between cars

As I prepare to leave New York City for Nashville, Tennessee, I am finding myself snapping photos with my iPhone in order to capture memories of the good, bad, and the ugly. Ironically, it happens to be at a time when contests abound for discovering the best mobile photos. I like to think of it as doing a lot with very little. Who needs a $700 camera, when you've got a phone in your pocket. ;-)

"between cars" has won 2nd place of the week in the iPhone art photography contest. Oddly enough, it's not one of my own favorites, but I'm pleased it is inspired. =)

http://designyoutrust.com/2010/04/23/best-of-the-week-iphone-art-photography-open-contest-by-llot/

The Language of God

Over the past several weeks, I have been hearing about this new ad to come out from the United Church of Christ, and the internet has been a buzz in anticipation of its release. While it is a great ad, I'm afraid I don't think it really lives up to the hype. I guess I was expecting something a little more provocative and profound. What do you think?

The Language of God from United Church of Christ on Vimeo.

The Ministerial Challenge of Spiritual Abuse

Full of regret, my father tells a story of spanking me so hard one Sunday morning for giggling and talking during worship that dark bruises were left on my four-year-old body. Although I don’t remember this happening, I do have some vague, childhood memories of his pulling me up from the pew and taking me out the back of the chapel to be scolded for being irreverent during service. Usually under the guise of my being “silly” or “dramatic”, I was often punished for being a sissy, my effeminate behaviors and mannerisms not at all normal for a country boy in rural Arkansas. Reprimanded frequently, I was made aware that these seeming instinctual traits were wrong, and I grew to believe that not only was there something defective about me but also that I was innately bad. While I know that my parents were doing the best they knew how and that much of their discipline came from a place of love and not just a desire for my conformity, their actions hurt me deeply and caused me to believe their love was conditional. For most of my youth, I attempted to please them and achieve goodness in their eyes. Now, at thirty-six years old, I like to believe that I have worked through these issues and put them behind me. Occasionally, though, when I visit my hometown in Arkansas and am riding down Main Street with my father, he will say something to me, convey a tone in his voice, or just look at me in a certain way, and in an instant, I find myself feeling like a very bad, limp-wristed four-year-old acting silly, and I find it very difficult intercept the automatic, habitual self-loathing of my past.

For some of us, our religious guardians may have used religion to change or control our spiritual lives or scare us into submission, perhaps even with good intentions. Spiritual abuse occurs in many forms, primarily when religious leaders use the name of God to manipulate, shame, damn, punish, persecute or terrorize others. Unfortunately, Christianity has been fraught with abusive uses of power, and a great many of us walk away from our early religious encounters with lasting injuries of hurt, anger, fear, betrayal, resentment, and mistrust. If and when we return to church, those of us who have been spiritually abused come hesitantly with bruises and scars, and confronting familiar dogma or practicing discarded rituals can reopen old wounds and send us back into a painful, damaged state. Merely hearing words echoed from the time of the abuse, like “abomination” or “damnation”, can hinder or halt our openness to new religious experiences. The challenge for ministry today is in how to provide a hospital of faith and hope to heal those of us who have been victims while being sensitive to the abuse that we have endured. Ministry must also find a way to reclaim the words and beliefs used as whips in our past and transform them into healing balm for our present.

During a meeting of Lay Leaders at The Riverside Church, I stated that I considered myself to be a “progressive evangelical” to which I received frowns of disapproval. It was merely the word, “evangelical” in our Progressive Christian church home and its assumed meaning with respect to the political religious right that garnered such negative responses and closed the door for continued dialogue. From diverse backgrounds and traditions, many of the liberal intellectuals in the meeting reacted to “evangelical” emotionally due to their passionate stances against the political oppression of conservative Evangelical Christians and not because of evangelical’s actual meaning. Similarly, countless gays and lesbians with whom I am acquainted have reacted so adversely to their being alienated by their religious communities and persecuted in the name of God that they have discarded their faith and spirituality altogether and refuse to join even the most welcoming and affirming congregations. During Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) civil rights debates, when I assert a gay Christian perspective I believe helps our cause, I find that I am often challenged by my own Queer community to keep my religion out of their politics. With empathy, I understand that the root of this anger is a profound hurt which must be attended gingerly and with much respect and understanding. In the Riverside LGBT ministry, Maranatha, we make a very concerted, careful attempt to draw ostracized people back into our inclusive Christian family; however, no matter how precisely and sensitively we make our appeals, it seems guaranteed that at least one person’s memories of spiritual abuse will be triggered. So how is the challenge met?

