You know as surely as do I that….

• Today someone is just coming to the self-awareness that the life they’re living isn’t the life that’s true for them.
• Today someone has experienced rejection, condemnation, and shame that was never meant for them due to the words and actions of their pastor, their parent, or their life-long friend.
• Today a queer youth raised by conservative Christian parents has been told to leave the only home they’ve ever known until they “come to their senses and change their ways.”
• Today a pastor tearfully preached his last sermon to the congregation he’s faithfully served because a vibrant ministry has been judged meaningless by a denominational policy that values a single sexual orientation over a heart that’s responded to God’s call.
• Today a lesbian or gay couple have been reminded with a glance at the morning paper that there continue to be people in this world bound and determined to keep their children from ever knowing what it is to be regarded as a “real family.”
• Today someone was savagely beaten for wearing clothing that reflected their true gender identity.
• Today someone is reeling from another assault on their heart and spirit and questioning if it will ever change, doubting that it ever will, and wondering what the point is in going on.

These are the someones I can’t forget even in the comfort and ease of a life lived with a beautiful wife, an affirming congregation, a supportive community, and a family that continues to love me and stay connected despite any differences that exist between us.

As GLBTQ people we have no shortage of causes and all of them are important but additionally as GLBTQ Christians there’s another aim we seek along with marriage equality, equal rights, the reversal of DADT, and the passage of ENDA. It is that every gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered man, woman, and young person would come to an understanding that God loves them fully, unconditionally, and with no small print attached.

The way we do this is simple even when it’s not easy.

We make ourselves as visible in the world as our own life situation allows us to be. We come out where we can, living as openly as we can, whether it’s in the public square or in the intimate confines of a small circle of friends. We become as visible as we possibly can so those who remain hidden might see they are not alone and so that queer youth can be assured that there are people, both gay and gay-affirming who will understand them and not abandon them when so many others in their life they trusted have closed the door.

We tell our stories of being Christians who are GLBTQ or as straight Christians who are affirming of the lives of GLBTQ people. We tell how it was like to come out and of the freedom we came to know even when we were met with rejection. We tell of those places of light in the church and in the world to bring balance to the darkness that has proceeded from the church and been lived out in the world in all too apparent and painful ways. We tell of our lives and our love for God. And if we must remain hidden we can create a blog where we tell our stories knowing that the narrative of our lives can speak hope and healing even when we can’t speak our name. ([un]Closeted Pastor, formerly known as Closeted Pastor stands as just one example).

We confront in truth and in love the misrepresentation of queer people by the church and the misinformation and stereotyping that comprises the bulk of their stance against homosexuality. While we hope that truth-telling will in time change the hearts of the church and society, for the immediate moment we tell our truth so that those who continue to struggle will understand that there’s more than one interpretation of Scripture and more than one view of homosexuality within Christianity.

We make ourselves visible, we tell our stories, we speak truth where there are lies and confront stereotypes with the diversity of our lives, and finally, we allow the witness of our lives to bring positive change into the world, the church, and into the hearts of those most in need of seeing the freedom and joy that awaits beyond the storm. We refuse to be the tormented homosexuals the church requires of us but instead we walk with confident assurance in who we are, making no apology for our lives, our relationships, or our place in the church. We proclaim without reservation our love for God and God’s love for us and we seek every day to live lives grounded in the love of God and reflective of the Spirit of Christ so that others would know claiming their sexual orientation need never come at the price of forsaking their faith and relationship with God.

This is my diabolical gay agenda and if this is what the church fears then be afraid. Be very afraid.

And then I moved to another town and to another church where instead of preparing a lesson for 60 preschoolers I was huddled on the floor within a tiny circle of 6 four and five year olds. On Sunday morning there was always room in the pews for another busload or two of people with wide backsides, and I went from panicking with worry that there wouldn’t be enough supplies and refreshments for all those who showed up at events to keeping a stock of ziploc bags at the ready so I could send the left-overs home with the few folks who showed up. After leaving my former mega-church and entering into the world of Sunday School teacher shortages, small class rooms, half-empty sanctuaries and conflicting, competing family schedules, I started to think we were doing something wrong. Why weren’t people showing up? I wondered what we were doing wrong that they weren’t showing up and when I wasn’t wondering that I was wondering what was wrong with them that they weren’t showing up?!

Numbers use to matter. Big numbers were success. Small numbers were failure. But that was before I came to realize the worth of the individual and that if one single life is touched, healed, helped or encouraged, something immeasurable and of eternal value has taken place.

Several months ago I began coordinating a faith event to be held at our church following the California Supreme Court’s decision on Prop 8. Whatever the outcome, we wanted to create a time and space for people in the community to gather together to attend to their spiritual health; to voice their anger and grief, to share their pain, and to begin to find healing and renewed hope through ritual and prayer. We wanted to create an opportunity in the assault of societal rejection to allow individuals the chance to experience the affirming embrace of God’s love and the human dignity to which all God’s creation are entitled to enjoy. Over the past few weeks we did everything we knew to get the word out to the community. I contacted PFLAG and the local GLBTQ Community Centers. We contacted the local paper. The flier for the event was sent out to over several other affirming congregations in the local area and added to the events listed on the Day of Decision website. I facebooked and twittered til my finger tips were blue.

Last week when I went to the bakery to order the cake for the reception to follow the service, I was asked by the person taking my order how many people the cake was to serve. I hesitated for a minute and considering how many I hoped would come and how many I suspected would come I answered, “We need a cake that will feed between 5 and 200 people.” She laughed and filled out an order for a 3/4 sheet cake.

