dirty little whirlwind, i'm pinned to the heart of your swirl.
DISCLAIMER: this is a personal blog (i just want to write about my life 😭) and does not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or perspectives of my employer or church.
red room, shadows playing, lasers beaming through the smoke; bodies close and the feel of eyes darting, landing, lingering, looking away; ostentatious kisses with another strange man before floating off to dance; bursts of new friends and quick abandonment, everything in flashes through a fog of shots and double rum and cokes; last call and desperate clawing for continuation.
navigation, a journey not remembered, and then:
blue room, pulsing, catatonic sway; great trance of dancing, music thumping in a droning beat bleeding into itself; the blur of a crowd growing and shrinking and growing again.
later:
emerging into daylight, exhausted and eating tesco pasta in the 7am sun. gathering bearings before a train ride home and stumbling to bed. and as always, a cost: a shadow lingering for the next two days, the taunt of needless repetition. a cough, a runny nose, my bank balance glaring from my phone screen.
and on monday:
the spark of a familiar conviction, the ache of something new. life in all its fullness, reaching, reaching out. looking inward at the three pillars of my own undoing, making vows to finally let them go. a nascent excitement, half trepidation; don’t want to get my hopes up, but here before me: the blessing of a new month, fresh start, another chance.
and all the while, a verse:
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
here, a promise, an encouragement, a hope. what great possibilities, expanding horizons, to find my way, to drink from the stream. to finally embrace that beautiful surrender. the age-old question: what would happen if i try something different?
i whisper prayers and cling to my maker, beseeching Him, “make me new.”
this is the first trip i took my new freewrite traveler on and these are some curated journal entries from it.
07.22.26 – WEDNESDAY – BRISTOL
we’re in cameron’s house now, about to go to bed. ally and i are sharing a room, our beds touching side by side. we had dinner at a really cute hand-pulled noodle place. called ahead and got there basically when they were closing, but they didn’t seem at all annoyed to serve us. they were warm and accommodating, inviting us in with genuine smiles.
a couple got up to leave and as they were paying their bill, i heard them tell the waitress that they used to live in bristol and always make a point of returning to eat here whenever they’re back. it’s nice to catch these random snippets of kindness – people saying things for no other reason than to be nice.
07.23.26 – THURSDAY – 9:23AM – TIVERTON
we woke up early this morning and cameron made some coffee in his french press for us to have before we started the drive. i really do love calm, quiet mornings – time to rest in stillness, mentally prepare for the day ahead over bits of casually cheerful chatter.
i’m looking forward to the whole trip, to the sense of reverential calm, worshipful quiet – time in nature, in creation, pondering the depth and breadth of God’s love and power. i’m hoping for a kind of transformation, a reorientation, a spark of some new conviction that i can carry with me back to london, to the rest of my life. and maybe these are high and lofty hopes, but nobody’s done anything that truly matters without first having an impossible dream.
and now “what’s up?” by 4 non blondes has come on the car stereo and cameron’s singing along in his screeching, what he calls his ‘acdc voice’ while flora films and laughs along. cam says it should be his karaoke song and we both agree.
4:30PM – LEE ABBEY
we’re at the tea cottage at lee abbey on one more pit stop before we head out on the first true leg of our pilgrimage – a short-ish (6-7 mile) walk to the inn we’re going to stay at tonight.
lee abbey itself is beautiful. from the main building, you can see rolling fields, cliff faces hanging over the sea. flowers bloom all over the property, apparently all tended to by one dedicated, incredibly knowledgeable woman.
we had some tea and muffins with members of the community here, during their break time that they call “elevensies”. got to talk to a few of them and get a sense of how they felt about living in community. they talked it up, describing how wonderful and formative it is. ally and the rest of them say they can see me living here for a year. so can i.
later, we visited the library and other sites, and i thought about how nice it would be to wake up to these beautiful views, read at a window looking out onto the cliffs and the sea. the serenity of it all. truly quiet rhythms. and the whole day a practice of learning how to be with others, how to love. how beautiful.
now we are sitting at a small stony beach – ally and flora have just taken a dip, did a bit of a wild swim. we haven’t done much walking before stopping for lunch here, but it’s been such a lovely start to everything.
3:13PM – MARTINHOE
we’ve been walking for the last hour or so and now we’re in martinhoe church. ally read a plaque detailing its illustrious history. this church is so old. we marveled at the fact that this town is now just a hamlet when it was once a bustling center of life.
cameron found a plaque on one wall commemorating the men and women of the parish who served in world war ii, and sadly a lot of men listed were brothers, sharing the same family name. imagine, a whole generation of men wiped out by senseless violence, the misguided pursuits of men.
he’s just finished doing a reading from the “pilgrim places, holy lives” booklet and there’s a deep sense of reverence and connection. it’s nice that these churches can act as spaces of rest and refuge on our journey, spaces of encounter and presence.
we sit here, in the quiet, and i get a little bit of what i came here for.
we sat for a while, in the silence, and i pondered the transformative power of God’s boundless love. how, if we were to really live in the reality of it, everything could change. if we could harness the truth of ourselves as conduits of God’s love, our very beings mountaintop encounters where people could experience God’s love, how might that change how we exist in the world – how we relate to each other, the stories we tell ourselves, how we live our lives? perhaps life itself could simply be a practice of love. what else could possibly matter more?
8:46PM – HEDDON VALLEY – HUNTER’S INN
we’ve finished the first true leg of our pilgrimage and now we’re relaxing in the guest lounge of the hunter’s inn in the heddon valley. we’ve eaten dinner and it was an experience.
three of us had meat pies and it took forever to order and for our food to arrive because all of the servers and runners were incredibly green young men.
cameron’s just read some evening prayers and it ends the day on another meditative, contemplative and reverential note. i’m glad to be doing this with these people – friends who take the faith and spiritual side of this seriously.
we’re here, in a beautiful inn, surrounded by the beauty of God’s creation, and it’s wonderful. this was a beautiful day, and i will sleep peacefully tonight. i will will the flat white i just drank to have minimal effect and not get in the way of deep slumber. and in the morning, we go again.
07.24.26 – FRIDAY – TRENTISHOE
we had breakfast at hunter’s inn – i had poached haddock with poached eggs, which was an odd but traditional choice – apparently very english.
after, we started the big walk, leg 2 of our journey. this included a very big hill – hopefully the biggest hill we’ll encounter on this walk. apparently a short cut so we could visit st. peter’s church, trentishoe.
we opened the big door and it creaked open to reveal a bit of a cave – dark and musty and overrun with bats. one flew across the space and we looked up and found so many of them sleeping in the eaves and rafters. cute little things, with all their droppings on the floor.
we couldn’t sit in the pews because of the filth, but after exploring a bit, reading about the church, we stopped to sit down and rest in a shady spot of the graveyard right outside. i’m looking at the three of them sitting or lying on their backpacks, talking about politics and faith – “mobilizing the christian network to be part of the anti-fascist state” – and a bit beyond them, i can see a collapsed bench against a large, wise-looking tree.
it’s peaceful here, the countryside is beautiful.
