Pride, Faith, and Swords

This is my first sermon preached at Lutheran Church of Christ the Redeemer in south Minneapolis, a Reconciling in Christ congregation. This is also my first Pride sermon, and I loved being able to preach such a sermon on such a day.

First Lesson: Genesis 21:8-21
Second Lesson: Romans 6:1-11
Gospel: Matthew 10:24-39

Grace and Peace to you from God our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

Sarah and Abraham waited for a very long time to have a child. A very long time. So long, that by the time God told Abraham that he’d have a child, both Sarah and Abraham were elderly. Abraham couldn’t wait, and had a child with his slave, Hagar. The child’s name? You can call him Ishmael. (That's a Moby Dick joke, btw...)
Sarah had a son eventually, and his name was Isaac. But wanting Isaac to have a childhood away from Ishmael, she asked Abraham to cast out Hagar and Ishmael. So, in the middle of the night, Abraham did just that.

God reassured Abraham that he was doing the right thing. God talking to Abraham and Abraham maintaining great faith in God - Even when that faith required the ultimate devotion and the ultimate sacrifice - Abraham’s faith didn’t waiver. Abraham’s faith was strong, but caused division. God reassured Abraham that what Sarah wanted him to do was the right thing, even though what it meant was total separation from his child. Abraham followed God’s direction, even to the point of a knife… but that’s another story for another day.

Faith is given, maintained, and shared. Faith is action, and fighting against inaction. Faith is a verb, and not always an easy one to use.

This is Pride weekend. A time for those of us who identify somewhere on the queer spectrum to celebrate the victories we’ve had, the freedom to be ourselves. We hold Pride to remember those who’ve gone before us, who boldly stood proud in the face of adversity. We have Pride to see old friends, to learn more from our queer family, to be among like-minded people that know exactly what it’s like to draw a line in the sand and say that this word - lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, queer and all the other words that fall under and around those words - these words hold importance in our lives. We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re in need of people to listen to us, to hear how these words feel to us, to stand against all those that would oppose us and say in one loud voice - enough is enough.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus was talking to his disciples, right after summoning them to walk with him, telling them all that they needed to do to follow him. In last week’s lesson, Jesus talked about walking with faith, and knowing that even if you leave everything and follow Jesus, that God’s gonna take care of you, and people will welcome you.

In this week’s lesson however, Jesus takes a more pointed look at what it means to be a follower of Christ. Jesus says that your faith will cause division. Mother against daughter, father against son. Christ came into this world to disrupt it.

Christ came into this world to cause division, to break up the status quo. The people of Judea were waiting for a war hero, a Messiah to come and free them from Roman oppression. Jesus caused division, but it wasn’t by what he was supposed to do. He caused division by doing what he wasn’t supposed to do. Preaching in the wrong spot, feeding the wrong people, healing the wrong people, teaching on the wrong day. In the eyes of the authorities, Jesus was causing trouble by not following the rules. Jesus preached in his hometown, told the people of Nazareth that they should be focusing on the people outside the walls of the city, on the poor and blind…

He went into the temple, and tossed tables, cracking a whip in the Gospel of John. Jesus was a revolutionary figure in a time when the people needed someone to lead them. Following this man meant division. His disciples knew this, and followed anyway because they had faith.

Being a Christian in this country isn’t all that revolutionary, in the wide scope of things. Being a Christian who stands for justice of the oppressed, who stands against a culture of exclusivity, who advocates for the marginalized, and fights for peace in the world we live in… That is revolutionary. It shouldn’t be. But it is.

Being a Christian who draws their own line in the sand and says enough is enough. Jesus came into this world to show us how to live with each other, and to upset the status quo.

Now, it’s dangerous to live as a Christian in some countries. In this country, Christians hold a lot of privilege, until we start actually living out our faith as followers of the table-throwing, rule-breaking, status-quo-upsetting Messiah that he was. When we start standing against the status quo, upsetting those we love by being who we are as human beings, proclaiming to the world that the words we use to describe us are diverse and divisive - but necessary. We are who we are because God calls us to live out our truth, our realities as human beings.

Pride is about showing the world who we are as beautiful individuals created in God’s image, and showing them that we will not be afraid.

In today’s second lesson, Paul writes about sin, and how we are freed from sin in Christ’s death, that we were baptized in Christ, we were baptized in his death. Out of baptism then, comes new life in Christ.

When we talk about sin, in the context of who we are as human beings, we are all sinful beings, that’s our human nature. Who we are as queer folks - as allies who stand with us… Our existence itself has been labeled sinful, because of verses in the bible that are misinterpreted and of what people think the bible says. My burden has been pretty light when it comes to being discriminated against for being who I am, and I acknowledge that. Closeted queer folk watch their friends who are out - suffer the wrath of the public by watching it happen to someone else. Allies receive backlash for being supportive of us… But being out puts us in a whole new ballgame. That’s why we have Pride.

Our identities are labeled as sinful, and people like to point to Paul, even these verses and even today’s Gospel - to show what our supposed sin is - and if only we gave it up. I have a new lens for you. What if the sin that Paul is talking about is not our queerness, but our forced-closeting. In the song, The Summons, found in your hymnal, hymn 798 -  the fourth verse reads “Will you love the ‘you’ you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?...” Being in the closet is safe. It’s a risk to be you. Or even talk about your identity. Even when you ceremoniously come out of the closet, society expects us to be queer in only certain spaces.
Because it’s dangerous. It’s much better than it was, but if you combine queerness with class, race, ability, religion… When our identities become intersectional in infinite ways… The danger in being true to ourselves, may be more than we can handle. As Christians, and as a society, we have to own that sin. That conditions in our society limit who we can be and where. That sin keeps us hidden, away from who we are.

Jesus came into this world not with peace, but a sword. Our identities are contentious. Our expression of our faith in Christ - is contentious. Our ability, our willingness, our calling to stand up with our queer neighbors, our neighbors of color, our differently-abled neighbors, our impoverished neighbors… that’s contentious.

