The Bipolar Stereotype of the Gay Christian

   To many of us living in the Bible Belt, the term "Gay Christian" causes the brain to cease processing and turn to mush, therefore even a semblance of a definition for this phrase is unable to form and feelings of disease, disgust, fear, and/or anger arrives and settles in. This leaves the "Gay Christian" in a dangerous predicament, especially if we have lived and/or grown up in households where the environment is one that creates the same brain mushing sequence to happen when we hear it ourselves. To deal with such internal angst of "Being Gay is Wrong," and "I really love Jesus," and "Oh God, I'm a homosexual!" a split occurs. The newly self discovered "Gay Christian" feels he/she must choose  Jesus, OR choose to live the stereotyped "Gay Lifestyle." Sadly, the stereotype of the "Gay Lifestyle" is reinforced in many Christian households with like terms such as "sodomy," because of the Bible story of Sodom and Gomorrah where Lot chooses to act hospitably to angels when they enter his home, and protect them from sexual passion/hate filled people of Sodom at the expense of his daughters by offering them instead of his gentlemen angelic visitors when the men outside beg Lot to bring his visitors out to rape them. Here is a question, why would Lot offer his FEMALE daughters, if the men outside were GAY? Wouldn't the more logical people he could offer be himself or his male servants if the men outside were gay? Food for thought. Along with this stereotype of the "Gay Lifestyle", many Christian households also throw homosexuality in with the term "sexual perversion", and classifies same sex attraction as solely "lustful". Therefore, since many "Gay Christians" who choose to be honest with themselves and their family find themselves ostracized by their Church family, and sometimes their blood family, why is anyone surprised that many find themselves in the welcome open embrace of the bar/club dwellers, and the sexually promiscuous? (Am I judging these people? Certainly not! They are often the most welcoming and non judgemental people I know - these two traits being ones that Jesus portrayed, hmm.) Oh, but for the "Gay Christian" who feels he/she is "choosing Jesus" over his/her "sin!" They choose "celibacy" which can work for some who agree with St. Paul that marriage is only a way to stay sexually moral, or sadly they choose to be straight in effort to be loved by their church family, blood family, God, and themselves and end up locking a piece of themselves-of their identity-into the dungeon of their self loathing while their partner and children wonder why they are not fully capable of loving and being loved.
    So, here is my question to the ones who have experienced the "Gay Christian" brain mush sequence, and to my homosexual brothers and sisters who love Jesus, but want to be free to romantically LOVE a person they are naturally attracted to: Why can't there be another way? Can we not find the middle road? Can we not LOVE Jesus and LOVE a same sex partner? Can we not live the way Jesus taught us to live and love "1 Corinthians 13" style our same sex partner? Why not? Does it really bother the God of the Universe who needs nothing and is all powerful and LOVING for us to LOVE who we feel led to love? Are we really all that different from our straight Christian brothers and sisters when it comes to how we model our relationships? No my friends, we are not. Praise God that we have similar marital/financial/emotional/physical struggles, successes, and failures on this side of eternity. Praise God that we ALL have the capacity to LOVE the way God has taught us to LOVE: through his Son Christ Jesus. Praise God that God's divine love resonates in and through us all.

True Love Unveiled

What is true love anyway? Until we get married or choose to commit to a long term or life time relationship, true love exists in the realm of imagination. Whether the imagination is our own, or accumulated from the talented minds of the television, movie, and/or book industry, the idea of true love floats through our emotions and thoughts in the safe place of our subjective universe. We decide our fantasies, and our preferences are always met. We always get what the romantic side of our collective self wants in our true love imaginings. We are always appreciated, we are always held when we want to be, we go on the perfect dates, we are told we are beautiful, strong, wanted, and/or needed. When we date in the world outside of our imagination, our imagination becomes our veil we throw onto our new love interests true selves. We are then shocked by how perfect they then seem "at first" as we gush to our friends how wonderful our veil is, I mean how wonderful THEY are...little do we know, our veils make them seem so perfect. After a few dates, their true forms melt parts of our veils and we find they either really do fit some of our imaginings, or they do not and we decide to keep going on the romantic road together, or to go our separate ways. When we get married, or decide to commit to each other without marriage labels, our poor romantic imagination veils are unraveled. Our veils just cannot exist outside of our heads for long. So here we are, two people committed to each other, veils gone, and BOOM we exist in our entirety: passions, fears, desires, dreams, concerns, etc. We have each separately accumulated potentially different coping skills (or not), hobbies, likes, dislikes, depending on where our roads took us before our roads crossed. We stand before each other completely and utterly naked: mind, body, and soul. In this way, we sometimes wait for the one who's supposed to love us most in the world to judge us. Sometimes, we wait in eager expectation to hear those sweet words, "I love you no matter what." Sometimes, the most rare I think, loving our own emotional, physical, and spiritual selves enough to look at our equally naked lover in his or her eyes and simply exist together, one day at a time, constantly embracing the reality of the power of unconditional love shared.

When You Know, You Know

   When I was single in high school, I remember asking my married lady mentors, "how did you know that he was 'the one'?" The answer I was always given was, "when you know, you just know." This vague answer was extrememly frustrating to my angsty, longing to be romanced, and idealistic teenage self. However, it was the feeling I always sought in all of my romantic relationships. My first three years of college I was still trying to fit in and be straight. I dated some incredible Christian men before I came out as gay. I was convinced I was going to marry one in paticular. He was the kindest, most gentle, patient, and God loving man I have ever met. We talked about getting married during the romantic season of Christmas. We were going to have poinsettas everywhere because they are my favorite nostalgic plant, and our wedding colors were going to be red, black, and white. He knew I was "struggling with homosexuality" so black was symbolizing my "homosexual sin," red was to symbolize "Christ's redemption," and white was to symbolize "my new purity," because of our marriage. Being gay was "a choice" right? I was choosing to live "the way God wanted me to live" right? Our relationship was pefect on paper, but I couldn't make myself feel that "when you know, you know" feeling. He was tall, dark, and handsome, and everything I thought I wanted, but I could not feel physically attracted to him. I kept trying to justify this feeling by saying to myself, "but that doesn't matter as long as I love him right?" Oh, my heart was indeed troubled. Underneath all of the dreamy feelings many women have who dream about getting married, there was that nagging feeling that something was not right. My intuition screamed at me "WRONG WAY" like a car traveling the wrong way on the interstate. Thankfully, my Aunt had an unexpected conversation with me about the importance of having that "spark," that physical attraction, because that was indeed very important for a marriage. God interceded for me and my almost fiance' that day. I would have broken that incredible man's heart day after day, year after year, because I would not have been able to give him what he wanted, needed, and deserved as a married Christian man. Since I chose to end our romantic relationship, his heart only had to break once. We both felt the shatter of love lost and had to depend on God to put us back together. I still sometimes find myself mourning how much I hurt him, but I did not have that "when you know, you know" feeling that is one of the essential pieces of a lifetime commitment.
   I understand this feeling now, because I feel it with my wife. It feels like intuition, so it is subtle. It is the quiet and calm kind of beautiful, like a lavander butterfly that can be easily missed in our big world of distractions. It is like the small smile of a stranger who passes our way on the street. It is like a warm, waft of wind on a cold winter day. This feeling lingers when we argue, when we are angry with each other, or when I am angry at myself or circumstances outside of my control and I take it out on her. It lingers when we are annoyed by each others differing preferences. No matter how heated our arguments get, or how much I shut her out, I know deep in my heart that we will ALWAYS be together. The "when you know, you know" feeling is the essential piece I was missing in all of my other relationships. Because this feeling is not tangible, it is hard to describe, but I hope all of you beautiful unmarried people out there will be comforted by the existance of this "when you know, you know" feeling. I hope you will open yourselves up to trusting it when it happens to you. I hope you will refuse to settle as well as have the courage and self knowledge to feel it and embrace it when you have found "the one."

