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Serendipitydodah

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Serendipitydodah

Category Archives: Church

The Fruit Doesn’t Lie

01 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Bible, Christian, Church, faith, GLBT, Health, LGBT, LGBTQ, Mama Bears, Marriage, Same Sex Marriage, Scripture, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Support, Transgender, Truth

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

affirming, bible, Christian, church, Fruit, Jesus, LGBT, LGBTQ, Same Sex Marriage, scripture, Support, theology, transgender

FRUIT DOESN'T LIE

Some Christians worry that affirming and supporting LGBTQ people might end up being the wrong thing to do. They wonder how they can be certain they are embracing the good and right position.

As someone who was not always affirming or supportive I can understand their doubts but I no longer have those doubts. I feel confident that affirming and supporting LGBTQ people, their relationships and their identities is the good and right position to hold.

My confidence and assurance is because I keep coming back to this …

The fruit doesn’t lie.

Good theology should produce good fruit and non-affirming/anti-gay/anti trans theology doesn’t pass that test.

Most of the time non-affirming/anti-gay/anti trans theology produces bad fruit in the lives of lgbtq people who try to embrace it wholeheartedly. Fruit such as depression, despair and self loathing are very common results.

We can almost always find a verse or teacher or book to match our beliefs, but … the fruit doesn’t lie.

If a theology is mostly producing bad fruit you know it isn’t the truth and should be abandoned, because … the fruit doesn’t lie.

every tree

 

In Matthew 7 Jesus said if you aren’t sure about something check out the fruit it is producing, because “every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit”

People were asking Jesus a lot of questions.

They wanted to know what they should believe – who they should follow – who they should emulate and support.

They wanted to know who was right – who knew the true way – what prophets should they trust – what rabbi should they follow?

Instead of answering with a list of shoulds and shouldn’ts, or naming names, Jesus offered a formula that would be useful to truth seekers throughout all of time.

Jesus advised those who were listening …

When you are not sure about a specific doctrine, or a certain theological point, or some Christian message you can simply check out the fruit that it is producing.

If it is producing good fruit then it is of God and true. Embrace and follow the teaching.

If it is producing bad fruit then it is not of God and not true. Abandon the teaching.

Scripture does not address most things specifically. Instead it gives us some guiding principles to live by. Then people come along and try to figure out how to apply those guiding principles to real life. When we get it right it mostly leads to whole, healthy, vibrant lives. When we get it wrong it mostly leads to broken, unhealthy, hopeless lives.

If a specific doctrine is mostly producing self loathing, despair, hopelessness, depression, isolation, shame, self harm and other such bad fruit then it’s a no brainer … it’s not good doctrine and we should abandon it.

We can twist scripture to fit with our own perspective.

We can cherry pick and only choose those scriptures that support our view.

We can ignore original language and historical context so that scripture seems to support our argument.

We can almost always find a verse to more or less say what we want it to say.

We can almost always find a Christian leader to teach what we believe.

We can almost always find a book that supports our point of view.

We can almost always find a church that represents our belief.

BUT … the fruit doesn’t lie.

I’m confident that anti-gay/non-affirming/anti-trans theology is wrong because it consistently produces bad fruit and I’m confident that affirming and supporting LGBTQ people, their relationships and identities is good and right because …

When you listen to and get to know LGBTQ Christians who are connecting with faith communities and theology that affirms their relationships and identities you will find they are experiencing a lot of good fruit in their lives. They are typically healthier in every way – relationally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.

The fruit doesn’t lie!

(If you would like to delve deeper into what scripture says and doesn’t say about same sex relationships check out this post which addresses the verses most often used to condemn same sex relationships.)


 

If you are the mom of an LGBTQ kid there is a great online community you might want to join. Go here to find out more about Serendipitydodah for Moms, a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. 

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Mama Bear Story Project #28 – Jaron Terry

10 Saturday Feb 2018

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Children, Christian, Church, Family, GLBT, LGBT, Light, Love, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Story

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Light, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Moms of LGBTQ Kids, Serendipitydodah, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story

The Mama Bear Story Project is a collection of portraits and autobiographical essays from members of Serendipitydodah for Moms – a private Facebook group for open minded Christian moms of LGBTQ kids.

Jaron Terry BW

 

Living in the Light

“Haven’t I always told you that there is nothing you could ever say, do, want, think, need, or be that would keep me from loving you?” These words closed my late-night text conversation with our son when he came out to me, five years ago today.

He was a junior in college and I had just finished watching his fraternity’s “It Gets Better” video. Although other students in the video identified themselves as gay or ally, he did not. When I heard my only child say, “I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere, and that I was really weird,” and “You don’t have to live in the shadows,” I knew he was saying he is gay.

I’ll never forget my emotions when the next evening he told his dad and me: “I want to live my life in the light. People who are forced to live in the dark do dark things, and I choose to live in the light.” He said he’d always known he was gay and he was relieved that we could accept him. That broke my heart because we more than accept him; we love him.

Among my emotions that night was relief, because since he was a small child I’d thought he might “turn out to be” gay, not yet understanding that, indeed, he was born gay. Always such a gentle and empathetic boy, I was relieved that he felt he could be honest with us. I knew that it took a lot of courage, because, sadly, too many kids are disowned when they come out.

I also felt fear. The fear I had started tamping down from when he was only a toddler, as hateful rhetoric spilled from the television about the military’s “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy, and again when he was four and the Defense of Marriage Act mandated that marriage was only for straight people. Ellen DeGeneres came out when he was 5-years-old, and within months her sitcom was cancelled. But my fear greatly intensified when our son was in grade school, and young Matthew Shepard was horrifically and brutally murdered at the hands of homophobic bullies. And, just two weeks after our son left for college, Rutgers University sophomore Tyler Clementi tragically jumped to his death after bullies shattered his life by invading his privacy.

I also felt sadness – sad that when he was in middle school, I tried to “steer him” away from being gay – like he had a choice. Although I’d had gay friends, I knew their lives were difficult because of how they were treated, and I didn’t want that for my boy. And, I was sad about the daughter-in-law and grandchildren I had envisioned. I now know that even if one’s “life script” changes, the happily-ever-after story doesn’t have to – just re-cast the characters.

Next, I started worrying about how to publicly acknowledge this new reality. I had been raised in the school of “what will people say” and what worried me most was what I already knew the people of the United Methodist Church would say. I’d heard what those at the UMC where we’d raised our son thought of LGBTQ people, and I’m ashamed to admit I never called them on it. Why? I was afraid that doing so would cast doubt on my son’s sexuality. So, when he came out of the closet, I took my relief, sadness and fear into my own closet to gather myself for the coming battle I sensed.

Darkness of Judgment and Anger
I began reading and studying everything I could find, including Justin Lee’s book “Torn;” Savage & Miller’s “It Gets Better;” and Betty DeGeneres’ beautiful story, “Love, Ellen.” With education came growth and also the next stage: being open about our love and support of our son – and confronting those who tried to convince us we were wrong. That included the church where we’d worshipped for nearly 25 years.

I was so angry about the UMC’s stiff-necked stupidity! Just four weeks after our son came out in 2013, Republican Ohio Senator Rob Portman, whose son is also gay, announced a “change of heart” and supported gay couples’ opportunity to marry. In response, the so-called church “ladies” said horrible things about LGBTQ people during Bible study. Even though I explained with my newfound knowledge that the “clobber verses” they quoted did not say what they had been taught to believe, just two weeks later – when basketball star Magic Johnson’s son came out – the same ugly things were said. In my opinion, the verse that really does the clobbering is John 13:34-35.

I am thankful that during the height of our painful shunning by church members – including those in our share group – we attended a Reconciling Ministries Network class, “When Kids Come Out,” where I first met fellow Mama Bears and was invited to join this loving online community. The warmth and counsel from other mothers who also love and affirm their LGBTQ children has been a balm and bolster. A balm in that for the first time I was no longer alone, and a bolster in their encouragement to stand up and speak out to defend LGBTQ people from the fear and hate engendered by ignorant misinterpretation of scripture and the resulting harmful stereotyping.

My husband and I had already begun “shaking the dust off our feet,” searching for an open and affirming church, when we received an invitation from our UMC’s pastor to lead a new share group. So we decided to take another shot at educating church members and proposed a group for “Families and Loved Ones of LGBTQ persons.” We were called into the office where I was horrified to be told: “This issue will not be discussed. Not here, not now, not ever.” After several months of trying to inform him and soften his heart, we had a loud, unpleasant blow-out that ended with our terminating our membership. It was necessary, but painful to leave the church community we had been part of for so long, and where we knew other families – still in the closet – remained silent about their children. In 2020, the UMC will have a final chance to vote yes on inclusion.

Embracing Light

I am certain that if being LGBTQ were “incompatible with Christian teaching,” as the UMC says, then Jesus would have said something about it. The fact is that “Christian teaching” and “Christ’s teaching” are two different things. Christian teaching is all about the rulebook – who’s in and who’s out. But Christ’s teaching is about inclusive love. Love is what matters most; love is what matters in the end. Jesus even gave a new commandment about it.