4:00PM – COMBE MARTIN
we’ve completed the most difficult and treacherous part of today’s big walk and now we’re resting and eating lunch at a beach in combe martin. not as nice as lee abbey’s magical beach, but still nice.
we conquered a really big what i’d call a mountain pass called “the great hangman”, saw some incredible veiws, and then visited a church called st. peter ad vuncula run by cam’s friend sophie, who is a new curate there.
she showed us around, and told us about her story. she finished residential training and requested a rural parish to serve in, which isn’t very typical at all. she has a lot of vision, hoping to harness the potential of the church in her parish to really make a difference in the lives of those who need it most, and it was exciting to hear about – made me think about how we need to be intentional and active to not miss opportunities.
later, she led a moment of daily prayer, which was very beautiful. she opened up the lady chapel for us and it was calm, still and quiet.
and now we’re at the beach, resting in the shade. cameron’s been very impressed with how effective our lidl haul from yesterday has been. we’ve been able to milk it for a second lunch of hummus, cheese and mackerel sandwiches for all of us, as well as snacks and fruit. honestly, we’re all full and it feels like a well-balanced diet – enough to sustain us for the next leg of the walk.
07.25.26 – SATURDAY – 8:40AM – ILFRACOMBE
the trip is done for me and now i’m on the bus to barnstaple, where i’ll take a train to exeter and from there head to london.
finished the last leg of the big walk yesterday – it was mostly easy going, more casual and calmly paced, tunnels of green that reminded me of parkland walk in london, paths through campsites that were ripe for anthropological study – all sorts of people, mish-mashed in an unusual and fascinating combination. none of the massive highs of the first leg of the walk – no truly stunning views – but also no massive lows – as in, all of the hills were very manageable.
coming into ilfracombe, we headed to our lodgings for the night – had trouble finding it for a bit and weathered, rough-looking locals kept trying to help us. the kind of easy, open kindness one finds in the countryside.
eventually we found our lodgings, settled in and showered before quickly heading back out to get some dinner. we tried to go to a cozy italian place called giovanni & luca (how can you get more italian than that?!) – walked in and it was bustling, older patrons gathered in 2s and 4s over softly lit tables, enjoying themselves, a picture that reminded me of my time in florence with bram – but they were all booked up for the night.
we ended up at a wetherspoons and i ordered a chicken pomodoro. they were all excited to get some drinks, and it made me think of that book i read, “the naked mind”, that said that we condition ourselves to get giddy at even the mention of alcohol, at the idea of relaxation and release that it will bring, and how this feeds into minor alcohol dependency.
i went in at one point to get a refillable mug of coffee and the inside was much busier than the outside. i thought it was a bit of a shame that we weren’t inside. it would’ve been better for all sorts of attention, flowing in and out – better for soaking it in, but also for people watching. i always love wandering around these small towns, where people aren’t used to seeing people like me. i imagine myself to be more beautiful, an elusive little nymph that the locals covet and admire. the reality is likely much more mundane than that, but isn’t it more fun to tell yourself an embellished story?
at our table, the conversation turned to fatherhood – what kind of fathers we want to be, didn’t want to be, what we loved about our own fathers, what we wished was different.
fathers who love us but can only express that through acts of service, no words, physical affection or signs of tenderness unless we initiate, and even then. fathers who are open and patient and kind, and do not pressure us with the hard shape of an identity they’ve chosen for us. fathers who sacrifice everything but remain a mystery, their own story and agency lying hidden behind an only occasionally porous wall. fathers who are quick to anger, who don’t know how to properly regulate their emotions and so turn on their children at the slights of others.
as adults, we can pick these things apart, turn an analytical lens on them to guess at how they’ve shaped us, try to understand what we carry, what we leave behind. but as children, we are simply at the mercy of these forces, and it’s amazing to even start to understand the legacy our fathers leave in our bones, in the ways we experience and exist in the world.
after we were finished eating, everyone started getting very sleepy, so even though we had high ambitions to maybe go out that night, we decided to wrap things up and head home.
9:30AM – BARNSTAPLE
it’s about an hour later and i’m at barnstaple train station waiting for my train, which is in about an hour. i’ve ordered a flat white and an almond croissant, heated up, and i’ve sat down at a table in the station cafe, kind of hidden and tucked away from the people in the main space.
i’m trying to think about what i’ve gotten from this trip, what i can take away and bring home with me to london. all of the rest stops were welcome and moving. stopping at the old churches, thinking about the historically vibrant communities they used to serve. i’d imagine the pews full of people living simpler, perhaps more joyful lives. we bloat our days with so many unnecessary things; there is a joy to stripping it back to basics, and it’s a shame that these ways of life continue to vanish. things have in many ways gotten better, but in many other ways they’ve gotten worse.
but i loved the quiet and stillness of those moments. sitting in the cool space of a very old church, letting myself imagine days gone by, the generations of people who filled the space before me, a sense of God’s presence there with us, lingering in the stale but sacred air.
whenever i stepped into one of those old churches, it was like i was stepping into a slice of history, taking part in something bigger than myself, something that would outlast me. it was expansive and allowed me to let go of myself a little bit, remember that there are forces and realities beyond my limited experience of the present moment. i became a single thread in the broader tapestry of humanity, of all the lives and stories that came before me, that are to come – the endless, ever-shifting sea of voices.
12:20PM – TRAIN TO LONDON
i’m reading katabasis by r.f. kuang and there’s a passage from the book that resonates with me:
They struck a deep nostalgia in her just the same, the nostalgia you got just looking inside brightly lit windows along the street at night; peeking into lives you might just have had. Someone else’s comfort. A warm couch, an old movie humming along on the television. And then your wife or mother or friend joining you from the kitchen, steaming mugs of hot toddies in both hands.
this sense of other worlds only feet away from you. other realities unfolding constantly, other truths revealing themselves in the night. i understand sonder to be the acute awareness that other people have histories and lives as infinitely complex as your own, and suddenly the earth is small but explosive, the universe always expanding with not only matter, but also inner worlds. the immaterial becoming just as substantial as solid, liquid and gas.
