I had just sat down to write this e-news update.  I was planning on reporting on the three day conference I went to with 40 positive, energetic clergy.  (It was quite good.)  I had spend the earlier part of the day trying to get caught up on email and phone messages.  The phone rang.  It was Sutter General.  Victoria, one of Trinity’s very faithful saints, was in the ER and was near death.  I gathered a few copies of the “Ministration at the Time of Death” service (aka Last Rites) and oil for anointing and headed out the door.  In the ER I was greeted by Richard, Victoria’s husband and one of their sons.  I got to see Victoria, this beautiful child of God who had lived and long and faithful life, lying in her bed sleeping.  After talking with Richard, we gathered at her bedside.  I placed my hand on Victoria’s head.  Her eyes opened.  I don’t know if she heard us, but Richard and I spoke to her.  We then prayed the service.  I made the sign of the cross on her forehead and anointed her with oil as I prayed one of the final prayers in the service: Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world; In the name of God the Father Almighty who created you; In the name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you; In the name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you, May your rest be this day in peace, and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God.

Much of my time as dean is spent in administration.  I go to conferences and meetings, answer email, make phone calls and meet with people.  Today I got to be a priest — to speak words of God’s abiding and faithful love in a situation of sadness.  It is a lovely vocation.  And it is one we all share.  As Christians we all have the blessed vocation of loving others through difficult times — of being present with them, and reminding them of God’s love, when they are filled with sadness or fear or grief.  We are blessed by a love that will never let us go and we are blessed with opportunities to be the incarnation of that love for others.  Thank you for sharing this vocation with me.

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.

Text

“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.

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.
5. 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.
6. 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.
7. Singing hymns and chanting. Music feels like God in the form of sound waves.
8. 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.
9. 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.