Blanket of Love

Love is the great weaver. Each person who has entered our lives and sparked her creativity are colors in our love blankets. When our lives cross, she weaves away smiling beautifully as our individual love blankets grow and become more colorful. The more we reveal about ourselves to those she shines on, the tighter she weaves. For those who have sections of love that has been unravelled, never fear. The great weaver is never finished. Embrace all of her weavings. We are never alone.

Exploring Shadows

Every now and then, my Jungian shadow tickles my feet and demands my attention. My shadow whispers encouragingly to shuck off my socially constructed mask and embrace myself in my entirety. I want to dance, to laugh, to drink alcohol, to sing, and to kiss. I feel passion for many, desire for new experiences, and anger toward anything that ties me down. I feel carnal, lustful, and I long to consume. I feel starved for loud, aggressive, and intense experiences. I want to drive fast, and kiss long and hard. My ears want to devour fast beats, and deep bass notes while my body dives into the sexual resonance of that music and dance until my body refuses to move. I want to look beautiful women in the eyes of their mirrored souls and show them how beautiful they are with my lips while holding them as close as possible.
   Ah, but as a married woman, what can I do with my tickling shadow? Many New York Times bestsellers reveal this as where the taboo/secretly desired affair would come into play, but alas the long term effects of such an affair (pun intended) is undesirable at best. After the usual "newness" and intensity that comes with any new relationship is gone, the commitment and companionship usually built in a marriage is absent. Then there are all of the broken hearts after reality kicks back in and responsibility is remembered. Or if one chooses the affair instead, there is a potentially broken family. Nope, just doesn't seem worth it to me. So then what?
   For me, the most important remedy for such internal angst is confessing to my wife. Confession, when confessing to an audience that practices unconditional love, is the most cleansing experience. I am so amazed that my wife still loves me after everything I have told her that goes on in the depths of my soul. We have an agreement that if we have a crush on someone else, we will tell each other. We understand that we are just human and we will have feelings of attraction, and if we confess, it's amazing how quickly the crush dissipates. It's like all of my feelings of attraction and infatuation build up like water behind a dam. I can release that pressure by opening the flood gates in an intense affair, or I can confess to my wife that my feelings exist, then a small hole is put in the emotional dam that lets the pressure out slowly. Then these emotions can flow back into the universe and back toward my wife since she has become my focus again via confession. Being honest in our relationship has been incredible. We vowed to each other that we would not take normal wayward human feelings personally. We embrace our humanity in its entirety and recognize our emotional/sexual waxes and wanes.
   Another way I embrace my shadow as well as my moral self is recognizing the importance of feeling sexy. A fiery affair can certainly make me feel sexy, but I love my wife and the life we have built together too much to allow that to be the only thing that makes me feel sexy. In my introspectional search for feeling sexy, I recognized that personal grooming/pampering makes me feel sexy. Simple rituals such as long showers, shaving my legs, and washing my face makes me feel sexy. I have just recently recognized the importance of the great feminine face washing ritual, and actually had to ask one of my very good friends who has the best complexion EVER to educate me. The vocabulary in and of itself is exhausting! Cleanser, toner, astringent (doesn't that just sound awful!), and moisturizer is about all I could remember during our first lesson. During our chat, my friend and I discussed how caring for ourselves is important because we value anything we spend time on, therefore we learn how to value ourselves which is empowering. This also reflects a relationship between our external self and our internal soul or emotional self. If we care for our external self, not for others to find us desirable, but because we yearn to value ourselves in our entirety, then our inner emotional self can breathe a sigh of relief from its greatest critique: ourselves. If we do this, we can experience a boost of self esteem and yes even a boost of sexual confidence.  I think Bible Belt Christianity's idea of "die to yourself" can be falsely interpreted as refusing to value yourself so you can value others. As I have said before in my blog, I believe it's important to love ourselves before we can love others well.
   Lastly, when my shadow tickles my feet, I am tempted to be deviant. I just want to rip myself from the invisible social rules I have entangled myself in and "let loose." Thankfully this comes pretty easily for me since I grew up in the Bible Belt Culture where being deviant can be as simple as cussing or even looking at someone worthy of respect the wrong way. So for me, when my shadow tickles me, a night out can satisfy my wayward desires. Going to a club or bar with my wife and some friends where there is loud music and riskay dancing, and what? Alcohol?! fulfills my desire to be deviant.
   The more I grow, the more I realize the importance of balancing the natural duplicity of my human nature. As humans, we are constantly experiencing light and dark emotions, a Jekyll and Hyde if you will. A vast amount of literature addresses examples of how humans handle the onslaught of these bipolar emotions but too often, in the Bible Belt especially, we just run away from emotions our culture has deemed "bad" so we must be "good." However, some will get tired of being so "good" all the time so they will "act out" by embracing their shadow fully. But in reality, we constantly exist with both light and shadow and have the power to choose which we embrace. Why can't we embrace both? Whatever happened to the Pauline idea of moderation? What's wrong with giving a big resounding "SHIT!" in our car after a bad day at work? What's wrong with consuming alcohol responsibly every now and then? I believe we can embrace our duplicitious humanity and still remain socially responsible. I believe we can learn to love ourselves better when we embrace all we are, then we can learn to love others in their entirety.
   So let's hang out with our shadow a little and find creative ways to satisfy our completely normal human desires in ways that won't hurt others or ourselves. Let's embrace ourselves and our humanity.

