My Thoughts on the Same-Sex Marriage Ruling

If facebook is any sort of fair indicator, most of the people in my life have strong feelings about Friday's same-sex marriage ruling. I do not. Just call me Switzerland; I am neutral. My hope is that you'll read my heart, here, which will require your reading straight through to the end. No, really. All the way to the end.

Let me start by saying: I'm glad that the spouses and children of veterans in same-sex marriages will receive survivor benefits and burial rights. I believe that--regardless of his or her sexual orientation--if someone dies in service to the United States of America, his or her family should be afforded protections.

I'm glad to know that, as a legal spouse, an LGBTQ partner will be recognized as next-of-kin for the purposes of visiting in the hospital; making emergency medical decisions; and making funeral arrangements. (Read more from Caleb Wilde, here.)

I could continue but won't; suffice it to say: I'm glad that same-sex couples will now have access to the same 1,138 benefits, rights, and protections as other married people.

I haven't started waving a rainbow-colored flag, though, because many (not all) of my brothers and sisters in Christ are hurting. They view the marriage of same-sex couples as legalized sin, and they're brokenhearted over the direction in which the United States is going. I care about their disappointment and angst. I really do.

If I'm being honest, I don't know how to get around certain scriptures, myself. I'm not particularly interested in trying because, in this country, people have freedom of (and from) religion. Married couples have access to benefits whether they're religious or not, and before Friday's ruling, a heterosexual couple who'd never once donned the door of a church were, upon marriage, granted (or given access to) benefits while other non-religious but committed couples were not. Marriage has long been more (or other) than a union before God; it's a richly beneficial institution. The government is all over it.

It gets trickier, of course, when we consider the intersection of the LGBTQ community and the church. (We mustn't forget that we have LGBTQ individuals within the church, already!) Some Christ followers are concerned about their freedom to denounce homosexual activity; others are concerned about their freedom to avoid contributing to or participating in marriage ceremonies between same-sex couples; still others are concerned about the extent to which LGBTQ individuals will want to participate in church or its leadership. I understand those concerns but hold none of them.

I think these are exciting times. I think the more opportunities the church has to interact with the LGBTQ community, the better. My prayer is that everyone will grow: that the church will evolve into a more empathetic, compassionate entity...not one without convictions, certainly, but one without the sort of animosity that becomes a stumbling block to anyone who would enter relationship with the One--the only One!--who convicts us of sin and changes us. My prayer is that LGBTQ individuals would know they are loved: that they were created out of love, that they are seen and understood by their Creator, and that they can trust Him to light their individual paths.

You know, in the wake of Friday's same-sex marriage ruling, I've already experienced a fair amount of coaching in terms of what I should (or should not) be thinking, saying/writing, and doing as a follower of Christ. I just want to say: no. I don't mean to discourage those who are called to coach; certainly, some people are desperately seeking guidance, right now. But I am not a person seeking guidance.

My thoughts and words are my own--no one else's--and I stand upon them. I'm in a great place. I took a fleeting moment of doubt to the Lord just yesterday, and He reminded me: He made me the way I am. I am Switzerland. I love all people, and I don't mean that in a vague sort of hands-off way. I mean that my spiritual gift is mercy. I mean that I'm called to enter pain: that the work God has given me to do is the work of healing wounds.

I interact with Christians, sometimes, who criticize me for a lack of boldness in matters like these, but I'm plenty bold. Hear me say, here and now: I'm confident that where I am is where I'm meant to be.

When I lived among the non-heterosexual in Dallas, there was a preacher who stood on the corner of Cedar Springs and Throckmorton and howled for LGBTQ souls. I'll admit to looking down on him; honestly, I thought his vehemence scary and off-putting, and I never saw a single person interact with him. But as I've continued to grow in Jesus, my heart has softened toward that stranger. His style wasn't mine, but that doesn't mean He wasn't called to that work. 

So I tell you one more time, in one more blog post: I'm not interested in advising you in terms of what to think, say, write, or do. I'm interested in encouraging you--whomever you are--to seek the face of Jesus. Ask Him to work in and through you: to reveal any and all sin in your life and to help you overcome it. Ask Him to reveal His will for your life. Ask Him to give you Kingdom work.

Know that if--at any point, whomever you are--you wish to have a conversation with a sinner (because I am chief among us) saved by lavish grace who will not judge you, I'm available. That's the work to which I, Brandee Shafer, have been called.

More from the Mother of a Boy Scout

I thought I was done writing on this subject; I'm not. If you haven't yet read my original post, you can find it by clicking here; it may give you the background information you need.