Even if you don’t identify in the queer spectrum, even if Pride is the last thing on your mind right now, your faith - your connection to the divine and others - your own actions can be divisive, and we have to hold on to the hope, the knowledge that there is a Savior - the Savior of the world - who gave up everything for you and us all. Jesus the Christ lived on this earth, and he preached, spoke, healed, fed, walked among - lived among those who didn’t belong, and saved us all. Jesus the Christ saves us all from ourselves, our sin, our hatred, our bigotry, our ignorance, our inaction, our faithlessness - through faith. Faith in God, through God, from God, for God - Faith that both connects and divides, saves and destroys.

At LCCR, we are an open and welcoming community, open to all, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, race, or wealth. All are welcome to the table to confess our faith, to proudly exclaim to all, from the rooftops - that we belong to God, we are loved by God, and through that faith - we can all come together to take Pride in who we are as human beings. Have faith. It gets messy, but it makes all the difference.
Amen.

Faith

This is my second sermon on internship, preached at Living Waters Lutheran in Sauk Rapids.

6/18/17
Lesson: Genesis 18:1-15
Gospel: Matthew 9:35-10:8


Grace and Peace to you from God our Loving Parent, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

Janet Mock is an author of two books, with one of them published very recently. She was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, and grew up in multiple places -  sometimes with her father, sometimes with her mother, sometimes with her grandmother. She had a rough upbringing of living with impoverished parents, moving frequently, her father was a drug addict, her mother was not a frequent presence in her life. In high school, she was a sex worker, working to pay for her medical bills. After graduating high school and landing a nice job in television after attending college, she wrote a New York Times bestseller. Her story of rags to riches, from an impoverished family to a national figure writing such a book may seem old hat, but maybe some of you don’t know that Janet Mock is a transwoman of color. Janet Mock is a transgender activist, who wrote her first book, Redefining Realness about her younger years growing up, and  beginning her understanding of her gender and transition. Her newest book Surpassing Certainty,  details her later years until now, and was published last week.

Janet is the child of a black father and a native Hawaiian mother, and as I said before, had a rough upbringing. Her struggles through life, understanding her gender differently than how the outside world saw her, sometimes not knowing where her next meal was coming from or where she’d move next, experiencing racism from all angles, but remaining confident of her goal of becoming the woman she wanted to be - faith - it took tremendous faith for her to get where she is now. Even if she is a bestselling author, an inspiring advocate and activist for so many people, her identity as a transwoman of color - is to this day - a hill too steep to climb for some people.

Faith is not knowing where or how you’re going, but going anyway. In Janet Mock’s case, faith was not knowing how she would achieve her dream of being the woman she dreamed of - but doing everything she could to make it happen.


Faith is sitting in church, in community, hearing the story of Sarah and Abraham as they awaited bearing a child. An old couple with no heir to carry on their livelihood, their traditions, their stuff. They were well past the child-bearing age. Three visitors came to Abraham and Sarah, three messengers of God came to them to form community and told them they’d have a child after all.

Being so old, Sarah laughed at the idea of ever having a child. Why would she ever be able to bear a child at this age? God hadn’t blessed her with a child before this, why now? But, sure enough, Isaac was born to a very old couple. It was faith from God, and in God - that produced Isaac.

It was faith that allowed the disciples of Jesus to follow him. It was faith in Jesus that led them away from their goods, families, and homes. They had faith that all of this would work out. They had responsibilities that they just dropped, and followed Jesus. Faith held the disciples together in community, and faith led them to and beyond the cross.

They had no reason to believe him. They questioned what they were doing throughout all four Gospels, but faith compelled them to carry on. Many times throughout the gospels, they sit and wonder what they’re doing. Many times they wonder what is really going on. There’s no way this person could be healed. No way could Jesus feed so many people with a couple loaves of bread and some fish. No way that he would die and rise again. And yet, they kept going.

Two thousand years later, here we are, in church, worshipping in fellowship and community with other people that share our faith. Worshipping a Triune God, who is the progenitor of faith, the creator of all, and the savior of all. We are here today, because of faith.

     

 Three visitors came to see Abraham and Sarah. Some scholars agree that the three visitors were the Holy Trinity. Others believe them to simply be God’s messengers. A famous icon depicted the visitors as three men. This one that appeared on my facebook news feed the other day - depicts three women of color. Whether the original is three messengers of God or the Holy Trinity - this picture of the three women of color representing the three figures - is just another way of interpreting scripture - another way of producing art, based on our faith. Whoever the three visitors were, I hope this painting adds another perspective in understanding that the world we live in is not the same for you as it is for me, but that we each look at community, at life, at faith - differently.

It is faith that keeps us going, faith from God, in God, about God, through God, and for God. Faith that moves mountains, that permeates our world, and propels our lives to interact and be there for others, when they understand life differently, and when they need us the most.

In the waters of baptism, we are called and named beloved children of God. We are washed in the same water that washes over all of us. Our faith starts there, with our parents, sponsors, friends, ministers of the sacrament… From the moment we are baptized, we are baptized in water and into community with each other. One cannot baptize themselves, there is a community aspect to baptism. Like community with other people, water connects every living thing, every human being on this planet. Each of us are created in the image of God, and in the waters of baptism, called and named beloved children of God. Your life is beautiful to God. Your life matters to God.

Whether you are black or white or any shade of skin in between. Whether you are female or male or any gender identity outside of or in between. Whether you are asexual, bisexual, homosexual, heterosexual, pansexual, polysexual or whatever sexual reality you identify with. Whether you express your gender in one way or many ways. Whether you’re attracted to one gender, many genders, or nobody at all.
God. Loves. You. Your life matters to God.


 Steve Scalise, a white congressman from Louisiana, along with four of his staff, was shot by a white man, while they were practicing for a congressional baseball game on Wednesday morning. Representative Scalise is still in the hospital, but has been upgraded to serious condition.

A year ago last Monday, this country experienced its worst mass shooting in modern times at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida. A club populated by mostly latino LGBT or lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people, was attacked, and fifty people were killed that night.

Two years ago yesterday, nine black parishioners of the Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal church were murdered by a young white supremacist - a member of an ELCA congregation, our larger Lutheran community.