Last Friday night after weeks of preparation, 22 people showed up. More than 5. Less than 200. Among that small circle of people that included myself, D and three other clergy from our church were an older married couple from PFLAG, a gay clergy member from an Episocopal Church, a gay pastor and his spouse from a United Methodist Church, a queer youth, a questioning youth, three straight men from our church; two of which brought their children with them, and a few others. As Pastor Steve began the evening, people were invited to share where they have experienced or seen pain. Young and old, gay and straight, began to share from their hearts without hesitation. We prayed together. We sat in silence together. And as each of us named a source of hope for us (a person, an event, a dream) we came forward and lighting a candle we stood under the covering of the table. Marriages, both straight and gay were affirmed. The sacredness and worth of every human being was lifted up. We then carried our candles outside where we walked the labyrinth accompanied by the soft sound of live flute music and finally we came together in the center of the labyrinth and exhaled with deep sighs of “ahhhhhh” that none of us had to walk alone in the journey to equality. The evening concluded by meeting one another over a cake that in purple lettering read “Equality for all…with hope and determination” and despite cutting enormous pieces for everyone we were barely able to dent.

Do I wish more people had been there? Sure. I wish a thousand people could have experienced what we did; the gentleness of the Spirit, the s trength and vulnerability of gathering with good-hearted people, and the healing comfort of the prayers and ritual that held us. But at the same time, I’m thrilled that there were 22 people there and that 22 people felt cared for and loved; that 22 people were heard and held, and that 22 people left a little different for the better than when they arrived.

I feel the same way about this blog. It’s not that I don’t notice the stats. I do. I watch the number of visitors climb one day and the number fall the next. I’ll admit that on occasion I even succumb to reading posts by the experts that promise to increase my readership if I just follow their little tricks and tips. In the end though, I don’t care if a thousand people read my blog. I only care that you do, if you are someone who today needs a word of encouragement or hope or grace. If you need to hear today that God thinks you’re something special, that God’s day is better because you’re in it, that God’s love reaches all the way to right where you are, and that nothing will ever, no never, not ever separate you from God’s love then consider this your very own personal blog dedicated to you. You’re worth it because you, my friend, are the beloved of God and so even if you’re the only one who shows up to eat the cake, then there are no regrets in having bought the cake.

That’s all I’m saying.

Every love story is unique and special.  They each have their own special magic and chemistry.  This love story, although it didn’t travel an easy road, is very special to me.  It is my love story.

Living in a small southern town during your high school years can be wonderful.  It can also be the hardest thing a person will ever do.  Small town life is great and I still long to raise my children in a small town, but I want them to know that not everything that happens there is a reflection of the bigger world around us.

When I was 15 years old, I was pretty much like every other girl around me.  I went to school Monday through Friday. I participated in band and school clubs. I was in church every time the doors were opened – Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night.  I had been raised in church and believed that Jesus died just for me – to forgive my sins and save me from paying for them with my life. I had only dated two boys seriously up until this point, both of whom were decent guys from Christian homes.  Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.  I met Ann.  We were introduced through mutual friends and our friendship just clicked.  We had lots of things in common and always had fun when we were together. We were two typical 15 year old girls.  There was a lot of giggling, late nights, inside jokes and fun. She grew to become my best friend.  Someone I could tell anything to and I knew she’d understand.  She could tell me things and talk freely to me about difficult things from her past.  She touched my heart in a way no one else ever had.  I wanted to always have her in my life.

One night after having stayed up all night talking at a sleepover, something I never saw coming happened – we kissed. Tentatively at first but then when our feelings for each other overwhelmed us we kissed with more passion. Passion I didn’t know was possible; passion I didn’t know I had. We were a bit shocked with what happened, but not scared. It just felt right. It was as if she was the missing half of my heart; the one person who truly understood who I was – and loved me anyway.

Let me remind you one more time that we were still living in a very small southern town in the 90’s. Our feelings for each other and our relationship was completely unacceptable.  It would never be something we could share with anyone.  We’d be practically run out of town if anyone found out.  So we kept it to ourselves.  I was in love with a girl and a girl was in love with me.  It wasn’t something I had ever thought about but it was something I never wanted to let go of.  Unfortunately, as our road would have it, we hit a very rocky stretch.  My parents found some letters Ann had written to me and that I had written to her.  They saw the feelings expressed there and it scared them to death.  They had raised a “perfect” daughter, one who never broke or challenged the rules.  This was not something that they could tolerate or understand.  They removed my phone line from my room and would not allow me to talk to Ann at all.  My father went to the principal of our school and pressured him to keep us apart at all costs.  The school was, in turn, very harsh on Ann and made the remainder of her high school career difficult.  They did everything they could do to keep us apart.  It worked.  We were only 15 and didn’t have the freedom or the resources to challenge their rules.  They pulled us apart and broke our hearts.  I had nowhere to turn and no-one with whom I could be honest and talk about my feelings.  I shut down emotionally.  Ann and I were ripped apart and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

I continued on the path my parents laid out for me.  I graduated high school and attended college on a full academic scholarship.  I started dating a local boy and found myself engaged and married simply because it was what I was supposed to do.  I got pregnant and gave birth to my daughter two months before my 21st birthday.  There was never a day I didn’t think of Ann and wonder if she was thinking about me.  I found myself in a terrible marriage, full of abuse and deceit.  I eventually found the strength to leave him and began my journey as a single mom.  My daughter helped me come through a lot of hard times and I am grateful to God for giving me the privilege of being her mother.  I decided to leave the small town and give my daughter a chance to grow up somewhere the community wouldn’t judge her for her choices.

