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Heather Hogan wrote a great article about her experience as a Christian moving from the church into gay culture. I recommend reading it all. You can find it in After Ellen
HERE. Here’s how she ends:
So what’s a Good Christian Girl to do in a Big Gay World?
I don’t really know. I don’t even know if I’d call myself a “Christian Girl” anymore. I’ve experienced some metaphysical things I’ll never be able to shake. But I’ve wept over the atrocities committed for centuries in the name of God, too. I do know that the screaming and violent language and lack of authentic discourse on both sides are only making things worse. To quote my mom every time she had to pull my sister and I off one another — fists flailing, hair flying — “I don’t care who started it! You’re going to kill one another!”
My faith isn’t the same as it was when I left church all those years ago. I didn’t leave because I am a lesbian. I didn’t leave because I stopped believing in God. I left because I wanted the freedom to reallyseek the truth. I continued to study the Bible. And I continued to study other religious texts. I continued to study history and politics and sociology and science. After all this time and all that soul-searching and all the hollering from both sides, the one thing I still cling to is what Jesus said when he decided to lay out his game plan for the first time in the synagogue. He quoted from the prophet Isaiah, and it went like this: “God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace.”
Healing. Freeing. Pardoning. Grace. I like that. It sounds like an extra value meal worth purchasing.
I think it will take me a lifetime to reconcile my logic and my faith and my political persuasions and my sexuality. But sometimes when I’m walking my dog on summer nights, the jasmine and magnolia will cling to the sultry summer air. And I’m back in that wooden pew, as gay then as I am now, knowing now as I knew then that it is well, it is well, with my soul.
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Luke 12:49-56
“You know how to interpret the appearance of Earth and Sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”
Interpret the present time?! I’d rather gather that this moment is a present being presented to me, for me presenting the underlined definition of what it means to be undefined. Because time, to me, is undefinable in a way that makes trying seem forced. Makes the course behind the action a fragmented fraction of what I think He’s trying to say – and what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to interpret today – I just want to have faith. The kind of faith that finds me excited to be divided to prove its strength.
“From now on 5 in one household will be divided…”
Decided by our own shortsighted human eyes. Our mortal minds will either set us free or leave us behind – blind to the brave wisdom of this baptism – this universal attempt to hit reset – on us all. Making it our choice to have a voice in faith or an absent face, a mask trapped strong in our own sinner’s skin, destined to forsake all that’s been sacrificed for our eternal life, without the chance to ask to be absolved.
“When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘it is going to rain.’”
Playing out before me is a storm setting free a picture of reality; I can see the grey clouds rising up to meet the rain while these shortsighted eyes are trying to warn me of the forthcoming pouring drops from the Heavened skies, but I look up – hold palms cupped like inverted umbrellas, open to catch whatever is being given, whatever is being produced to induce the knowledge that my faith is stronger than a forecast, all I have to do is ask and his shelter will keep me safe – will keep the cold away – at bay with my forced interpretation of this present day.
Because this present day is mine to throw away – to waste – or to find a way to place my faith in the grace of my Savior. To remember and embrace that he came here to bring fire to this earth – to give eternal birth to any soul willing to listen to the vision behind the need of any division – promising not peace but a release from our human prison.
And so, this much I know, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west but I’m at my best when I let the heart inside my rising chest set to the warming comfort of his fire – and if he needs it kindled, I’ll have a lighter.
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Last weekend my friend
Mercedes Bahleda led a class at Trinity Cathedral on Bodhisattva vows. One of the aspects of Mahayana Buddhism, which is the strand of Buddhism in Tibet, is its focus on compassion. The goal of reaching enlightenment is not to reach enlightenment for one’s own benefit, but rather to serve all other beings. Bodhisattva vows are vows that are dedicated to the service of all other beings. I did not attend the class. At the end of the class, there was a service in which some people took lifetime lay vows (no killing a human, lying, stealing, adultery and taking intoxicants.) Others were taking their Bodhisattva vows. Mercedes asked if I would participate in the service and offer Holy Communion. It was a lovely and gracious offer and I was happy to participate. Perhaps the best gift I have to offer as a priest is the gift of Holy Communion and I was honored to be asked to offer this precious gift to these friends making these significant commitments. The Buddhist aspect of the service, where folks were committing themselves to such lofty disciplines, was very, very moving. The vows, which were quite lengthy were read three times. It was somewhat like an ordination service, except there was more explicit emphasis on the vows that were being taken. As always, I was inspired by this encounter with my Buddhist friends to take my own vows and disciplines more seriously.