Trail of Tears

The souls of those we have loved and lost or left follows us. Through past pain and purposeful soul isolation we hid. In our hiding place we found love. We invited that one person into our hiding place, and together we soared until social constructs invaded that secret space, and we were forced to live our lies. Our love, our pure, beautiful love, was splintered like a fractured mirror in that brutal outside place. Our love could not thrive there in the vicious wind of social norms. So in our fear, in our anguish, in our hatred of ourselves, one of us fled, and one of us was left behind. Part of us lived in our own secret hiding place, the other part of us in that brutal outside world. We wore our masks while the inside of us achingly reached for someone to love, which could only exist in our hiding place. We would slowly, oh so slowly, let another in so we could be sure they wanted our love too-our true, pure love, and the cycle would continue. Our hearts would break time and time again because like flowers we cannot thrive in that darkness. So when that brutal outside world would tear open the door of our pure love and force us out into that searing heat of societal pressures to be "normal" we would go. We would hate ourselves for finding true love. We would try to fit into what was expected of us and in the process hurt others because we could not love them in return. We could not be ourselves, so others would fall in love with our mask while our hearts wilted because we could not love the one love brought our way. If only society would release us of those expectations, and let us love freely, there would not be such a vast trail of tears.

Our Beautiful "Unofficial" Wedding Day

Kristen and Me

   My wife Kristen and I got married twice. Once was to have a ceremony we could share with loved ones to promise ourselves to each other. The second was to travel 6 and a half hours away, to a city we did not know how to navigate well, just to get a piece of paper that has our names on it and that says we are married.  Our first "unofficial" wedding was in the beautiful state I have lived in all but 6 months of my life, and where Kristen and I first met. She went to high school two cities away from where I attended high school. We met at a Christian Camp we both worked at when we were 18 years old. We kept in touch for 8 years while Kristen went to college and played soccer three states away, then moved up north. We started dating 8 years after we met. I had a huge crush on her after the first time I saw her run her strong hands through her gorgeous, thick, chin length blond hair. At this time in my life, I was firmly rooted in Christian Fundamentalism, and believed my attraction to the same sex was sinful. Although I tried not to be, I was attracted to her athletic body, and strut, as well as her intense love for God and others. She was, and still is, the most patient, caring, unbiasedly loving woman I know. She loves helping people any way she can. One of my favorite stories her Mom has told me is that when she was in elementary school, she would come home and say, "Mom, I need more pencils." When this happened almost every day, her mother asked, "Honey, what's happening to all of your pencils?" To which she responded, "The other kids in my class needed them, so I let them have mine!" like it was the most normal idea in the world. That is certainly my wife today. If someone needs something, and she has it, she will give it without a second thought. If she sees someone who is homeless, she will chat with them a bit, and then give them granola bars that she keeps in her car if they are hungry. She lives without the socially constructed filter of segmenting society into favorable and less favorable. She just sees people who have different stories to tell and adores hearing them all. I am so honored and blessed by her every single day, and I cannot believe she picked me. When she asked me to marry her, I kept saying, "really? really really?" and she responded laughing, " yes of course! I would like a yes or no, you're killing me here!" So I said "Oh of course yes yes yes times a million!" Hugging and kissing and jumping and dancing commenced and we celebrated by going to Texas Roadhouse to start planning our wedding.
   She revealed to me that the reason she somewhat rushed proposing (we had only been dating 7 months) was because she had found out that morning that her sister and her sister's husband, who live clear across the country, were pregnant. It was incredibly important to Kristen to have her sister be able to attend so we either had to wait two months to get married or two years so her sister could fly safely in order to attend. Therefore, we decided that in two months we would be married. The short time was fine by me because patience is certainly not a virtue I usually posses.
   Planning the wedding was both incredibly stressful and interesting. We had many DJs turn us down because  "well no offense but it goes against my beliefs to work at a gay wedding." Kristen thankfully took on the burden of looking for a DJ. She was not hurt as badly from such rejection because she did not live with the fear of knowing she was gay most of her life as I did. She did not even know she was gay until she was 25. The fear that can grow in a person who lives in a Christian Fundamentalist atmosphere is like an infection that can ultimately lead to blood poisoning of the spiritual heart and soul. The fear transforms into the infection of self hate, and the infected grasp onto the lifeless, loveless crutch of rules and their hand made doll of God that is always pointing, always judging, always saying when it is hugged "you are not good enough," and "try harder." I can imagine this fear infection ending in three ways: the horrifyingly too familiar suicide, the unfortunately not noticed enough lifeless zombies who have given up on life and love in order to seek that never ending desire to "fit in," and the one who is freed from the Christian Fundamentalist atmosphere and thinking to embrace a wider view of God and humanity which helps them embrace themselves. It took me 6 years and a traumatic coming out and being silently ostracized by my faith community to be free enough to embrace myself. To Kristen, embracing herself came pretty easily since she didn't have that fear infection. She did manage to find a willing DJ and everything else logistically fell into place. My wife's parents hosted our wedding, and took care of almost everything else themselves from making and decorating the cake, to buying and landscaping their whole yard just for our wedding. They are the best in laws I could have ever hoped for. They both worked so hard to make our wedding absolutely beautiful, and I cannot thank God enough for all of their love and support of us.
   My two best friends agreed to photograph our wedding, and they did a beautiful job of capturing our joy as we weaved our lives ecstatically and irrevocably together. I had asked the Methodist preacher at my home church who loves me and is very open minded, loving, and accepting if she would be willing to officiate our wedding. She said she regretted to say very much that although she would absolutely love to have that honor, the Methodist church may refuse to let her continue preaching if she did. She referred us to another Pastor  who did not have the same issue, and he happily agreed. He gave us some very helpful documents of other holy unions and marriages he had officiated for same sex couples. We were very grateful for these because, let's face it, there are not that many homosexual weddings that are displayed in the media, so we had no clue where to begin planning our ceremony!
 
   Without traditional male/female roles, it was very freeing as well as complicating to create a ceremony that would flow well. I loved the creativity involved in planning the ceremony. I was dreading my own "straight" traditional wedding when I was growing up with the big wedding dress and awkward (for me) formalities. I do admit it took me a while to get used to the idea that we could do pretty much whatever we wanted. I always imagined a wedding had to follow this traditional rigid format of groom waiting at the isle, woman being walked in by her father with bouquet, father handing off bride to groom, words being said and repeated, vows, rings, kiss. I love order and structure, so when my wife and I started thinking about our ceremony, the structure and order were thrown to the wind because we are both women!