Presently, The Riverside Church is experiencing a time of conflict, transition and confusion regarding our identity partly due to congregants emotionally reacting to personal spiritual abuse. As a means of healing, we have employed the Alban Institute, a conflict resolution institute for congregations, to help us examine our issues and fragmentation and to repair our broken relationships. At a meeting of the Church Council and Commissions, Alban’s representative offered Margaret Wheatley’s quote which says that it is not our differences that divide us but our judgments and assumptions that do. In my opinion, meeting the aforementioned challenge of ministering to those who have been spiritually abused lies in congregational education so as to alleviate these misunderstandings which lead to destructive judgments. So many within our churches are thirsting for knowledge and understanding, willing to do the work involved to heal old hurts. An education that allows for conversations about our pasts while clarifying what is meant by some of the things to which we react emotionally might be good therapy for all of our souls. Today, many are interested in being a part of a dialogue about their beliefs and having some ownership of their faith. Through this ownership and more in-depth understanding, spiritually abused people can begin the first step of acknowledging their pain and what caused it. Then through the church’s loving community and God’s guidance and presence, we all can begin healing together. Riverside is beginning such education and conversations, and I am praying for success.

I never stopped loving my parents. Though I cannot forget the pain of my childhood, through time, conversations, personal work and soul-searching, I have been able to understand better the place from which my parents acted when I was a child and have forgiven them. This has rewarded me with a deeper, more loving relationship with which I would not be blessed if I simply ran away, refused to confront my feelings or ignored them. Through the loving, protective guidance of our churches, if those of us who are spiritually abused invest in the same time, conversations, personal work and soul-searching in regards to our religion, we will also reap many rewards in a new religious beginning and deeper, spiritual connection with our God.

~ Excerpt, Divinity School Application, 2010

The Dilemma of the Inclusive Christian Identity

When asked what I love most about living in New York City, my first response is always its diversity. And while New York is diverse in many ways, racially, economically, culturally, just to name a few, the most inspiring to me is the religious diversity found in this city. The very fact that I can pass a Buddhist center offering free yoga sessions, greet a Muslim woman smiling with her eyes, and watch a Hindu boy pull at his mother’s sari, all on my way to work, fills me with a great sense of harmony and well being. During the winter holiday season near Columbia University where Harlem and the Upper West Side meet, as I walk under trees leafed in tiny, white lights, I might find a street vendor selling a wooden kinara of Kwanza candles next to an electric Hanukkah menorah with frosted blue blubs while smelling fresh Christmas evergreens for sale just steps away. I will receive invitations to both a Winter Solstice party from Radical Faeire friends and a simple holiday meal with friends who are agnostic and atheist. While I am confidently, unapologetically Christian, my city and personal life abounds with strangers, friends and acquaintances from a potpourri of beliefs, religions, faiths, and spiritualities.

Like the city itself, my church home, The Riverside Church, is also quite diverse, which is one of the main reasons I became a member in 2002. Its mission states, “The Church commits itself to welcoming all persons, celebrating the diversity found in a Congregation broadly inclusive of persons from different backgrounds of characteristics, including race, economic class, religion, culture, ethnicity, gender, age, sexual orientation, family status and physical and mental abilities.” Riverside proclaims that we are three “I”s – International, Interracial, and Interdenominational. This was especially important to me after September 11, 2001 when fear evoked the vast prejudices in our country and further segregated groups of people. Hearing Rev. Dr. James A. Forbes, Jr. preach about the heavenly banquet where ALL are loved and blessed spoke directly to my heart and profoundly moved my spirit. Interestingly though, because Riverside professes such inclusivity, it seems some congregants have added the “I” of interfaith, which makes for a great challenge and theological dilemma for a Christian congregation. How does a Progressive Christian church maintain its Christian identity while also being broadly inclusive of persons from other religions?