 Philando Castile was a young black cafeteria worker riding in his car, with a young  woman next to him and a child in the backseat, when he was pulled over by a latino police officer last July. Philando Castile was murdered that night, two blocks from Luther Seminary, with the woman next to him filming it, and the child behind him watching it. The Saint Paul area police officer who shot and killed him was acquitted of all charges on Friday.

 When people cry out in anguish, that Black Lives Matter - they do so in faith. Faith that one day - people will listen to those three simple words, and not disagree, but understand. Faith that our justice system will return to what it was meant to be - justice for all. Faith that black lives in this country will begin to matter in the face of a broken justice system that penalizes, imprisons, and murders more people of color at a higher rate than it does white folks.

 Faith is not knowing where or how you’re going, but going anyway. Faith is not knowing when people will begin to listen - when the justice system will turn around - but marching anyway, in faith.
Faith is not knowing when the death and pain and anguish will stop - but knowing that there is a Savior that has bled and died for us all - a Savior that sees the death and pain and anguish - and weeps.

  Faith is knowing that there is no life without death, but also no death without life. Faith is knowing that life will rise out of the ashes. Faith is seeing the beauty in life, through the pain of death. Faith is knowing that through it all - all are saved by Grace through Faith. That one day - black lives matter will be a fact accepted by all, that Janet Mock living her life as a transwoman of color will be a more common reality, that seeing the image of God in one another, with the waters of baptism still streaming from our brows - will be our truth as human beings. Human beings - living together in community, in love, in faith. Amen.

You are One with God, and God is with You

This is my first sermon from my internship at Living Waters, and my first Ascension Sunday sermon.

Gospel: Luke 24:44-53

Grace and Peace to you, from God the Creator, and our Resurrected Savior, Jesus the Christ, Amen

Ascension - the act of ascending. To be lifted up. In Spanish, the word for an elevator is ascensor. Today in the life of the Church, it is Ascension Sunday. Traditionally, the Day of Ascension is on the fortieth day after Easter, and signifies the ending of the Church’s season of Easter. That’s right, this will be the last Sunday to use those bulletins of yours, so use them well.

The readings from Acts and Luke today, depict the scene of Jesus’ physical departure from Earth, and where he sends his disciples and us, out into the world. The disciples must have been in a tailspin, trying to figure out all that had been going on. In the last month or so, Jesus had supper with his friends, got betrayed by the people, beaten by the people, stuck on a cross by the people, died… and then came back to life. Now he had been with them for a while, spending time with them and telling people on the road to Emmaus about all that had been going on and now Jesus tells his friends - that he’s leaving again. Jesus, the man that had seen it all, done it all, died and lived again to tell about it - was now leaving, and asking, calling us all to carry on the Message.

The message that Jesus the Christ - was here to save us all - from ourselves. Our sin, our hatred, our bigotry, our dischord, our hurt, our pain, our sadness, our misuse of God’s Creation… On that hill outside Bethany, Jesus called us all to spread the Good News, and ascended to return once again.

But he’s still here, with us, everyday. Jesus is here with you, with me, with us all - everyday. God shows up in everyday life, in the daily interactions we have with people, in the love that we show and share with one another. In Jesus’ life, he taught us how to love, to show God’s love to one another in his actions. In the way he taught among the people in the temple, shared loaves and fishes with the thousands, in his preaching and teaching of parables, in his healing of the injured and curing of the blind. Jesus taught us and showed us what love is. Love to and for our neighbor, love to and for our enemy. Jesus was here on this earth to live among the people, show us how to love, and in the process - save us all from ourselves.

Because there’s a whole lot of hurt out there. People have lost their loved ones. Bombs are going off, killing children. Water is rising on island nations. Water is deadly to drink in some parts of this country. Water is scarce in other parts of the world. Millions of people are in danger of losing their healthcare, jobs, security and safety in this country. Thousands of people are on the street every night, a few dozen of them in this area alone.

Meanwhile, we have some people in power that are either oblivious to some of these realities or helping to cause them. People are in need of a savior on the ground, willing to get in the thick of it and turn things around… and he left… ascended like a dove to be with the rest of the Trinity.

I can easily imagine that there was a lot of hurt around in Jesus’ day as well, with ancient empires still conquering distant lands and waging wars, people still hungry, thirsty, leprous, diseased, blind, and greedy with power and wealth.

The troubles of this world that we live in, are nothing new. We have seen leaders in power ignoring the populace, ignoring the cries of their people in pain, in anguish, and we ourselves have sat on the sidelines watching it all happen around us.

Jesus had just died, miraculously come back to life, walked and talked among his friends and within a month, left again. The disciples, dumbfounded as the day they met their Savior, had one last piece of parting wisdom from their friend and Savior. Go, and Do likewise. Receive the power of the Holy Spirit and GO. Go out into the world and make it a better place for us all. Jesus came to this earth, fulfilling prophecy and living among us, doing all that he did - so that we might in turn Go and Do likewise.

During Lent this year, Living Waters underwent a minor transformation and covered the windows in the sanctuary, leaving all to wonder what was inside. Like the metaphorical wilderness of Lent itself, Living Waters found itself in a journey through an epic tale of both good and evil, light and dark, life and death. Stars were projected on the back wall here, and movie trivia played before the service. Celebrating it’s 40 year anniversary this year, that’s right, it’s Star Wars!

Deciding to meld both a celebration of the 500th Anniversary of Reformation and the epic tales of Star Wars, our intrepid pastors came up with six ways to put them together… forgetting to ask their resident seminarian and amateur Star Wars scholar about how to do this… I’ve decided to give my first sermon as your intern, with an added Star Wars flavor. But I’m gonna go off the beaten path a bit with this, so bear with me…

Like the disciples wondering what they were to do without their friend and Savior, in the realm of Star Wars, the people resisting the Evil Empire lost their Messianic saviors as well, the Jedi. Without giving too much of the plot away, in the realm of the now 8 and soon to be 9 Star Wars movies, the Jedi were all but extinct at the end of Episode 3. Except for a few remaining Jedi who hid after their collective extinction, the Jedi had left the realm of Star Wars.