Here are some questions you just don't think about until you plan a wedding for two women:

   1: Does someone walk in first? Do we walk in at the same time?
   2: Who's going to give who away?
   3: Dresses; or pants, button down, silk vest and/tie? (I wanted to go with the latter option, but my wife and her family wanted us both to wear a dress. So we did, and if something as insignificant as that can make them happy, then I'm glad to do it.)
   4: Who carries a bouquet? Who throws it at the end?

   My mind was blown away without my comforting structure and order until my wife took my hands, looked straight into my eyes and said, "honey, this is OUR day, we can do anything we want!" Then my creative self soared in the freedom of making this OUR day. We decided that Kristen would walk in first with her Dad, then I would walk in after her. The question was, who would walk me down the aisle?
    My father passed away 7 years before our wedding day. I asked my Uncle who had felt called by God to step in as my father figure if he would be willing to walk me down the aisle. Although we have deep father/daughter connection to this day, he felt that he would be a hypocrite to his personal beliefs if he attended. I asked my Mother if she would be willing to walk me down the aisle. She said she was sorry but she didn't feel like she should. Lastly, I asked my twin sister. She said she wouldn't be able to attend. By this time my heart was shattered by my family's rejection so I just said "fine" to my sister and hung up on her. Then I continued to sit on the steps outside and cried. In my sadness I wrote this poem:

   Who will walk me down the aisle
   Father's gone and sorrows pile
   Love and care seem not enough
   Though I'm a diamond in the rough
   To one who says I'm like a daughter
   But to him it doesn't matter
   Why alone I must be given to
   The one who loves me through and through
   So who will walk me down the aisle
   Father's gone and sorrows pile

I went inside, fell into my lovers arms and said "no one wants to walk me down the aisle," and wept for about half and hour. My wife cried too because of my pain. At this point, no one in my family was coming. I was too scared to ask anyone in my extended family because the rejection of my immediate family was just too much and I felt I couldn't go through that pain again. After a couple of days of mourning my family's rejection, I brainstormed who could walk me down the aisle because I was too afraid to go myself and did not want to go alone. Finally, I called two of my best guy friends who are married to each other and asked if they would be willing, and they agreed. I got the privilege of being walked down the aisle by two of the most handsome men I knew, and my heart was comforted by their support and care for me.

Jon and Zach walk me down the aisle

   Our wedding was absolutely beautiful. My best friend was my maid of honor, and Kristen's sister was hers. They took our bouquets after we were walked in, and held our rings. We had a sand ceremony using green sand for me, blue sand for Kristen, and white sand representing Christ symbolizing how the three of us are inseparable. The cake Kristen's mother made and decorated was absolutely gorgeous. The reception was fun and the whole atmosphere was beautiful, welcoming, celebratory, and not at all awkward or uncomfortable (which was my personal fear). My sister, her husband, and my niece ended up coming, and so many of my best friends from high school attended. One of my friend's mother came who was always a second mom to me and my twin sister. That meant the world to me to have someone who was maternal toward me come to my "gay" wedding. My heart was so full of love and acceptance from my wife's family, and my high school friends. My wedding day was the best day of my life, and I pity that the two people who love me so much couldn't let their love shine brighter than their beliefs so we could all share in my and my wife's happiness and wholeness.

Wedding Cake

Sand Ceremony: Green = Me, Blue = Kristen, White = Christ

 