What I'm going to do, here and now, is write about how my three churches have responded to the policy change of the Boy Scouts and how I'm processing those responses. In other words, I'm going to bleed a little for you in the form of words.

Yes, I have several local churches. My weakest connection is with the Southern Baptist church my ex-husband and I joined shortly after moving to this place some 12+ years ago. I'm not going to sit here and claim I was walking as closely with the Lord as I could've/should've been, but I reached my breaking point with the church over my Sunday School teacher's yammering on about homosexuality every. single. week.

It wasn't even that I disagreed with him theologically: I just tired of the topic. I didn't understand why we needed to keep talking about it. Wasn't there anything else to discuss in a room full of straight people? A different sin, perhaps? Anything? Anything at all?

So I started exiting the room quietly whenever the topic came up, which meant I exited the room at least once every week...sometimes more. After several weeks of this, the teacher sent an e-mail suggesting I might be a poor fit for the church and with the Southern Baptists, in general. I went straight to the pastor. He refused to get involved. I stopped attending the church on Sundays.

But over the years, this church has richly blessed my family. For one thing, they had for the longest time the hands-down best women's Bible study group I've ever been privileged to attend. They rock Vacation Bible School. They took the Good News Club into Cade's elementary school, when he was a student there. And up until very recently, they chartered Cade's Boy Scout troop.

Because of my experience with the church, it came as no surprise to me that--given the changes in Boy Scout policy--they decided not to renew their charter with the troop. (I know there are some misconceptions about this, but the Southern Baptist Convention left the decision up to this particular church and all its churches. Read for yourself, here.) I've prayed about this a lot, and in the end, I'm not bitter. I can't even tell you how long the church chartered the troop, but it was significantly longer than Cade's six years as a Scout. I think the church has lost an opportunity, but another church has gained it, and--in all fairness, even if there hadn't been a policy change--it would probably be time for another organization within the community to take a turn.

The new church home of the troop holds so much of my heart, and in all reality, I would probably still be a member there if my Jim weren't a traditional-church man. It's not a perfect church, but it's always reaching and baptizing and growing, and that's more than something: it's a lot. So much of the work I've done and do in the community is with this church. The six families who study in Jim's and my log cabin, Monday nights, attend this church. I went recently to the pastor and told him there's this thing I can do, this thing I'm called to do, and he heard me, believed me, and put me to work.

This church is also a member of the Southern Baptist Convention, but for good or ill, I'm not sure how much that really means. I've spent a great deal of time on the SBC website recently, and I'm not going to lie: I haven't been comforted.

Check this out. Straight from the SBC FAQ.

5. I believe our pastor (or my church) has acted inappropriately.  What will the SBC do about it?

Actually, the Southern Baptist Convention is not in a position to take any disciplinary action regarding pastors or churches. Again, because of the autonomy of the local church, each SBC church is responsible before God to set its own policies regarding pastors or problems in the church. Such policies are entirely up to the individual congregation. 

According to our constitution, if a church no longer makes a bona fide contribution to the Convention's work, or if it acts to "affirm, approve, or endorse homosexual behavior," it no longer complies with the Constitution of the Southern Baptist Convention and is not permitted to send messengers to the annual meeting.  These, however, are the only explicitly stated instances in which the SBC has the prerogative to take action.  Failure to remain in "friendly cooperation" would also disqualify a church from sending messengers, and is obviously more of a subjective test.

Most SBC churches would look to their own constitutions and bylaws for the answer to this question, often these documents address this very issue. 

Does anyone else find this disturbing? I mean, to me, this says: if your pastor is having an adulterous relationship within the church or molesting children, that's not our concern. Send us your money; take a strong stance against homosexuality; and figure the rest out for yourself. Disturbing.

But anyway, the third church (yet another member of the Southern Baptist Convention) is the place where our family goes, Sundays, and the one to which we belong. As I struggled to process the change in Boy Scout policy, the responses of Christ followers, and what I was learning about the SBC, I carried myself on knocking knees to the elder whom I perceive wisest and, later, to my pastor.

I asked them basically to comfort and reassure me: am I still a Baptist because I feel this way? Do I even belong here? And each did nothing short of apply a balm to my heart.

Still, I see and hear things out of my church, sometimes, that cause me unrest. I'm currently avoiding at least one conversation. But this is what I want to say, and will, in time:

This is personal to me. My son is a Boy Scout. He was a Boy Scout for six years before this policy change. To date, nothing has changed for him because of the policy change...except that a bunch of Christian adults decided he and his friends should start meeting elsewhere. He wants to finish what he started. He wants to become an Eagle Scout, and in so doing, he wants to bless the residents of the adult home we all frequent. 