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After 30 years of focusing on eastern religion, Norris J. Chumley returned to the Episcopal church. In a recent
Huffington Post article he tells a bit of his journey and lists his 10 favorite things about church.
Now, 10 years later, I’ve returned to Christianity and go to church as often as possible. Here are my top ten reasons why I think church is cool. Please keep in mind each one of these points is enough to write a book about, or many volumes, as they have been in play for thousands of years:
- The Eucharist, or Holy Communion. The bread and wine as the body and blood of Jesus Christ, God in human form, is a physical uniting with God inside. After all the prayers, chants and setting aside the self, I feel a tangible connection, a bond made between Heaven and Earth, when partaking of the Eucharist.
- The Holy Trinity. All I can say is that the three-in-one, separate-yet-whole-at-the-same-time reality explains my continual human feeling of being separate from God, yet connected. I had learned in yoga that “All-Is-One,” and that extends to Christianity in the Trinity.
- God is human in Jesus Christ. This is also the Holy Trinity, incarnated, which means “in the flesh.” The Holy Spirit, from God, becomes human in Christ. With the Eucharist or Communion, my humanness unites with God, too. Church gives me that. The experience is indescribably wonderful.
- Love. Christ’s teachings center in love for God and humanity. Despite years of problems, even wars, the central teaching of Jesus Christ is about love. I feel that love in the community of the church. I see the love of God and humanity in the service programs my church provides: homeless shelters, food and assistance for those who are in need, counseling, education, and other projects.
- God is present in Creation. I see His infinite excellence everywhere the more I pray and attend church. Using the Jesus Prayer helps me connect to God in everything and everyone.
- Community. After years of solitary meditation on emptiness, I love the fellowship of church. It’s so cool and fun to get together with others who also love God. I’ve made a lot of lasting friendships at church, people who truly care, and we help each other, and we have many great times.
- Singing hymns and chanting. Music feels like God in the form of sound waves.
- Religious symbols. The church icons, books, candles, incense, the Cross — all are tangible reminders to look to God, and to connect with His presence. Others in church are like living icons reminding me of God in Christ.
- Prayers. To me, prayer is a portable connection to God. In prayer, I feel the presence of God. The Jesus Prayer particularly, used by monks and nuns, and in some churches, is especially powerful.
Church suppers. I love to cook, and I love to eat — community church meals are especially fantastic. There’s nothing quite like a church potluck or picnic.
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Jovi Radtke’s reflection on the story of Mary and Martha (
Luke 10:38-42)
Video here.
Luke 10:38-42
The plague of any Human Life comes in a series of questions.
Questions that mask the progression of faith.
Detract from the resurrection of self.
Create an impenetrable delay from the introduction of soul to body.
That crazy inner voice I let stop me from knowing the best way of showing true faith is to sit – stop asking – and listen.
Every word we let make the journey of being heard is a moment captured.
Forever seized in the captioned rapture of RIGHT NOW.
So stop asking. Stop tasking.
Stop intentionally distracting the ease of acting on your love – and sit down.
Open up your ears to the beauty behind the music when you listen.
When you take that moment – rather – let that moment take you, it may create for you a vision that paints you as a Mary.
Paints you as that sinner able to carry your own sin.
Able to steady your own heavy reality just enough to give in – just enough to be forgiven – just enough to sit proudly and listen.
When you let the music in. When you let the rhythm of his words rain dance across the driest part of your chest, the best of what is left to grow will be a rainforest of a heart. And when the rainfall starts to nourish the parts you never thought could grow, just know that all you have to do is let go. Sit and listen.
So listen: Martha, Martha, Martha, if you build it, he will come. But when he’s in, stop building and just listen.