Halloween Coming Out Short Story

   Every full moon if one listens hard enough, one can hear us howling our passion for the Hunt. The werewolves here in the southern Appalachian mountains take the traditions and rules of this ritual very seriously. Each clan gathers in the cave of their forewolves. I love seeing everyone in our family once a month, and I feel I have somewhere I belong, there's only one problem: I don't like to hunt.
   I can't tell anyone. I've heard horrible stories about cub's getting kicked out of their clans to wander the world alone because they didn't like the Hunt. In school the bullies call werewolves who don't like the Hunt and aren't "wolf" enough lame tames. It's unnatural for a werewolf to dislike the Hunt. I don't know how much longer I can pretend I enjoy it, I would much rather paint passionate sunsets and awe inducing sunrises.
   "Blaine, honey come to dinner, we need to get ready for the Hunt!" I hear Mom say from the kitchen.
   "Yes Mom, let me finish with this color!" I say slightly annoyed. I've been painting a fiery sunset, full of passionate reds, sharp oranges, flashing yellows, and energizing pinks. This is what I love. I finish with the last splash of pink, wash my brush out, and head to the kitchen.
   "Blaine," my dad says, "are you excited for the Hunt!? The piebald deer is my favorite Hunt of the year!"
   October is the Hunt of the piebald deer. The piebald is a deer that is speckled mostly white and very rare. Next month we will hunt the one eared bobcat. We do not kill the creatures, that is not the point. We do not need their meat for sustenance because we have human stomachs, but the Hunt brings us together. The Hunt fills most werewolves, and supposedly all, with the passion of pursuit. I however, do not feel this passion, and I mourn not having it.
   "Oh yes daddy, I can't wait." I try to say emphatically, but I sound so fake. I hope he doesn't notice.
   "Blair," he asks my twin sister, "will you stay by my side this time and not wander off?"
   "Yeah dad, sorry about that. I got stuck in the moment and thought I found the scent." she says apologetically.
   "I know honey, but our clan needs to stick together to succeed." dad says with pride.
   I sighed. I wish I could feel what my family feels: the passion for the Hunt, the excitement, the energy, but I can only find these in my painting. I try to play off my art as a silly hobby and a phase that will pass with time, but I love to paint. Painting makes me feel happy, whole, and myself.
   We finish our dinner, go to our respective rooms, take our human clothes off and put on our robes for the Hunt. Our clan's robe color is a russet orange. With robes on, our father takes the lead and we run into the sunset for our 3 hour trip to the cave. While they are focusing their hearts and minds for the Hunt, I lag behind a little to soak in the sunset. I imagine what colors I would need to mix to capture this last transformation from day to night. The climax of sunset has passed, and the mauve mixes with peach as the world starts to embrace the night.
    "Blaine! Get your head in the Hunt! Hurry up!" my dad hollers from twenty feet ahead.
 I curse myself for getting so far behind. I catch up and try to set my face like a serious hunter. We run on and on through the beautiful mountains, smelling the crisp autumnal air of changing leaves. We can hear the creatures of the night scurry, hoot, or flap leathery wings. Only a few cicadas sing their evening song now that fall has arrived. I sniff the air and I can smell our family of werewolves. We are almost to the cave now. A few minutes later we arrive. The cave's opening is about twenty feet wide and fifteen feet high in the middle of a mountain. The orange warmth of a fire reaches us at the entrance of the cave and we go in. The cave opens into a vast room. I cannot see the ceiling nor the walls opposite of the opening. The bon fire is built about a hundred feet across from the opening and keeps the space warm and well lit. There are warm embraces and catching up about the previous month before the ritual begins. Our clan has about 30 werewolves who gather each month for the Hunt. Jim Dobbs is our clan leader, and he is getting the Hunt alter set up. The alter is a simple five feet by five feet wooden table. Jim Dobbs sets a loaf of bread and a large goblet on top.
   After this, he asks us to get into a circle with the alter in the middle. He then takes the bread in his hands and says,
 "Welcome brothers and sisters to the Hunt of the piebald deer! Before we begin, may we remember our forewolves who have passed on and may we unite with our brother and sister Werewolves who are elsewhere joining in the Hunt." He pauses a moment, then continues.
  "With this bread, we are reminded that we are also human, and with this cup we are reminded that we are all one through the Great Wehr."
He passes the bread around until we each tear off a piece, then partake of the bread together. The he passes the cup, and we drink when he comes to us saying,  "With this cup, we are one in the Great Wehr."
   I love this part of the Hunt. I love the symbolism and the feeling of connection with my family, and all of the Werewolves through the Great Wehr. The Great Wehr was the first and strongest Werewolf whose blood runs through all of our veins.
   After he finishes sharing the cup of the Great Wehr, Jim Dobbs drinks of it himself and puts the cup back on the table. Then, he outstretches his arms and turns slowly as if to embrace us all and says, "Now brothers and sisters, face the world around you and embrace your Wolf!"
   At this command, we each turn so that we are facing away from the center of the circle. We take off our robes and transform into wolves. Jim Dobbs runs to the front of the cave, howls, the rest of the pack howls, and we take off into the now moonlit night.
   The night is chilly, and I can feel the heat and passion radiating from my family as we hunt. I want to feel it too! I want to feel the thrill and excitement when one of us finds the scent but I just can't. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal! We run on and on into the night. The moon is full and we can see well although we do not use our eyes to hunt. Our noses and instincts guide us. I follow Blair and mimic her serious demeanor and quiet intensity as best I can. I am an empty actress playing my part so I don't have to be alone or unwanted. We sniff the ground, and the air. I hear Daddy howl in front, he has found the scent. We are swift and now silent. The Piebald Deer is near. I can sense that through their passionate seriousness. I am glad the Hunt is drawing to a close. We have been hunting for about four hours and the sun will begin to rise soon. The Piebald deer is spotted by another family member, Uncle Vine I think. Jim Dobbs and Uncle Vine corner the animal, and Jim Dobbs pounces. The Hunt is over. Once the Piebald is pinned down, Jim Dobbs licks the creatures face, then lets it go.
   We all howl the success of the Hunt, then run back to the cave. Every one else is thrilled, but exhausted. I am just exhausted. As wolves we get back into our outward facing circle, transform back into human, and put our robes back on. They all congratulate each other, and talk about highlights of the Hunt. I smile and stand next to Blair nodding and laughing when appropriate.
When the conversations die down, and some start to leave, Blair turns to me and says, "What a great Hunt huh Blaine?"
   "Yeah totally." I respond with what I had hoped would be excitement, but sounded more like a bored cheerleader. I'm such a lame tame.
   "You ok Blaine?" she asks.
   "Yeah, you know, just tired from the Hunt." I say, and add quickly, "I can't wait until the next Hunt!"
   "Oh same here!" she says with a smile. Then a flash of concern crosses her face before she looks away. Oh no, what if she knows?! Next month I will have to pretend to be more passionate about the Hunt.
   We run home while the sun rises. Wow, it is a beautiful one this morning! The pastels of soft pink, mellow yellow, and sherbet orange lift my spirits and make me feel whole again. We run home full of passion and wonder, them of the Hunt, and me for the anticipation of painting this inspiring sunrise. There will be no school or work today so we can all rest from the Hunt.
   We arrive home and Dad says, "Great Hunt girls! Let's get back into our human clothes and then have some breakfast." After changing, we sit at the kitchen table while Mom makes a hardy breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Daddy opens Werewolf Weekly and I see a picture of Jim Dobbs on the cover with the headline, Werewolf Recovery Therapy Helps Tame Werewolves Enjoy the Hunt Again.
  "Daddy, can I read that after you're finished?" I ask as offhandedly as possible.
   "Sure honey! Nice to see my cubs interested in what's happening in our world! Here, go ahead, I'm finished with it anyway." He says and hands me the Weekly with a smile.
   I flip through it casually so I won't arouse suspicion. When I get to the article about Werewolf Recovery Therapy, my heart beats faster. I'm so nervous my family will know why I looked at it. I skim the article as quickly as I can. I gather that Werewolf Recovery Therapy is helping Tame Werewolves embrace their wolf side by a therapist leading visualization exercises of the Hunt. Through these visualizations, the therapist helps them embrace the passion and thrill of the Hunt. The Therapy also offers retreats in the middle of the forest to spend more time in wolf form while therapists teach how to be more wolf.
   I flip to the next page, and my eyes glaze over. I am not interested in the rest of the magazine, but I will slowly flip pages until I am done. I have learned again what I already knew about myself: I am not enough, and I am unnatural. How can I be loved?
   I flip the last page, then hand the Weekly back to daddy.
   "Thanks Daddy, very interesting stuff. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. I'm tired. Thanks Mom for breakfast."
   "You're welcome honey, we'll wake you for dinner." Mom says with her sweet smile.
   "I'm tired too. Thanks Mom! Yummy as always!"  Blair says then follows me into  my room. She closes my door, and she sits on my bed with a concerned look on her face. She pats the bed next to her, and I sit. Oh Great Wehr, she knows. I should have read the magazine later when no one was paying attention!
   "What's wrong sis? You seem so down. You know you can talk to me about anything right?" she says and takes my hand. Yes, I can tell Blair anything.  But what if she tells Mom and Dad? What if she stops talking to me? She's my twin sister and my best friend. Surely she wouldn't judge me. Would she? I sigh heavily. Ok, I will tell her. My heart pounds with fear and tears fill my eyes. "Blair...I...I" I stammer, sniff, and wipe my eyes.
   "You can tell me Blaine, I'll always love you." She encourages.
   "I...I don't like to hunt. I want to! I really do! But I just can't!" and I cover my face with my hands and cry.    Blair moves closer, rubs my back and says, "I know, it's ok."
   "You know? How long have you known? Is it that obvious?" I say fearfully.
   "Oh I've always known, and no sis, it's not that obvious. I'm your twin sister, I just know you better." she says with a smile, then hugs me hard.
   "You still love me?" I ask sheepishly
   "Oh Blaine, of course I do! I will always love you!" She then gives me a squeeze. I cry with relief and a slight sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe love can be bigger than preferences.
 