2:01PM – ON THE TRAIN
i’ve just woken up from a bit of a nap and i think i’m going to stay awake for the last little leg of this journey. i filled in the last couple of entries of my five year journal and it made me realize that we actually did walk so far over the last couple of days. i think i walked more yesterday than ever before, on any other day in my entire life. by the end of the day, my step count was 36,004, which is about quadruple my average daily step count.
i remember turning back on various points of the walk to see vast distances stretched before us, hills and valleys, peaks and dips – all of the terrain we’d covered – and being completely shocked. you can actually cover more ground than you think in a few hours. now i will look at distances in a different way. hopefully walking in a city with limited baggage will now feel like nothing.
i’m proud of myself, actually, for coming along and doing it. for doing the big walk with my friends. now it’s something else i’ve put under my belt, an experience to tuck away into the folds of my life to look back on, to share. i’ve been to the heddon valley, stayed at hunter’s inn where we waited so long for dinner served by handsome but terribly inefficient young men. i’ve conquered the great hangman, where ally stood on top of a pile of inexplicable rocks and we marvelled at the incredible 360 view all around us and flora said that actually, she wasn’t very impressed. and i’ve stayed in ilfracombe, in a little hidden, tucked-away lodging where we slept to the sound of older men blaring on in a live rock cover band and woke up to the sounds of sea birds and a gentle breeze. i’ve done all these things, and i marvel at it.
we had our first ever pride service on friday evening, for lgbt+ christians and allies, and it was so beautiful. we were thinking of canceling because of the extreme heat (the terror of the red heat warning!), worried that people would be put off, but we ended up having an amazing turnout. i was genuinely moved by the amount of people who showed up, and i think it was a testament to the importance of what we were doing.
we had worship, alex phennah did a talk, i shared a testimony during a time of response, and chris prayed for us before we had more worship. then we had refreshments and snacks – rosé, wine and cheese, little nibbles, beers – a real time of togetherness and celebration and lots of people stayed for a couple of hours after.
several people came up to me and said they’d felt a palpable sense of the spirit, that they were touched by the service and that the space felt genuinely welcoming, open and free. i was glad because that’s what we were aiming for – to create a safe space where people could come and worship and connect with God and each other in the fullness of who they are, without any caveats or conditions. especially for those for whom that hasn’t always been a reality, for whom it might still not be.
i believe in the power of stories, and for people (like me) who grew up with the story that there is something in the core of who they are that separates them from God, that there is something in their capacity for love, intimacy and affection that God frowns upon and cannot tolerate, that makes them dirty and unholy and unworthy of a place at God’s table – for all of those people, we wanted to tell a different story, a truer story.
we wanted to tell a story of God’s inclusive, unconditional love. one that says that God knows you and loves you, He created you and draws near to you and you are fearfully and wonderfully made. and you don’t have to kill this tender, wonderful part of yourself to be right with God. you don’t have to shove it into a dark corner at the back of a closet in some deep recess of your heart and mind to suffocate in shame. God wants you to breathe, and to live in the freedom, joy and hope of His expansive love.
small-minded people make God small, and for so long, our community has faced such pain, heartbreak and death at the hands of a church that has largely and unflinchingly cast us out, broken our spirit and shamed us into silence. but i have faith that we can tell a different story – one of healing and reconcilation, redemption and hope. we can tell it out loud and people will listen, because God, who is so much bigger than all of this human brokenness, will shine through.
after the service, someone came up to me and said that worshipping in the evening’s style was usually painful for her, a reminder of previous experiences of church hurt – but this evening, in this space, she was able to reclaim that form of worship and sing out loud without the usual pain.
and i thought that was so beautiful, and that’s the important work. instead of destruction, separation and pain, we can sow healing, belonging and love.
how amazing to see so many people brave the heat to be there, and i think it speaks to the fact that people are tired of a story that needlessly yet devastatingly hurts so many of those it claims to love. people are waking up and realizing that love is something else, it’s a different story, and they’re finding that if christians are meant to be a people of love, something is going to have to change.
my prayer is that this pride service is just one step in all of us collectively telling a different story, in our words and actions, in the things that we fight for and speak up about and against. my prayer is that everyone who came to the service will have left with a deeper sense of God’s unfathomable, boundless, fully inclusive and unconditional love, and that we will be empowered to share that love – humbly, gently and compassionately – with the people and world around us, and in this way curb the usual pain and heartbreak and instead allow everyone to flourish exactly as who God made us to be.
alex and his family had a spare ticket to prom praise last saturday and i snagged it to go with them and it was so beautiful. wordpress doesn’t have a native video slideshow functionality and i’m too lazy to find and set up a plugin for a workaround, so here are three videos from the night:
we love a good gospel.this was so pretty i teared up and i saw the guy behind me tearing up too 🥲you can see people stand unprompted during the blessing, and it was so nice singing all together 🥹
i really love worship music and find it very moving, but sometimes it makes me think of this meme 😂:
but in all seriousness, it was a really beautiful night!
someone stole my phone today so here’s a photo i took on photobooth on my mac 🙂
it was my damn pants (trousers, for those of you in the uk). the pockets were too loose. this morning, as i was leaving my house, i literally thought to myself, ‘these pockets feel loose, better watch out for my phone,’ effectively choosing style (they’re not even stylish pants 😭) over security.
and by the end of the day, all of that caution and attentiveness had vanished.
after work, as soon as i got out of the train at finsbury park, i knew my phone had fallen out of my pocket. i immediately went back into the train to see if it was on the seat, and someone who’d been sitting across from me said that he saw someone take it and leave. another guy on the platform said he thought he saw the thief dart across, and so i went across to the victoria line and another guy who’d been sitting across from me told me he saw the thief head upstairs. and then the music in my airpods cut out so i knew the phone was out of range. it all happened really fast, and by the time i went upstairs, i’d made peace with the knowledge that i was never going to get the phone back.
these criminals are professionals who know what they’re doing – slick cogs in a larger, well-oiled machine, a whole infamous network of practiced petty theft. i couldn’t even tell which exit he might’ve taken.
i went and spoke to one of the tube employees and she was really kind. she let me try to log into my apple id on her phone so i could try to track my phone (“i know all these guys go behind those buildings over there on blackstock, but don’t ever go there alone”), but apparently i’d activated 2-factor authentication, so no luck.
when i got home, i emailed my bank to make sure all my cards were canceled and my bank app was logged out of my phone, and then filed a police report and an insurance claim. my flatmate was kind enough to lend me his phone so i could deal with everything.