My views on the value of having organized religion and church in one’s life have sharply shifted – I no longer think it’s always helpful; instead it’s usually harmful. However, I do believe that the pervasive spirit of what many call “God” is real. I don’t believe God “listens to” or responds to prayer, blessing some while ignoring or punishing others. Instead, I believe that contemplation of the presence of God keeps me in the flow of the spirit, aware and attuned to living in the light. Indeed, Jesus promised us the Holy Spirit as counselor to help us understand things not yet comprehensible. He even warned us against resisting the transformative work of the Spirit.

Since I became a Mama Bear three years ago, basking in this nurturing network of friends and sisters, I’ve been able to turn my anger into action. These mothers have helped me develop the courage and the confidence to be an outspoken advocate for the LGBTQ community. I serve on the national diversity & inclusion committee for my professional association; I write articles and give presentations on writing/speaking and making the business case for LGBTQ inclusion; I am president of our local PFLAG chapter, and, of course, I encourage other mothers. Together, my husband and I financially support advocacy organizations, march in the Pride Parade and explore new ways of understanding and being one with God.

So much has changed, but what remains unchanged is how very much we love our son and how proud we are of who he is: Our son is an honorable man. He is happy, fun and outgoing, devoted to his true friends and to his family. He is educated and interested in his profession, dedicated to helping his organization’s clients realize their own passion for serving nonprofit agencies. Our son is artistic, creative and talented, launching Olly Awake, a gender equal clothing line to positively impact those who want to be their own best versions. And, he is also an advocate for equality, volunteering with the Human Rights Campaign, and other groups that advance justice and inclusion for the LGBTQ community. Most importantly, our son is out of the closet, living his life in the light.

________________________________________________

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,400 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

 

Love Others and Hate Your Own Sin

07 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by Liz in Bible, Christian, Church, GLBT, LGBT, LGBTQ, Love, Parent

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Christians Talk, Jesus, LGBT, LGBTQ, love is the movement, love one another, love the sinner hate the sin, video

Recently, my husband and I were interviewed at our home by the good people who create the Christians Talk videos.

During the interview they asked me what I thought about the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin”

You can watch their video HERE that includes responses from several Christians about the phrase.

16  Christians Talk   Home.png

What I wanted to say but probably failed to say because I was nervous that day when we were being interviewed was this:

Instead of saying “love the sinner, hate the sin” Christians should be saying:

“Love others and hate your own sin!”

The phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin” doesn’t honor the basic tenets of Christianity because it leads Christians to focus on hating rather than on loving.

When someone says “love the sinner, hate the sin” the focus is not on “loving” – the focus is on “hating”

The person using the phrase is thinking about how much they hate the sin of homosexuality and how much they want to get that point across.

The lgbt person hearing the phrase is thinking about how the person who is using the phrase hates who they are at the core of their being because they know that being lgbt has more to do with “who they are” than who they might have sex with.

As someone who is serious about following Jesus I always want to know what Jesus had to say about it and as it turns out Jesus never said “love the sinner, hate the sin” – in fact, no one in the bible said it.

But …

In Matthew 7 Jesus did say:

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

In other words, Jesus was saying worry about your own sin and when you have rid yourself of all your own sin then you can worry about hating someone else’s sin.

Jesus also said:

“love one another: just as I have loved you”

So …

I think “love others, hate your own sin” would be a better phrase for Christians to use.

Or even better, let’s just shorten it to “love” and leave it at that.

#loveisthemovement #loveoneanother #love #greatestcommandment


 

Liz Dyer is founder and owner of Serendipitydodah for Moms, a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids.

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,300 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

 

Stories That Change The World #38 – THIS IS MY BODY by Caitlin J. Stout

07 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Bible, Christian, Church, GLBT, justice, LGBT, LGBTQ, Scripture, Sexuality, Story

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Body of Christ, Child of God, Christian, church, communion, eucharist, LGBT, LGBTQ, stories, Stories That Change The World, Story

Stories have the power to change the world … they inspire us, teach us, connect us. This is the thirty-eighth installment in the “Stories That Change The World” series.

communion

Caitlin J. Stout is an out and proud gay Christian, doing her best to navigate faith and friendship while attending a non-affirming evangelical university.  She has her own blog where she writes about the joy, pain, anger, and beauty of being #FaithfullyLGBT. Caitlin originally posted this piece on her own blog. I am sharing it here with her permission. I love the way she lays her heart open and shares so transparently. She doesn’t have all the answers but she gives us a lot to think about and reflect on. Her stories are powerful because they are real and true. Her stories are changing hearts and minds. Her stories are changing the world.

THIS IS MY BODY by Caitlin J. Stout

Imagine for a moment that you strike up a conversation with a young woman sitting next to you on a long flight. You exchange pleasantries, talk about work, family life, etc. She starts to tell you about her boyfriend. She tells you that the two of them have been together for years and that she has no intention of ever leaving his side. She talks about the joy that he brings her. She says that she cares about him, and that she wants the best for him. The longer you listen, the clearer it is that this woman has fallen head-over-heels in love.

The conversation starts to take a turn when she admits that her boyfriend is far from perfect. Sometimes she thinks that she puts more work into the relationship than he does. Actually, if she’s being perfectly honest, he can be pretty hurtful. He scares her sometimes. He threatens her. He makes her feel undesirable, and he doesn’t even try to understand her feelings. He has a tendency to treat her as a lesser human, and she spends a lot of time crying about things he has said when he thought she couldn’t hear. She calls him out when he does this kind of stuff, but he always finds a way to turn it around and insist that he’s just acting out of love. She wants to believe that he’s telling the truth, but sometimes she just can’t. She stays anyway.

After all, he’s not always like that. On good days, she feels like she and her boyfriend could change the world together. Those are the days when she feels known and wanted and understood. On good days, she knows that she belongs with him and she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of her. Yes, she’ll admit, it seems like those days are becoming fewer and farther between… Like she said, he’s not perfect. But she’s pretty sure that if she sticks around, she might be able to fix him. Besides, she needs him.

What would you say to her?

Would you tell her that she’s in an unhealthy relationship?

Would you say that she’s being abused?

Would you tell her to move out and end it?

Have you ever heard an LGBTQ Christian talk about the Church?

This weekend, as a part of the Reformation Project Conference in Chicago, I attended a seminar on spiritual abuse and trauma, led by Teresa Pasquale Mateus, the author of “Sacred Wounds.” She started the workshop by asking the room full of Queer Christians, “What words or phrases do you associate with spiritual abuse?” The answers came rolling in with a disturbing level of ease, requiring no deliberation or second thoughts.

Fear. Control. Threats. Dehumanization. Gaslighting. Blame. Shame. Homophobia. Scapegoating. Isolation. Rejection. Forced compartmentalization. Second class. Silencing. False security. Abandonment. Feelings of inadequacy. Manipulation. Conversion therapy. Anxiety. Dependency. Conditional love. Damnation.

As these words were spoken, faster than Teresa could write them down, I looked around the room and saw weary heads nodding in understanding and legs bouncing nervously. I heard deep and troubled sighs, occasionally accompanied by exasperated laughter. The kind of laughter that says, “This isn’t funny at all, it’s just so incredibly fucking true.” It was devastatingly obvious that no further explanations were needed.

The parallels between the non-affirming church and an abusive partner are startling. And I don’t always know how to deal with that. I don’t always know how to reconcile my genuine love for the Body of Christ with the ways it continues to do harm. I don’t always feel like the relationship is justifiable, and I don’t know if I can tell LGBTQ Christians to keep pouring their energy and affection into an organization that barely tolerates them. I don’t know how to not be angry with the fact that some churchgoers would ignore the hypothetical abusive boyfriend, but lose their minds if the imaginary woman on the plane were dating a female metaphor instead.

I carried this abusive partner analogy in my mind for the rest of the day after that workshop, hoping desperately that it was insufficient and praying for the metaphor to break down.

That night, we took communion.


During the summer, I would sometimes creep into church halfway through the Sunday services. I’d time it so that I got there right after the sermon and the passing of the peace, that way I could walk in, take communion, and then leave before anyone spoke to me.

After coming out, the Eucharist is what kept me coming back to places of worship. I can say with confidence that it is the only reason I still go to church at all. I think for a while I saw taking communion as an act of resistance, and I still acknowledge that there is something powerful about participating in a sacrament that certain people would rather deny me. I felt a need to claim my seat at Christ’s table, even if I wasn’t yet ready for the post-service coffee and fellowship hour.

My understanding of the Eucharist has evolved since then, though I still don’t have the theological language to fully express its beauty or its meaning or its centrality to my faith. I can’t explain the mystery of it, or how the enormity of concepts such as “unity, inclusion, remembrance, and love” seem to somehow be contained in a wafer and a sip of wine. But I can tell you that as I partook in the Lord’s supper on Saturday night with several hundred of my LGBTQ siblings– these refugees and exiles whom I call my friends– the abusive partner metaphor began to weaken.