 

My Gay Marriage in the Bible Belt

   Now, I know what some of you are wondering...who is the man in the relationship? I know this may sound strange but...we are both women! Whew! Now that we have gotten that out of the way, let's move on shall we? :)
   Reflecting on this popular lesbian stereotype, it can make sense why lesbians would try to fit into a male/female role. Before lesbian women had as big a subculture as they do today, they were forced into the closet by their society and community. The only reflections of a romantic relationship they had were their parents, and media that modeled the traditional family. Maybe having a "man" and a "woman" roll in a lesbian relationship made them feel more "normal."
   As for roles in my marriage, my wife mows the lawn, (I have only mowed the lawn once...okay only part of it, for a birthday present) but she cooks most of our meals. I usually do the laundry, but I kill all the creepy crawlies that invade our home. (If they are outside, they are safe. We actually had a spider next to our front door who lived there the whole summer. We named him Tobias, and he was our Gatekeeper...) My wife changes the oil in our cars, and has a shop in our garage where she builds and repairs objects for our home. She also cleans the bathrooms and puts our laundry away. I vacuum and sweep the floors, but I take out the trash and recycling. Our male/female roles are pretty mixed, but no matter what roles we play, we are always a team.
   In all relationships today, I am convinced a growing number of people are feeling less pressure to fit into these male/female roles in homosexual as well as heterosexual relationships. It has certainly not disappeared, but I can sense that pressure is slipping into the minority. I hear more stories of stay at home dads, women who "bring home the bacon," and chores being split more evenly. I think this shift in thinking has occurred partly due to the fact there are more who embrace our country's increasing diversity, especially young people. Also, the media is embracing diversity and showing models of families that reflect better what America's families look like today. Allowing ourselves to follow this shift of embracing diversity can free us from trying to be someone we are not thereby allowing us to accept and love ourselves. When we can accept and love ourselves, I think we can accept and love others better. (Love your neighbor as yourself hmm...) Of course, the other side of this golden rule, the more cliche side, is also important and beautiful (Love your neighbor as yourself). Even so, while I have embraced my own diversity, I still have lingering fears of being in a homosexual marriage in the Bible Belt.
   My fears about marrying my wife in the Bible Belt were many. I thought my family would never talk to me again, I thought we would never be accepted in a church, I thought we would be stared at, scoffed at, and spit at in public. I am still hesitant to hold my wife's hand in public, even in a dark movie theater! In reality, however, we have never been physically or verbally abused. Everyone in my family who has met my wife, even if they don't agree with our marriage, has accepted her. Many have told me how great they think she is. We recently went to my family reunion together. Everyone was very pleasant and seemed very excited to meet her. This was very healing for my heart and a big step for me in the coming out process. Church has been a bit more difficult, but we have tons of support.
   We have been going to a Methodist church here for almost a year. This church reminded me of my home church I attended during childhood. The nostalgia surrounding the traditional worship service helped me open my heart so I could experience God again. A few weeks after we started to attend regularly, the Pastor informed us that while he was very happy we chose to worship there, there were some in the congregation who were having a hard time adjusting to our presence. Despite this, we kept going. No one confronted us, or asked us to leave. People went out of their way to shake our hands during the greet your neighbor part of the service. I recently became a member, and to make a long story short (I plan on sharing details of this story later) about 6 people left the church because of my joining. My heart was broken for the people that left, and for the reminder that I was not "normal."
   I find myself struggling with this desire still. I feel that some view mine and my wife's marriage as not quite real, or that we are playing some game and we aren't "really married." Getting married was a hassle in and of itself (I plan to share details of this later as well.). I always start our marriage story as "It was the best and worst day of my life." We have a marriage certificate from the District of Columbia. However, I cannot receive insurance benefits from my wife's job, and we had to buy documents that would insure if one of us passed away, the other would get the property, and money we acquired while building our lives together. We also keep a shrunken copy of our marriage certificate in our wallets just in case one of us gets hurt enough to put us in the hospital so we will be allowed to visit each other. Sigh, the thought of being denied to see my wife if she is hurt terrifies me. Most of my fears, however, have not come true, and I am so happy God blessed me with people to usher my way into an acceptance of myself as a Lesbian and a Christian. I have finally found my place in this world: in the arms of my loving wife, and my loving God.

Back Yard Birthday present!

Tobias the Gatekeeper!

4. Evolution of the Bible: It Gets Personal

My beautiful grandmother (Memaw) gave me a blue leather Bible for my 16th birthday. She even had my full name engraved on it (we share a middle name which I now take great pride in). She and my grandfather (Pops) took care of my sister and I after the State we lived in decided my adoring and loving Mother was unfit to do so because she was forced to live with the label of Bipolar Disorder. Memaw was the reason my sister and I went to Church each Sunday, and the Bible she gave me became my daily companion. This Bible became my love letter from God as well as the buoy I clung to during the torrents and floods of High School angst.
   I am constantly amazed at how powerful emotions are in high school. I can't imagine how I could have coped without the support of my Youth Group. I was blessed by so many Mentors, and they helped shape my view of the Bible. They taught me that I was a Princess of God, and He was my King and Heavenly Father. The Father image was hard for me to picture. My stepfather had sexually abused me. My biological father loved me and my sister very much, but he had a hard time expressing any emotions. He was Schizophrenic and took antipsychotics that dulled all of his emotions and experiences. He and my Mother never married but stayed the best of friends. He never lived with us growing up, so my relationship with him was warm but distant. We both knew we loved each other, but we were both unsure about the how part. I would have liked to try harder after high school to deepen our relationship. However, he passed away when I was in college, while I was too busy with school and trying to sort out my own emotions about who I really was. The yearning for a father was deep in high school though, so I tried hard to experience God as a loving Father. My mentors pointed to many verses that taught me what God as Father looked like, and eventually I was comforted by these when the strong grips of bitterness, hate, and anger for my stepfather arose. I often felt on the edge of darkness when memories of him surprised me during the days and nights after I told my Youth Leader what happened. That Youth Leader encouraged me to keep a journal, and she gave me a yellow bracelet to remind me of Psalm 46:10a: "Be still and know that I am God." She taught me that God is always there for me, I needed only to be still. When she had to move to a country on the opposite side of the world, I was devastated. At this point, she was the only one who knew. She encouraged me to tell one of the other Youth Leaders, and I did. Before she left she gave me her e-mail address and said that she would be back in 18 months. She left before I had my Fast and the Furious gay epiphany. When she come back to the States I got to hang out with her for a few hours. I had by then had my epiphany. Sadly, the only thing I distinctly remember about our conversation was her asking me, "I mean, you're not gay or anything right?" and me responding after a second of freaking out inside, "no of course not."