Progressive Christianity, thought generally to be the living of the principles of Jesus Christ through social justice action and the questioning of fundamentalist absolutes, seemed forced to become more liberal during the presidency of George W. Bush and the rise of religious conservatism in power. Doors were opened wide for any and all to come in and worship during a time of growing intolerance and religious prejudice. However, it seems that in the process, by being “inclusive” of all faiths, some Riverside members began to lean closely to a kind of Unitarian Universalist religion and away from traditional Christian faith. Truly, to become a member of Riverside one must profess publically that “Jesus is Lord.” When I made this public proclamation of faith, I meant that I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the embodiment of God’s unconditional love for humanity which redeems me. Once I became a member, however, I discovered that among the members there are variances on what “Jesus is Lord” actually means to each. As this is something not clarified in membership classes and perhaps only discussed in elective educational courses offered, the differences among members intensifies confusion as to our collective identity, breeds misunderstanding, and ultimately leads to conflict.

While there are many reasons it was made virtually impossible for our sixth senior minister, Rev. Dr. Brad Braxton, to continue his tenure at Riverside, including racial disharmony, compensation concerns, and stylistic differences, to me this conflict over Riverside’s Christian and fully inclusive identity seemed to be at the root. Following a rather conservative, “old-time religion” sermon preached by a visiting minister a short time after Dr. Braxton was installed, Riverside tensions exploded. The sermon, given with the best and most caring intentions, flavored with a literalist translation of Biblical texts, reopened old wounds of spiritual abuse, and the Riverside congregation erupted with varying emotions, myself included. However, the ultimate catalyst for the polarization of the church was the visiting minister’s assertion that Jesus Christ was the only way to God. Some members absolutely affirmed this position, fully vested in their salvation solely through Christ, while others thought it to be too narrow and totalitarian, especially for Progressive Christian theology. Beliefs and opinions therein were every shade of gray. Suddenly, with everyone expecting personal confirmation of their own, Dr. Braxton was placed in a very precarious position. How was he to affirm that we, as a Christian church, do believe that for us Jesus Christ is our way to God while also being inclusive of those to whom Jesus Christ is not their way to God in our “broadly inclusive” church? At the time, I wrestled with the issue myself and attempted to find my own solution. The verse in which Christ says that we should not be ashamed of Him (Mark 8:38 & Luke 9:26) kept resurfacing in my mind while my belief that because God so loves the whole world, no one can be rejected by God’s love did also. In a church as progressive and liberal as Riverside, it was a great challenge and an almost impossible tight rope on which to balance. Dr. Braxton answered from his heart’s conviction. He disapproved of the manner in which the visiting minister relayed his message; however, he unabashedly proclaimed Riverside’s Christian identity as a church of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Unfortunately, to Riverside, a congregation of deep-seeded conflicts and lingering scuffles, no solution would satisfy, and Riverside was thereby forced into some real soul-searching about our religious identity. Prayerfully, through open discussions and private conversations, we at Riverside are working through some healthy but very uncomfortable growing pains, learning what it means to be a unified and diverse community while God determines our future.

The dilemma of identity is not one solely of The Riverside Church in New York City. All across America religious or spiritual identities of persons are becoming vague and greatly individualized. In a recent report from the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, today Americans are mixing and matching their religions like never before. During a forum on “The Varieties of Nonbelief” at the Graduate Center of City University of New York, one of the panelists, Susan Jacoby, noted that the largest growth in such surveys is in the category of “Unaffiliated” where moderate and progressive Christians seem to be identifying themselves. It seems that Americans, like Riversiders, are affirming their religious differences AND are looking for a place where they can maintain these differences within a unified community. As I prepare for Christian ministry and begin my theological education, this movement fills me with so many questions for which I am hopeful I will find answers and solutions. Do there exist Christian “non-negotiables” in order to be a member of the Christian community, and if so, what are these? In what ways does the Christian community include all religions according to the inclusive love of God through Jesus Christ? How do we as Christians validate every faith journey? And if Jesus Christ’s love is not the central message of our Christian faith, then what is?

For me, personally, my spiritual voyage is a Christian one with Jesus Christ at the helm of my ark. I understand and experience God’s unconditional love and saving Grace through Him, and when I help or offer hope to someone through ministry, it comes from my Christian foundation. Nevertheless, I have found wisdom and guidance through other faith traditions which have enhanced my Christian faith and caused bountiful spiritual growth. Therefore, I do not sit in judgment of voyages different from mine or the ways in which God leads others Home. I do fully accept and affirm that there are other seas and currents by which to travel. I hope that theological education can help me better translate this. In the meantime, I can only suggest that perhaps the answer to the inclusive Christian identity dilemma lies in a very subtle difference between being inclusive and being non-exclusive: Anyone and everyone is welcome to board my ark and join me on my voyage Home to God; however, the only nourishment I can offer is what I have aboard my ark, and that is Christ. Something other might also be nourishing, but in order to receive it, you will have to travel a few oceans over.