The thing is, Queer folks are not dating the Church, we are the Church. And I’m beginning to realize that as soon as I start talking about the Body of Christ as an entity separate from myself, I am doing what non-affirming Christians have been trying to do to me for years. Spiritual abuse makes you see yourself as an issue up for debate. It distorts the beauty of the sacraments and turns them into these badges of belonging that you have to fight and work and bleed for. But the reality is that God has already given you a seat at the table. Jesus has already invited you to take and eat. The Body of Christ is already Queer.

This is not to minimize the very real abuse that does happens within the Body. This is not to say that anyone needs to stay in a congregation where they are not celebrated as equals. This is a reminder that “Child of God” is a title that cannot be revoked, and when we internalize that title, we are liberated. We can no longer settle for being tolerated, nor can we ignore the ways in which we have been hurtful to others. After all, the Body of Christ is also Black. The Body of Christ uses a wheelchair. The Body of Christ is undocumented. The Body of Christ is hungry and homeless.

Yeah, sometimes I still worry that I’m acting like the woman on the plane. I still don’t know what kind of advice to give to my fellow gay people who so desperately want to follow Jesus and remain in fellowship with the Church. But I know that when the love of my fellow Christians is insufficient, Christ’s is enough. Christ’s perfect love casts out fear, along with shame, homophobia, manipulation, abandonment, isolation, damnation, and all those other words that we shouted out during Teresa’s workshop.

Christ’s love does not ask me to fight for a place at the table.

Christ’s love says, “This is my body, given for you.”

********************************

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,300 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

Mama Bear Story Project #24 – Jackie McQueen

01 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Children, Christian, Church, Coming Out, faith, Family, GLBT, LGBT, LGBTQ, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Parent, Parenting, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#LGBTQFamilies, Christian, church, faith, LGBT, LGBT Youth, LGBTQ, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Moms of LGBT, Moms of LGBTQ Kids, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story

The Mama Bear Story Project is a collection of portraits and autobiographical essays from members of Serendipitydodah for Moms – a private Facebook group for open minded Christian moms of LGBTQ kids.

Jackie2

 

On April 8, 2014 my life was changed forever. That day marked the beginning of a painful journey my family would be forced to travel. It is only now that I can honestly say it was a journey worth taking, and it took a long time to come to this realization.

My husband was approaching his 10th anniversary of ministry in our current church, as a Southern Baptist Pastor. We were in the middle of revival services and he called me at work to ask me out for lunch. I always love a lunch date with my husband, but when he asked during such a busy week, I knew something was up. When I pressed him, he told me that our youngest son, Addison, had told some kids in the youth group that he is gay. When I heard those words, my heart sank. I felt true panic. I couldn’t breathe. I was terrified.

Although it was a shock, I must admit it really came as no surprise. We had suspected this for most of Addison’s life, yet we dared not speak of it. But now it was real. The one thing I had dreaded and feared most for my son. He had spoken the words we would have never ever said ourselves. He said, “I’m gay.” The news had already spread to other parents and church staff, leaving us no option to handle this privately as a family. We were forced to deal with it immediately, and there was much more to consider than just our son, even though he was, by far, most important. We were a Southern Baptist minister’s family and I knew what that meant for us. Fear overtook me as I imagined what lay ahead for my family.

I used what little time I had that afternoon to research, “How to talk to your kid about being gay.” I didn’t find much, but I did come across these statistics. 40% of homeless youth are LGBT. 30% of gay youth attempt suicide near the age of 15. Almost half of gay and lesbian teens have attempted suicide more than once. Upon learning this, my mind raced back to when Addison was 14 years old. He went through the normal awkward teenager stage just as his brothers did before him, but it was more than just that. He was angry, and he seemed to hate everything about his life. One night, I caught him on his way upstairs to his bedroom, carrying a ziplock bag of pills. It was a mixture of Advil and Tylenol. His excuse was that he wanted to keep medicine upstairs for convenience whenever he had a headache. The youth minister revealed to us shortly after, that in a youth group meeting, Addison shared having suicidal thoughts. Around that same time, he came to us wanting to be re- baptized. He said he just didn’t feel like he had been saved before. We were very puzzled by this, but Scott counseled him and he prayed to receive Christ, followed by baptism in our church. We watched him very closely during that time, and things eventually got better. But looking back, I realized what my precious son must have been going through years earlier and it scared me to death!

That night, after an emotional wait, we finally had the opportunity to talk with Addison. We approached the conversation with an undeniable love for our son on one hand, and our deeply imbedded conservative theology on the other. When we confronted him, he admitted to telling his friends. He had participated in an “honest hour” online where people can ask questions and you must answer honestly. Someone asked if he was gay and he simply said, “Yes”. He did not intend to come out that way, it just happened. I never will forget hearing Scott tell him how disappointed we were that he had made this choice, and then seeing the look on my son’s face when he said, “Dad, this is not my choice! Why would anyone choose this? If I could choose anything, I would choose not to be this way!” He said he had prayed every night for years for God to change him, only to wake up the next morning, still the same. He had always heard from us that being gay is a sin. He heard his dad preach it from the pulpit, and he heard me say it at home. We had unknowingly created in him such a fear of rejection that he was too afraid to talk to us about it. He said he believed what the Bible said, but he couldn’t understand why God would say it’s wrong and still create him like that. It was at that moment I began to wonder the same thing, as I sat there with my heart breaking for him. Scott ended the conversation that night by making a deal with Addison. They both agreed to make it a matter of serious prayer and seek God’s direction concerning this. Scott told him if they both did that, he was convinced God would change one of them. I began praying too. I desperately wanted to pray for my son not to be gay, but instead I just prayed for answers. I had so many questions! Could it be that my son really was born gay? If so, why would God’s word clearly condemn homosexuality when it’s not a choice? Why would God give us a gay son, knowing it meant the “death penalty” for a Southern Baptist minister? We couldn’t reject our son, but were we wrong to accept him? How could anything good come from this? It felt like a curse!

For the next several days, well…actually weeks, I grieved. It took a conscious effort to even breathe as I merely went through the motions of my daily routine. I finally came to terms with the fact that this was real. It was not going away. I grieved the loss of my hopes and dreams I had for my son. The dream that one day he would marry one of those pretty girls he hung out with. The hope of him giving me grandchildren. I looked back at my son’s life and wondered where I went wrong. What could I have done differently? Did I mother him too closely? I guess I had a full blown pity party. Then one day I realized that this wasn’t really about me. It wasn’t about me at all. My son was gay. What did this mean for him? It meant that he would have to face prejudice throughout his entire life. Prejudice from people just like me who saw this as a sinful choice. A prejudice that could cost him family, friendships, employment, safety and basic civil rights. A prejudice that could leave him exiled from the church, and even worse, could cause him to leave his faith behind. This was my son. My son. MY SON! And then suddenly, I felt myself go quickly from “poor pitiful me” to “protective Mama Bear!” I went from, “Oh my God my son is gay!” to, “Yeah, my son is gay, what have you got to say about that?!” That’s when I realized God was changing me.

Meanwhile, my husband was devoting every spare minute he had to research, desperately searching for answers to reconcile our faith with our reality. He plowed through the Hebrew and Greek, researched Biblical culture, and read every book he could find on the subject. The more he read, the more he began to understand the scripture like he never had before. God was changing him too. I remembered the deal that Scott made with Addison that night in our bedroom, and I realized it wasn’t our son that God wanted to change. It was us.

I wish I could say that everything was easy from that point on, but actually, that’s when things began to get worse. Not only Scott’s job, but his career was hanging by a thread. We knew that if he left the church because of this, no other Southern Baptist Church would want him. What would happen to our family? Would we have to sell our house? How would we pay the bills? Were we facing bankruptcy? We hoped and prayed for the best, but tried to prepare ourselves for the worst, while keeping these worries from our son as best we could. Scott began looking for other job opportunities, but with no success. Ministry was the only thing Scott knew and he had poured his heart into nothing else for over 30 years. We feared for our family’s future, but we wanted to honor God with our actions. I knew it would be difficult to hold back words as our family went under attack, but Scott and I made a conscious decision to treat the church with the
same grace we desired for our family. We were convinced that God would protect us somehow if we trusted Him through this.

People were beginning to gossip in the church. Imagine that! Scott tackled it head on, meeting with the deacons to address all their concerns. He shared deeply from his heart. He told them he was studying to find answers and he didn’t know how it would affect his theology. He assured them that if and when he found himself in conflict with SBC doctrine, he would resign. The deacons said they were in 100% support of Scott, but they had some conditions. They wanted him to take three weeks off “to deal with our family crisis.” (Our family was just fine; the only crisis was with them.) They also wanted assurance that Addison wouldn’t try to “sway” any of the other young people to become gay (yes, really!) and prohibited him from talking about himself or doing anything “gay” on church property. And they wanted Scott to address the church when he returned, announcing to everyone that our son is gay, but that he did not support him and still firmly held to his beliefs according to Southern Baptist doctrine.