My life as a single parent was a good one, although lonely at times, without that partner, soul-mate or spouse to share life with. I rarely dated and spent my time focusing on work and my daughter, but I have to admit that late at night, my mind would wander back to Ann, my first true love, and I would wonder where she was and how her life was now.  One day as I was updating my page on a social networking site, I decided to search her name.  I honestly thought I was crazy for even looking but I couldn’t help myself.  I clicked on a link and found myself face to face with her picture.  I knew it was her.  My heart started racing and I froze. I had found her.  Now what?  I didn’t know what to do, so I signed off.  It was several weeks before I found the courage to click on her page again.  This time I sent a message.  I paced through the evening and wondered if I would hear back from her.  I questioned my sanity.  What was I doing?  It had been nearly 17 years since we had spoken. Could she possibly still have feelings for me?  Could I be honest with my family and my daughter and tell them that I was in love with another woman?  When I checked my e-mail the next morning, all of my doubts and uncertainty flew out the window.  She had written back!!  My heart was elated. We began e-mailing several times a day.  It turns out that she had come out to her family and friends some time ago and was finally comfortable living in her own skin, as God had created her to be, a lesbian.  At that point even the word lesbian scared me. I knew to me it meant the loss of family and friends who wouldn’t accept me.  I didn’t know what to do but I knew that God had brought Ann back into my life and I wasn’t going to let her go this time.  We had both been through bad relationships and it seemed had just been looking for the right person. We met in person two months later and it was actually as if time had stood still.  I loved her just as much now as I did when I was 15 years old and I was just as scared.

At first I told no one about our relationship but I was so happy I wanted to share that happiness.  Slowly, I told my first friend. He is a young man who actually came out himself in high school. I knew he would accept me and our relationship but that he would just be shocked I was telling him now.  I told one friend at a time and never got the bad response that I expected. Everyone was accepting and told me time and again that they just wanted me to be happy.  I still had one major person to tell.  One whose life this would impact greatly – my daughter.  I told her on a Saturday morning when she had crawled into bed with me just like she did when she was small.  When I first told her, she cried.  Her tears, I believe, had to do with the death of a dream she had to have a “father.” She met Ann in person about a week later and they hit it off.  They are like two peas in a pod.  My daughter calls Ann “Maddie” because she is not the mom, and not quite the daddy!  If I didn’t know better, I would swear that my daughter genetically belongs to Ann, they are so much alike.  However, as I stand back and look at my life now, I know that God created my daughter’s personality to compliment that of my soul mate’s, knowing that His ultimate plan was for us to be a family.

As fate would have it we are back living in another small southern town.  However this time we have the support of family and friends.  We have found a church body who accepts us as we are.  On Christmas day of last year, Ann asked me to spend the rest of my life with her and we are planning our wedding for this coming December, 2009. I never thought when I fell in love for the first time when I was 15 years old, all of the ups and downs that my life would take, but God did.  He has had this path laid out for us from the beginning of time. We only have to trust Him, step out in faith, being who we are, and accept all the good things He has for us.  Last month, during a routine doctor’s visit, a mass was discovered on Ann’s ovary and we are currently facing an appointment with an oncologist and major surgery.  This is just one more hurdle to overcome in our love story, one I know that we will do with God’s help.  He has given our love a second chance and I’m not letting go!

When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. Matthew 14: 15-20

As a child, one of the television shows I enjoyed the most was “Sesame Street.” I liked the creatures and I liked to mimic the characters. That, of course, was part of the intended learning from the show. I also used to enjoy how shows on this PBS program were brought to you by a number and a letter in the alphabet. I would then spend the next half-hour noting how much “product placement” they’d do, again, as part of the intended education.

And sometimes, I think as I listen to Scripture being read aloud that I’m having a “Sesame Street Moment.” Such was the case one Sunday when the extraordinary Love of God was brought to you by the word: “All.”

“All” could be found everywhere! It was in the Isaiah 55 passage with the invite to “everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” In other words, all thirsty people, come drink this living water. The assigned Psalm 145: “The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.” And then the real kick in the pants: “And all ate and were filled.” Not a few. Not just the disciples. All. Everyone. And it numbered five thousand (plus the women and children who…oddly enough in the NRSV of the Bible seem to get tacked on in the translation). Stopping, listening, paying attention to what God seems to be saying in today’s episode of My Big Fat Love:

“Everybody’s going to be fed.”

There are no exceptions. No hidden clauses. No denials to a spot at the table. Anyone with thirst, anyone with hunger will get fed. The pantry is open to all.

I find it strange then to think how many people don’t seem to tune into the same “message channel” that I’m getting in Scripture. In my lifetime I have encountered ‘christians’ standing on street corners during gay pride events, denouncing me, damning me, and screaming, literally screaming, the same old tired seven passages taken out of context from God’s amazing love story and used to place a stumbling block between me and my Creator. And it saddens me to think how many years I allowed their shrill voices to overpower the call of God to bring my good self back to the table so I could be fed. In the same way that God feeds the shrill-voiced screamers, too. O, ye of little faith: don’t you think there’s enough for all of us?

As a teen-ager, I struggled mightily with the fear that I might be gay. All the other girls were getting turned on by boys or male TV and movie stars, and I kept dreaming of dancing with Liesl in the gazebo singing “I am seventeen going on eighteen…I’ll take care of you!” Everywhere I looked, church, school, family, therapist, I saw nothing and experienced nothing that would validate that being a lesbian was okay. Instead I endured comments about “Why don’t you put on a dress and make-up, so the boys won’t feel neutered around you!” or my coach trying to get us inspired to run faster and play harder by telling us that the other team thought we were “a bunch of faggots!” It took moving away and being in a place where nobody knew me that I could finally start making the steps toward self-acceptance. And—wow—the day I walked into the ballroom at Stephens College and saw a room full of women, many of them lesbians, I thought I heard a choir singing “Hallelujah!”