~ Excerpt, Divinity School Application Statement, 2010

Next Chapter: New Beginning

Happy Spring! I am hopeful that yours is off to a splendid start full of new beginnings.

I am writing to provide you all with an update on what is going on with me. Many of you have been aware of my passion for and interest in theology and ministry, and some of you have also known that I have been planning to attend seminary/divinity school for some time now.

Well, after applying to and being accepted by some very good seminaries and divinity schools, I have decided to attend Vanderbilt Divinity School in Nashville, Tennessee beginning this Fall 2010. I will be working towards a Masters of Divinity degree in hopes of either entering into some type of ministry or non-profit (specifically those that embrace the ostracized and alienated) or continuing on to pursue a doctorate in my personal theological interests. The Masters degree with take three years to complete.

Of course, this is a HUGE life change for me (I have lived in New York since graduating college over 14 years ago), and I'll admit that I am quite nervous; however, I am also extremely excited about this next chapter in my life, a new beginning. God is ever faithful, and I utterly and completely trust God's love and care. Christ has never failed me and has seen me through some violent storms. One huge blessing is that by studying at Vanderbilt in Nashville, I will be much, much closer to Dad and my family, which I believe is heaven-sent in so many ways.

In as far as logistics, I will be moving from NYC to Blytheville, Arkansas at the beginning of July (Tara, my sister, is coming to help me and join me on the road-trip) and will stay with Dad for a few weeks while I try to find an apartment in Nashville. If all goes according to plan, I will move to Nashville at the end of July and begin classes mid-August. I already have an awesome support system in Nashville and the surrounding area, so I am hopeful that the transition will be somewhat painless.

Thank you for your love, support, thoughts and prayers. Please do keep me in your prayers as I embark upon this journey. It's a new dawn and a new day, and I am very hopeful.

Wedding Queer Visions and Same-Sex Marriage

Mistakenly, it might be assumed that the entire Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) community is advocating for same-sex marriage in the United States. Mainstream LGBT advocacy groups like the Human Rights Campaign and the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force have built the illusion of consensus by publicly making this one of the top priorities of their advocacy work and by allocating vast resources to the same-sex marriage movement nationally and in individual states.^1,2,3 Unquestionably, when the federal government provides 1,138 benefits, rights, and protections because of marital status, a status which excludes homosexual couples, there is irrefutable inequality.⁴ Though most queers do agree that this is unjust, there is a contingent refraining from joining the marriage equality effort because of its assimilationist nature and its resemblance to the marginalization of the "other" queers that took place when white, gay men commandeered the Queer movement following the Stonewall Riots.⁵ With conflicts and divisions within the LGBT community itself, the marriage equality debate is more complex than it appears. This is especially challenging for Queer ministers and faith leaders who are asked to support same-sex marriage when believing the spiritual gift the Queer community offers society is in valuing and dignifying those outside heterosexist normality.

Marriage equality literature describes the desire for same-sex marriage by gay and lesbian people as more meaningful than just wanting rights. Although marriage equality advocates stress that they are fighting for the benefits, rights, and protections from which they are excluded, the main reason for wanting marriage derives from a desire for full acceptance into society.⁶ It is only human to want and need belonging, and in our culture, marriage is a rite of passage and a sign of achievement and social inclusion in the larger community.⁷ Same-sex couples want their friends and families to validate their love for one another, witness and affirm their commitment, and honor their family unit. They long for their faith leaders to bless them and deem their relationships worthy. They need respect, dignity, and acknowledgment, which is not unusual for anyone of a marginalized group. However, in a situation of inequality, societal value can be achieved only when granted by those in power, and unfortunately, gay and lesbian marriage advocates have found that the most successful way for this to be accomplished in a heterosexist world is by arguing that they are "normal" or identical to heterosexual couples.⁸ Posters found at marriage equality rallies will tout love is love, family is family, and commitment is commitment – no matter the sexes of the two persons involved.