i forgot i’d made sure to get theft-covered phone insurance last time my phone was stolen (this is my third phone to be stolen in this unforgiving city), and i was so ready to go to the apple store and just drop an obscene amount of money to have a new phone tonight (i don’t feel truly secure and comfortable until all of my technology [which is really just an extension of myself] is sorted), but now i can basically have it replaced for only £75, which is honestly a blessing. it’s just going to take a couple of days. thankfully, i have my backup iphone se to use in the meantime.
i was weirdly calm through the whole ordeal. i think the first time my phone was stolen in london was so traumatic and stressful (a story for another day) that now every other phone theft experience feels easy peasy, run-of-the-mill (which is pretty sad, what a horrible routine). i’m also happy i’m not going to have to pay so much money to have it replaced. i missed hub tonight to do damage control though, which is a shame because i was looking forward to seeing my friends.
in other news, a-h-a organized a pub social with the st. savs lgbt+ network on monday night, to gather after what’s been a bit of a tricky moment, and it was really encouraging. it was nice to see so many people i hadn’t seen in a while, as well as several familiar faces, and feel the love. had a lot of really tender chats, and at the end, before everyone left, they all gathered around and alex p prayed for me. i felt truly held and i gave a few words of appreciation and encouragement in return.
this morning, we had our first midweek eucharist at church and honestly it was really special. it turns out i can actually appreciate a more traditional service; it was contemplative and reverential, and there was something really beautiful about the quiet and stillness, a different quality to the familiar space.
a few members of the established congregation showed up and stayed after for open doors and it was genuinely so nice to get to know them more. running around on sunday, i’ve only ever really been able to greet them – say a few words, exchange simple pleasantries – so it was nice to sit down for a while and have the chance to really talk. it truly felt like a bit of a breakthrough, and an encouragement for things to come: new dimensions of relationship, forms of connection opening up, a space that serves a purpose.
anyway, it’s late and i have to go get a new sim in the morning, but i’m going to make a decaf coffee, grab a couple of biscuits and watch a couple of episodes of the new season of couple’s therapy. i need to wind down. i think i’m going to work a half day tomorrow because everything’s been a lot.
but strangely, i’m genuinely happy. even though someone stole my phone today, i feel protected, like someone’s watching over me. things weren’t as bad as they could’ve been, and even through the whole thing, i experienced the kindness of strangers. my heart is full and somehow made stronger; a path seems to crystallize, and i carry a weathered but enduring hope into the brand-new day.
yesterday was the “reclaiming belonging” conference at st. john’s church – a day conference exploring how to maintain scriptural integrity while championing the full participation of lgbtq+ people in the life of the church (we’ve been planning on going to this conference for months and now the timing of it seems so fortuitous 👀).
according to their website:
Scriptural integrity is often pitted against the celebration of LGBTQ+ communities and their full inclusion in all aspects of church life. This tension is particularly apparent in current debates around the Blessing of same sex relationships within the Church of England. ‘Reclaiming Belonging’ is a day conference for anyone wanting to explore how to maintain Scriptural integrity whilst championing the full participation of LGBTQ+ people in the life of the church. Together, we’ll be re-examining traditional interpretations of Scripture through an expansive and compassionate lens, to propose that celebrating and including LGBTQ+ people is what it means to be faithful to the God revealed in the Bible.
it was a day full of important learning and conversation. chris and i led worship (meaning i woke up earlier than i’ve woken up in probably weeks [6:45am lol]) and it was a really beautiful, intimate and encouraging way to spend the morning and afternoon.
i’d previously read jonathan tallon’s book, so i already knew the information he discussed during his keynote session on Romans 1, but it was a nice reminder of how important it is to engage with scripture critically and not just take it at its plain-text face value. when you don’t dive deeper and seek true understanding, you do yourself a disservice. the Bible is not something you should approach simplistically. it’s the living word. it’s meant to be wrestled with, pondered, uncovered, layer by layer, across time – and even then, so much remains a mystery, there’s always so much more to learn. but conversely, even then, God’s message of radical, inclusive love shines through.
the session exploring the good fruit of inclusive churches was really encouraging. the speaker told stories of churches that have “fully and joyfully embraced lgbtq+ people and families and are gloriously fruitful and thriving”. and yet, at the end, when people around the room were sharing their own stories of encouragement, i felt the need to point out the urgency of creating inclusive spaces not just to bear good fruit, but also to avoid the bad fruit of non-affirming spaces that refuse to embrace, celebrate and honour the full humanity of lgbtq+ people in the same way as their heterosexual counterparts.
later, at lunch, a mother came up to me and thanked me for what i said. apparently, her daughter had been very involved at a non-affirming church while secretly being in a same-sex relationship. the leaders at her church would tell her things like she was full of the spirit and that God was with her. but when they found out about her girlfriend a few months later, they rejected her, forcing her to either end her relationship or leave the church.
when she argued that they’d previously told her how spirit-filled she was, they said that that was before she went into this relationship, and since then, she’d “fallen from grace.” those were apparently their exact words. and when she told them she’d been in the relationship the whole time and they just didn’t know about it, they just said they’d been wrong about her then. and so she left that church, heartbroken and abandoned. thankfully, she was able to find a church that fully accepted and honoured her.
honestly, while the conference was encouraging (sadly, it already means so much that we can even have conferences like this), it also made it so clear that in this institution where lgbt+ people are simply fighting to be recognized as people who truly love God and others, it’s always going to be an uphill battle. how do you begin to build unity with people who don’t even recognize your full humanity? it would be easy to succumb to a defeatist attitude, but for some reason, through grappling with all of this, i’ve come to realize that at the end of the day, i have faith that God can still make what seems impossible possible, and that love will have the last word.
during dinner with nellie the other night, she posited that in all actuality, lgbt+ people who stay in the church should be the most respected, because their faith is hard-fought and hard-won. there is no good reason any queer person would stay in an institution that broadly and openly hates them (or at least, does not fully love or include them) – especially the church, which is perhaps the best-known institution in the modern western world that so obviously and vehemently discriminates against lgbt+ people – unless they have real faith.
and i have real faith. if, as my sister puts it, God’s love is enacted through community and relationship with others, then i will stay in community and in relationship with others, even when that community can sometimes hurt. i stay in the church because i believe in a force of love that is higher, stronger and more important than the sad brokenness that flawed people bring to the table. i believe this is a love worth fighting for and it is a love that will win.
this conference was actually canceled last year and postponed to yesterday, and i feel like the timing has to be more than just a coincidence. so many things have been happening recently that shake me out of my complacency, that renew a sense of urgency, that force me to face a hard reality but also hope to be some small spark of change. and it all makes me think of one of my favourite verses:
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
– 2 Timothy 4:7
to me, pursuing the full inclusion of lgbt+ people in the church, hoping we can all one day live in the fullness of love and life God has for us, is part of fighting the good fight, running the race, and keeping the faith.
