I realized tonight that part of my hesitancy to embrace a structured study of my faith is my fear of having to absorb other people’s pain around faith and the church. My faith is the beauty of my life, I would be unrecognizable without it and I want it to remain joyful. I don’t want to carry my faith as a struggle, like being queer or being a womyn. It is who I am. Engrained in me. But still there is shame. Fear of being misunderstood, morphed into some ugly thing I am not. I talk about church and people forget who I am. I mentioned Seminary and one of my closest friends slapped me.
And I understand. I remember sitting in a church full of people who signaled their approval when our pastor told them he refused to allow his queer sister into his home. I’m familiar with the judgment, the self righteousness, the greed and the long history of oppression. But that is not my god, or my church. The cross I wear around my neck is not meant to symbolize some mystic god that is looking to punish or save us, it is a reminder of those that have fought before me…it is a call to action.
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