Contrarily, Queer activists find the marriage equality movement assimilation to the heteronormative culture for the sake of acceptance. This sacrifice is in direct conflict with the very principles on which the Queer movement was founded. "Queer" itself has been reclaimed and defined by queer people to represent those who perceive themselves outside the constraints of prevailing social norms.⁹ The movement was founded on principles calling attention to marriage as idealized "mythology," recognizing the "diversity of sexual and intimate relations," all "worthy of respect and protection."¹⁰ It specifically resisted any attempt to "make the norms of straight culture into the standards by which queer life should be measured."¹¹ Instead of fighting to fit within heterosexist borders, Queer activists challenge LGBT advocacy groups to push the boundaries of acceptance as far as possible by demanding recognition for those in the queer extremities instead of hoping for "trickle-down acceptance"¹² which would be ineffectual.¹³ When thinking of the homeless gay teenager, the gender-confused child, the transsexual prostitute, the single butch lesbian, or the polyamorous bisexual man, this reasoning for their dissent from the marriage equality movement is valid, justified, and necessary.

The two bodies of thought (of same-sex marriage advocates and Queer activists) are certain to leave Queer ministers and faith leaders in precarious positions. Certainly there exists an inequality between committed heterosexual couples who can marry and committed homosexual couples who cannot; however, by advocating normalcy, the marriage equality movement negates the spiritual gift the Queer community offers in valuing and dignifying the excluded. Truly, spiritual leaders are called by God to oppose discrimination, but when gay and lesbian people are granted legal marriage, the very action will marginalize many queers who do not fit into this restrictive dynamic, forcing those queers outside this amended definition of "normal" to lower rungs on the ladder of respectability.¹⁴ Does the Queer minister fight the injustice of instated inequality or advocate for those who would be marginalized? Does a choice have to be made?

One way in which the Queer Christian can analyze the issue is through a lens viewing religious and sociological exclusion. Through reflection on the religious ethics which arise in scripture regarding this, perhaps a resolution can be found. This lens is especially important as exclusion acts throughout the marriage equality debate. Since same-sex marriage advocates want to be included in the institution of marriage, the exclusion operates in their assimilation, while Queer activists, not seeking inclusion through normalcy, fight against the exclusion from society because of being viewed as destructive or disposable, depraved persons.¹⁵

Both Old and New Testament scripture have shown exclusion to be a means of persecuting and oppressing others and define it as an evil way to treat any human being.¹⁶ Jesus Christ scandalously included anyone at His table of fellowship, committed to helping the outcast and the sinner.¹⁷ In an essay in Faith Beyond Resentment, gay theologian, James Alison, studies exclusion in the story of the man born blind whom Jesus heals and the Pharisees debate, found in John 9. To summarize, a man born blind was excluded by society because it was believed that he was made this way because of sin, and association with him would contaminate others' righteousness. When Jesus healed the blind man and he regained his sight, he was brought to the Pharisees who had excluded him who then asked him to agree with them that Jesus was not of God in order to exclude Jesus. Ironically, the formerly blind man would not agree with their condemnation of Jesus and positioned himself equal to and included with the Pharisees in asserting his point of view. Initially, the substance of the story seems to be that Jesus obligated the inclusion of the excluded. This might provide a sense of vindication since all have been excluded in life at one time or another; however, Alison finds there to be a more powerful lesson. He argues that what Jesus ultimately showed is that the real sin was not in the defect causing the blindness which was the reason for exclusion, but rather the sin was in the participation in the mechanism which forced the defected one to be excluded.¹⁸ When "goodness" or "normality" is established and maintained by a unified body at the expense of an "other," the transgression is in the exclusion and reasoning for excluding, which does not recognize God's working in the other. "Sin is resistance, in the name of God, to the creative work of God which seeks to include us all."¹⁹

Therefore, if related to the issue of same-sex marriage and queer marginalization by such, and if accepted as an appropriate comparison, the aforementioned understanding of the sin of exclusion encourages Queer Christian ministers and faith leaders to shift the same-sex marriage conversation entirely. They should not stand for or against marriage equality but instead advocate for change in the antiquated institution of marriage in society, an institution that excludes in which all intentionally or unintentionally participate. Marriage, whether between heterosexual or homosexual couples, benefits certain people over others, institutionalizes inequality, and excludes people psychologically, culturally, and materially. Prophetically, Queer Christian liberators would work to dismantle structures like marriage which create powerlessness thereby giving voice to all people.²⁰ In this way, queers do not advocate just for themselves but for anyone excluded and oppressed by marriage, including singles, divorcees, widows and widowers, and loners of any gender and sexual orientation. All families in whatever form they may take (couples, friendships, shared dwellers) and also those lacking families who might prefer isolation would be valued. For in a world of perfect justice, which is a world of love, all differences are loved and respected in their own appropriate way.²¹

Referencing scripture related to exclusion, Queer Christian faith leaders can speak on behalf of all those marginalized by human systems of favoritism and prejudice. In the marriage equality debate, they can work to revolutionize the institution of inequality rather than bless conformity to a corrupt, antediluvian ideal. This emulates the radical, progressive Christ we revere whose subversive actions made women apostles and gave blind beggars equality, impossibilities in His culture. Conclusively, the Queer community has a uniquely significant opportunity to share its gift of radical inclusiveness when it chooses to value and dignify even the "least of these"²² and accepts God's call to liberate all from systematic oppression.