later, maya and i had dinner at mereme during their first dinner service. it was so lovely – such a change in vibe from their usual coffee shop set up. it was albanian-inspired small plates, orange wine (a passionfruit soda for me), a dj, low lighting – maya said this was the vibe that made living in london worth it. i’ve kind of made friends with the owners, ioni and slim, since i get coffee and read there so much, and they were so excited and happy, it was wonderful to see. maya said you can tell they really care about what they’re doing and it’s so refreshing that it isn’t just one of those soulless, corporate-hipster money grabs.
after dinner, we went back to my place and watched “apex” on netflix. a very netflix thriller in the sense that it’s simple, easy, vaguely entertaining watching with little to no depth or demand for complex thinking. which is exactly what we were in the mood for.
and today, we had our first church summer bbq, which was honestly so joyful. chris was a little bit stressed because we were expecting a bit of an influx of people visiting from st. savs, and with the bbq happening there was a lot going on, but it all pulled together in the end.
during our pre-service prayer meeting, i prayed a blessing over the bbq – for good weather and joy – and honestly, it felt like those prayers were answered. it thankfully didn’t rain, and so many people brought food – the spread was amazing. there was a true sense of community, of everyone chipping in and being able to enjoy time together. the woman i helped out on wednesday even showed up and stayed for the bbq, and she said that everyone she met was so welcoming and kind to her, and she was going to invite friends to start coming as well.
i thought about how it’s little things like these that make all of it – all of the struggle, all of the pain, all of the uncertainty – worth it and give me hope. this is the good fruit. this is all sorts of love rising to the surface.
i think i’m at a point of peace with everything. i can look at my past and recognize the damage, but i don’t have to remain in the bitterness of that place. i can hold my head proudly knowing how far i’ve come, i can live with the scars and not let them define me. and though the church really hurt me, it’s helping to heal me too, even if there’s still a long way to go. i can live life now choosing to look forward while honouring the little boy i once was, choosing to live fully, pursuing healing and wholeness, for myself and others, for him.
but that’s not to say these past couple of weeks haven’t been a bit draining. i missed a concert on friday because i wasn’t in the mood to go. i took a nap from 7pm-9pm today and now i’m a bit disoriented. so if anyone wants to say a prayer for me, please let it be that i might be able to recoup some energy and rest 🙏
i had a little bit of a breakdown at work today (thankfully, i was alone). a friend called and told me about how some people have been spinning what happened last tuesday, that maybe i was blowing everything out of proportion, that people were just trying to pray and be nice. i think, honestly, he was kidding for the most part, but we did seriously talk about how people are just trying to do what they think is right, and if they truly believe that sex outside of a heterosexual framework is not only not right but actually dangerous, they feel that the responsible thing to do is not accept or allow it.
i personally find this view incredibly self-righteous, judgmental and patronizing, as if you and your ilk are the only ones who truly know and understand God, and i think the people who hold this view have the privilege of being able to ignore all the outworkings of harm – all the little deaths and actual deaths – it causes. i just cannot understand how you can think you’re nurturing anyone’s spirit or sense of self or fullness of life by telling them the way they experience and express love is unnatural and wrong.
after the call, i went to go make an instant coffee, and while i was thinking of my own fractured experience of struggling with my sexuality while being around people who were only trying to do right by God and others, i said this out loud, to no one:
i just wish someone had told me i was good.
and, to my surprise (and utter horror), i broke down crying. i realized that i just wish someone around me – my pastor, my parents, any adult i looked up to in the church – had told me i was okay just the way i was. that i wasn’t bad or broken because of this. that the feelings i was having, the experience i was going through, were completely natural and fine, and not anything to be ashamed of. i genuinely believe it would’ve changed the trajectory of my life, and i would’ve been able to avoid some of the more destructive paths i eventually walked on. if i’d had the conditions to explore love and intimacy openly and safely, i think i would’ve been spared a lot of pain. but of course, nobody really had any idea what i was going through because i was too afraid to name it to anyone.
i realize now, with all of this going on, revisiting and confronting parts of my past in any meaningful way for the first time in a while, really trying to understand the potential consequences of what i went through and making connections i’ve never made before – i realize now that i internalized a deep sense of wrongness when i was young, and i’m not sure if i’ve completely worked my way out of it.
and so i said what the fuck and cried, mourning the kid i once was, the sense of innocence robbed, grieving the man i could’ve been without all the damage. and for the first time in a long time, i felt a deep sense of anger. because i was just a kid, and even writing this now, my eyes well up for that kid.
i like to think of myself as strong, as having risen above all of these things and moved on, but i think the reality is that i’ve been, for a long time, running away, always charging forward, too afraid to look back and dwell in the deep pain of loss. maybe this is some sort of reckoning, and maybe all of this is a personal blessing for me. maybe this is what had to happen for me to finally face the music.
i believe i can be strong and sure of myself, confident and free, but also tender to myself, finally willing to hold myself through the hard places. maybe one day i will write about it all, and maybe that will make me feel better, but for now, here’s a little prayer i wrote a little after i stopped crying:
Heavenly Father,
Thank you for being present with me through all of this. I feel a deep sense of sorrow and anger, for the boy I once was, for the wreckage of my young body. And though I feel a deep grief for the man I could’ve been, I am also so grateful for the man You’ve made me today. I lift all of my pain, my heartache and brokenness up to you, Lord. Please, somehow, work it all towards Your good.And thank You for drawing near to me, always, even when people tell me I am pulling away from You. Fill me with Your spirit, Lord. Give me peace and compassion, strength and courage, and make me brave enough to face what I need to face. Guide me through this and let me live freely in the fullness of the love and life you have for me.
london showed many faces today; the sun shone, clouds drifted in and out, and we got little bursts of five-minute flash showers of hail (in may 😭) and rain. the sky was clunky and indecisive, leaving no room for fickle fair weather friends.
as i was walking home from work, i noticed an old woman across the street struggling to walk with a big shopping trolley she was dragging along. i’ve recently been trying to practice seeing everyone around me as an image-bearer of God (deserving of dignity, love and care) and trying to be attuned to the different ways i can be a blessing (be the hands and feet of God) in the lives of others, so i crossed the street and asked her if she needed help. i was bracing myself for her to rebuff me, but to my joy, her face immediately broke into a smile of gratitude.
she thanked me profusely, handed me her shopping trolley, took my arm as support, and together we walked her home, in the middle of the street because the pavement was too wonky. every so often, we had to stop and get out of the way of an oncoming car and she’d apologize for slowing me down and i’d say, no problem at all, i have nothing more important to do with my day.
she told me she’d twisted her ankle not too long ago and was having a really hard time getting home after grocery shopping, so i was such a blessing to her. she asked if i lived nearby and i told her i work for the church around the corner, but would be moving into the area soon.