-Let me take a quick break here. There are some who believe that there is a causal relationship between sexual abuse and homosexuality. To give a little perspective, about 1 in 3 women are sexually abused. About 1 in 100 women are homosexual. I personally do not think my sexual abuse played a big roll, if any, in my being homosexual. Thank you for your time, moving on! :) -

After this horrifying incident, I promised myself I would never tell anyone about my attraction to the same sex. Despite this, my faith grew, and the Bible became a book of comfort, and encouragement. I also used the Bible as a refuge and a way to grow closer to my Heavenly Father.
   The next Youth Leader I told about my stepfather lead me to verses that helped me forgive him so I could open up my heart to accept more of God's ever present love. Forgiving him was not easy, but she lovingly encouraged me one day to just say it out loud. She promised it would get easier. I grudgingly said "I forgive you" after about 30 minutes of battling in my heart and mind. The relief was such a shock. I felt a flood of freedom and I am almost certain I could feel my Heavenly Father rejoicing. The forgiveness road was hard, and I turned around frequently toward the dark desert of unforgiveness where bitterness, anger, and sadness lived. When this happened, God through my Youth Leader and my Bible, loved me and encouraged me to forgive again, and I would face the Orchard of Forgiveness where joy, peace, and freedom could be found. Only there could my heart mimic the fertile ground so God could plant his love to grow in order to share his Love Fruit with others. The road was hard, but undeniably worth the struggle. Best of all, I was never alone.

3. The Evolution of the Bible: Backdrop for It Gets Personal

For this next story, I must provide a Backdrop to frame its content. I tried to write one without it, and it was a dry as a desert and as deep as a puddle. This Backdrop is a glimpse into the deepest parts of my teenage soul, welcome. My Backdrop includes two very important circumstances to my high school Bible Evolution Story: 1: The first time I knew I was gay (I couldn't even say the word Lesbian about myself until two years after I came out), and 2: My biggest emotional struggle in high school. Surprisingly, these are not the same thing. I didn't fight head on with my "struggle of homosexuality" until college. So, with that said, welcome to my teenage soul, I am honored you are here.

Layer 1: The Fast and the Furious: The first and BEST movie of this overdone series

Layer 2: My 2nd Biggest Secret

Layer 1: It was a beautiful summer evening in west North Carolina. My sister and I were staying the night at our cousins' house. I was 15 years old. After a lovely day of swimming in our cousins' pool, and a wonderful dinner, we were ready to get into our jammies and watch a movie. We grabbed blankets and made a comfy theater in their living room. The movie that was chosen was The Fast and the Furious. I was pretty bored until the scene where Van Diesel's girlfriend, Michelle Rodriguez, was introduced. I was captivated by her character. She was tough, confident, and sassy. Anytime she came on the screen I got butterflies in my stomach. This feelings was new to me because it wasn't the same as the usual feeling of wanting to BE the character, I wanted to BE WITH the character. I didn't know exactly what I wanted, but I just wanted to be around her. After the movie, we all went to sleep in the living room and I imagined walking down a deserted urban street in the middle of the night. I next imagined someone trying to mug me, but hark! Who is that driving toward us in a souped up sports car to save the day? None other than Michelle Rodriguez! She tears out of the car, beats the mugger up, and ushers me into the car where we drive into the night holding hands. That's it! That was the first time I knew I was gay....and it scared me more than anything.

Layer 2: This one is a little more touchy but here we go. When I was 8 years old, I was sexually abused by my stepfather. It only happened once and I had no idea what to even call it until I told...and by told I mean stumbled over words while the youth leader I confided in helped me with such vocabulary...what happened to me. The unveiling of this to myself and someone else shattered my heart. A flood of negative feelings invaded my now exposed soul and it would take me five years to sort through those feelings, and find forgiveness, hope, and a sense of self. My youth group and the youth leaders kept pointing me back to God and the Bible when I lost myself in my pain. Therefore the Bible was a life vest during this time as well as a love letter from God to remind me I was valuable, loved, and never alone despite the pain and violation I felt while navigating the sea of restoration.

With this backdrop in place, I will tell my tale of how the Bible evolved for me in high school, as the duality of the fear shadow and faithful servant strengthened simultaneously.

2. The Evolution of the Bible: Through a Child's Eyes

I received my very first Bible when I was six years old. I liked the pictures more than the words, and I liked the felt board stories in Sunday School most of all. I grew up in the Methodist Church, you know, one of the "First" ones in my city. I loved all of the animals in the stories. I was fascinated by the fact that every man had a big burly beard, and I thought all of their robes looked really comfortable when compared to my weekly tortures of mandatory dresses and hose. The Christmas story was always my favorite Bible story. I was captivated by Mary. She was so strong and loved Jesus so much. I actually had quite a few dreams about her when I was around this age, and one seemed so real I am tempted to call it a vision. In my dream/vision I awoke from sleep and stood on my bed to look out the window. Normally, through this window I could only see the side of my neighbors house that had a window that was always closed with the blinds down. This night however, the window was wide open and I saw Mary. She was wearing a deep sapphire colored robe and Jesus was in her arms. She was rocking him to sleep and singing. Then she looked up, straight into my eyes and I was flooded with joy, strength, awe, and mystery. The next night I woke up in the middle of the night and looked out my window to see if she was there again. However, the window that was not filtered through dream/vision was cloaked in darkness. I was sad when I realized I may never see her again, but I held onto that feeling she gave me, and I can still conjure it from time to time.
   Jesus inspired similar feelings in me, except his were more personal while my feelings for Mary had a mentor like quality. Jesus was my friend. I loved the felt board picture of Jesus and the little children sitting on his lap and at his feet. I could tell him anything and I knew he wouldn't tell anybody. I knew he was always there for me. When I was sad, all I had to do was close my eyes and he would hold me and tell me everything was ok. The stories in the Bible told me he was always in my heart because of what he did for me on the cross. The Bible was solely a book of stories to me then, but it evolved as I grew older.
   I joined the Methodist Church when I was 11 years old. I received a Hymnal, a Book of Discipline, and you guessed it, a Bible. By then, I saw the Bible as a book of rules to follow, or else. I only read it when I had to, but I got the gist of these rules and lived accordingly.
They were as follows:
Don't lie, EVER
Don't cheat in school, EVER
Don't hit your sister or your friends, even if they hit you first...EVER
Don't disobey your parents, EVER...this one was very important
Don't skip church, EVER
Don't be gay, EVER
Pray before meals and before you go to bed
You get the idea.