Notes

1. Human Rights Campaign Issues, "Marriage & Relationship Recognition," Human Rights Campaign, http://www.hrc.org/issues/marriage.asp (accessed November 20, 2009).
2. National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Issues, "Marriage/Partner Recognition," National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, http://www.thetaskforce.org/issues/marriage_and_partnership_recognition (accessed November 20, 2009).
3. Jeremy W. Peters, "New York State Senate Votes Down Gay Marriage Bill," The New York Times, December 3, 2009, A1.
4. Human Rights Campaign Articles, "Overview of Federal Rights and Protections Granted to Married Couples," Human Rights Campaign, http://www.hrc.org/issues/5585.htm (accessed November 20, 2009).
5. Mary Nardini Gang, "Toward the Queerest Insurrection," Zine, http://zinelibrary.info/files/Queerest%20Final_0.pdf (accessed November 20, 2009).
6. Human Rights Campaign Issues, "Questions about Same-Sex Marriage," Human Rights Campaign, http://www.hrc.org/issues/5517.htm (accessed November 20, 2009).
7. Jodi O'Brien, "Seeking Normal? Considering Same Sex Marriage," Center for Writing and the Interdisciplinary Graduate Minor in Literacy and Rhetorical Studies, Speaker Series No. 24, University of Minnesota (2004), reprinted with permission from the Seattle Journal of Social Justice, Spring 2004, pg. 7. http://writing.umn.edu/docs/speakerseries_pub/obrien.pdf
8. O'Brien, "Seeking Normal," pg. 2.
9. Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays Support, "A Definition of Queer," PFLAG, http://community.pflag.org/Page.aspx?pid=952 (accessed November 26, 2009).
10. Michael Warner, The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999), pg. 88-89.
11. Warner, Trouble with Normal, pg. 88.
12. Warner, Trouble with Normal, pg. 66.
13. O'Brien, "Seeking Normal," pg. 3.
14. Warner, Trouble with Normal, pg. 60.
15. Mirosalv Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), pg. 67.
16. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, pg. 68.
17. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, pg. 72.
18. James Alison, "The Man Blind from Birth and the Creator's Subversion of Sin," Faith Beyond Resentment: Fragments Catholic and Gay (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd Ltd., 2001), pg. 15-20.
19. Alison, Faith Beyond Resentment, pg. 17.
20. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, pg. 82.
21. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, pg. 223.
22. Matthew 25.40 (New Revised Standard Version).

Bibliography

Alison, James. Faith Beyond Resentment: Fragments Catholic and Gay. London: Darton, Longman, and Todd Ltd., 2001.

Human Rights Campaign, Articles. "Overview of Federal Rights and Protections Granted to Married Couples." Human Rights Campaign. http://www.hrc.org/issues/5585. Accessed November 20, 2009.

Human Rights Campaign, Issues. "Marriage & Relationship Recognition." Human Rights Campaign. http://www.hrc.org/issues/marriage.asp. Accessed November 20, 2009.

Human Rights Campaign, Issues. "Questions about Same-Sex Marriage." Human Rights Campaign. http://www.hrc.org/issues/5517. Accessed November 20, 2009.

Mary Nardini Gang. "Toward the Queerest Insurrection." Zine. http://zinelibrary.info/files/Queerest%20Final_0.pdf. Accessed November 20, 2009.

National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, Issues. "Marriage/Partner Recognition." National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. http://www.thetaskforce.org/issues/marriage_and_partnership_recognition. Accessed November 20, 2009.

O'Brien, Jodi. "Seeking Normal? Considering Same Sex Marriage." Center for Writing and the Interdisciplinary Graduate Minor in Literacy and Rhetorical Studies, Speakers Series No. 24. University of Minnesota, 2004. Reprinted with permission from the Seattle Journal of Social Justice, Spring 2004. http://writing.umn.edu/docs/speakerseries_pubs/obrien.pdf.