What are you going to do? Are you going to support my child: a saved and baptized member of your church? Because if you don't, I can't be sure I'll be a big enough person to shake your hand, Sundays. I'm praying about it. 

Also. If you for one minute believe that Christ can't be at work, yet, within the Boy Scouts, you're underestimating Him.

Duck Dynasty and the Phil Robertson Dilemma

My facebook feed is one Phil Robertson post after the other, and fact is: my facebook feed says more about me--my particular circle of friends, my interests--than it does about society. (Everyone's facebook feed is unique.)

Many of my facebook friends love Phil Robertson and Duck Dynasty (if you don't, I beg your patience just a moment longer), and no surprise. I've lived in the south most of my life, and many of my people are camo-wearing Baptists. The Robertsons are reality stars to whom my people can relate, and many of them are riled up over Phil's suspension.

They're posting about the First Amendment. They're criticizing writer Drew Magary, GQ, and A&E. They're wondering why it seems like people in the LGBT community can say whatever they like without consequence. They're wondering why it seems like Pat Robertson (of The 700 Club) can say whatever he likes without consequence. They're wondering all sorts of things, and I had to walk away because my head hurt. I felt like a bunch of people were yelling in there.

Here's what I think. Again, wherever you stand, I beg your patience. I think--just like every other Christian I've ever met, including myself--Phil is a sloppy servant of Jesus. Jesus has used Phil, anyway, and will likely continue to do so. Phil will be able to reach people whom others can't.

Phil may have just rendered himself useless in terms of reaching unsaved African Americans and unsaved people in the LGBT community. At least, if I were African American or of a non-heterosexual orientation, I can assure you: it would be over between Phil and me.

I can almost hear some of you saying: "But Phil was just speaking to his experience in Pre-Civil-Rights-Era Louisiana." Okay, but Phil's experience was pret-ty durn limited to have made such a blanket (ignorant) statement about an entire group of people to which he doesn't even belong.

And I can almost hear some of you saying: "But Phil was just speaking out about sin, and a sin is a sin." Okay, but what I know for sure is that--even if a sin is a sin to God--a sin is not a sin in society, or among people. People are comfortable comparing one sin to another (homosexuality and bestiality, for example) so long as they're guilty of neither, but are you personally willing to place yourself in the same category as a baby rapist because you experienced a fleeting moment of jealousy over your sister's new purse? Be fair.

Perhaps you're thinking: "But Phil wasn't comparing. He was just listing sin." Okay, but I can see easily how people in the LGBT community would perceive differently. Can't you?

Regardless of Phil's intentions--and I'm willing, personally, to give him the benefit of the doubt--he was sloppy. He allowed the interview. He said what he said. And you know what? People will and should be held accountable for what they say and how they say it. Phil's neither dead nor in prison. He has a lot of money, a loving family, a huge fan base, and (regardless of his sloppiness) the love of the Lord. Phil's First Amendment rights don't guarantee his permanent reign as a reality star, but you know what? He'll be okay.

And I'll tell you something else: if Phil loves the Lord as much as he says he does, he doesn't want his predicament to detract from your celebration of Jesus's birth. Get Phil off your pedestal and put Jesus up there; He won't let you down. A human will, and every time.

From the Mother of a Boy Scout

I've been sitting on this post for awhile, and when I say that, I mean not that I've been sitting on it in draft form, but that I've been trying to figure out what I want to say and how I want to say it.

Let me start here: my thirteen-year-old son has been a Scout (first Cub, now Boy) for six years or so. He loves Scouting, and I think it's been good for him. I joke sometimes that--thanks to Scouting--he could probably survive more easily in the wilderness than in our home. 

Some of Cade's fellow Scouts have become his best friends over the years, and let me tell you: I love these boys. So does my husband. So do my little kids. We really know them, too, because they've camped out in our play room over and over, and three of them have vacationed with us at one point or another. They all want to be Eagle Scouts, some day, far as I know. And they're already six years in; I imagine it'll happen.

Cade's dad and I have discussed the Boy Scouts' decision to welcome gay members but have never (for one second) considered pulling Cade out of the program. We're saddened that--because of the policy change--Scouts are being rejected by certain churches. Of course, in our minds' eye, we see the face of our son, the faces of his friends.