But even when I came out to myself, I discovered another closet door, one that came with stained glass windows. Random conversations with fellow parishioners revealed the homophobia still present in the church. One Sunday I listened to a lawyer who was proud to be representing a neighborhood association fighting against the location of a Hospice House for AIDS patients. I was stunned and sickened and afraid. How could someone pledge to “respect the dignity of every human being” and be proud of such an act of pure prejudice? I never questioned God’s love of me because I had already arrived years earlier during my struggle at a belief that God wasn’t the hater of gay people; people were the hater of gay people. Here was yet another example!

Hard as it sometimes is to be queer in a Christian community, I think the bigger issue sometimes is being Christian in a queer community! When I met my partner, I was still going to church, but I quickly figured out that church wasn’t her “thing”; moreover, the other lesbian and bisexual women I was sharing a house with didn’t understand why I’d go to church. So, I quit which was a good thing in one way because the church I was attending had fallen under a spell of “traditional Anglicanism.”

But it was a bad thing in that it removed me from a place of communion with people of faith. And at a time when I really could have used the communal experience of being with other believers, I had nowhere to turn. The church that I knew, and loved, and had grown up in, was being held hostage by people who denounced Gene Robinson, one of my very earliest influences in my church upbringing. The priests were on television almost daily it seemed spewing vitriol against the LGBT community. Such actions only served to drive a bigger wedge between God and the queer community and now my once welcoming church was seen as one of “them.” And how could I deny it?

Since then, that congregation split and it was a parting that helped open the way for my return, as well as others. But my decision to reconnect and return to God’s table has caused a tension in many of my friendships. If I say I’m attending services on Sunday morning, my queer friends look at me as if they’re seeing a ghost, but this time, peer pressure is not going to get the better of me. My desire to be exposed to the Word is too great. And the validation and redemptive experience of hearing that “Everybody’s gonna get fed” is too freeing and liberating to stay away.

Besides, I never know what “Sesame Street Moments” are to come unless I’m there in the pew!

As we took the morning bus to school we would hold hands under are jackets in fear someone might see. I was fourteen and didn’t understand why something that felt so natural was viewed as an awful sinful thing.

I was told I would have no place in the family and my soul was bound for hell. “Just pray God will heal you” is what most had to say. I hit my knees tears streaming down my face, “God, please forgive me for this love I feel for another woman. I don’t want to go to hell.” I felt so alone and confused. I didn’t want to be a lesbian if it meant having everyone hate me.

I did everything I was told, which led me down a road of alcoholism and drug addiction. When I reached my twenties my life was such a mess. I was further away from God than I had ever been. Every time I would slip up I would hit my knees again and ask God to forgive me. I sounded like a broken record. I went through  failed attempts in relationships with men. It took me many years to heal from the mental damage brought on by self-proclaimed Christians. They broke my spirit and I almost allowed them to take my life. For a long time I didn’t want nothing to do with God. I didn’t understand why He would make me this way then punish me for it.

I now know what God’s grace is. It didn’t come in the form of a cure for homosexuality. It came in the form of healing my broken spirit and loving me for who He intended me to be. The healing process began when I hit my knees with tears streaming down my face. “God, I can’t do this on my own. You have to take control. Do with my life what you will. Please take the pain away.” God has done that for me. I began to realize God didn’t hate me. It was the self-proclaimed Christians who were filled with hate.

I have seen many times where someone has committed an act of hate in God’s name. God and hate don’t belong in the same sentence. If you carry hate in your heart for your brothers how can you spread a message filled with so much love and grace? We live in a society that’s filled with hate and every one is for themselves. These same people are sitting in their church benches every Sunday morning proclaiming to be Christians. Jesus’ message was about love. Love the sinner, hate the sin. I have experienced more hate from some Christians than any other group of people. There was times when I was in such darkness I no longer wanted to live.

I believe God speaks to us all. We just have to learn to listen. I would say to someone who is battling suicidal  thoughts, “God loves you and you are who He meant for you to be. Don’t let the hate of the world destroy what God has planned for you. Give him a chance to show you the way and seek support.”

So many times we settle into a life that is comfortable. We dare not think outside the box. When a child starts to grow the parents begin to child proof the house. They put plastic covers on outlets and locks on cabinets and doors. We do the same thing in life. We lock ourselves into a life we and others created, not what God intended for us. God has given us so much more ability. We’re just not willing to do the work or take a chance on the unseen. Our lack of faith binds us by our ankles, some even drowned under it’s weight.

We have to be careful not to let the hate of others become a part of our lives. Love seems to be such a simple word yet so hard to obtain. Its easy to love someone who loves you back and has your best interest at heart, but when someone hurts or rejects us we begin to build anger and resentment which turns to hate. Only through Christ can we learn what true love is and the grace of forgiveness. It’s not caring for your spouse or children. All those are wonderful things. It’s a deeper love. It’s a second chance. It’s giving and receiving nothing in return. It’s forgiving someone you don’t feel deserves forgiveness. That kind of love can only be obtained through Christ.

It doesn’t matter if you think homosexuality is a sin or not. You may live happily with your partner or chosen a life of celibacy. God created us in His own image and loves each and everyone of us. Now when I hit my knees in prayer with tears streaming down my face it’s with gratitude for His amazing grace. I pray God keeps my heart pure and helps me show love to those who didn’t have it in their heart for me. I pray that I may find the strength to forgive and move on.

