, texting, and skyping, but our physical relationship had to grow in spurts when we saw each other, attempting to catch up for the all the time our hearts and minds were growing closer to one another, but our bodies weren’t. It was a dizzying time, falling in love and learning about another person’s body.

Beginning my seminary journey in the midst of my first relationship changed the way I viewed life, theology, God, the Church, the way we’re supposed to be as Christians. Looking back, I can see a continuation from college concerning my theological education. I continued to take an interest in the Old Testament, wrapping myself up in the rich stories like a blanket on a bonfire night in late October. I wanted to learn the stories, learn the meaning of the stories, and figure out how they are stories that transcend time (usually, but not always). In falling in love with the Old Testament and falling in love with another man, I found the two to make sense together. The Old Testament is a lot about body, a lot about feeling our bodies and viscerally responding to God and to our situations through bodily actions. The Old Testament contains less piety than the New Testament; the people in the OT often only deny themselves, their bodies, of sustenance and nourishment when there is a point to be made. They rip their clothes and cry out when richer, bigger nations are marching on their borders. They are full of life, of party, of vitality that I find lacking in the NT (besides Jesus’ parties, of course.)

In falling in love with the OT and my future husband, I found myself using the name ‘God’ more than the name ‘Jesus’ while praying. I found myself speaking less about a personal relationship with Jesus and more about loving God and loving others (and this eventually came to mean other humans and animals and the earth). I found my evangelical tendencies slipping, becoming less pronounced. There used to be a time in high school and a part of college when I had come back to faith where I’d talk about Jesus almost as a lover, “lover of my soul,” etc. Now I look back on it and realize that through my faith and my friendships with girls, I had been looking for a significant other. I had been yearning for someone to share my whole self with; body, mind, and heart. I deeply needed to be known and to know, and in part, I sought this through my faith. I sought this through believing that Jesus lived in my heart and that He knew me unlike anyone else.

Granted, I still believe God knows me in a way that I cannot even know myself (I think? Maybe not.) And my theology has been shaped by a knowledge that God enters into friendship with us, that Jesus chose to be friends with humans, as well as the animals and the earth. So, a part of me experiences friendship with God, but more of me experiences awe, incomprehensibility, and wholly otherness when I think about God. I cannot fathom the Creator of all that is. I cannot understand the righteousness, the pure love God has for all  of us when I so easily dislike people and am disgusted with the way humans often behave (including myself at times). I cannot understand the benevolence of an Artist that paints such stunning sunsets and sunrises for those able to appreciate them. I cannot understand the sheer love of an Entity that would allow freedom of choice when it far too often results in pain for someone or something else. I cannot understand a God who would love me just as much as Donald Trump (because clearly I believe I’m a saint in comparison). God is more unfathomable than the darkest depths of the sea and the greatest galaxies of the universe.

And now that I’m in an intimate relationship with another human, my faith has shifted to fit my understanding of life. It doesn’t mean God is any different, but the ways in which I need God are different, the ways in which I experience God are different. Because of the love that I feel for my husband and the love that we grew over four years of friendship and four years of dating before marriage I can understand better the ways in which God might love that which God has created. The love between two people is complex, filled with easy love and difficult love. It is filled with love that bubbles to the surface when looking into one another’s eyes and it is filled with love that is chosen when there is frustration, annoyance, and hurt. Being in love with and choosing to love another person has so shaped my relationship to God that I cannot help but be both in awe and grateful for the love that God has and the love that God chooses for the whole of creation.