I think I'm safe in saying: my husband Jim (Cade's stepdad) and I see from the churches' point of view more easily than does Cade's dad, who grew up Methodist. Jim and I grew up in Baptist (and East Tennessee Baptist, at that) churches, where we heard homosexuality preached against regularly and vehemently. In my experience, life can open a person's eyes, mind, and heart; she can reject some or all of the viewpoint she was offered, first; but she can never unlearn it. She'll never forget that initial position and how/why it works. Even if she no longer agrees with it, she'll have sympathy for those who continue to hold it.

Anyway. At this point, the decision's been made, and we could have a lengthy discussion in terms of whether or not it was the right one. Many churches see the new policy as a means to condone or encourage sin, and I get that. But isn't every Scout a sinner? Every single one?

I know: if my son were to come to me, tomorrow, and tell me he thinks he's gay, I'd be thankful he could still participate in Boy Scouts, where the Oath continues to be:

On my honor, I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my Country and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight. 

My son and his friends, far as I know, are not gay. I see them--and Boy Scouts, in general--as future leaders in our community; indeed, I see them as future leaders in our country, in our world. My son and his friends did not make the decision in question, and they've long benefited from the support of local churches (one, in particular). 

Churches who struggle with the Boy Scouts' new policy, I ask you: do you intend to stop supporting future leaders because someone who participates in the program, somewhere, is openly gay? And if so, what does that mean, exactly? Does that mean you don't want an openly gay person in your building? And if so, why? Because you perceive him to be a sinner? Aren't we all sinners? Isn't the church supposed to be a place where people draw closer to Jesus?

I'm so thankful the Southern Baptist Convention didn't call for a Boy Scout exodus. I've been a Baptist most all my life; do you see me hanging on? It's by the very skin of my teeth, sometimes. Churches of the SBC, you've been given a choice: to 1) reject the Boy Scouts or 2) "impact as many boys as possible with the life-changing gospel of Jesus Christ.” Won't you choose the latter?

If not, I'm curious: have you withdrawn your support of our military because they welcome openly gay service(wo)men? If you're a veteran, have you (in shame) stopped admitting it because someone who serves this country is gay? If you have a loved one in the military, have you closed your doors to him or her because someone who serves this country is gay? And speaking of that gay someone: aren't you thankful that (s)he stands on the line for you? Would you refuse him or her entrance to your church? I guess I fail to see how this situation with the Scouts is so different.

Tonight, my dear, conservative husband leaned toward me and said: "I think I'm coming your way a little. I'm starting to see this, with the Scouts, as an opportunity to minister to someone who's never stepped inside a church before." My heart swelled; my tears welled; I sat down to write this post.

Who is this Jesus you serve? Do you doubt for one moment that He would sit down with a gay Boy Scout?

Where I Stand

I've written about it before, how I grow tired in the blogosphere and on facebook. So many hot topics, and everyone has his or her own take on every issue under the sun.

I spent my formative years in an independent, fundamental, missionary Baptist church, ok? It doesn't get much more conservative than that unless you make it wear a dress 24 hours a day and take away its automobile. I feel closer to the Lord, now, than I did then. I'm decidedly less conservative, but I'm not by any means liberal.

I'm in the grey, a lot of the time. I'm in the middle. I might even be called wishy-washy or lukewarm (on the issues, not on my faith), but I don't believe I'm unstable or double-minded, and I don't anticipate being spewed out of the Lord's mouth. Here's where I am at the moment, although this is a severe oversimplification. I acknowledge freely that I may be somewhere else, later. That's why it's called "down the road."