Scott did take a couple of weeks off. He honestly needed the break from the deacons! He used that time to research everything he could get his hands on, and we prayed for guidance on how to handle conflict with the church. Our son was our main priority, but we loved our church and we desperately wanted to protect it too. Scott decided against making a church-wide announcement. He met with the deacons when he returned and explained that for him to make a public announcement about our family’s personal affairs would be no different from them announcing all their family secrets. Were they willing to line up behind him to make their announcements as well? Nothing more was said concerning an announcement, but it made me wonder why all the attention was on our son, when all he did was go to school and come straight home to a few chores and homework every day. He had no social life. He wasn’t “doing” anything.

As time went on, the tension only grew as rumors were spread, private meetings were held, Scott’s sermons were picked apart, our parenting was criticized, and our family was put under the microscope like never before. Adults were even stalking Addison on social media, forcing him to close his Facebook account. We pulled him out of the youth group his senior year to protect him from the adult youth leaders, whom we no longer trusted. I was the Women’s Ministry Leader and very involved with the ladies of the church. Those that knew of our situation began avoiding me like a plague. I lost a best friend in the church who just couldn’t support me through this. Another close friend asked me, “Does Addison think he can still be a Christian now that he’s decided to be gay?” One of the ladies suggested my son had a disease and she was sorry we didn’t know about it soon enough to get him help. Another said, “I just want you to know I love your boys, AND Addison.”

Those words hurt me deeply, but what hurt most was the silence from the staff and leadership of the church, who knew our family was hurting. They did nothing to support us or minister to us. Maybe they just didn’t know how. I realized the vast majority of members were not even aware of the issue, and we tried very hard to keep it that way. But I felt so completely alone and isolated. It was a struggle to continue, putting on my smile week after week, as if nothing was wrong. As much as we tried to protect him, Addison became aware that some of the adults didn’t want him to be there. I’ll never forget him saying to me, “Mom, if they don’t want me at church, I can just stay home and Dad can have church without me there.” I told my son, “The day you stay home, I’ll be staying home with you!” My heart ached for him, and there was absolutely no one that could understand.

Friendships were lost, but God was so gracious. I prayed for people I could talk to, people who had been where we were. I was randomly searching the internet one day and landed on The Gay Christian Network (GCN). There, I found a wonderful support group of Christian people, but not like the Christians I was surrounded by at church. These people knew what it was like to be judged by other Christians and exiled from their churches. These people were gay Christians, and they became my new best friends. They were patient and understanding, even though they knew I saw them as sinners. They traveled my journey with me, treating me with unconditional love and compassion as they watched God change me right before their eyes.

Another life saver for me was a private Facebook group of moms that I found. You name it; these moms have been through it, from being outcast from their churches, losing their jobs, having their spouse leave, being disowned by family, and some even losing their gay child to suicide. I’ve cried with these women and they have cried with me. Although I may never meet most of them in person, they are my true friends.

Out of all our church members, God blessed us with two great couples that stood by us and loved our family through the fire. I realize the courage it took to support us, and the cost to them was great. Scott and I desperately needed them when others betrayed us, and I’m so thankful for their friendship.

With Addison’s permission, we told our family about his news early on. His brothers said they had known all along, and they both agreed that he is their brother and they will love him no matter what. Aaron, his oldest brother, said, “If anyone gives Addison a hard time about it they’ll only do it once!” It made me happy to know his brothers had his back. My sister offered her shoulder for me to cry on, and I used it often. That’s what sisters are for, and I’m thankful she was willing to listen. Scott agonized over telling his mom, but when he finally did, she said, “Well I could’ve told you that young man was gay years ago but it wasn’t for me to say!” My mother was supportive as well, although neither mom really understands what it means to be gay. They both think Addison could change his mind someday and they’re holding onto the hope that a pretty girl might turn his head.

As time went on, God continued to reconstruct our faith. One day Scott said to me, “I’ve changed and I don’t think the church can handle me anymore.” He had come to the place where he could no longer continue to pastor the church with integrity. It wasn’t even about our son anymore. My husband was not the same person he had been a year earlier, and there was no going back. He’s always been one to follow God’s call even when it doesn’t make sense, and even when there is no safety net. In May of 2015 he met with our personnel team leader to share his plans to resign, without another job waiting. Our prayer for the past year had been for God to show us if and when to close that door. Now we had to pray for Him to open a new one, quickly! God answered that prayer when a Chaplain from Hospice of West Alabama contacted Scott, asking him to submit a resume. God rewarded my husband’s faith by providing a fulfilling job where he could minister to families and make a real difference. Although this position created a substantial pay cut, we knew it was God’s answer to our specific prayer for provision. He announced his resignation to the church, and was able to leave under the best of circumstances; yet, it was by far the hardest thing we’ve ever done in ministry. We’ve left churches before, but this move was different from all the others. Not only were we leaving an 11-year pastorate, we were leaving our denomination behind. Thirty-two years of ministry as we had known it was now over.

We’ve considered visiting to find a new church home, but for me personally, the risk is just too great. I will never subject my family, particularly my gay son, to abuse by another church, ever. After the church family we loved and gave so much of ourselves to for eleven years chose not to support us, I can’t imagine how a new church, with no connection to us would fully accept our family. We no longer consider ourselves Southern Baptists. We’re just Jesus followers. And I must say, it feels good!

We’ve been accused of compromising our beliefs to accommodate our son, but nothing could be further from the truth. I believe God gifted us with a gay son and used him to bring about much needed change. Sometimes it takes something huge to get us to reconsider our lifelong interpretation of God’s Word. Our son’s life was important enough to search for the truth. And it was in our search that we discovered having a gay son was not the problem, but rather the means to finding the solution!

Our journey has been difficult to say the least. But God showed His grace to our family by offering protection, provision, and now healing.

What once seemed like a curse has turned into the biggest blessing of my life! I have changed and I would never want to go back to the way I was before. I am learning more and more every day what it means to REALLY love people like Jesus. To lay judgement aside, to show grace and understanding, and to walk a few steps in another’s shoes.

I’ve taught Addison all his life to love everyone, and to never put himself above another person. But in the last year, I’ve learned that more from him than I could have ever taught. I’m so proud of him. My son is brave, loving, smart, funny, creative, sensitive, caring, sooo handsome, …and oh yeah, he’s GAY! His two brothers are pretty amazing too!

One of my friends from GCN sent me these words that I have hung onto. “There is a difference between acting like a Christian and acting like Jesus. When you act like a Christian everyone at church will praise you and reward you. But Heaven help the Christian who starts acting like Jesus. When believers act like Jesus there is a price to pay. You won’t be understood and the church won’t be very happy. But the end result is a relationship with the living God that is real, and honest and loving. It is full of grace.”

These days my focus is pretty simple. I just want to act like Jesus.

Jackie1

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Jackie’s husband, Scott McQueen, a former Southern Baptist pastor of 31 years, has written Reasonable Doubt: A Case for LGBTQ Inclusion in the Institutions of Marriage and Church. The book is being published by CanyonWalker Press and will be available through Amazon and other outlets in paperback and e-book in January, 2018.

________________________________________________
Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,000 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

 

Mama Bear Story Project #22 – Kimberly Shappley

21 Thursday Sep 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Christian, Church, GLBT, LGBT, LGBTQ, Mama Bear Story Project, Parent, Parenting, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story, Support, Transgender, Youth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

#LGBTQFamilies, affirmation parents, Christian, LGBT, LGBT Youth, LGBTQ, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Moms of LGBT, Moms of LGBTQ Kids, parents, Story, transgender

The Mama Bear Story Project is a collection of portraits and autobiographical essays from members of Serendipitydodah for Moms – a private Facebook group for open minded Christian moms of LGBTQ kids.

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Today I’m excited to be sharing two powerful stories with you that have a special connection.

This one from Kimberly Shappley. As early as 18 months old, Kimberly’s son started showing signs that he identified as female. In this essay Kimberly shares her story of being a conservative Christian mom of a trans child, and how and why she learned to embrace Kai’s transition. (This essay was first published by Good Housekeeping in April 2017)

The second story, Affirming Kai, is part of the “Stories That Change The World” series and is written by Kimberly’s friend, Niki Breeser Tschirgi. One of the toughest things that moms of lgbtq kids deal with is the loss of supportive friends and family members … but, thank goodness, there are those friends, like Niki, who don’t abandon us!

If you enjoy these two stories please consider sharing them with your friends.

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I remember one night when Kai was very young, and I was tucking her into bed. Her legs felt so cold that I became concerned, lifted the sheets and discovered she had taken a pair of panties off a baby doll and put them on herself. It was constricting her blood circulation and if she’d slept that way overnight, it could have become very dangerous. After that experience, I realized I could no longer ignore something very real about my child:

My son, born Joseph Paul Shappley, is a girl.