Rogue One, the beautiful and recent Star Wars movie that fell in between Episode 3 and the original Star Wars movie, tells the tale of the fledgling Rebellion, fighting a war without the mystical Messianic Jedi. Before the dawn of the Empire, the Jedi were the peacekeepers of the galaxy, standing for all that was good in the galaxy. After the Empire came to rule, there was no Jedi around, so the fledgling Rebellion had to figure things out by themselves. Rogue One tells the epic tale of Jyn Erso, the daughter of the lead architect of the Death Star, the ultimate power in the universe. With the help of the Rebellion and a few other Rebels, Jyn travels around the galaxy, finding people and resources she needs to then steal the plans for the Death Star. With the plans for the Death Star, the Rebellion can then battle their way to eventually have Luke Skywalker save the day by utilizing a flaw the architect initially put into the design of the Death Star, so it could be destroyed, saving the galaxy from this machine. Until they make another, and it blows up, so they make a third one, and that one blows up, and on goes the epic of Star Wars.

If I lost you, I apologize. Star Wars is simplistically complicated, and it’s kinda hard to explain in the context of a sermon. If you followed along, that’s great. Either way - here’s the point and the crux of what I’m trying to get to -

Jesus ascended, the Jedi were all killed - and yet - humanity lived on. The disciples were given the power of the Holy Spirit and spread the Good News throughout the land, leaving the giant footprint Christianity is today. The Rebellion survived without the Jedi, and pressed on. Even when their Only Hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi was sought out by the Rebels and killed by Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker took on the role of savior Jedi, alongside the Rebellion to become the powerful force the Rebellion became, saving the galaxy again and again.

Because the truth is - even with Jesus ascending and the Jedi being wiped out - They were never really gone. Jesus ascended, but he didn’t leave humanity. God did not abandon humanity after humanity killed God’s beloved child. Humanity overcame with God there all along. God has been there since before the beginning of time, and will be when all the lights go out. God was there when Jesus was handed over to die a criminal’s death, when all the world went dark and the ground shattered. God was there in death. God was there in life. God was, is, and will be there for us. God experienced death firsthand, so that we could experience life with God. God saves us all, from ourselves. Our sin, our broken humanity - God saves you and me from the darkness of sin, because God has been there with us in the darkest and happiest of times. By God’s grace, that is freely bestowed on all through Jesus’ life, death and resurrection - God is there for you now, because God was there for you then.


One last mention of Star Wars - in the previously mentioned Rogue One, there is a character that has a connection with the Force - the mystical life force that binds all beings together in the Star Wars realm - but he’s not a Jedi. Usually, Jedi are the ones directly connected with the Force, that can wield it to their will. In Rogue One, Chirrut isn’t a Jedi but he has a devotion to the will of the Force. Throughout the movie, Chirrut repeats the phrase, “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me”. It’s to symbolize Chirrut, and by extension, everyone’s connection to the Force.

When life is dark, God is still there. Jesus, the Emmanuel, may have left the tomb and left his walking shoes, but God is still with us. In the waters of baptism, you are named and called a beloved child of God. You are a beloved child of God. We are all called to be God’s hands and feet in the world, to see God’s face in the face of our neighbors.

When you’re out in the world, having a hard day, or in here having a hard day, remember that you are God’s, and God is with you. I’m going to adapt Star Wars for a bit and ask you to say this with me -
I am one with God, and God is with me. I am one with God, and God is with me.
Now, go out into the world and Proclaim to all you see, that you are a child of God, and God is with you.

Amen

Let the Storm Rage On, the Cold Never Bothered me Anyway

There's something I've been meaning to tell you, if I haven't already.

If you don't know this, it's not because I didn't want to tell you, it's just something I've been meaning to do. Because I have told some people, maybe just not you. It's not personal.

Because it's not that big of a deal.

I mean, it is to some people.

And I won't bemoan this point by saying it's not, because it is important, just not as important as other people want it to be for me, or people expect it to be.

Because I'm still me.

I'm just gonna Let it Go... I can't hold it back anymore...

What's so important is that last Wednesday was my six month anniversary on hormones. 'Her'mones, if you will.

Hormone Replacement Therapy, for me at least - means a patch of Estrogen on my waist twice a week, and an Anti-Androgen pill every night.

I'm taking hormones to quell the Gender Dysphoria in my head, and make peace with my soul. Other trans people have described their dysphoria as two warring parts of their mind that are put at peace with hormones. That's basically what it means for me.

I'm telling you now because I'm done with school, and I finally have some time to put it all down. Also, I'm beginning to show some physical changes, and they're starting to raise a few eyebrows. In some ways, I'm going through a second puberty, this time from a different angle.

Which is great fun, because I had such an awesome time the first time around.

There are many examples of trans people's experiences on hormones on the internet and books, so I'll spare you the details. I recommend Julia Serano's Whipping Girl or Janet Mock's Defining Realness. Both excellent reads. I'm currently making my way through Laura Jane Grace's Tranny.

For the record - I'm still me. I'm still genderqueer. I'm still transgender. I'm still Jon. I'm still married. I'm still a husband, dad, son, brother, scholar, leader, beloved child of God.

Julia Serano writes, "...whenever old friends meet up with me for the first time since my transition, they almost invariably comment on how strange it is that I seem like the same exact person to them, except that now I am female. It's as if our compulsion to place women and men into different categories of our brain, to see them as 'opposite' sexes, is so intense that we have trouble imagining that it is possible for a person to change their sex without somehow becoming an entirely different person." (Whipping Girl, 62-3)

I'm still me.

I will likely be taking some form of hormones for the rest of my life. My transition didn't start with hormones, but the day I admitted to myself that this is who I am, and who God calls me to be.
My transition has no end point. I am Trans. I am transitioning. It's who I am.

In the last six months, I've learned that I can now feel emotions deeper, see colors brighter, and live life more authentically. I understand life a little differently, but I think it's for the better.

