The discomfort of being THE black guy in the room is something that I have to negotiate over and over again. Often/especially in progressive and/or queer political spaces, I am one of very few people of color—it seems that there are places where the demographic “count” to cover all bases means that there’s one of this and one of that and a whole bunch of white folks at the table.
I wasn’t going to call him back.
I got the message off our church’s answering machine: “I want to ask you some questions,” the caller said, and he left his name and number.
But I wasn’t going to call him back.
As people who believe that Christianity has room for the LGBTQ community, we can be zealous about our efforts to win people to our side. We want people to understand that God truly does love everyone, that the Bible isn’t just a queer bashing book, and that people don’t have to throw away their faith to embrace their sexuality/gender.
Wrap yourself in the comforter and you will sweat that fever out.
I can hear these exact words echoing in my ears as an adult whenever I get sick. As a child, my mother and grandmother would offer me these words of advice to combat what ever sickness had crept up on me.
On Sunday I took communion for the first time in more than a year. I hadn’t been avoiding it deliberately, but I realized just how long it had been as I approached the line to receive bread and wine (juice). I’ve heard the phrases “The body of Christ broken for you;” “The blood of Christ shed for you” hundreds of times in my life.
But this time it felt different.
When he conducted the funerals, Tom Bonderenko tells me, he always wore his priestly garments and white stole.
I am a transgender Christian woman. This is the line I often use to begin one of my presentations about being a transgender woman of faith. Then I often follow that line with these: I like to start with that because you don't often hear the words transgender and Christian in the same sentence.
When I was in high school, I secretly believed that the idea of God being ‘born’ was simply outrageous.
On January 3, 2016, Rev. Cynthia Meyer, pastor for Edgerton United Methodist Church in Edgerton, Kansas, came out to her congregation.