For the last two and a half years, I’ve been living in a reality that doesn’t feel quite…real. I remember when it started. I had gone to bed the night of November 8, 2016, before the presidential election results were in, too exhausted to wait out the final returns. It was a close race, but surely…surely!…things would turn out alright. So when I rolled over in bed the next morning and asked who won, the answer left me feeling like I had landed in the twilight zone.
That feeling intensified the next year when I packed a suitcase and left my marital home, officially separating from my husband. On at least one occasion, I cried so hard that I collapsed in the floor. For the first couple of weeks, I had to have my GPS on in the car everywhere I went; otherwise, I would zone out and drive in a straight line until I didn’t recognize my surroundings anymore. Continue reading
My relationship to holidays and special occasions has always been a bit fraught. A special day means special planning. Buying gifts. Making food. Doing rituals. Behind all of that lies the prospect of disappointing people I love. Between my low energy, anxiety and OCD/ADD tendencies, holidays feel more like hell than happiness.
But now, there’s a new twist.
Photo from Wikipedia Commons
If you’ve been awake anytime in the past 24 hours, you’ve probably heard about the interview Jerry Falwell, Jr. recently gave to The Washington Post about why he thinks supporting Trump is a moral decision. In that interview, Falwell says:
“Why have Americans been able to do more to help people in need around the world than any other country in history? It’s because of free enterprise, freedom, ingenuity, entrepreneurism and wealth. A poor person never gave anyone a job. A poor person never gave anybody charity, not of any real volume. It’s just common sense to me.”
Since then, the Huffington Post, Relevant Magazine, and others have taken Falwell to task about some of his statements. But I find them quite illuminating. See, when Falwell talks about poor people, I think he’s really talking about himself. Case in point: Continue reading
Does God love Transgender people?
Can a person be Christian and Transgender?
I believe the answer to both of those questions is yes, and I will explain why I think so in a future post.
Today’s guest post is from Megan H., a Transgender woman who loves God and seeks to honor him by loving others. She blogs at www.finallymegan.com and advocates for others in the Transgender community. I reached out to Megan on social media and invited her to tell her story here. I realize this is a controversial topic and not everyone will agree. But I humbly ask that you read Megan’s words with an open heart and ask yourself, “Do I truly believe God accepts everyone who loves Him?”
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I have known that I was Transgender since I was a child. I did not learn the term until I was in my 20’s, but I knew that I was different. This went so much deeper than wanting to wear dresses or play with dolls. It was a belief that I was a girl and that something was terribly wrong. Why didn’t I look like the other girls in school? Why was I being told to go sit with the boys during lessons? I was around five years old the first time I looked in the mirror and truly wondered what was wrong with me. Continue reading
Just at the moment when I think I can’t possibly sink to a new level of brokenness, I find it. Remember when I said that my dark night of the soul was leading me to a new intimacy with Christ? I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve either gone completely spiritually deaf, or he’s just not speaking to me. Not even “Just heal.”
I saw my counselor the other day and told him that I might be too broken to heal at this point. He assured me that I had a long way to fall before reaching that particular abyss.
I’m going to be honest. Most days, I don’t want to read my Bible. Church is boring me to tears. I get more peace from listening to Coldplay’s “The Scientist” than the latest worship song. And if one more person tells me to “forget the past” or “choose joy” or “listen to this awesome sermon I heard,” I might just strangle them with my cross necklace.
Maybe that’s a bit extreme. But what to do? Nothing seems able to break through this darkness, and my spirit screams in frustration.
I have no other option. I must choose grace. Continue reading