Tuesday, October 21, 2008


(Rambling ahead)

I can be such a tool. I'm a tool to the system I'm in, to the people I'm acquainted with, and I'm a tool the very facades I build around myself.  When have I ever really been myself??  ..and I'm not just talking about sexuality. In an effort to avoid sexuality, I've altogether avoided life. Not that I don't think my work counts as life, but here lately I'm been realizing inept I am at networking. I keep very loose ties with folks in the past with whom I was associated. People who could be very important in my life, I keep at arms distance and never really take advantage of those relationships.

I have a few friends who, around me, always seem (for some reason) to be comfortable talking about who they think is gay, and what these people are doing and the crowds they're doing it with. All I can think of is, the closets of these people we're talking about have to be just as deep as mine, so how are they supposedly finding a "crowd"--even if it's still in secret? If it weren't for blogs, I would assume I'm the only homo on the planet!!

It's not like I'm a total loner. I have friends. I like them, and they seem to like me. But the people I spend the most time around, I'm afraid their friendship is played out in front of the background of the very facades I mentioned. 

I feel like I need to just "let loose"... To be free from obligations for a short season... To feel what it's like to live in the moment and explore mere humanity.

Maybe some day that will happen. Or, perhaps I will always be a slave to my work. Most days, this work is very fulfilling, but some days, like today, I just wonder if it really is a flimsy, thin facade.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

A Tale of Three Churches

Today, I had a particularly acute glimpse of how broad and dysfunctional is the body of the Christ.

Early on Sunday mornings, when I'm on the way to my own church, I often listen to services from a large church in a nearby major city. This church has often been somewhat of an epicenter of Christian fundamentalism. Their services are these tacky, mind-numbing, loud, evangelical-traditional, happy-clappy sorts of things which tend to always amuse me. Anyway, it comes the preachers turn to the mic and then he starts sputtering some arrogant nonsense about what he believes to be hell--which turns out to be a very convenient place to which he can damn all of the people that he and his flock do not care for.

Then I arrived at my church where I spent the rest of the day and most of the evening. While I could go on about the things that annoy me about my own church family, I do love them and they seem to love me. We are an odd and peculiar bunch of folks, all with different problems and different gifts to bring to the table. The thing I love most about this congregation is the absolute lack of pretense in any of the things that we do. Most of us are genuinely concerned for each other and earnestly trying to discern what we are to be doing as a church. I long to fully be a part if this group--to be as transparent with others as many have been with me. I wish I could call for help with my own burden while I'm trying to help others with theirs. I wish I could break the silence of all the people who cannot speak in this congregation, and to unveil the eyes of these people who don't even realize the hurt they allow to happen in their own community.

Then that brings me to the last church that I observed in action today. It was a glimpse of of hope for me--hope for the Church, and for the world. It happens to be a large "gay" church in the same major city as the first church I described. Its worship, which I often watch online, is also loud and rather happy-clappy (relative to other churches in their denomination) with a certain evangelical feel to it. However, it is VASTLY different from the first church I mentioned in that the congregation is mostly gay and they are totally affirming of gays and lesbians and their relationships with each other.

I often watch the services from this church, but the thing that caught my attention in today's service was the baptism of two baby girls who along with a young boy were the children of two gay men. One of the most beautiful pictures I've seen lately was the image of a lesbian pastor standing between two gay men, giving a blessing to them and their young family. Here are three beloved individuals who have been broken and crushed by society, yet have survived to lead a congregation and to raise a family. Here were three living witnesses to the dignity and worth of the redeemed human soul! As soon as the baptism was finished, the congregation sang this beautiful, simple song that was a perfect proclamation of God's love and healing for a broken people:

O tender Mother, hear our prayer,
as we your children gather near.
We offer you our wounded souls,
for your caress can make us whole. (Michael S. Piazza)

Then, at the end of the service, the hundreds of people in the congregation joined hands together to sing a song that Christians all over the globe--gay, straight, conservative, liberal--sang on this day:

"How great is our God.. sing with me, and all will see how great is our God!"

But for some reason, I really believed these people when they proclaimed that when they sing together, the world will see the greatness of God. That greatness is so often clouded by the ones singing it--by hatred, oppression, ridicule, ignorance, and exclusion. I don't believe in much of anything these days, but, for a moment, a group of complete strangers, hands held high, showed me something great to believe in.