Tiffany has been my rock through all of this, and I'm excited to see what our future brings.

And, in all things, God's got this.

Thank you all for walking with and supporting us. Rebellions are built on hope.

How did it Come to This? - Sermon on Luke 21:5-19

My Sermon from Sunday, November 14, 2016 - preached at Svea Lutheran Church.


Grace and Peace to you from God our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen

"Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills... into Shadow. How did it come to this…"

King Theoden of Rohan in JRR Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings – saw the incoming masses of enemies at his doorstep. His world, as he knew it, was soon to be over. There was no hope for rescue, and he was fighting his battle with little resources. His time was up. He would fight his battle as long as he could, but with no help in sight, his prospects were low.

There are times in life, when whatever is going on in the world, or our own world – comes to a halt. When life just stops. We hear the news – a lost job prospect, a terrible grade in school, a partner no longer wants to be our partner, a death of a loved one. Our whole world stops. We start asking the questions of why, how, when… without ever hearing the answer. We feel numb to the world, and it takes a while for us to feel better again.

Grief is powerful thing, and I don’t think it truly ever goes away. When our world comes crashing down at our feet, it might as well be the end of the rest of the world too.

Our Gospel lesson this morning leads one to really question the meaning of Gospel. Gospel. Good News… At first blink, this gospel lesson is anything but Good News… The world will end. Nations will rise against each other, earthquakes, famine, plagues – not to mention that everyone will hate you. The world will end, and by the way, no one will be looking to you for help, because everyone will hate you. Gee, thanks Jesus…

This past Tuesday, the world did seem to end for some folks. The candidate no news agency picked to win – actually won. For some, this impossible possibility truly means darkness, as they may face terrible repercussions because of the decisions, or indecisions of the American people. Even if some milestones were not attained, others were. When they begin their session in January, the United States Congress will have a record number of women serving. For the first time in the United States, a Somali-American will serve as a legislator, and she will be serving right here in the Minnesota House.

And, after the seemingly very long slog until election day, with every day bringing more news as to what someone said or someone did – it’s still not over. Even after all of those promises made during the campaign, it seems not so many of those promises will be fulfilled. And, maybe that happens with every campaign. Every person who runs for office promises the moon, and finds out the moon isn’t for sale.

No one knows what the future may bring, so we hold onto hope that life in this country will be great for people, no matter who they are. For those that may not have such a great outlook, we fight for them, advocate for them, and be as Christ for them.

For Christ is our light in the darkness. Even if he foretold darkness when the world does begin to end, Christ is the light in that darkness. This Sunday, traditionally, is the beginning of Advent. Yes, that’s right, Advent used to be longer than 4 Sundays. I guess they figured 6 candles couldn’t fit on an Advent wreath. Because Advent mirrors Lent, Advent is still 40 days in the Greek church, and purple is still the color for Advent in some traditions, including Catholicism. This time of year, Advent or not, the northern hemisphere experiences a decrease in light. Up here in Minnesota, the sun is setting almost before 5 these days. People begin to start suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, when there’s not enough light in their day. For hundreds of years, people from many traditions have celebrated light this time of year, while hoping for its return. Advent and Christmas are marked with light, with the Christmas trees and everyone’s houses being filled with lights.

When faced with darkness, we have an urge to find the light, in that darkness. We fill our dark nights with light. When out of the light, we look up to see the crisp light above us in the twinkling of stars. I don’t know about you, but even if it’s cloudy out, I love the winter reality of a cloudy night in a city – when the sky above the city glows orange, with the light reflecting off the clouds above.

In the realities that we are faced with, when darkness surrounds us, we must seek out the light, fight for the light, and bring the light to those in need.

Today’s lessons seem mismatched, with ending on the Gospel as we do. Our first lesson and Psalm sing praises to God, of New Creation and celebrations. Then Jesus tells us the world is ending and everyone will hate us. And yet, out of darkness comes light. We know this, for this is our Christian hope. Our Christian identity is rooted in knowing that darkness can be, and was conquered by a man with humble beginnings, born on a dark night, in a bed of hay. This man grew up, taught, preached, healed, and fed those who lived in darkness, to show them the light. Jesus the Christ became a beacon of hope for people, a light in the encroaching darkness of their reality, and a savior to the world. For Jesus faced the ultimate darkness of death, and rose again in a shower of light. Jesus the Christ died for you, for me, for us all, and saves us from our darkness of sin and death to be with him in the light. Jesus the Christ conquers our darkness, and shows us the light. By the undeniable, unwinnable Grace, Love and Mercy bestowed on us all by God, we are saved from our darkness, no matter what mortal darkness we face.

King Theoden looked upon the sea of enemies, and knew his time was due. There was no hope. Then, with the rising of the sun, hope came. A wizard and reinforcements came to save King Theoden and his people, just when all hope was lost. The author of The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and many other authors throughout history have used this powerful image of light over darkness. It is a prevalent narrative in our understanding of the world, and still, it’s hard to hear it some days.

We know the light will conquer the darkness. You didn’t need to hear an entire sermon of me giving you metaphors of how darkness is conquered by the light, but at the same time, maybe you did. Jesus paints a very bleak picture in this gospel. Our world has given us plenty of bleak pictures to look at. No matter which side anybody was on, Tuesday’s election that seemed to never come, with an election cycle that seemed to never end – whatever side anybody was on, there were plenty of bleak pictures to be had. Each of us can watch the news, see the signs of what could happen given whatever reasons, and we can come up with our own conclusions. This idea of light conquering the darkness is very hard to hear some days. We have the worst day of our lives, when our worlds come crashing down – and someone telling you to look on the bright side?

Maybe the bright side is too much to handle right now, and that’s okay. God will be there, in the darkness with you. When the darkness gets too much to handle, the light will be there. Fight for it. Bring the light to those in need, and be there for people. When facing darkness, we all need light, even if it’s only a glimpse. Find that light. Be that light.
Amen.

But if Less is More, How you Keepin Score?: Sermon on Luke 16:19-31

This is my first sermon preached post-internship. I was asked to pulpit supply at my brother's church, Svea Lutheran Church, in Svea, Minnesota.