• Homosexuality - I was born straight and am thankful that things are easy for me. I love gay people. I want gay and straight people, alike, to know that Jesus loves them and to love Him, back.
• Chick-fil-A - I don't care who does or doesn't eat there.
• Gay Marriage - I'm against it based upon my interpretation of scripture but feel sad (and sometimes conflicted) over my position.
• Race Issues - I was born white and am thankful that things are easy for me. I love people of all colors and believe Jesus loves us all the same.
• Immigration - I was born in the U.S. and am thankful that things are easy for me. I think it's nice when those who weren't born here and want to live here follow the proper course to citizenship.*
• Gun Control - I don't understand why people need automatic weapons (machine guns) and think I prefer they not have them. I come from a family of hunters, however, and have eaten many a beast killed by their guns. I have guns in my house. If you break in and try to harm my children, I will absolutely shoot you and talk to Jesus about it, later.*
• Abortion - I have never had an unwanted pregnancy and am thankful that things have been easy for me. I think God is pro-life. I also think He can forgive. I find images of aborted fetuses offensive and prefer that they not be shoved in my face.
• Purity Culture - I think God wants us to wait until we're married to have sex, but I didn't. Either time. I regret my poor decisions. God can forgive and has forgiven me.
• Living Together Outside of Marriage - See above. I lived with two men outside of marriage. I regret my poor decisions. God can forgive and has forgiven me.
• Divorce - I am divorced and remarried. I have a beautiful relationship with my ex-husband now that I don't live with him. We do divorce well. God can forgive and has forgiven me. He can redeem any situation into which we invite Him. If you don't think so, I won't allow you to speak into my life.
• Marriage - I live in submission to my husband. It's not always easy, and some areas are more challenging than others. I'm blessed to be married to a man I respect. I know he has my best interest at heart. 
• Theology - I'm a member of a Baptist church. I don't necessarily agree with everything they say at my church, but I've never agreed with everything, anywhere. I shrug off what I can't accept. I love them. I've only just determined that I'm a Continuationist, not a Cessationist. I'm pretty sure I'm not a Calvinist, but I'm still working that out.
• Women in the Pulpit - I have not been called to preach. 
• Clothing in Church - I dress modestly, in general, so as not to distract others with my huge boobs. I don't feel badly for wearing pants because 1) God looks at the heart, and 2) My legs are terrific and less distracting when covered.
• Tattoos. Piercings. - My ears are pierced, but I rarely wear earrings because I'm lazy. My nose was pierced during one particularly miserable phase in my life. God looks at the heart.
• Drinking. Drugs. - I don't feel badly, as a 38-year-old woman, for having that rare drink. I have inhaled. It wasn't my deal. I would prefer, of course, that my children neither drink nor do drugs.
• Hell - I'm not going there. Praise the Lord! I believe it exists. I will not allow anyone to try and scare my children, period. Including to Jesus.
• Heaven - I plan to end up there. Praise the Lord! I believe it exists. I believe Jesus is the only way but that He saves more than Baptists. I believe my aunt is there, and she was a member of the LDS Church. I always invite in the Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm still trying to figure them out, but I'm not sure how they shine out like that if they don't know the Lord.
• Missions - My mission field is comprised of my home and communities (physical and Internet). In July, The Owens Family will pack up my heart and take it with them to Africa.
• Small families. Large families. - I have 4 children. I nearly killed myself getting the last one here. He's 4 months old, and I'll be 39 next month. My tubes are tied. I'm at peace.
• Parenting - I think parenting (outside of abuse and neglect) should be left up to the parents. I breastfeed and co-sleep as much as possible. I use disposable diapers and jarred baby food. My kids watch too many cartoons and don't do enough chores, but they're sharp as tacks and love Jesus, so I'm satisfied.
• Spanking - I spank. I use my right hand. I want my kids to understand that everything I do with my hands, including spanking, is for and with love. If ever it's not, shame on me.
• Homeschooling - I believe it's a calling. My 13yo has always been in public school. I'm praying about the little kids. Clementine just turned 4; I have time to figure it out.

If there's anything else you want to know, fire it at me, but know this: you'll probably not budge me.

*Added 03/16/13.

Chick-fil-A: Sharing My Heart in Verse

Image by Zelko Nedic

I've been trying to say I ain't got no dog in this fight,
and I've been telling the truth: she don't wear my collar.
But, dag, she's a big dog, and she's sitting right here,
her eyes pleading: "My name's Under," and I've always
been a sucker for that one: the kicked-around one.
Lord help me, I gotta do something with this here dog!
And I really do mean Lord help me; she's parked tween
the Tree of Life and some soldier's shoe, but I lost my
flaming sword awhile back (no fruit left on the Tree,
anyhow), and all I've got for weapon, now, is the Word.
Where you from, Girl? Whom you representing?
I don't think my struggle's against you, no matter what,
but you gotta quit tugging at my laces; I need my shoes
(I call them the preparation of the gospel of peace) tied.
I need a little time to think about this mess, and pray...
time to think about Whom I'm representing, and
how best to represent He Whom I'm representing.
Because He's love, and I want you to see Him, Dog,
in me. (Maybe you will.) Hows about, in the meantime,
you and I go buy us some square burgers? No chicken.
Where's the beef, Girl? You got the nose; lead the way.

