When was the last time you heard a sermon focusing on your belovedness, with no "but" attached to it? I mean, an entire Sunday service all about taking in and feeling how much God loves you and delights in you—with no mention of, or alluding to the need for you to be better than you are, resist sin, or change anything about yourself?
Every morning I wake up and I try to work for a better, more just world.
I am a former “sufferer.” Sufferer is a term that David Johnson uses to describe people that experience panic and anxiety. David is a former sufferer and has a clinic in New Zealand to help people that suffer from anxiety and panic attacks.
Micah 6:8 a verse that I meditate on and try my best to reflect in my life. The part that I want to focus on in this message is “to act justly.” That requirement from God is all-inclusive. It does not say, “To act justly except for LGBTQ people” or “to act justly except for people of color” or “to act justly except for people with disabilities.” It simply says, “to act justly.”
I’m writing here about what I always, somehow, write about: the unlearning of shame. This is the topic on which I’m most focused. It’s my focus, for in the process of unlearning shame, we simultaneously remember our worth, which connects us to Love. And Love—the inherent sense that we’re both loved and emanations of Love—is at the heart of authentic, Christian teaching.
The Apostle Thomas gets a raw deal.
Really, in mainstream American Christianity, and in the secular popular imagination, he gets reduced to some kind of one-dimensional figure, known only for a moment in which he was proven wrong.
Back in the day, Girlfriends was one of my favorite sitcoms to watch. To see the interactions between strong Black women on television that mirrored what I was exposed to in my family always left me joyful and anxious to watch the next episode.
I met up with a friend of mine the other day—I'll call her Alice. She wanted to talk about Mormon LGBT youth suicide and the new policy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), that many have considered a frontal attack on the LGBT community.
When I was 15, my parents took me to the basement of a church in my western hometown for “therapy.”