I was raised as a devout, conservative Christian with strong Republican values in the South. It’s a place where being different can not only be unforgiving, but unsafe. I had been a leader of a small ministry teaching Bible study at my local church, and I didn’t support or condone those living the “LGBTQ lifestyle.” That was just part what I’d been brought up to believe as a Christian and I knew I’d instill those same principles in my children.

But all of my beliefs and convictions were brought into question when, at 18 months old, Kai began exhibiting very strong female characteristics. From the moment my child was born, everything about Kai was geared toward femininity. She would pull T-shirts down around her waist to make them into skirts. She would tie long-sleeved shirts around her head and pretend it was long hair. I tried to force her to wear clothes with camouflage and superhero patterns, and even gave her severe, flat-top haircuts. Kai has five other siblings who are boys, so it was also a very testosterone-filled family environment, which I thought might help. Everything was fishing and spitting and boy stuff. But Kai just continued to be Kai.

As a Christian mother raising a Christian family, it was a very difficult time for me. I wasn’t ready to give in and allow Kai to transition socially — especially at such a young age. My internal struggle beat me up daily. I felt like I couldn’t go against everything I’d been taught to believe, and yet I also couldn’t let Kai live in such obvious agony. I wasn’t ready to face the fact that my one-and-a-half-year-old child was a girl and that battle lasted for a couple years.

Shortly after Kai turned 2, friends and family were starting to notice her behavior. Living in Pearland, Texas, that meant we were getting a lot of sidelong glances and questions. Kai would only play with other girls and girls’ toys. She said boys were “gross.” Family members were flat-out asking me if she was gay. It made me nervous, and I was constantly worried about what people would think of me, of her, of our family and of my parenting.

While family was questioning whether Kai was gay, a Christian friend of mine, who is also a child psychologist, asked me: “Have you noticed Kai’s feminine behavior?” It was such a gentle question, as opposed to the harsh accusations of others. I said, “I’ve noticed, but I figure she’ll just grow out of it.” I can laugh at that now. It’s so clear, in retrospect, that this was not a passing phase. But when my friend asked me that, I still wasn’t ready to accept it. As I continued to watch my child developing, my friend started pointing out red flags that there was something very real going on. She told me I needed to consider that Kai might be transgender.

By the time Kai was 3 1/2 years old, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. She was verbalizing that she was a girl at least six times a day. Everything was: “I’m a princess” and “I’m a girl.” Every time she’d say something like that, I’d get down on her level and firmly say, “No, you’re a boy.” It never worked. She would correct me by waiting until I was in the middle of something and unable to chase her around, then run into the room and yell, “I’m a girl!” and run out again. I did everything I could think of to cut off that kind of talk. There were time-outs, so many time-outs. There were spankings and yelling matches and endless prayers. I even contacted the daycare Kai attended and asked them to put away every single “girl” toy. They complied with it, but Kai never changed her tune. The tenaciousness and bravery of this child is something from which I’ve learned so much.

I started reaching out to more professionals, including a child psychiatrist who asked me, “If you and Kai were on a deserted island, would you let her wear girls’ clothes?'” I said, “Probably.” The psychiatrist told me it wasn’t God I had a problem with, but what other people would think of my child and me. That really got my gears spinning. I thought, Okay, I could start with girls’ panties. It’s something no one else will see. It took me three or four trips to Walmart until I could finally bring myself to do it. I’d go pick them up and then leave them in the store, crying as I walked out of the automatic doors. I would be so upset, and then I’d feel bad about not getting them. It was something so seemingly small, but it was a huge hurdle to overcome.

Guilt and confusion were eating away at me in a constant battle to find a solution. Kai was still 3 1/2 when I came across Leelah Alcorn’s story online. Leelah, born Josh Alcorn, had voiced a desire to live as a girl. Her parents said that, religiously, they wouldn’t stand for it. Leelah later wrote a note to her parents and a specific passage stuck with me: “Even if you are Christian or against transgender people don’t ever say that to your kid. That won’t do anything but make them hate themselves. That’s exactly what it did to me.” Alcorn’s story ended tragically — she committed suicide because her parents wouldn’t let her be who God designed her to be. That hit too close to home. I’d heard Kai praying to please let Joseph go home and live with Jesus. I mean, this kid was asking the Lord to let her die.

After that, I started studying the Bible more intensely. I was compelled to know as much as I could about Jesus, His nature and character. I would read and reread His interactions with the religious people of the Bible who were always using scripture to justify their hateful actions. I noticed that over and over again Jesus would confront them and challenge them to view the scripture through the lens of love.

Online, I found a secret Facebook community of Christian moms of LGBTQ kids. It’s a beautiful group with a combined total of more than 2,000 moms now. There I found women who would pray with me and for me. They were the least judgmental and loving Christians I have ever met. They let me know I wasn’t alone. Their support and encouragement made me brave enough to rethink what I believed and consider that I might be wrong about some things.

Eventually, when Kai was 4, I was able to allow her to transition. There was still fear and confusion. I was defying the societal and cultural expectations of our community, family and friends. But I knew I had to choose to accept my daughter exactly the way God created her — and there was also a beautiful freedom in that. A few weeks after I stopped punishing Kai for “acting girly,” she put on a wizard robe she’d received as a birthday gift, making it her “first dress.” She stole my headband to make a belt and pulled her hair forward as much as possible.

When I look back at photos of that day, I have mixed emotions: Regret that I made her suffer so long. Pride for what a tough cookie she is. Respect for such a young child who has taught me so much about unconditional love. And then I just laugh … because, how could I ever doubt that this kid is a girl?

While my biggest personal struggle was the choice to let Kai, now 6, transition, my greatest trial as a woman of faith has been the persecution I’ve received from other Christians. Family members, friends and church members have judged our family and ostracized us to the point that we’ve considered moving. I’m so disappointed in the hatred they call “love the sinner, hate the sin.” You cannot have fresh water and salt water from the same spring. But despite the ignorance and hurtful words of others, I choose to arm myself with knowledge. I have to face the fact that my child is at the highest risk of suicide and/or being murdered in a hate crime and I have to do everything I can to compensate for the obstacles that Kai will face. I have to do everything I can to give Kai every opportunity to grow into a whole and healthy adult. That’s my job as her mother.

I have surrounded my family with transgender men and women who are leaders in the community. They encourage Kai to be proud of who she is and where she comes from. We’re building a stronger community together. When Kai was finally allowed to be her true self, she blossomed. I put princess panties in her drawer and she fell to the ground, hugging those panties and sobbing, saying, “Thank you, Mommy, thank you.” Within a few short weeks of letting her transition, she was no longer lying, no bed-wetting, no more nightmares. I now have a happy, healthy, outgoing, loving, beautiful, sweet little girl who loves Jesus and loves her brothers.

Yes, the emotional challenge has been great, but I’d rather face that challenge myself than have my child face it alone like so many transgender children have because their parents won’t let them transition.

There’s never been a moment of doubt or regret after making the choice to let Kai transition. I’ve learned too much about identity and faith in loving my beautiful daughter exactly the way she is.

She’s a loud, happy and joyful girl who expects that everybody’s going to be kind and good. It’s her persistent spirit that has enabled her to transition so young. She knows who she is and has no problem making sure that everyone else knows too.

PBG_6904

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Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,000 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

 

The Fruit Doesn’t Lie – a response to the Nashville Statement

30 Wednesday Aug 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Bible, Christian, Church, faith, Family, GLBT, Inclusion, justice, LGBT, LGBTQ, Love, Mama Bears, Parent, Parenting, Same Sex Marriage, Scripture, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Truth

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

#thefruitdoesnotlie, affirming, Christian, evangelical, Good Fruit, LGBT, LGBTQ, Nashville Statement, Serendipitydodah for Moms

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Jesus said if you aren’t sure about something check out the fruit because “every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit”

People were asking Jesus a lot of questions.

They wanted to know what they should believe – who they should follow – who they should emulate and support.

They wanted to know who was right – who knew the true way? What prophets should they trust? What rabbi should they follow?

Instead of answering with a list of shoulds and shouldn’ts or naming names he offered a formula that would be useful to truth seekers throughout all of time.

Jesus advised those who were listening …

When you are not sure about a specific doctrine, or a certain theological point, or some Christian message you can simply check out the fruit that it is producing.

If it is producing good fruit then it is of God and true. Embrace and follow the teaching.

If it is producing bad fruit then it is not of God and not true. Abandon the teaching.

Scripture does not address most things specifically. Instead it gives us some guiding principles to live by. Then people come along and try to figure out how to apply those guiding principles to real life. When we get it right it mostly leads to whole, healthy, vibrant lives. When we get it wrong it mostly leads to broken, unhealthy, hopeless lives.