Grace and Peace to you from God our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, Amen.

Take a drive through Saint Cloud on any given day, on any major street, and you'll see him. His name might not be Lazarus, but you'll see him. Standing there, with a sign that says “homeless, need help.” Or, “homeless vet, anything helps”. Or whatever the sign says. I saw one once that said, “yes, I will be buying booze with this money”.

So we drive by. Maybe we stop, maybe we give them something. Maybe we have nothing to give. Maybe we're a paycheck away from being on the street right next to them. Whatever our lot in life, those of us in this room, in this sanctuary, are not Lazarus.

Jesus tells this parable about a rich man and another man named Lazarus. Notice which one gets the name. In the bible, people of importance get names. We know many of the important names, but even some of the named people, I couldn’t tell you who they were. Can any of you think of the name of Noah’s wife? Noah’s sons had names. But what was his wife’s name? Joan. Joan of Ark.

Seriously, people of importance got names, and those of less importance, weren’t named. Jesus tells a parable of a rich man who thought he was important – he wore fine clothing and ate plenty of food every day. He was a man of power, yet, Jesus fails to name him. This rich man walks by Lazarus, a poor man covered in dog-slobbered sores… Well, Lazarus died, and went to hang out with Abraham. The rich man died soon thereafter, and he was not afforded the same privilege. The rich man was punished after he died, and asked for Lazarus to spare him from his torment. Abraham tells the rich man that of all the wonderful things the rich man had in life, he didn’t spare any of it for Lazarus, so why should Lazarus spare anything for the rich man? The rich man realizes his fate, and asks to warn his brothers that are still alive. Abraham tells the rich man that they’ve already been warned. Moses and the prophets of old have already told his brothers what to do. That was up to the brothers to figure out how to fix their fate.

Now, this is just a parable, and it follows after last week's parable of the dishonest employee… But Jesus is making a point. Both with last week's parable and this one. Too much of anything, be it money, food, buildings, boats, barns, tractors or trucks… excess in life, takes away from someone in need.

There it is. There’s the gospel. How’s it sitting with you? If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you weren’t listening. This parable is among a handful of others like it – that point out not only are rich men in trouble, but so are any folks in power. Jesus isn’t singling out rich folks, but all who hold power and wield it against those of lesser power. Jesus is pointing to the injustices of the world, and asking you – What are you doing about it?

For some people, things are looking better these days. Minnesota, in recent news, has become the second least impoverished state in the nation. Which means that Minnesota has the second smallest percentage of people living in poverty, second only to New Hampshire. Minnesota isn’t necessarily one of the small states, in terms of population or land mass. We’re a pretty average state when it comes to those numbers. But we’re nearly the best at keeping our citizens out of poverty. With nine percent of our state’s population living at or below the Federal Poverty Line, it’s still roughly half a million people. But, we’re doing a lot better than other states for sure.

Erik tells me that you house homeless folks here at Svea, which is great. There are lots of ways churches like Svea can help out, and housing the homeless is one of the ways. But it’s not a fix-all. Giving money or food to the folks on the street, is not a fix-all. Making sandwiches, prepping meals, giving to Toys for Tots, giving to other charities – it’s all great work, and millions of people benefit from the work these charities do. But it’s not a long-term solution.

The rich man ate of his food, lived in his fine house, and ignored Lazarus at his gate.

Have any of you been to the State Capitol building? It’s all great and grand and quite the sight to look at. If you drive around the building though, to the neighborhoods nearby; the grandness of the building is overshadowed by the dozens of people carrying their life’s possessions in shopping carts. Ever since I studied a church right down the block from there for a class project – I can’t get that image out of my head. The symbol of governing in this state, and the neighborhoods around the capitol building are swimming in poverty.

Life gives us glaring examples of injustices like this all the time. How many homeless people do the lawmakers pass by before they reach the legislative chambers and continue to ignore Lazarus? How many young black men need to die, on camera no less, before justice is brought to their community? How many Syrian refugees need to wash up on shore? How many Somali folks need to be needlessly investigated? The list of injustices grows and grows…

We’re humble folks in the middle of an averagely-sized and populated state. We’ve got our own lives to take care of, children to raise, grandchildren to adore…

We are the brothers that need the warning. We are the bystanders, the folks living our lives in the middle of Minnesota with hopes of a better tomorrow.

There will always be turmoil in this world. Lazarus will still be sitting at our gate, and we will still be the brothers reading the prophets of old. So what then, can we do?

Continue doing the little things. Continue standing up for those who need support, those who need a shoulder, those who need a hand. Speak up for those in trouble. Advocate. Be a voice of support. The world is too big to conquer on our own, and the world’s problems are able to be fought with those with larger offices and bigger paychecks than any of us. But we can do the little things.

We can do the little things, because we believe in a God that does the big things. We believe in a God that created everything out of nothing, and continues to create every day. We believe in God’s son, that saw the troubles of his world and fought against the powers that were. Jesus the Christ fed, healed, walked with and talked with those in need. He preached, taught and sat with those who needed to hear. He got on his knees and served his friends. He saved the world through his actions, saved us all from ourselves by being the advocate, the Savior of the world. Jesus the Christ saves us all from ourselves by the unwinnable, unshakeable Grace, Love and Mercy of God.

Jesus the Christ saves you, me, and saves us all. The turmoil of this world is too much to bear somedays, that all we want to do is listen to the wind blow through the long and flowing fields, and enjoy the sunset.

I spent this last year on my internship in Amor, Minnesota. Amor is about half the size of Svea, with only 5 houses… and a church and cemetery. But they do have a bar. In the center of Ottertail County, it’s halfway between somewhere and everywhere else. Like Svea, it’s a Swedish town with a Swedish church, named after a town in Sweden. Farm fields surround the church on 3 sides, and beyond them are the thousands of lakes in Ottertail County. My office was tiny, but it had a window that looked out onto the rolling potato fields, and I’d sometimes just sit and look out that window, and thank God for the beauty that surrounded me.