“christ church?” “yes!” “my house is on the same street! i’ve been before.”
i told her we started something new there almost a year ago. turns out she’s also a christian and usually goes to the gospel centre, but because of her ankle she hasn’t been able to go. i said she’s always welcome to drop in on a sunday, and i also let her know about our open doors wednesday community coffee mornings, and she said she’d come by next week!
she asked me what my name was and said she had a feeling we were going to be great friends. and she kept saying,
“you’re an angel, you’re an angel – i didn’t even pray for one today, but here you are, right when i needed you.”
and i thought about how beautiful that idea is: that you can be an answer to someone’s prayer they didn’t even know they had.
how amazing would the world be if we were all looking out for little ways to bless each other, expecting nothing in return? surely, we’d receive so many blessings too.
when we got to her house (it really was just a couple of doors down from the church), she said she would have to have me over sometime for coffee, cake and piano (we bonded over music during the walk) and that i would be welcome to bring a friend. i ran back to church to grab some flyers for her, so hopefully she does come by next week!
in the evening, i met up with nellie to have dinner at lucia’s. they said it was going to be a one-and-a-half-hour wait, so we meandered over to a bar down the road for a couple of sodas and to catch up.
i shared with her all of the drama that’s been going on in the last week, and she was incredibly sympathetic and encouraging. she’s not christian, so it was actually helpful to get a perhaps more objective perspective on everything, because it does seem a bit crazy from the outside looking in.
i think the big question was: who actually gets hurt when you institutionalize an affirming theology over a non-affirming one? is it just people who disagree with it, and the pain they feel is a personal sense of betrayal of themselves and God? because we know who gets hurt when you institutionalize a non-affirming theology – we have the documented and anecdotal evidence of all the harm, pain and death.
will people die because your church is suddenly affirming? will people be disowned by their parents and left homeless on the street for having a non-affirming view? will people go home and cry themselves to sleep at night over their own hopeless sense of broken identity and self-hatred because the church says God might actually be okay with gay people? probably not? then what are we doing?
surely the responsible thing to do is institutionalize an affirming view that allows for everyone’s dignity and full humanity (or at least stop institutionalizing and sanctifying dangerous non-affirming views) and actually make a safe space for the diversity of people’s personal theologies and beliefs. you can only really “agree to disagree” well and safely when no one is getting hurt. it’s not simply agreeing to disagree when your harmful opinion is enshrined as absolute truth and leads to a pervasive and seemingly inevitable culture of life-destroying and ungodly shame, guilt, hatred and fear.
anyway, as we were talking about all this, nellie said i must be exhausted, and i didn’t realize it, but i am. i’m tired of shouting into a void, trying to convince people that the pain i and countless others have felt and continue to feel is real – that it matters, and that it doesn’t have to be this way.
the truth is, my struggle with my sexuality in many ways derailed my life, and it was only a struggle because of the church. i didn’t care about what my peers thought about me, but i cared about what God thought about me. and though my church wasn’t actively homophobic in any way (nobody was ever mean to me or made me feel excluded; in fact, people at my church were only ever kind and loving to me), the doctrine was enough to damn me, and people’s kindness in some ways made it more confusing.
i thought, these are kind, loving, godly people, so if they’ve got that right, they must be right about this. and if they’re right about this, then God is disgusted by me and i’m going to hell. and when you’re a kid raised to believe God is the most important thing in the whole world (and you’re too scared to talk to your parents about it because they love God and, you know, they might throw you out) that can be enough to kill you.
so yes, i’m tired of having to retread this pain, trying to get people to really listen and understand, knowing it might not even matter at all, that it might not make any difference.
i’m exhausted.
but at least dinner was delicious! some of the best tacos i’ve had in london. and it was so nice to spend time with a friend who really lifts me up and helps me find the courage, strength and perspective i need to keep doing the work.
above: the food at gurmani (georgian food), where everything was delicious.
today was our first church service since everything happened last tuesday, and naturally, when people asked me how my week was, i talked to them about it.
i shared my blog post with a friend who read it and spent a good portion of the rest of the service riled up and crying. apparently, he knows someone else who’s dealing with quite damaging, active homophobia enshrined in faith and doctrine, so it really hit close to home.
i’ve been slightly worried that i’m being overly dramatic about everything that happened last week, even though it was undoubtedly mishandled and i experienced real pain. i’m fortunate that my faith and sense of self and God’s love for me are robust enough that i’m able to bounce back quickly, kind of brush everything off and move on, but because of that i end up minimizing the problem to myself.
seeing my friend crying today (and our conversation that followed) really made me realize that no, this actually is a huge issue and people continue to suffer in real ways. i believe that regardless of whether or not you intend to do any harm (or realize the harm you’re doing), these non-affirming views inevitably, even if passively, lead to a culture of incredibly destructive and often silent shame, guilt and fear for those impacted by them, and to the breakdown of family, relationships, and a healthy sense of self. moreover, these views have historically been and are currently being used to fuel and legitimize more extreme, active and violent forms of homophobia, whether or not you agree with or condone this violence.
from my perspective, when you hold fast to these views, you are inevitably (even if unwittingly) contributing to the harm, degradation and dehumanization the lgbt+ community experiences, and i think then the honest question becomes whether adherence to this doctrine – to this particular brand of conversvative christianity when other theologically consistent approaches are available – is more important than the lives (the lived experiences of harm) of the people you’re hurting. i think we all need to start being real about this.
in lighter news, little L invited me out to lunch with her and her family after church and it was a wonderful time! we had georgian food at gurmani and everything was delicious. L even made me a nice wig (it was more like a head ornament) out of playdough(?) and the waitress said it looked great.
i’m really grateful i have these experiences of true church family, love and acceptance to act as a counterbalance to the lonelier experiences of being gay in the church. truthfully, it’s not easy. even now, with all of this going on, i have to stop myself from seriously considering the legitimacy of the non-affirming view, because it’s a slippery slope to once again hating myself and that is a dark place i refuse to go back to.
i’m sure people wonder why i choose to stay in the church, not to mention work for one, but my faith is real; I have seen God at work in my life and in the lives of those around me, and i want to love people the way that Jesus loves them (selflessly, with genuine care, mercy, forgiveness, compassion).