I grew up hearing that God loved me and knew that was true in my head but getting it into my heart was a struggle and sometimes it still is. I became a Christian when I was twelve, but I recommitted my life to Christ at every youth conference or Christian concert I went to because, in my opinion, I kept messing things up and I was a failure in God’s eyes. I remember feeling like there was something wrong with me because I struggled so much with being good enough while everyone else seemed to have it all together. I just knew that if people were to find out what I struggled with, they would be disgusted and would want nothing else to do with me. I learned early on to pretend that everything was fine, and to push aside my feelings and hide behind my smile.

While I was in college, I began to have problems with depression off and on. It wasn’t until I was in graduate school that I actually went to see a counselor for the first time and was diagnosed with clinical depression. After graduate school, I moved several hours away from home to start my first professional job and it was there that I fell in love for the first time. The shocker was that I fell in love with another woman. The question of whether or not I was gay had come up once before, but I wouldn’t let myself consider that I was gay because I had always been taught that homosexuality was a sin. If you ignore something for long enough it just goes away, right? Wrong.

Once I finally started to let myself consider that I might be gay, I started to distance myself from the church and from God. I thought that there was no way that I could be both a Christian and a lesbian, so I prayed and prayed for God to change me and take away my attraction to women, but to no avail. God did change me, just not in the way I was expecting. The more I prayed for God to change me, the more God opened my eyes to see that He loved me just as I was. I began to have an inner peace that could only have been from God. Even though I was starting to get these little glimpses of hope that God loved me just as I was, I still had serious questions. What if I was being deceived? What if I was just twisting Scripture to make it say what I wanted it to say? What if something I did in my past or was doing right now made me gay? Should I try to change? There were times when I felt completely lost and overwhelmed and didn’t know which way was up. I was already struggling with feeling like a failure in God’s eyes as well as my family’s eyes and adding the possibility that I was gay into the mix didn’t help my struggle at all.

Carrying secrets around began to weigh me down, and I soon found myself in another very deep depression. I didn’t want to get up and go to work; I didn’t want to leave my apartment. All I wanted to do was crawl in the bed, pull the covers over my head and disappear. It got to the point where I was sleeping all day and staying up all night, and the darkness just continued to envelop me. Old habits and vices reared their ugly heads, and I felt like I was spiraling out of control. Years before, right before I started high school, I started down a path that I wish I never had. Someone I knew had a Playboy magazine that I found. It was one of the first times that I had seen pornography, and I was both intrigued and ashamed. I knew that I shouldn’t look at it, but at the same time I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It started out as something I would look at occasionally but by the time I was out of graduate school it had become an escape, like drugs or alcohol or food are for other people. I found myself getting more and more obsessed with finding more pictures to look at or more stories to read, all the while carrying around the guilt and shame I felt for what I was doing. I justified it by telling myself that it was a safe way for me to explore my sexuality and that I wasn’t hurting anyone. Little did I know that the images I was seeing and the stories I was reading would remain etched in my mind for years to come and would pop into my thoughts at the most random times. I tried unsuccessfully for years to give it up, but would ultimately find myself entrenched all over again because I believed that I needed it to help me deal with my depression and loneliness. It finally got to a point where I hit rock bottom and felt like I had lost all control. Broken and ashamed, I prayed and begged God to help me walk away from it. I don’t know what was different about this time than all the others before, but I believe that God heard my prayers that night and answered them. God soon gave me the strength to share my struggle with a friend that I trusted, and that helped to begin to lift the weight of shame that I was carrying.

As God continued to heal the shame I had surrounding my addiction, I started to really feel and understand that His love for me was and is unconditional. Not only was I beginning to truly believe that God loved me, I also began to believe that God knew everything that I had done and loved me in spite of it all. The more I allowed that to sink in to my heart, the more I felt the weight of shame over who I was and what I had done begin to lift. I felt free to be who I was and who I believed God created me to be for the first time in my life. As I started to become more comfortable with my sexuality, I started coming out to friends I knew I could trust. After I came out to several friends who were supportive, I became more comfortable with the idea of coming out to my parents. I began praying that God would let me know when the time was right to tell them, and that He would prepare them for the conversation. God answered my prayers and helped me know the right time to tell them, and the conversation went very well. I was surprised and relieved that my parents were supportive, and although they didn’t necessarily understand it, they wanted me to be happy.

After I came out to my parents, I knew that I needed to tell my sister. I dreaded coming out to her because I was pretty sure of how she would react. I was afraid that she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me once she found out. It took a long time for me to work up the nerve to tell her, and it was the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had. She has since voiced her opinion very strongly that my being gay is a sin, and has basically cut me out of her and her family’s life. She has made assumptions about me and my life that are very hurtful, and some of the things she has said to me will stay with me forever. Dealing with her reaction has been extremely difficult and has left me questioning myself and God all over again. Right now, it’s a daily struggle to let go of the hurt, anger and bitterness I feel towards her. I know that in time I will heal and be even stronger than I am now, but for right now the wound is still open. There are days when I feel like I’m drowning in the pain, but I have to remind myself that I’m not alone. God is faithful and continues to remind me that his love for me is unconditional and that he can be trusted with the deepest hurts of my life. I have learned through reconciling my faith with my sexuality and in dealing with my sister’s reaction to my coming out is that God is big enough to handle my questions and doubts. I am learning that even though I might not feel God’s presence, it doesn’t mean that he is not with me. God has given me supportive parents, incredible friends and a wonderful partner who remind me of his love for me. They have stood beside me, prayed for me, and walked with me through some of the most painful moments of my life so far. What a blessing to have such wonderful people who love, support and encourage me.