And this was one heck of a year to be an intern, with all that went on in the world. I kept saying to myself, and in my sermons – that God’s got this. If anybody’s got this, it’s God.

There were certainly beautiful sights to be seen – sunsets on the lake, geese flopping all over the frozen lakes, sunrises over frost-covered tree lines… But one of the more beautiful sights to be seen, was the work being done by the Richville Methodist Church, just a few miles up the road from Amor. The Church has a clothing mission, where anybody may drop off clothes to be given away, and likewise, if anybody desires clothes, they may take however much they want. Beyond clothes, they expanded two years ago to include a section for houseware items as well. A small church, again, in the middle of nowhere – was doing amazing work for the impoverished people of Ottertail County, and beyond.

In the face of adversity, in the eyes of Lazarus, in the voice crying out in the wilderness – There is a God who loves us all, who saves us from ourselves and is there in our deepest darkness and despair. God is there to bridge the gap between the rich and poor, so that Lazarus no longer needs to be at our gate and on the street.

God bridges that gap – because God is Lazarus. If we looked into the face of Lazarus – into the face of the people on the street – into the face of our black neighbors – into the face of our Somali neighbors – we would be looking into the face of God. We are all God’s children. Rich and poor alike. Black and White alike. Christian and Muslim alike. We are all God’s children. Together.

Amen.

Know Thyself: A Coming Out Letter

(From The Matrix)

To Everyone - Friends, Family, and Everyone in Between -

Hey folks. If you’ve ever had a conversation with me, you know I sometimes like to start at the end of a story first, then give you the backstory. It’s one of my favorite plot devices in science fiction, and to that end, I’m going to spoil the ending of this blog post for you.

*SPOILER ALERT*

Alright. You’ve been warned.

I’m Transgender. More specifically, I identify as transfeminine genderqueer.

            Which means, I was assigned the gender of Male when I was born, just like about half of all the other babies in the world. For one reason or another; whether it’s biological, societal, or any combinations of reasons; “Male” is not how I personally identify or how I feel, which means my gender identity transcends my assigned gender at birth. Because my gender identity transcends in the female direction, transfeminine is a word that describes that direction. Genderqueer is an umbrella word that encompasses many identities, but is a large enough umbrella word that describes my personal feelings. I feel that I rest between male and female, experiencing both a masculine and feminine aspect to life; and I express that reality as transfeminine genderqueer. 

If that’s enough of an explanation as you need, you don’t need to read any more, if you don’t want to. The following narrative is further explanation of my experiences with my gender identity all through life, and how I came to understand myself as Trans…

Trigger Warning: Slurs

She’s a Bass!

I’ve known that I have been somewhat… different since I was in elementary school. Whether it was my colored matching sweatshirt and sweat pants and old hand-me-downs; my underbite scaring away any semblance of friends to talk with, or my utter fascination with all things Star Trek and Star Wars… I was picked on, bullied, and beat up for many reasons over my years of elementary and high school. After all, I was just another under-privileged kid living in a rural Minnesota town with parents that lived paycheck-to-paycheck.  

            As I got older, the bullying was less focused on my clothes, underbite or nerdiness… and more focused on who I was as a person. I was in fifth grade the first time someone called me a ‘faggot’. ‘Gay’, ‘faggot’, ‘queer’… they were all words I eventually looked up in the dictionary. They followed me through high school. In 8^th grade, a kid from Texas thought he’d be original and call me the same words, only in Spanish.

            The bullies were only picking up on the same questions I was asking of myself. But no one else knew about it. Maybe I was different. Maybe I was gay. Maybe I did throw like a girl… because I was one.

            It was about 8^th grade when I started having dreams where I would tell people I was a lesbian. I’d have dreams where I was someone else entirely, but dreaming I was a girl was a recurring dream throughout high school.

            Like any teenager, puberty was rough, but squashing that idea that I was somehow less manly than my other male classmates… became a focus of mine. I was a tenor in 8^th grade choir, but as soon as I moved up to the older choir, I had to become a bass. I had to prove my manliness. Sure, my femininity displayed itself wonderfully in my mannerisms, but I had to work hard at proving to people that I wasn’t feminine or gay.

            I started putting my words, actions, even my hair and clothing choices in neat little boxes in my head. Hair gel was too feminine. Tight shirts and pants were too feminine. I wouldn’t say words that made me sound feminine. My hairstyle was the same every quarter when I got a haircut.

            By my senior year in high school, after I moved back from my adventures in California; the last goal I had for myself, was to prove that I wasn’t gay by getting a girlfriend by graduation. I was not going to graduate high school without ever having a girlfriend. I made that goal by three days, but I was finally able to prove to everyone… that I wasn’t what they had called me for all those years. I had a girlfriend to show all the bullies that I was not in fact, gay.

I’m Looking for Baggage That Goes With Mine

            And that was it. I had proved to the world, and to myself, that I was not gay. The nagging question about being a girl… well that was still tucked away in the back of the brain. I had a girlfriend to worry about. And then that first relationship fell through. And then I had a second girlfriend. And that one fell through. And then a third girlfriend. That fell through. And then a few other girls here and there… and then, there was Tiffany.

            Tiffany was different. Like my kind of different. She had a backstory similar to mine – divorced parents, under-privileged upbringing – and she was strong. Not physically, but she had a strong presence about her; like a powerful woman ready to take on the world – strong. She was everything I needed and more, and soon after meeting and then dating – we married within two years of knowing each other.

            That general feeling of being different, the thought of being too feminine… survived the wedding vows. Survived the birth of our son. On our first wedding anniversary, I took Tiffany out to our porch, and told her I was gay.

            There’s nothing like shattering your spouse’s heart on your first wedding anniversary, let me tell you - but after a talk of figuring out that no, I didn’t ever have a romantic relationship with a man, and no, I wasn’t attracted to any guys – I had restored a little faith in her, and we decided that I truly was not gay.

            But that answer just led me to other questions. If I wasn’t gay, what was I? There was something off, something different about how I felt, some recurring thought that I wasn’t as masculine as I should be – that I was more feminine than I should be – that I was more different than I should be. That same old dream of being a girl was still there.