so i’m choosing to believe in the God who loves me, who neither rejects nor needs me to reject such a fundamental part of who i am to truly love and follow Him, and i’m so glad i’m surrounded by people who choose to believe in this God too.
this morning, i went into my flatmate’s room to ask him if he was the one who’d left an empty roll of toilet paper on the holder without swapping it out. he started basically yelling at me, saying i was barging in and attacking him while he was eating lunch, and that he was tired of being accused of everything wrong with the house.
it would be easier to not assume he was the one at fault for everything if he wasn’t so clearly the one at fault for so many little grievances. we had a flat meeting once where we were talking about making sure the toilets were clean and free of skid marks and he said “what’s the big deal about skid marks anyway? they’re just skid marks.” unsurprisingly, skid marks hadn’t been an issue before he moved in.
so he deflected about the toilet paper (an issue i’ve been frustrated with because i keep finding empty rolls on the holder and replacing them myself and not mentioning it out of the goodness of my heart) and i posted a message in the group chat basically asking people to do the considerate thing and replace empty rolls.
and then he and i basically fought in the group chat.
him: this is not a big deal, i don’t care who has done this. it is seriously not worth arguing over. me: it is because it’s about the principle of shared responsibility. it’s about consideration for others and an agreed standard of living. him: if you want to risk upsetting people just because of idealised responsibility then you need to prioritise being kind. me: it’s not unkind to flag when someone is not pulling their weight.
first of all, insane that he thinks doing the decent thing and swapping out toilet paper when you’ve used the last bit of it is an idealized responsibility rather than common sense. the thing about men is that they hate having to rise to any form of higher standard of living if it takes an ounce of energy more than what they’re used to, even if it helps them in the long run.
they’d rather we all lower down and roll in the dirt with them, saying anything else is unncessary and too fussy. who cares if there’s an empty roll of toilet paper in the holder? i’m sure someone somewhere somehow will solve that problem at some point in time in some way that is beyond me.
apparently it’s mean to ask someone to do their share of common, considerate housework.
at one point, our landlord said “may i suggest you move from texting to talking and hopefully resolve issues?”
i said, “i did try to talk to him about it and apparently it was me attacking him.”
and that’s when he responded, saying “some self-awareness is needed here.”
to which i responded, “please tell me how i should’ve handled that better other than knocking first.” (note: his door was open and i did knock, i just didn’t wait for him to say to come in)
and he hasn’t responded to that yet. men are so arrogant, as if i’m the one who needs self-awareness when you don’t understand why your skid marks might make people uncomfortable.
truthfully, i think he’s being defensive and feeling called out because he knows he’s at fault for these little things. the rest of us are relatively tidier and know how to clean up after ourselves. he doesn’t think these ‘small things’ should be issues, but he does not get to decide what is and isn’t annoying and what is and isn’t a shared responsibility rooted in common sense when living with people. you can’t just say “i don’t think that’s a problem” and expect everyone else to deal with the problem.
i don’t blame him though. i think he’s only ever lived in shared houses with other men like him and it’s probably always been a mess. when i lived with sadiq, i was the messy one, and i used to think he was being anal retentive about everything. then i grew up and realized i was just being a bit of a lazy asshole and taking him for granted.
so at the end of the day, i hope this poor man grows up. it’ll be a real wake-up call when he starts living with a partner if he doesn’t.
anyway, we had that fight, then i went to mereme to start reading han kang’s “we do not part” (the owner knows me now and said i should come by for their first evening service next saturday), and then i went to the park to hang out with ian, ben and ben’s brother.
i didn’t realize ben’s dad was a vicar. i somehow hijacked the conversation and we talked about how the modern church has often lost the plot, caring more about doctrine, theology and its own self-righteous holiness over actually being in the world and loving people well, especially the marginalized, vulnerable and poor; how someone will judge you for sleeping in the same bed as your partner outside of marriage and then also completely ignore the homeless person they pass by on their way to the tube.
i also told them about how i no longer believe in hell, and how that’s been so liberating and formative for my faith. i could tell they were really thinking about what i was saying, which i appreciated. i think if you’re going to call yourself a christian, you should take it seriously and really think about these things, see things from new perspectives, and form your own beliefs.
the way i see it, anything that allows your faith to be more expansive, more full of possibility and hope, and more encouraging to be in real, loving relationship with people has to be good.
it’s 2am but i thought i should write a bit of an update.
a lot of today was made up of dealing with the fallout from my last post. the funny thing about being open and honest is that you often give people something to wrestle with, to think about more deeply, to consider more seriously, and i don’t think that’s ever a bad thing.
speaking up about something important even when it’s uncomfortable (maybe especially when it’s uncomfortable) – and when you know you’re going to make everyone around you uncomfortable – gives people a chance to wrestle with that discomfort.
i got a lot of messages of care, encouragement and solidarity, which strengthened me when i was feeling a bit anxious. i could tell people were sharing the post, various members of church leadership were getting involved, conversations about what happened were going on. all of these things i knew might happen were happening, and i think deep down i wanted people to talk a little bit.
even though it was a bit scary to put myself out there like that, not knowing what the consequences would be, i’m glad people are treating this with the weight and gravity it deserves and having serious conversations about it.
every message i’ve received from all of the church leadership who’ve reached out has been very gracious and understanding, and for that i’m truly grateful. pete emailed me in good faith to see if i want to have a conversation with him (and chris) about everything, and i’m honestly looking forward to it.
i think these conversations need to happen, and i’m happy to be a part of them. i think we need better answers to big questions.
like, what does it mean when the way you love someone doesn’t feel like love? when it causes pain, separation, and the breakdown of true relationship? is it just a case of let’s agree to disagree? and how do you disagree well here when someone is crying out, saying “you’re hurting me, you’re pulling me away from God”? is it just a case of sad misunderstanding, of not receiving the ‘love’ you have to give well, of not realizing that you’re hurting them for their own good, that it’s not hurt at all, that it’s actually ‘opportunity’?
how do you build true, authentic, loving community, where everyone can thrive and flourish, when a part of the community is saying you have systems in place that actively harm them? is it just a case of they’re wrong, you’re right, and they simply have to find some way to accept that and move on, or leave?
i guess we’ll have to wait and see.
in other news, i got a cake for open doors (our church’s free wednesday community coffee morning) to celebrate chris’s birthday. james and diane and a new guest named tom were there. we took turns saying nice things about chris and then praying for him, and it was really sweet.
and while we were doing this, i thought about how grateful i am for chris’s leadership – for his courage and love and compassion, for making a space where i can practice real discipleship and truly flourish in the boundless love of God, exactly as i am, with everything i have to bring. i thought about all of the things that had to happen for me to end up working at christ church and i felt truly and wonderfully blessed.
and in the evening, my st. saviours small group unexpectedly made space at the end of our meeting to pray over me and over the situation, to tell me they’re here for me and will support me – and i felt loved.
so even here, in the midst of this dull ache and discomfort, i can see glimpses of God too. and i have hope and faith that His hand is over all of this, and whatever He wills will be.