My partner, M, and I are about to begin our life together as a couple, and I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us as a couple. I am on the verge of a brand new adventure, and am both scared and excited. Stepping out of my comfort zone and leaving friends, family and my job scares me more than I can say, but I know God will give me the strength to face my fears and take that step out in faith. I am looking forward to being M’s partner and looking forward to seeing what lies ahead for us. She is my best friend and I can’t imagine my life without her. The past year and a half has been so much better because she has been a part of it. I thank God every day for bringing her to me, and for the gift of our relationship.

I’ve decided that its time to come out of the shadows. There’s no especially easy way to tell people that you love that you’ve been keeping something from them, so I hope that you are able to understand that I’ve had to process some of this without you. I’m a lesbian.

I’ve known this for about six years, and I’ve been slowly coming out to a few friends starting from when I was 18. I’ve gone on a fairly big journey, from being sure that this meant that I was going to be celibate and single forever, to now being less sure what is right/wrong and what the path God is calling me down is. I have never (honestly) stopped thinking that God loves me through all this. That’s one of the few truths that I’m sure of.

I know that the people reading this have different opinions about morality and the bible, and will have different opinions about this journey I’m on. I hope that we can agree to be respectful and loving towards each other and show each other grace in our journeys.

I don’t have any answers about how my faith and my sexuality fit together, so why am I doing this now? Firstly, I’m tired of the constant energy it takes to assess every sentence, and censor every conversation to make sure that I’m not saying anything that will ‘give me away.’ I don’t want to have to do that any more. I’ve also realized that when I’m honest about this with people, I become closer to God. I value my relationship with God more than my secrets.

I’m also doing this because vulnerability is important. When those of us who follow Jesus are too afraid to be honest about our stories, then the kingdom of God is diminished. Given the controversy about sexuality is in the church, it has never been more important for gay people within the church to be honest about the fact that we are HERE. From the few people in the church I’ve already talked to, I can see that when people become aware that there are gay people in the church that they love, and whose faith they respect, things becomes less black and white, and people are treated with the grace they deserves. If I can be a part of making this happen then I will be very blessed.

For all our sakes, I am grateful that, “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Will you love the “you” you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same? Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around,through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true when you but call my name. Let me turn and follow you and never be the same. In Your company I’ll go where Your love and footsteps show. Thus I’ll move and live and grow in you and you in me. (Lyrics from “Will You Come and Follow Me” by John Bell)

I am a transsexual Christian.  In that sentence, the word “transsexual” is an adjective.  An adjective is a word that describes. It tells the reader an attribute I possess.  I have the attribute of being a transgender woman.  I like to explain it this was: people are usually understood as being body, mind, and spirit.  My mind and spirit are female and I’m working on getting the body to match. I didn’t always recognize that it was an attribute.

I grew up in a very traditionally-minded community; both in my family and church. I first became aware that this was part of me during the end of summer before I started fourth grade.  My mom had left me at a babysitter’s house for the day.  I was just one of several kids there that day.  I was feeling rather lonely that day.  I didn’t want to play with the other boys and none of the girls wanted to let me play with them because they didn’t want to play with a boy.

I was watching TV while the girls played dress-up.  Then they left the room to go play somewhere else and they left some of the clothes they used for dress-up.  I remember a red dress caught my eye and I decided to try it on.  It just felt right.  I felt pretty but then the babysitter came in.  She scolded me and told me what I was doing was bad.

That brings me back to grammatical analysis.  The babysitter told me what I was DOING was bad.  She told me that my adjective was a verb. A verb is an action word.  In a sentence the verb acts.  The dog JUMPED.  The cat CHASED the mouse.  The confused and naive transgender child LISTENED to the babysitter yell.

There is an important difference in understanding being GLBTQ as an adjective or a verb.  As an adjective, I now understand being trans as part of who I am.  However, when I thought it was a verb, it meant something very different.  It was something outside of me; something that I had been told was wrong and sinful, and since I thought it was something separate from me, I thought it was something I could avoid.  After all, I had to because I loved Jesus and certainly didn’t want to be a part of any sinful actions.

Since being GLBTQ is an adjective, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t “avoid” it and that just made me feel terrible. This was the cycle of my life for years. I tried to not be trans and failed because it was inherently impossible. I felt awful as a result.  As this went on long enough I began to feel the weight of adjectives I had begun to use when speaking about myself: “weak,” “not good enough,” and “worthless,” – just to name a few.

When I was in my third year of college, I no longer felt their weight; I was crushed by them.  I didn’t seem like a person in perpetual crisis.  I had friends.  I was an honor student.  I even had a part time job at a local church. In reality however, I was emotionally destitute.  I spent large portions of my free time literally locking myself in my closet and crying.  I slept on the floor of that closet many nights.

The next part of the story sounds melodramatic, and I hesitate to tell it because I’m afraid no one will believe me.  However, it did happen and is part of my story.

One night I was curled up on my closet floor crying and starting to consider suicide methods.  Then I felt the Holy Spirit get my attention.  I didn’t hear a literal spoken voice, but it was the closest I’ve ever experienced.  God simply said “Why are you crying?”

I let it all spill out of me; all the guilt, all the shame and all feelings that I was a freak.  I told Him I couldn’t stop being a girl. I told Him that I tried and tried to stop without results.  I told Him that I knew that being trans was so unrighteous that I was separated from God no matter what. God simply said “Who told you that?”