***Sharing these thoughts, today, with poetic friends at The Mag.

How to Win an Argument (or a Soul)

Once upon a time (or four years ago, or four pregnancies ago), I taught a whole lot of argument and rhetoric. I enjoyed it for several reasons, one of which was that, every quarter, I had the opportunity to turn a bunch of student tickedoffedness (at having to take another English class) into something other.

I promised my students: no matter where life was taking them, they would be better off for learning to make a decent argument. And it's true, isn't it?: a person's opponents may include only his or her mother-in-law and insurance company, but--at certain points--everyone has to either argue, or accept a whole bunch of cockamamie craziness.

Unfortunately, though, we very often decide something's worth fighting for only to blow it. We find ourselves in a tizzy and forget: winning an argument hinges upon fairness and respect.

• If we expect others to give us time but offer nothing of real value, in return, we lose.
• If we presume to know everything about others and their situations, we lose.
• If we--in any way--come across as thinking we're "better than," we lose.
• If we reveal how narrow-minded we are, we lose.
• If we go in with no understanding of the other side, we lose.
• If we convey a negative attitude, we lose.
• If we fail to establish common ground, we lose.
• If we neglect to explain why we're arguing (why it matters), we lose.

I lose arguments more often than I'd like to admit, mostly because I forget: if I'm arguing well, it shouldn't look as though I'm arguing, at all. 

I go back in time and remember this particular street preacher, in Dallas: how he stood on the corner of Cedar Springs and Throckmorton and beat on his Bible, howling for LGBT souls. I was straight as an arrow, but I kept a clear berth. I didn't like the way he sold the Jesus I had tucked way down deep in my heart.

When I get my feathers real good and ruffled, I try to remind myself: I never saw anyone talk to the street preacher; far as I could tell, he lost his argument over and over. I know I don't want to argue like him, but What Would Jesus Do seems too hard to obtain, so I aim for Mister Rogers. Over and over, I fall short, but I'm working in that direction. I am.

Please view this video of Mister Rogers defending PBS to the United States Senate:

Homosexuality: Sharing My Heart

That neighborhood has gone downhill,
I say, and he says, I know; my son told me
there are kids in there who claim to be
homosexual,
and I think, What? Wait a minute; that's
not
what I meant: oh, the scary homosexuals.
But I don't say anything because
I don't know what to say, or maybe I do
but know words won't make a difference,
having never made a difference for me.

God has a sense of humor, I think, because
nothing made a difference for me until
I lived 1.5 years in Dallas's "gayborhood."

Please understand: I grew up in the sticks.
For over 20 years, I didn't know
(or think I knew) a single LGBT person.
I'd never seen a male prostitute, before;
a person with facial hair and breasts; or
men in fancy dresses, heels, and make-up.
Understatement: it all seemed odd, at first.

And then, one day, it didn't. Because
people are just people: all of us looking
for acceptance, love, laughter, meaning.
All of us broken up, messed up, twisted.
I wish I could give everyone a glimpse of
the peace I've found (in Christ alone).
I wish I could go back to Oak Lawn and,
this time, live out my faith. But I can't.
I can only send my love from afar, also

my thanks to the transvestites who shared
blue lipstick with me in the bathroom;
to the gay boys who didn't know me but
helped me call home when I was too drunk
to press the buttons; and to all of you who
shared your stories and break, to this day,
my heart. I don't know what to do with
what you told me. I mean, I'm still a Baptist.
But I want you to know: I don't think
you're scary, or any more sinful than I
(not so comforting, I know, considering
all my old "woman at the well" behavior).

And I'm sorry for any and all hatred you
experience from "the church." We're all
just a bunch of sinners; on our best days,
we do a piss-poor job of reflecting the
endless love and beauty of Jesus Christ.
Don't listen to us, ever. Listen only to Him.

On Judging Others

Linking with Magpie Tales, today, and I want to make a point of thanking Tess Kincaid for providing Alex Stoddard's image, below, as this week's prompt. I needed to write the words the image inspired, and my heart feels much lighter, now.

On Judging Others

I can't for the life of me understand
your fascination with my plight, here:
as if you've never been bound, yourself,
as if you've never been slowly drowning.
We both know I'm in over my head, but
I hear what you're saying loud and clear,
and you're wrong; I didn't put myself here.
We're all of few days and full of trouble,
my trouble's just more apparent than yours.
You gawk and talk because I'm exposed,
but you're hiding beneath filthy-rag clothes.
I know I need help from a Higher Being;
I'm just not convinced you know Him,
else you'd be loving me, praying for me:
not judging, condemning, and cursing me.
I have no desire to "rise up" and join you.
Please: just leave me in peace, to drown.