If a specific doctrine is mostly producing self loathing, despair, hopelessness, depression, isolation, shame, self harm and other such bad fruit then it’s a no brainer … it’s not good doctrine and we should abandon it.

The fruit doesn’t lie.

You can twist scripture.

But, the fruit doesn’t lie.

You can always find a verse to more or less say what you want it to say.

But, the fruit doesn’t lie.

You can always find a Christian leader to teach what you believe.

But, the fruit doesn’t lie.

You can always find a book that supports your point of view.

But, the fruit doesn’t lie.

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This week a group of conservative evangelical leaders laid out their beliefs on human sexuality, including opposition to same-sex marriage and fluid gender identity, in a new doctrinal statement they titled the Nashville Statement

The statement grows out of a shame based doctrine that has proven over and over again to mostly produce bad fruit in the lives of LGBT people who wholeheartedly embrace it.

While it is true that there is an occasional story of an LGBT person who seems to be doing okay embracing anti LGBT Christian theology, it is disingenuous to stand in front of a tree and hold up a few good pieces of fruit while ignoring thousands of pieces of bad fruit laying on the ground surrounding the tree. 

The vast majority of LGBT Christians who embrace the idea that they must either change their orientation, deny their gender identity or face life long celibacy experience depression, hopelessness, shame, despair and self loathing. Many experience suicide ideation and some even end their life.

And the statement doesn’t just say that those who disagree with the anti LGBT doctrine are wrong.

The statement says that those who are affirming are outside of the Christian faith and that it is wrong to think of this as something that falls into the “agree to disagree” column.

They have stated it in such a way to make it clear that they see this as a non-negotiable.


Article 10 states:

WE AFFIRM that it is sinful to approve of homosexual immorality or transgenderism and that such approval constitutes an essential departure from Christian faithfulness and witness.

WE DENY that the approval of homosexual immorality or transgenderism is a matter of moral indifference about which otherwise faithful Christians should agree to disagree.

 

That is a deep line in the sand they are drawing.

It seems obvious to me they are saying if you support the statement you should not be in fellowship with someone who does NOT support the statement.

It seems obvious to me they are saying if you are the parent of an LGBT child who is in a same sex relationship you should reject and separate from your child.

It seems obvious to me they are saying if you have family and friends who are affirming you should shun them.

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Personally I don’t give a hoot what they think.

I am long past the point of recognizing evangelicals as those who have credibility or authority when it comes to my own life.

But I am deeply concerned about LGBT people – especially LGBT youth – and families with LGBT children who are a part of faith communities that support the statement.

The message is toxic and damaging and some parents will think they are doing the loving thing by abiding by it, when in reality they will be placing a tremendous and unnecessary burden on their kids that will be extremely harmful and might very well do irreparable damage to their precious children. 

The fruit doesn’t lie.

The message of the statement will surely tear families apart and drive people away from the faith.

The fruit doesn’t lie.

The message will produce depression, despair, shame, hopelessness, self loathing and even suicide.

The fruit doesn’t lie.

The message will not produce life – it will produce death – relational death, emotional death, spiritual death and physical death.

The fruit doesn’t lie.

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ON THE OTHER HAND THERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS:

When you listen to LGBTQ Christians who are connecting with faith communities that affirm their relationships and identities you will find that they are experiencing a lot of good fruit in their lives. They are typically healthier in every way – relationally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.

The fruit doesn’t lie!

(If you would like to delve deeper into what scripture says and doesn’t say about same sex relationships check out this post which addresses the verses most often used to condemn same sex relationships.)

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And there is more good news … there are a LOT of Christians who don’t support the Nashville Statement.

Here are two statements that affirm LGBTQ Christians, their relationships and their identities that were crafted by Christians in response to the Nashville Statement:

 

Here is the “God is Love” statement from The Liturgists that affirms LGBTQ relationships and identities in the church. Free free to add your signature and share this life producing statement.

and

Here is the Denver Statement from the House for All Sinners & Saints that also affirms  LGBTQ relationships and identities in the church which would be good to share as it will most assuredly produce good fruit in the life of many.

#thefruitdoesnotlie

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And MORE good news:

If you are the mom of an LGBTQ kid there is a great online community you might want to join: 

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The group was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 2,100 members. Each day moms of LGBTQ kids gather virtually to share a journey that is unique and often very difficult. The group is a place where they share a lot of information, ask questions, support one another, learn a lot and brag on their kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. The space was specifically created for open minded Christian moms who have LGBTQ kids and want to develop and maintain healthy, loving, authentic relationships with their LGBTQ kids. However, moms do not have to be Christian to be a member of the group. In addition to providing a space for members to share info and support one another, a special guest is added each month for a short time so members can ask questions in the privacy of the group. The guests include authors, pastors, LGBTQ people, bloggers, medical professionals and public speakers.

Email lizdyer55@gmail.com for more info about the group.

 

 

Not Enough

01 Thursday Jun 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Christian, Church, LGBT, LGBTQ, Love, Marriage, Same Sex Marriage

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

#LGBTQFamilies, affirming, Christian, LGBT, LGBTQ, love, Same Sex Marriage

Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day, June 1st 2017

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Saying “we are all sinners” when talking about someone’s loving relationship, marriage or family is not loving or kind – it is unkind, unloving and disrespectful. It strips away a person’s human dignity when you compare the most important and cherished things in their life to sin. All any straight person has to do is imagine how they would feel if someone called their engagement, marriage, family sinful – which is why these words from Stan Mitchell are so important.

“We Are All Sinners” – A Step In The Right Direction But Still Not Enough by Stan Mitchell

A wonderful same-sex couple I know well have been monogamously, faithfully together for 30+ years. In that time, they have raised three beautiful, productive children (who all happen to be heterosexual, btw) and now have several grandchildren. While they will absolutely agree with you that they are imperfect creatures who have sinned and still do, what is terribly hurtful and painfully offensive to them is when this most beautiful part of their life – their family – is called their sin. When this perhaps sincere yet patronizing religious overture is offered them, they look at their love, their children and their grandchildren and say, “No doubt we have sin in our life but this love and these children are not it.”

What am I saying here and why am I saying it?

There are many Christians who, though they believe same-sex love is wrong, also sense that excluding their LGBT sisters & brothers from the fellowship of Christianity is at least as wrong. Caught in this painful catch-22, one way many attempt to reconcile this untenable tension is to offer that while same-sex love is indeed sin, it is no worse than other sins, including their own. Essentially, they are saying, “We are all sinners saved by grace so if you are out because of your sin then I am out because of mine and if I get to be in in spite of my sin then so do you.”

While this effort is appreciable and a step in the right direction for sure, it still falls short and is hauntingly comparable to the Jim Crow south as a progression from slavery – better but not remotely enough. Just as an entire generation of people finally looked at a separate water fountain and said it can not quench my thirst, there are millions of people who can not, out of self-respect and the sheer dignity of their own soul, accept the acceptance that is no acceptance – calling their love, “sin” and their family, “sinful.”

(The photo I have included is of my son and his fiance who will be married in October of this year. I look forward to celebrating them, their love and the life they are building together!)

**************************************************************

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 1,800 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

Mama Bear Story Project #15 – Meredith Webster Indermaur

31 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Children, Christian, Church, Coming Out, faith, Family, GLBT, LGBT, LGBTQ, Love, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Parent, Parenting, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

#LGBTQFamilies, Christian, family, LGBT Youth, LGBTQ, love, love is the movement, Mama Bear Story Project, Mama Bears, Moms of LGBT, Moms of LGBTQ Kids, Serendipitydodah for Moms, stories, Story, unconditional love

The Mama Bear Story Project is a collection of portraits and autobiographical essays from members of Serendipitydodah for Moms – a private Facebook group for open minded Christian moms of LGBTQ kids.

 

This Mama Bear Story Project is also being submitted as part of :
Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day, June 1st 2017

Meredith

In the South, coming out is the language of debutantes, those rosy-cheeked young women in long white dresses and matching white gloves up to the elbow, floating like feathers down marble staircases the size of Texas. Their introduction to society is a celebratory time of champagne and parties, of photo opportunities in green backyard gardens, of laughter and back-slapping, of proud fathers and stressed-out mothers – a kind of nuptials trial run.

That fanfare is a far cry from the coming out of the boy I birthed on a chilly midwestern morning just seventeen summers prior – the boy who has my heart, the one who measures his words to me as carefully as a carpenter measures the wood before he feeds it to the blade. It is in that space between his voice gathering its steam and my mental chatter slowing to a crawl that I intuit the words before he even says them.

Mom, I’m gay.  I’ve known it for as long as I can remember.

Wood to the blade.

**********

When the yellow-haired boy’s words dropped into my ears, they would not land there – instead, they hovered like a hummingbird working its needle-thin beak into and out of the flower.  I recognized the steady buzzing of the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of my pulse as it loomed large, affecting my ability to hear.  Instinctively I knew that something had been spoken which would alter the world as I saw it – something that would split time in two pieces like halves of a log on a chopping block, axe to wedge and crack!  Had I looked down at the floor at that moment, I’m nearly certain Before and After would have been lying there.