At those four words, my world changed.  I suddenly realized I couldn’t think of a single scripture verse that addressed transgenderism.  I didn’t feel condemned anymore.

It would be easy to say that the next day I was out and proud but that wouldn’t be true.  What actually transpired was I felt free to explore how I felt.  I spent a few months thinking and praying about how I felt.  I experimented with my gender presentation, looking like a man or a woman or androgynous.  I talked with friends about how I felt.

One day a friend asked “So you dress like a girl, act like a girl, and want to be treated like a girl?  Do you ever want to be a boy again?” and I instinctively said “No; of course not.” That day, months after the closet floor conversation with God, was when I actually came understood that I am a woman.  ”Female” is an adjective that accurately describes me.

Now, I’ve going on about adjectives and verbs, but I haven’t once mentioned nouns.  An noun is the word that is a person, place, or thing. In the first sentence, the noun I used was “Christian.”

After I started to come out, I lost my job at the church, had my roommate and best friend suddenly decide to move out, and couldn’t even go to church without having long drawn out conversations about what name I was called (and I had these conversations over and over and OVER again with the same people).  I’m not going to pretend it didn’t hurt, but I do find peace in my noun.

All the adjectives are part of me, but the noun is me.  And that noun, Christian, reminds me that God loves me; that Jesus took on flesh to connect with me; that the Holy Spirit of God dwells within me.  The noun says that I am an adopted daughter of the King of Kings, a princess who is becoming more like the Jesus Christ every day.  And when I remember how much my Heavenly Father loves me that he lavished all that on me; it makes dealing with people like my old babysitter a little easier.

When I started seminary in 1989, there were two important things I didn’t know. First, that I was a lesbian, and second, that my denomination would pass a ruling explicitly banning the ordination and licensing of lesbians and gay men in our four-state region. I learned both things by the end of 1990.

For me, coming out was like coming home to myself. It was a joyful celebration of life. I was nestled in a liberal Methodist seminary and surrounded by supportive people who made the celebration a party! Meanwhile in my region of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), anti-gay guns were going full blast. In 1990, conservative churches bussed in voters to our regional assembly to pass an anti-gay ruling. I knew it passed but surrounded by Methodists who loved me and lulled by my coming out euphoria, I didn’t pay too much attention.

In 1992, voters in Colorado passed Amendment 2, effectively repealing local gay rights ordinances that conservatives hadn’t been able to overturn at the local ballot boxes. It went before the U.S. Supreme Court and was overturned but it was a huge wound to the LGBT community. At the seminary we had held a candle light vigil three nights a week in the months leading up to the vote. We had held debates, handed out information, and in general, worked our hearts out for the cause. To sit in a giant auditorium and watch the amendment pass was heartbreaking. I dropped out of seminary, $60,000 in debt and three classes short of graduating.

For a while I left the church until I received a letter inviting me to a potluck attended by all Disciples: women who couldn’t find church positions due to the “good old boy” network in Metro-Denver. Lesbians and other people who were estranged from our church for a variety of reasons came to eat and talk, cry and laugh. It didn’t take long to figure out that we were being church for one another. We formed the first home church in the Central Rocky Mountain Region of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Fireside Christian Church was Open and Affirming from the start and the first Open and Affirming congregation in the region. I was given the honor of writing the O&A Statement and it truly was an honor.

I worked with Fireside in shared leadership for seven years before a retired pastor handed me a regional newsletter that listed an open position at Boulder First Christian Church as youth director. Boulder First was the second O&A church in the region and I had helped teach the classes that preceded their vote. I was intrigued and so I applied and was hired.

The next year our regional minister was approached by some of us about forming a “Discernment Team” in response to the national denominational call for discernment about the role of Gays and Lesbians in the Church. We formed a team and went about working with the national churches curriculum, in preparation of taking it to local churches for their use. I co-chaired that regional team for seven years, but much to my chagrin, only two churches ever invited us to come speak and then only for an hour at their elder’s retreat. Meanwhile I had worked on and even chaired the regional youth activities committee for three years. (Cynical note…it seems no one cares if you are gay if you will do the work that none of them want to do.)

But I had a busy church life with two churches: I was youth director at Boulder First Christian Sunday mornings and Monday nights and was a member of and sharing leadership in Fireside Christian Church on Sunday afternoons. I was fulfilling my call even if I wasn’t licensed or ordained. My heart was full and my faith walk was dynamic. Well, except for this one little corner of anger.

I had worked through the anger about dropping out of seminary and not being licensed or ordained. I had worked through the anger of the regional vote and the damage it did: to individual ministers who came out and lost their standing, to those who left the region rather than come out, and to those, like myself, who were denied standing from the start. And I truly think I had worked through that anger, which is saying no small thing. But I carried another, secret fury.

As I became more and more involved in regional work for my denomination, I had to work with those churches that had bussed in the voters to pass the resolution. Even worse, I had to work with the pastors who wrote the hateful thing. Even after the region and regional board passed a new design (regional covenant with the churches) which did away with the ban, my secret pain and anger existed, but  I was licensed as a Licensed Professional Minister in April of 2008 in the Disciples church. It was a terrific celebration, some sixteen years later. Both congregations I had worked with celebrated with me! We had a lovely commissioning service and then a dinner party! It was a fantastic moment and one I will never forget.

But the day after as I worked on some regional paperwork, I found that old anger still hiding in a corner of my heart. I sat and prayed and asked to be open to it. What I found was a deep resentment at having to share the table (communion) with churches that I believed were abusing their youth by telling them that LGBT folks are abominations. I knew I had to do it but how could I invite them to the table when they were doing such a hideous and life-threatening thing? How could they abuse their children so?