Peters, Jeremy W. "New York State Senate Votes Down Gay Marriage Bill." The New York Times, December 3, 2009, A1.

Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, Support. "A Definition of Queer." PFLAG. http://community.pflag.org/Page.aspx?pid=952. Accessed November 26, 2009.

Volf, Mirosalv. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996.

Warner, Michael. The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999.

The Promise of Hope

From under the veil of shadows, I stepped into a moon-white spotlight shining onto the stage as piano keys began to drop notes lightly like little splashes against the make-shift Noah’s Ark. At only five years old, looking out towards that sea of faces assembled in the dimly lit chapel of the rural Clearlake Baptist Church during our children’s musical seemed like gazing out at the vast, dark ocean itself, and nervously I began sweating through my turban, a towel Mom had lovingly tied around my head. At this point in the program, songs had already been sung about building the ark, animals climbing inside two by two, the pouring rain and the rising flood. Noah, who was probably thirteen, had even sung a prayer. Yet after many songs and “one hundred and fifty days,” we were still aboard this ark lost atop infinitely stretching water. Tired, the children were beginning to fidget while the restless audience began to whisper and cough. What was needed now on this long voyage was a song of hope, and I had been chosen to sing it. I began my solo meekly, the microphone carrying my little voice out and up towards the rafters: “We’re floating beneath the stars, not knowing where we are, but this one thing we know, the Lord will lead us home.” What captivates me about this memory is that I truly believed the words of hope I was singing, and they became the foundation of my faith. On this voyage of life, I have experienced calm, peacefully still waters and harsh, angrily crashing waves, giggling ripples and despairing tempests. I have been lost in torrential rain, seduced by beautiful sirens, and guided by heavenly stars. But no matter where the tides pull and push me, my faith that God is bringing me home again is my most luminous pearl of hope. It is of this hope I must sing aloud again. This is my calling and mission, the genesis of my vocation, the motive for furthering my education, and the purpose and promise of my talents and abilities.

The underlying current of my life has always been pulling me towards ministry and theological study. Born in Memphis on the banks of the great Mississippi and raised in the small, Arkansan farming community of Promised Land by very devout Southern Baptist parents, I was inundated with religious imagery from the beginning, which probably explains why I played “church” instead of t-ball and trained like a warrior for “Bible Drills.” Even my sixth grade teacher believed I would someday become a preacher. However, any inclination I had for such pursuits dissolved during my undergraduate studies at the ultra-conservative Church of Christ College, Harding University, where even my narrow-minded, Southern Baptist sensibilities were shocked. Debates with Bible professors over the necessity of baptism for salvation, the inferiority of women in church, the exclusiveness of the body of Christ, and other literalist beliefs liberated me from fundamentalist teachings and my Southern Baptist anchor. I decided then that I would take my God and go rogue, so I left the South for New York City determined to rebel, explore, find myself, be experiential, express my repressed homosexuality, and row as far away from organized religion as I could.

The ebb and flow of God in my life never diminished, however, so when I witnessed smoke billow and sensed spirits take flight on September 11, 2001, I was reignited by the promise God has for my life in ministry. In stark contrast to my vengeful, American nation, my heart burst into flames of unconditional love for all humanity, and impassioned to emulate Jesus Christ’s compassion and empathy, I launched myself into gay and lesbian Christian groups, peace activism, political letter writing, and the arts. Knowing I longed for church community but remained fearful of organized religion especially as an out gay man, God ironically led me to The Riverside Church by my homophobic parents who, visiting just after 9/11, insisted that we attend service at “the famous church Rockefeller built.” Emotional, holding one another’s hands, we had no idea that during that very service, Rev. Dr. James A. Forbes, Jr. would condemn homophobia, extend Christ’s unconditional love, and open Riverside’s arms to me, their gay son. A few months later, I became a member of Riverside where I learned to love myself and reconcile my sexuality and Christian faith, and I dove head first into the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) ministry of Maranatha, where I learned, matured, and eventually led, becoming the Convener of the ministry. Impressed by my passion and talents, the Riverside congregation elected me to serve as a Lay Leader in the Mission and Social Justice Commission, and I was appointed to Riverside’s Communication Committee.