With the whoosh still looming large, I believe I might have uttered something ridiculous, like:

Areyousurereallysure and pleasedon’ttellanyone because I was talking fast and foolish and fearful.

His brown eyes, registering deep pain by the way they seemed to snap backwards into his head, did the answering for him.  I babbled on senselessly, speaking without punctuation – without pause for intake of breath (where was my breath, anyway?) for far too long, but who was watching the clock any longer in a world where time had been split in half?  What was the point?

I had a problem. I had a very big problem.

Before and After
 were, after all, lying at my feet.

**********

Courage:  from the Latin cor for heart

Integrity:  from the Latin integritatem for wholeness

I was going to need a lot of this – a lot of heart; that much I could see.  What I could not see, though, not yet, was that the blonde boy standing on the other side of the room, huddled up between the dresser and the bedroom door (in position to flee?), already possessed more heart than I on my best day.

This was far from my best day.  My best day was on sabbatical somewhere out west where it could breathe.  My best day had deserted me and was sunning itself by some pool in Arizona, sipping filtered water infused with lemons and limes.

My brain, scrambling like it had just come front and center with a word problem, refused – refused! – to assimilate the information placed in front of me.  Instead, it pulled me off to the side and whispered a million different reasons why this could. not. be. true.  I wanted to resist; surely some part of me wanted to resist – wanted to review the evidence I’d seen on the horizon, building strength like a Nebraska storm cloud in August, wanted to acknowledge that those inklings had been spot-on – but I dared not trust myself.  If I remembered nothing else from those years and years of collective pastors’ voices ringing in my ears, I remembered what was etched in my mind like a tattoo: Our hearts are deceitful and wicked beyond measure.  They are never to be trusted.

Which of us was deceived?  Which of us – the boy huddled by the door, ready to flee, or the mother clasping the wooden bed post to keep from falling – which one of us was party to a lie?

It is said somewhere that courage is the foundation of integrity.

That must mean that the one who knows who he is at the heart is the one who is whole.

Oh. God.

Then where did that leave me?

**********

With Jesus, we find the power to hold the pain of life until it transforms us.

– Fr. Richard Rohr
I needed a plan.  I needed a way to get control of this thing – to get on top of it, to make it submit, to make it cry uncle and relent,  Okay!  Okay!  You win!  Because the only thing worse than not having control is the realization that you never had it.

The words had been spoken.

I couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle,
the toothpaste back in the tube,
the bullet back in the gun.

The words had been spoken.

Fear came fast to the surface, blowing bubbles like a swimmer as she empties her lungs of the last bit of air that has served her well below but will fail her now.

The words had been spoken. 

No longer was this simply a question that raced like Flo Jo around and around the edges of my brain until it grew tired and retreated into the locker room for a time.  No longer was Denial my partner in crime, because it had been detained and arrested and carried off in handcuffs in the back of a squad car.  Fat lot of good you did me, Denial.  Fat lot of good.  You simply delayed the inevitable.

Yes, the words had been spoken – had pierced the lie and lanced the festering sore in hopes of a remedy, yet I was still blind to their efficacy.

It would be a while, still.

**********

When I was four years old at play in the sandbox, a neighbor’s rooster the size of a small goat flogged me, knocking me flat on my back to the ground.  I remember very little of this other than a wild flurry of feathers and claws and beak atop my face – and someone screaming.  Maybe the scream was mine, although I think I was too paralyzed to make much of any kind of sound – too paralyzed to make any kind of movement.  So I lay there and waited for a rescue, unaware that my bottom lip and chin were victims of those massive claws digging in with the tenacity of fish hooks.  A short while later a loud pop was followed by an explosion of feathers, releasing me to put my chubby fingers up to my face to probe the now throbbing gashes that would go on to be stitched and, later, leave permanent trails.  It was years before I understood the danger in that split-second decision my father was forced to make as he stood way up at the house – years before I had children of my own to remind me that sometimes – many times – we parents are simply flying blind (or, if you prefer, relying on faith).  Most days, to be honest, there’s not much difference.

My tow-headed boy’s words were out.  He was out.  The rooster was back, but this time, I was the parent flying blind.  This time,  I had a decision to make that was nothing short of putting a bullet in a monster.  If my aim were off by just a hair, then the consequences could be disastrous.  He might be left bleeding, blind, scarred for life – or worse.  It dawned on me then that I needed to move in close and fast, to cross the room that had at once become no less than the Grand Canyon of chasms, to make that leap and not look down.

This was not a fine time for paralysis.  Feathers were going to fly.

Moving toward my son, smoking gun in hand, I crossed the room – not tentatively but decisively, not gingerly but with a boldness that came from some unknown (to me) place. I’d put a bullet in a monster – before it could jump him, before it could slice away the tender flesh and leave a gaping wound.  It was a split-second, flying blind decision.  It was all I knew to do, and it had to be enough.

Wrapping him in my arms, I welcomed his weeping against me.  Wrapping him in my arms, I shushed him, clucking like a mother hen as she gathers her chicks close to her body.  Wrapping him in my arms, I tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in my throat – a lump that I was certain was born of the dust fragments of my shattered heart.

Once that dust settled, once that clearing began, once I was able to get the lay of the land – and with that rooster dead and gone – I would see that his coming out broke my heart wide open so that more of God could get in.

But this day, it was enough to cling to one another in that haze, to fly blind without knowing where to land … and to wait.

**********

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in …
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

From Leonard Cohen’s Anthem


The wallpaper on my Mac is a rotating series of photos I’ve uploaded over the past few years, so I frequently stop what I’m doing to stare at the images scrolling through.  Most faces are smiling – open, even, like sunlight – with eyes squinted and teeth bared in unadulterated joy; others are pensive, thoughtful, filled with contented Mona Lisa mystery.  These are the shots that elicit my own feelings of gratitude, the ones that assure me of future promise, of hope – the ones most likely to tease my insecurities out into the open, to pat them on the back and whisper that maybe, just maybe, I did okay as their mom. A few, though – the ones of the yellow-haired boy at twelve, fourteen, or sixteen, even – cannot be so easily celebrated.  His eyes, flat and dull like a 1920s penny, stare out of his haunted face – a look not altogether dissimilar to photos snapped of Holocaust survivors or of Russian orphans, or war refugees. It’s impossible to read into those faces anything but the despair of a thousand betrayals, and yet this is the entirety of his face. My son’s face. Eyes, mouth, cheeks, nose – all are caught up into that one word: Despair.  The war that rages in his soul plays itself out on the landscape of his lifeless eyes, and, sadly,  that is the thing.  How had I let that colorless portrait escape me?

As Richard Rohr says, we cannot see what we are not ready to see, especially those things which are hidden in plain sight.

And yet, Jesus asks the blind beggar, who is both blind and beggar, What do you want me to do for you?  And this man says, simply, I want my sight restored.  Because, at one time, he could see.

But once he sees again, it will all look different.

**********

When I took the dog for a walk through the neighborhood yesterday,  I happened to notice a festive fall wreath on the front door of one particularly unfriendly couple’s home.  Upon closer examination (which meant my peering at the door from practically across the street, since a canine’s errant treading of  paws upon their perfectly manicured lawn elicits anger and threats to both owner and pet), I was able to make out the word Welcome on a little sign affixed to the wreath.  Welcome. Really?  That’s ironic, I thought to myself, as I gave wide berth to their property and made my way on down the street.

But before my feet had hit my driveway, it dawned on me that, on any given day, I’m also guilty of saying one thing while conveying something shockingly different by my actions.

I have loved etymology ever since I took an intro to Linguistics in college. Last year I learned that the term holy originates from the same root word as whole.  That discovery offered me a new-and-improved way to think about God in His wholeness – as the One Who is fully integrated within Himself. God, the perfect integer.  Jesus, the Son, who lived out a life of perfect wholeness in his humanity as communicated via the Gospels. Jesus, who lived as he spoke and who spoke as he lived.

Whole.
Integrated.
Holy.

Yet, for a couple of years, my tow-headed boy would go on to bear the brunt of my un-holiness, my fractured thinking, my stumbling and bumbling inability to align my words and my actions surrounding his truth telling.

His ears would go on to register the I love you coming from my mouth, yet his heart would grapple with the unspoken but well communicated but spawned by my actions.

I love you BUT let’s look into reparative therapy (I don’t love this part of you) +

I love you BUT let’s keep this a secret (I don’t love this part of you) +

I love you BUT let’s beg God to fix this (I don’t love this part of you) =

I don’t love you.


Love the sinner but hate his sin is a lie.  But I couldn’t see that, then.  I had mud in my eyes. Like the blind man whose sight Jesus was in the process of restoring, I saw people “like trees walking around,” which is not seeing people at all.

I saw through a glass darkly.