And then a still small voice spoke directly to my heart. “It’s not your table.” And I felt a weight lifted from me. It wasn’t my table to issue the invitation; it was and is Christ’s table. I am just a guest there as is everyone else. It doesn’t make me happy to work with churches that I believe are practicing child abuse, but it’s not my table to prevent them from attending. I can, with dignity and love, voice my beliefs and still share a common table. Perhaps that will move more hearts than a secret anger ever did.

Today, I am still with Fireside Christian Church as their Educational Coordinator and Liaison to the Region. I am no longer youth director at Boulder First Christian but am working Sunday mornings with a local ELCA Lutheran church, helping them become a Reconciling In Christ congregation, their version of Open and Affirming. It is good to be doing what I am doing and serving Jesus in new and unexpected ways. The secret anger is gone and while I still have an occasional rave about the Rick Warren’s of the world and continue to attend protests at Focus on the Family with SoulForce, it is no longer a resentment that eats me from within. The weekly table is not my responsibility; at least the guest list isn’t. Showing up and celebrating the feast, that’s my job and it will always be.

My story is not all that exceptional.  I came out at the age of 43. I suppose that seems late in life to some people but it was just the right time for me.  As I look back I can see how God prepared me for this life-changing moment. Thanks to His grace and love, I hold my head high and glory in the fact that I am who I was meant to be.

I suppose I could give you the stats on my life.  I was born blah, blah, blah; I live in yada, yada, yada, but that stuff is boring.  Suffice it to say, I am an ordinary woman living an ordinary life who just happens to be a lesbian.

I was born and raised in the South, a place where a girl grows up, gets married and has babies, which I did. I met and married a man and had two wonderful children. The marriage wasn’t a good one but we did what we could to raise our children right and live the “Great American Life.” We worked hard, went to church, and had Sunday dinner with our Mammas and Daddies. That is what you do in the South.

But as I said, the marriage was not a good one and I think we both knew that from the start. So why get married in the first place, you may ask? After all these years, I don’t really have a good answer. I suppose back then there were a lot of expectations placed on young men and women; expectations of finding Mr. or Mrs. Right and settling down to “The Good Life,”  and so that is what I tried to do.

I suppose the first few years were okay but as time passed it got worse. I was never mistreated physically but emotional abandonment is a hurt that runs much deeper. My husband had become distant and sullen. I was miserably unhappy. Loneliness in a marriage can be unbearable. It took me almost 20 years to accept that my marriage was a sham and needed to come to an end.

It was a very hard time for all involved.

Not only were two decades of life ending but I was also struggling with my homosexuality and scared to death. I was terrified I would lose my children. I was afraid of losing my family. I was afraid everyone would think the marriage ended because Kathy was a big, old lesbian; which was not the reason, by the way.  I started having trouble sleeping, started losing my hair, didn’t have an appetite, and toward the end of my marriage, became a shrew to my children. The latter I will regret for the rest of my life.

Living in fear was exhausting. I remember lying in bed one night and praying to God, asking for Him to either heal me or take me. God chose to heal me but not in the way I thought He would. He didn’t take my gayness away but through a series of events He made me understand being gay was okay.

For so many years I believed the misguided teachings from the pulpit. You know the ones I’m talking about; that God condemns those who love someone of the same gender.  I knew I was attracted to women but I pushed that truth down inside, right beside the one that knew my marriage was doomed, and tried to ignore my feelings. After all, I was married, a mom, and a Southern Baptist Sunday School teacher to boot.  Funny thing about the truth though, if you try to ignore it, eventually it will come to the surface and stare you in the face. That was pretty much what happened to me.

During this tumultuous time in my life, I sought counsel and I believe with all my heart that God placed this Christian counselor in my life to help me. During one of my sessions, we were discussing my struggle reconciling my homosexuality with my Christianity. By way of explaining my struggle, I said,

“I wish that God would just send a talking donkey to me like He did in the Bible, just to tell me being a lesbian is okay.”

This wonderful counselor looked at me and gently said,

“God made you just the way He wanted you to be. You know, Kathy, if you take the A out of my last name, it spells donkey.”

His last name was Donakey.

Whoa! Talk about being hit with the 2×4 of truth!  It was as if God had spoken directly to me. I could feel His presence, the room seemed to fade and I could almost physically hear God speaking His love to me.

I looked at my counselor and whispered, “I think I just had a close encounter with the Almighty.”

He smiled and said, “I know. I can see it on your face.”

I can not say my struggle ended there but I believe I was given a great truth. Once I accepted that truth, I knew I had to unbolt the door and come out of the closet.

Coming out to my children, who were 14 and 18 at the time, was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I was so afraid of losing their love. I didn’t know how to tell them their mom was gay. After many false starts and “chickening out,” I decided to write them a love letter and read it to them together.  In the letter I let them know that I valued them and their love more than anything in the world.  I explained that I was the same mom that tucked them in bed when they were young, took care of them when they were sick, and would continue to love them for who they were and who they would become.

I won’t lie. Things were strained for a while but I have great kids. When they saw how happy I was they accepted the truth rather quickly. Once I knew things were good with my kids, I didn’t care who knew and didn’t care what they thought. I was okay with God and I was okay with my kids.

That was over 10 years ago and life has never been better. I found my life partner, my family loves me as I am, I have three wonderful grandchildren and I know I am living the way I was meant to live.

I’m sure you have heard the Bible verse that says, “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” I used to think that only pertained to the truth about God. But I have come to realize that means the truth about anything. Once you live the truth…live YOUR truth…you really are free.

And that is a wonderful place to be.