P.S. forgot to mention that apparently the situation with the church in wales is a lot more complex and nuanced (in ways that haven’t been fully explained to me yet), and their being non-affirming is just one factor in why they’ve left the institution of the church of wales. unfortunately, that’s not how it was presented at all in that meeting (which begs the question, why?).
the shirt i wore today, which turned out to be surprisingly appropriate (pretending you’re fine but feeling kind of shit)
bit of a dramatic morning today.
some background: i work for a church called christ church west green, which was planted by a church called st. saviours, which in turn was planted by a church called king’s cross church (kxc). we’re all part of a network of churches called the table network, along with a few other kxc plants. kxc does not hold an affirming theology and neither do any of their plants, except for us.
and so we’re essentially being kicked out of the table network (it’s probably more of a mutual agreement) because we have a more progressive and inclusive (affirming) view of sexuality, and it’s incompatible with their doctrine. i knew going into today that this would be our last meeting with them (we have a joint prayer gathering at the beginning of every month) and i’m not exactly sure what i was expecting, but it wasn’t whatever that was.
the meeting started typically enough, with encouraging stories, time for worship, time for prayer, but then pete (a lead pastor at kxc, who runs the meetings) said we were going to pray for some churches in the ‘family’.
apparently, one of the churches based in wales is essentially being forced to leave the church of wales (which as an institution holds and mandates an inclusive and affirming theology) and plant a new church so they can hold onto their exclusive and non-affirming doctrine.
so everyone gathered around them to pray, reaching out, closing their eyes, praising them for being so courageous in resisting the pressure to welcome gay people wholeheartedly to be part of their church just as they are, no ifs ands or buts. the gist of all the prayers was that they were being led by the spirit, that God was with them as they fought the good fight against the evils of creating a safe and inclusive space where lgbt+ people are free to worship and love God without believing a part of them is fundamentally wrong. and obviously they weren’t using those exact words, but it’s what i was hearing.
to me, they were praying for the strength and provision to bravely continue to exclude, marginalize and other; make people feel less than, less worthy of love, less holy, less able to inherit the kingdom of God because they just aren’t trying hard enough to be straight or celibate, they just don’t have enough faith.
and then later, they offered to pray for us, and i thought, pray for what? for us to fail? for us to finally see the light and once again tell queer people that they either have to pray the gay away or die celibate and sexless, which, if they just looked at it in the right way, is a gift?
pete explained we were leaving the table network due to a difference in beliefs about sexuality; that though we weren’t going to be part of the ‘family’ anymore, he was hopeful we could all remain great friends. then chris (my vicar, who i’m so proud of) said some kind words, and as all this was happening, something was bubbling up in me, this restlessness, this creeping anxiety, a form of suffocation.
i remembered all of the nights i spent quietly crying in my bedroom as a teen, journaling about how i felt disgusting and damned, praying that God would change me. every night, praying He would make me straight. every night the same prayer, learning to hate the way i loved, the crushes i had, the way i craved intimacy and affection just like anyone else. and i remembered not being able to tell my parents because no matter how much i knew they loved me, God said it wasn’t right, and they loved God, so what would happen?
it was destructive, it was unholy, it was something so many gay christians can relate to and are still experiencing today. i had to work to love myself, and by some form of grace, i came to believe God loves me too, not in spite of who i am, but because of it.
and so sitting there earlier, listening to everyone praying to strengthen this church in wales that will almost certainly lead to little boys and girls spending nights crying in their bedrooms, feeling disgusting and damned, something rose in me. and as chris was about to pass the mic back, i asked for it, and i stood up, and i said something along the lines of:
“hi everyone, i’m obed, and i’m gay. i just want everyone to understand the reality of this situation. there are parts of me that are feeling rejected, there are parts of me that feel excluded, and this is all bringing up a lot of trauma, all the work i had to do to learn to love myself in the church. you say that we’re invited, we’re invited, but when push comes to shove, we’re not, and it’s sad to me that we can no longer be part of your family because of this. hopefully we can still be friends. it was nice to meet those of you i met, and thank you for including us up to the point that you did, but honestly, the lived, emotional reality of this experience is really uncomfortable so i’m just gonna go.”
and then i grabbed my things and left, the room in total silence other than pete saying “thanks for sharing, obed.”
i got some nice, supportive messages from people after, and chris and i debriefed when we got back to our church. he told me that after i left, they talked about how these conversations are real and important, that there are real consequences and that they shouldn’t trivialize these things. they had a moment of silence, to dwell in the moment and process everything i guess?
but honestly, the sequence of events felt either completely thoughtless and unconscientious, or pointed and intentional. like, did they really not think about how a queer person in that room might feel in the face of all of this? you’re literally praying for a church to stay strong so that they don’t have to (meaningfully) include people like me and become like my church, which in their eyes seems to have fallen from grace and truth in allowing people to remain content on their path to hell. you can say you’re simply holding on to your scriptural truths and convictions, that you’re only trying to do what’s right, but these things don’t exist in a vacuum, and real, ongoing harm is being done in the name of these views.
i’m glad i said my piece, even though there’s so much more to say, so much more i wish i’d said. but chris is right in that this is such a delicate conversation, and the gracious thing to do is to learn how to hold all of these tensions, learn how to make space for these disagreements, with love and mercy and compassion, trusting that God is at work, even here.
i just think that if you’re going to hold onto a theology that can do (and has historically done) so much harm and lead to so much pain, heartbreak, often even death, you have a responsibility to pursue real, loving relationship with the people you might be hurting; listen to what they have to say, try to understand their perspective and pain. the stakes are too high. real people are suffering. what are the fruits of your doctrine? how are you building the kingdom of God with all different kinds of people?
i can tell you right now that in the entire time we went to those joint prayer gatherings, maybe three out of around thirty-five kxc staff members ever started a conversation with me, and that’s all i really needed to know.
but then later, during dinner with my church small group, i felt so held. i felt a true sense of community, sharing with others, being with people who really see me and care about me. and i remembered that there is goodness here, that there is hope and joy and true solidarity.