It would be a while, still.

There are times when taking a break from writing is all I want to do, like when memories are forced to conjure up disquieting images the way King Saul pled with the Witch of Endor to summon the spirit of Samuel, dusty and irritated, from the grave.

King Saul would go on to pay a price for this.

Images give birth to thoughts and then thoughts to the words which, once expressed, we claim a sort of parental responsibility for, whether we are prepared for this or not.

Denial became something akin to a ground-fault circuit interruptor when my thoughts threatened to shock my system. Fearing for the tow-headed boy’s life,  fearing for his reputation (it was also fear for my own, if truth be told), I spoke over him words – marching orders, really – that coaxed darkness up from the ground that threatened to swallow him whole – that threatened to send him to his death.

You need to keep this to yourself.  

Don’t tell anyone else you’re gay.


We can’t let your grandfather find out – it’ll kill him.



Fear had had its say, and in those dusty, irritated, grave-words, shame was born.

This son of mine – this one who was always so eager to please, so agreeable and cooperative – looked down at the floor, unblinking, and kept his eyes there for a long time.  What he saw, I couldn’t know.

What I did know, though, was that I couldn’t see a damned thing.

**********

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?
Yet not one of them is forgotten 
by God. – Luke 12:6

The baby bird needed help.

I spotted it from a good distance, back when my eyes boasted 20/20 vision,  as I was on my way back from an afternoon spent at the pool with my friends.

Rolling up to the fluffy gray ball on my banana seat bike,  I quickly surveyed the situation.  He was sitting in the middle of one of the neighborhood streets, no mama bird to be found.  His dull yellow beak was open in a little V, and he was breathing rapidly, his downy little feathers moving up and down so fast that they seemed to be in constant motion.

I didn’t sit for long but gingerly pushed down the kickstand so as not to startle the quivering creature who was now just a few feet in front of me, and then I deftly – and silently – climbed over the seat and off the bike.  My heart was racing at this point as I was contemplating my next move.  I had a difficult decision to make, and yet my 11-year old brain knew of only one thing to do.

Scooping him up and setting him in my pool bag in one swift movement, I knew only one thing: I had to quickly get this bird home before he died.  It was then I heard the chirping from somewhere above me, although when I looked up, I saw nothing.  Instead of riding on the street, I made a quick left and departed the road for the well worn dirt path made by all the other bikes heading to and from the pool.  Coasting down the hill while clutching the pool bag with one hand, I heard the chirps becoming louder and more frantic.  It never dawned on me that the ruckus had anything to do with my precious cargo.  I was in the zone.  I was going to save this bird.  Rounding the curve once the hill flattened out, I pedaled like a girl with her hair on fire.

My mother met me at the porch door after she heard me calling out for her from two houses over.  With a furrowed brow, she peered into the bag I held up to her through the screen.  “Can we save it? I found it in front of the Thomas’s house, on the road.”  My mother, who has always had a soft spot for animals, ushered me inside with a warning that baby birds are rarely abandoned by their mothers, even when it looked like they were.  “Usually the mother is somewhere close by, watching, making sure her baby is safe.”  Pulling a cardboard box out of the storage closet, she instructed me to line it with a towel and set the bird in it.  After adding a small dish of water to the box, I sat on the porch floor to watch the traumatized baby, holding vigil and saying prayers until nightfall.

The next morning found me racing to the box in the hopes that a miracle had occurred – that the tiny thing had drunk some water, at least.  My mother found me a few minutes later as I knelt, crying, by the cardboard coffin.  She listened as I recounted how I’d tried to save this orphan from certain death, then she showed me where to bury it in the yard.

The next day she told me about the way of birds when they are learning to fly.

Years later I would find myself needing to choose between putting my son in a box or helping him learn to fly.

**********

Note from Meredith on May 31, 2017:

It took so much out of me to write this a few years back that I had to stop.  Reading back through it now, I can see tremendous growth, thank God.  Even then, I knew that God would be faithful to continue pulling me forward in truth.  I needed to experience all those feelings and fears in order to join this current pilgrimage and be there to help my son learn to spread his wings and fly.

 

**************************************************************

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears” The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 1,800 members. For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

 

Stories That Change The World #33 – I became affirming because of my faith, not in spite of it.

20 Tuesday Dec 2016

Posted by Liz in Affirming, Bible, Children, Christian, Church, GLBT, It Gets Better, justice, LGBT, LGBTQ, Light, Love, Mama Bears, Parent, Parenting, Same Sex Marriage, Scripture, Serendipitydodah for Moms, Story, Truth

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Fruit, Good Fruit, Justice, LGBT, love, Mama Bears, Matthew 7:17, Micah 6:8, moms, Moms of LGBT, Moms of LGBTQ Kids, Same Sex Marriage, stories, Stories That Change The World, Story

Stories have the power to change the world … they inspire us, teach us, connect us. This is the thirty-third installment in the “Stories That Change The World” series.

13240119_10153615897610418_674151807175939621_n

I have a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ+ kids. As of April 2018 we have more than 2,500 moms in the group and continue to grow. The group was especially created for open minded Christian moms of LGBTQ+ kids. One thing we often discuss among ourselves is how we reconcile our Christian faith with supporting and affirming our LGBTQ+ kids. My own journey of reconciliation was one of the main things that led me to create Serendipitydodah for Moms. Here is the short version of how I reconciled my faith with being affirming. This process took place between one and two years.

When my son came out at age 19 he told me he had come to the conclusion that the bible did not condemn loving, committed same sex relationships. I fully expected to be able to prove him wrong.

I was accustomed to “studying” scripture as I led women’s ministry in church for many years and also wrote and taught women’s bible studies during that time. I knew what it meant to dig into original language and consider the historical context of the verses I was studying.  I was shocked to find that my son was right … there was no clear condemnation of the kind of same sex relationship that my son was talking about. None of the “clobber” verses were speaking about a loving, monogamous, healthy same sex relationship – my son had not forsaken God nor was he living some kind of lustful life. There was nothing in scripture that spoke of a same sex couple falling in love, marrying, building a life and a family together. (*For those who are interested in taking a closer look at the scriptures I studied during this process check out “The Clobber Verses“) Therefore, in light of insufficient evidence in scripture I had to ask myself…How should I respond to something if scripture doesn’t clearly condemn it?

The only thing I could think is that I needed to know if there was any evidence that same sex relationships were hurting people in real life. I took time to meet and get to know same sex couples and families and I couldn’t find evidence that they were any different than opposite sex couples – the evidence I discovered was that healthy same sex relationships had the same potential to be good and healthy and life giving that opposite sex relationships had.

When I was going through all of this study, research, thought and prayer Micah 6:8 became a focal point for me:

“He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good;
and what doth the Lord require of thee,
but to do justly, and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God?”

It was one of those verses that I kept being drawn back to and became one of those verses that ended up being “written on my heart”

The lack of evidence to condemn same sex relationships and Micah 6:8 led me to this:

If scripture doesn’t clearly condemn it and there is no evidence that it is harmful to anyone it would be unjust for me to condemn it and I know how God feels about injustice.

Shortly after I realized it was unjust to condemn same sex relationships due to insufficient evidence I also began to understand that good theology should produce good fruit.

I knew that scripture says that we (followers of Christ) will be known by our good fruit or good psychology.

I knew the good news should produce life giving fruit and if my theology was producing depression, hopelessness, self-loathing and suicide I had to come to grips with the reality that my theology must be wrong.

As I pondered the “good theology = good fruit/good psychology” principle and began to connect with a lot of Christian LGBT people I began to see a pattern … when LGBT people were connected to non-affirming faith communities they were typically very broken, desperate, hopeless, unhappy people and many times they were living out their brokenness in self destructive ways – but when they were connected to affirming faith communities they typically were a lot healthier and living much healthier lives. The evidence was clear and convicting.

I had to let go of the theology that was producing death (emotional death, spiritual death, relational death, physical death) and embrace theology that was producing healthy ideas, healthy choices, healthy living .. theology that was producing health, wholeness and life.

At some point I realized that I could no longer reconcile my Christian faith with the idea that same sex relationships were sinful – the two just didn’t go together.

I became affirming because of my faith, not in spite of it.

I support equal rights and protection of LGBT people not “even though” I’m a Christian or “in spite of” of being a Christian, but BECAUSE I’m a Christian.

I haven’t had to compromise or choose – I have fully embraced my faith throughout this journey.

****************************************************

For a closer look at the scriptures I studied during this process check out “The Clobber Verses“

For more on “Good Theology Should Produce Good Fruit” read “The Fruit Doesn’t Lie”

****************************************************

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group created as an extension of the Serendipitydodah blog. The group is secret so that only members can find it or see what is posted in the group. The group was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 1,400 members. The space was specifically created for open minded Christian moms who have LGBT kids and want to develop and maintain healthy, loving, authentic relationships with their LGBT kids.

For more info email lizdyer55@gmail.com

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