Irony

Recently I was at a morning bible study at my church. I am glad I did not take offense, but I feel I should have said something. It was a simple remark from a man who studied with us. It seemed he disliked a certain news caster because he supported the LGBT community. Hmm, should I have mentioned he was sitting next to a member of the same community. Maybe I should have. It would have been a good teaching moment. Yes, I regret not saying something. I also regret that no one challenged the gentleman's attitude.

"The tax collectors and sinner were all gathering around to hear Jesus." (Luke 15:1). I have always appreciated the irony of this statement. Why would people who were already treated as outcasts by the religious community want to be around Jesus? I don't know. Maybe Jesus saw the sinners differently from the Pharisees. Maybe church isn't about exclusion but inclusion.

I don't do politics. In fact, I abhor how politics and religion have become an unholy alliance. Maybe I am just someone who cares for others. I care for my friends in the LGBT community and am saddened that they are driven away from Jesus by the very people who are supposed to share God's love.

Sunday Morning

     It happed shortly after I became a Christian. I will admit that many things that happened at that time just seemed special to me. They were.

     I was attending the Vandalia Church of Christ, north of Dayton Oh. I forgot what the sermon was about, but I will always remember the moment the building shook and there was a loud roar. I should have known what it was, but for one moment I actually thought Jesus was returning. I wasn’t frightened or anxious, just joyfully happy.

     I don’t know why I didn’t think about the airport just across the road. Maybe it was just who I was back then. My faith was new and everything about it was wondrous and beautiful. It was so very real.

     So much has happened since then. I wish I could be the innocent person I was. I wish faith could be as much a part of my life as it was then.

                Thanks to grace, there is always the possibility of  recovery. Besides no one wants a faith that hasn’t matured. It’s just I have a special love for that time when I first dared to believe that Jesus could actually love me.

Last week

Last Week

            Genki Desu Ka? That means “How are you?”, in Japanese. The truth is, I am trying to figure out how I feel. My mind is blocking the full extent of my emotions at the moment.

            Wednesday started out as a good day. I had lunch with my minister and some other people. I was rather pleased with myself that I had taken me 45 seconds to unlock a child’s tablet that had been found at church and find the email address of the owner. Elementary school, my dear Metz, Elementary school.

            After I returned home, the day proceeded to take a nosedive into despair. An online story about a transwoman immigrant beaten to death while in ICE custody. No mention on the major news. No one cared, except family and me.

            I cried for over an hour, and if it were not for a problem with my computer that required a total wipe and reload of everything it would have been longer. I am still crying inside. I feel like I am the only person in this world that even cares. Yes, it’s kind of about how introverts feel when something from the outside penetrates our inner barriers.

            Does God care? Right now, I have to admit that I don’t think so. Why did He allow that grievous abomination Donald Trump to become president? Why does God continue to allow the Religious Right to inflict itself on the innocent? Why should I love a God like this? My mind is running through everything from C. S. Lewis, every movie, TV show, and anything else I can to find an answer.

            There is something else that bothers me. I am basically nonpolitical, or at least I am 99% of the time. There is a person at church who is to me a prime example of why I hate politics. He glories in Trump, yet Trump hates transpeople. I am a real live transwoman. Does that mean the guy at church hate me or is he just a mindless follower who really doesn’t care what his buddy does, ignoring the person in front of him. Politics, where people who Jesus gave His life for become valueless ciphers.



            Just one more thing, as Columbo would say. I wonder what would happen if I asked the church for prayers over what has happened. I don’t want to be political, but I am supposed to be a child of God. We are supposed to care for what God cares about.