            And I couldn’t tell anyone.

I’m Still Tangled Up in You

            I had already broken Tiffany’s heart once, I couldn’t tell her this secret. I couldn’t tell her that I secretly had dreams of being a girl, or someone other than this sad confused young man. I didn’t want to lose all that I had worked so hard to have. But then a few years went by, I entered seminary and spent a year muddling through life as a youth director at a suburban church. After a summer mission trip went awry and a couple months to put myself back together again; I could no longer lie to myself when faced with the ultimate test as a Lutheran seminary student: Chaplaincy.

            My Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) site was at Unity Hospital in Fridley. On my first day on the floor of the hospital, I saw a once-healthy man reduced to skin and bones by pancreatic cancer. That was when I knew, without a doubt, that God’s calling for me was serious work, and I needed to figure myself out quick, so I could figure out God’s work in the world, and my role in it.

            All through our group and individual sessions as fellow chaplains, the supervisor would ask deep, probing questions to get us to open our deepest selves to God, so that nothing was left untouched.

            And all through those deep probing questions – the same question kept coming back unanswerable – and it should have been much simpler to answer – Who are you, really?

I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman

            I shouldn’t say it was unanswerable. It was answerable, but the answer that kept coming back, was, “I’m transgender”. “I’m not a man”. “I’m not as masculine as I claim to be”. In the deep, deep recesses of my soul, I knew that I wasn’t who I claimed to be. And that realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

            One thing that queer people have to work through when coming out – is coming out to themselves. Queer folks have to break down their own barriers of identity, through any latent homo-, bi- or trans-phobia in their own minds, before or even during the beginnings of the public coming out process.

            I came out to a few people before even telling my wife. Even after telling her one late November night, I backed down from it, claiming my thoughts to be nothing more than anxiety – reinforced and originally suggested by my therapist at the time. It took another couple winter months of coming out to myself, going back and forth in my mind of whether I was just making everything up, or denying my true self to God and the world…

            That spring of 2015, I wrote a letter to Tiffany, explaining myself even further, confirming to her that I was indeed Transgender, and that I needed to figure it out. I sought out the Center for Sexual Health at the University of Minnesota (which, I found out later, was aided in starting by Lutheran Social Services of Minnesota). I saw a therapist that specialized in sexuality right before starting my internship at Zion Lutheran of Amor, and one last time my first Monday there.

Conceal, Don’t Feel, Put on a Show…

            My first Monday of internship, I visited the Center for Sexual Health again, and this time was diagnosed with Gender Dysphoria. It’s the diagnosis given to some Trans folks who feel that they are experiencing a disconnect between their assigned gender at birth and the gender they personally identify with. It was the confirmation I needed to help me make sense of myself. When I returned that Tuesday, I didn’t tell my supervisor about my diagnosis. I was fearful of losing my internship, and thus causing me to have to start the internship process all over again, uproot my family and everything. I didn’t want that.

            Since August 2009, folks who identify somewhere on the LGBT+ spectrum have been able to be ordained and serve as rostered leaders in the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), provided they have a ministry or congregation willing to call them. However, congregations in the ELCA also have the right to refuse to hire, or fire any individual based on race, gender identity, or sexual orientation – because of the Separation of Church and State.

            Thus, knowing that I could very well lose my internship upon revealing my gender identity, I kept it a secret. This summer, when circumstances allowed for me to finally tell my supervisor about my gender identity, I did so in the form of a letter. I then was able to share this letter with my synod and Luther Seminary. By sharing this letter, I was able to come out to all that needed to know at the time, and ask what would proceed internship.

            As part of my coming out to my synod and seminary, I also agreed to share information of my gender identity in the form of a short paragraph to Zion Lutheran, my internship congregation. It was my hope with the paragraph and ensuing blog post, that Zion and other churches like it would learn more about the struggles of me and other LGBT folks.

           

Let The Storm Rage On…

The last piece of the coming out puzzle is this blog post. This post is meant as a busting open of the closet door, so that I may finally tell the world the secret that has plagued me for so long. I am Transgender. I am the T in the LGBT. I identify as transfeminine genderqueer, or just genderqueer.

If the word ‘queer’ is too much for you, that’s okay. Non-binary and Gender-non-conforming are also words that could describe me. Another important element for trans folks is pronouns. 

Pronouns are very important to some trans folks, so respect pronouns when folks want you to use them. Personally, I don’t care so much about pronouns. Because I rest betwixt genders, I like hearing the occasional ‘she’ or ‘her’ or even the occasional “ma’am” or ‘miss’… It’s kinda fun to hear. But I’m fine if you use male pronouns in reference to me. Or ‘they’ or whatever.

Just not ‘it’. Never ‘it’. I am not an ‘it’. I am not a he/she. I am not a shemale. I am not a tranny. Don’t do it. Don’t ever do it. Respect pronouns when people request them, respect people’s identities.

The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway

            It’s fitting that my blog site is called Grey Matter. In life, I do believe in a lot of grey areas, where the simple black and white realities we assume are present, are actually melded in shades of grey. As a Lutheran, I believe that human beings are both Sinners and Saints. Holy Communion is both bread and wine and Christ’s blood and body. Christ’s divinity and humanity. Traditional and Contemporary. Lutherans are used to Grey Areas in their faith.

            Even if my gender identity isn’t so clear, there are many elements to my life that are so much clearer now – now that I’ve started to understand myself a little better. Tiffany and I have the best relationship in our marriage that we’ve had, because I’m able to be open and honest with her. I share my feelings easier, not having to pretend it’s unmanly to share feelings. I feel much more comfortable in my skin, even if I’m still getting used to my own queerness.

            I hope that my quest to be more authentic opens doors for not only me, but other people still in the closet. I hope that other folks will feel welcome to explore their identities and welcomed in communities both large and small.

            This is a brave new world, and I’m excited to be a part of it.

            Thanks for reading; thanks for your support; thanks for being you.

            In the words of Dr. Seuss – “Today, you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.” So be you. Be who God calls you to be.

Amen.