Around this age Sunday School started to remind me of regular school, and I didn't enjoy it very much. The felt boards were gone, we didn't have play time anymore, and we didn't have snack time. All I remember is learning rules, and learning what a pulpit and a narthex were. Looking back, I know this was because our church simply had no one to teach our age group who had any previous experience, but I missed Jesus as my friend. I feel God was up in heaven pointing his finger at me saying, "I'm watching you" like a school principal and not like a loving Father. My extreme focus on these rules faded the love and friendship I felt coming from Jesus my friend, and the fear set in. This fear shadow of what if I am not good enough would haunt me for most of my life. This fear would end up coagulating into the tangible form of Legalism until my life fell apart enough for God to love the scared girl I was on the inside of that coagulated legalistic shell. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself.
   My fear shadow had fallen on my heart so the light of Jesus' love was dimmed by the shiny new reinforced importance of Biblical Rules. Instead of soaking in God's love for me that exists solely because I exist, I started to believe that God loves me only if I followed these Biblical Rules. This snowballed into the misconcception that He had a love to work/rules ratio.
 Notice the progression: 1: God loves me. 2. God loves me if I follow rules and doesn't love me if I do not follow these rules. 3. God will love me more if I follow more rules and do more "good" things and he will love me less if I do bad things and do not follow these rules.
   I think the understanding of God's love for us is part of what Jesus means when he says in Luke 18:16, "But Jesus called for them and said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it." How will we ever have the courage to face God and enter the Kingdom of heaven if we do not soak in and embrace the eternal fact that God loves us solely because we exist?

1. The Evolution of the Bible and Mosaics

I believe that the Bible evolves as people grow in their faith. The words will always be the same, but perception will be different from childhood to adulthood because of education and experience. Furthermore, the evolution of the Bible and the perception of it will be different for everyone. I believe our uniqueness is an advantage to humanity and it has the capacity to bring people closer together, as well as tear us apart. I think the recognition of this duplicity is extremely important. Too often we equate sameness with greatness, but in reality, sameness is small and derisive because of the ones who are different and rejected. We have so much to offer each other because of our differences. It is beautiful when we can come together and share the unique experiences of our faith journeys without fear because of the love we share for one another because of that faith. Even if we disagree, it shouldn't affect our love and respect for each other because God is who God is no matter what God's children say. So why must we fight about it? I believe we are like a Mosaic. All the pieces are different shapes and colors, but if we allow ourselves to enjoy and respect our differences, we can fit together to form a vibrant reflection of God. If we do this, who wouldn't want to be a part of it?

Preview: 

The Evolution of the Bible Through the Eyes of a Child

Encouragement of the Day:

Galatians 3:28: In Christ's family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ.
The Message

...for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
ESV, NIV, NLT

Why Bible Belt Wearing Lesbian?

Some of you may be wondering why I chose to call this blog "Bible Belt Wearing Lesbian." First, the name is shocking, and enigmatic in hopes that more people will be inspired to read this blog. My sole purpose is to inform people what it is like being homosexual in the Bible Belt in order to give them perspective. I do not want to argue for or against any view, opinion, belief, or law. Second, I chose the name because it reflects what my beliefs were before I came out of the closet, and the name gives a very general idea of my location. Here is what the Bible Belt means to me: A geographical location in the United States specifically in the Southeast that is dominated by Christian Fundamentalism. When I think of Christian Fundamentalism I think of a literal translation of the Bible, focus on Biblical Rules, Church leaders reinforcing these rules, a focus on the importance of "getting saved," and the importance of saving others by the teaching of Biblical Rules and condemning those who choose not to live accordingly. Despite this, growing up I wanted to follow all of the rules because I wanted my Father in heaven to be proud of his little girl. I thought I did a pretty good job until I was 15 and realized I was attracted to the same sex. When this happened a shift occurred in my thinking and I was terrified that if I couldn't get rid of this attraction then I would be condemned to hell. Anytime I heard anything about homosexuality, in public or in Church, this belief was reinforced. I did not hear anything positive about being Homosexual and a Christian until I was 22. I will be providing snapshots of what my life was like growing up as a Bible Belt Wearing Lesbian, and I hope to include some other opinions, or mindsets to level out my bias and give this blog some variety. Thank you for joining me, and I hope you enjoy the show!

Preview:

"Evolution of the Bible"
 How the Bible changed for me from age 5 through adulthood.

Encouragement of the day:

John 10:14-16: I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep, and they know me, just as my Father knows me and I know the Father. So I sacrifice my life for the sheep. I have other sheep too, that are not in this sheepfold. I must bring them too. They will listen to my voice, and there will be ONE flock with ONE shepherd.

Inspiration of the Day:

"Why a Bible Belt Conservative Spent a Year Pretending to Be Gay"
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/oct/13/bible-belt-conservative-year-gay


  Check my Facebook page "Bible Belt Wearing Lesbian" for updates or sign up for updates via e-mail. biblebeltlesbian@outlook.com

Coffee and Introspection

I step out onto my porch as I do every morning to greet the new day. As the aroma of my coffee meets my nose I am once again embraced by the beauty of the Appalachian mountains. I think about the poor child I read in a news article my friend told me about that was bullied for being gay and I remember the dark side of my own childhood. The difference between me and  this child however, was that my bully was one that could not be seen. I hid her from my family, friends, and co-workers. She tortured me. She told me the God that I loved and wanted to please so badly could never love all of me. She told me the bible was a tool to tell me how sinful I was and taught me how to judge myself and others. She convinced me I was so sinful that I was unloveable. I hid her behind good intentions, legalism, religion, social norms, and all that was expected of me. It wasn't until God graciously let my world come crashing down that I realized that bully was me.