Suddenly, from a few isolated thunderstorms, a devastating hurricane hit my life and completely stopped my world. Two days after Mother’s Day, my mother committed suicide. Just ten months prior to this, my best friend, Leonardo, had taken his own life. Both ravaged by deep depressions and irrational fears, the two people for whom I cared most left life and left me. My heart broke. Withdrawing from life, I wept, mourned, and for some time remained unmoved in a slack tide. A year or so later, when I was still sinking into sorrow and grief, drowning now in my own dark depression, and only able to hope for hope, God faithfully, intimately drew me close, wiped my tears, embraced my utter brokenness, and tenderly, sweetly said, “Chad, if you want, you may choose to die. Or, you may choose to live. Just remember, I long for you to live.” With the love, care and support of my church, family and friends, hope took root and flourished. Finally light broke through my heavy curtains, and I rejoined the living.

A few years later, a moment of clarity regarding my future arose as I sat in worship service at Riverside listening to a visiting preacher deliver a message. Within the progressive Christian cathedral, I was outraged to hear a sermon “from God” laced with fear and judgment, singed with the fires of hell, and empty of mercy and grace. As my mother and Leonardo are never far from my thoughts, I imagined them sitting beside me in the pew. Mom lived sixty years in constant fear of not meeting God’s expectations, while Leonardo, although agonistic but spiritual, was terribly afraid of not being good enough, and it was Mom’s fundamentalist convictions and Leonardo’s Catholic upbringing that had helped perpetuate their mania. Remembering the spiritual abuse I, myself, suffered at the mouths of ordained fear-mongers, I knew that if Mom and Leonardo were living, their hearing this fear-based theology of “tough love” would not only offer them no comfort or healing but would intensify their anxieties leading to deeper depressions. At that moment, I declared that if fear still has such a prominent voice in religion, then I must raise my voice of God’s love and hope, and I must give this mission my entire life.

While I will never have the answers to dispel all fears, nor am I personally able to save anyone as I have learned and experienced, I do believe that through Christ I can effect beneficial change in lives spiritually. For this reason, I feel called to the vocation of being a knowledgeable advocate of God’s love, sharing hope through my talents, skills, and abilities of oratory, written, and new media communication, especially with seniors and LGBT/gender variant youth. Unfortunately, in a world continuing its fascination with youthfulness, my mother is now a statistic in the growing number of late-life fatalities due to the plague of depression and fear. Struggling to keep hope, my father will soon turn sixty-seven and confides in me that like many seniors he is afraid to retire because he isn’t sure what he will do or if he will have the funds to afford it. Meanwhile, LGBT/gender variant youth are more likely to attempt or seriously consider suicide than heterosexual teens, for while society might seem more tolerant or accepting, these youth still live in fear of not being supported by their families or communities and of violence against them because of their identity. One young person I know was brutally beaten because of his sexuality, while countless other attacks are reported throughout the U.S. Furthermore, with the marriage equality movement making the claim that the LGBT community is “normal” instead of celebrating our differences, some members of my Queer community now live in fear of being marginalized by their very own. Vocationally, I must share with both seniors and the Queer community God’s hope to push through the fears I have witnessed suffocate life and shoot down even the glimpse of new dawns on an invisible horizon.

Boldly, my childhood solo continued, “At last we see trees of green, and the mountaintop can be seen. A little dove tells us of land by placing an olive leaf in my hand.” As the children joined me on stage, we looked off into the distance pointing with excitement and expectancy. Our hope was realized; God had brought us home again. Then God sent a huge promise in a brightly colored, cardboard rainbow that ascended into the air as bright lights rose. The audience broke into ovations for the gleefully proud children, and my mom and dad grabbed me up in secure hugs. The imagery of the Noah’s Ark story resonates throughout my spiritual voyage. The dove represents the ever-present Holy Spirit and the peace God has given me about the deaths of my mom and Leonardo. God’s promise of life in the rainbow now symbolizes the gift of unity in diversity that the LGBT community offers humanity. For me, the story of Noah’s Ark means something even more significant: No matter what waters our arks travel on this voyage of life, God always has hope for us, desires for us to live, and promises to see us Home. This hope is faith just too meaningful not to share. 

Beautiful Easter Saturday

It's very hard to believe that I only have three more months in New York City before I move to Nashville for divinity school. I keep looking around thinking that this is the last Spring I'll spend here (unless I find myself returning, of course). Oddly enough, after 14 years here, I quite honestly okay with that, even though there's a hint of melancholy.


-- Post From My iPhone