Good morning Capital, good morning blog. It’s a rather pretty sunshiny day. I am chirpy even though I slept four hours or so. I woke up by the door slamming and Landlady returning from the shops, in a white moment of fear I worried it was eleven o’clock or so. She said it was about twenty minutes past eight. And since then I have been up.
Even though we do disagree about my identity, even more so after discussions on femme and crip that took place yesterday, I really like living with her.
Even more I enjoy that she is (it seems) the only one unable to see my femme identity as a valid identity. I am glad so many glorious brainy femmes cover my back.
The time difference between Stockholm and London made things rather late last night, but so much fun had. And I am delighted to see that the much overdue episode of Fishy Femme Fiction is still coveted. And I’ll take images of close proximity muses with me all over today. I am sure I will be a smiling girl indeed.
In fact I am thinking my martial arts muses need to fight each other at some point. Oh, come on girls! It could be my birthday treat, please? Or for Christmas or New Year’s or whenever, any day is a partying day, right?
I am going back up north on Wednesday. I look forward to seeing my parents and my brother and his family. I long to see those mountains again, to breathe air free from smog. And travel through a country that is my heart, were the roads are my veins and arteries. Those roads are inside my skin now, dirt roads and crackling paving. The house. The strong tall trees that grow around these people for protection that protected me as I grew up.
I long for my father’s language, his storytelling. My mother’s fiery comments and loud laughter. My aunts’ care. Jesus. My grandmothers just steps behind me wherever I go.
I’ll rest when I am home, I might crash for real. I need to read a lot though. I figured I’d do most of it on the bus on Wednesday; four hours should get me far I think. I need to write a lot too. I wonder if I shall bring this laptop or if my parents stationary will do? Am I greedy if I want a tiny computer for my writing? Perhaps not. But I am not rich these days. For Christmas?
I have realised I need to write more cohesively in Swedish as well. As I have said earlier in this blog I have existed mostly in English these days. It’s nice, but of course a bit distancing at times. Even though it’s a language that’s close to heart it is not mine, as such.
I’ll need to work on that “Jesus-piece” for the stage too. That’ll be in Swedish so that will be good. I am thinking it’s well needed. The Pentecostal woman is all you never thought she would be. Indeed. Or more so I am perhaps.
I should get dressed now. I need to ‘femme up’ especially since I am having a meeting with a PA agency this afternoon. Two potential girls for me to interview, I really hope they want to work with me. My personal ass.’s as Kicko would say.
After the meeting I’ll have to sit around at Uni for ever to wait for my lecture. The taxi cards are a bit confining when they run low. I need to get hold of that man today too. Wish me luck.
Watch out for me while I am in you today Capital. I think I might like you now.
Visar inlägg med etikett Jesus. Visa alla inlägg
Visar inlägg med etikett Jesus. Visa alla inlägg
måndag 14 september 2009
måndag 4 maj 2009
On Queer-theology
Having such a crap Monday as I am right now. Cramps, no work and rain. It was lovely to see my Bible Contemplations featured on http://www.queerteologi.se. The page is run by the Swedish Lutheran Priest Niclas Olaison (yes, he is queer) and he approached me last year at Stockholm Pride and asked me to write for it.
To be honest, I had forgetten that I did it and read the piece getting a more and more familiar feeling about- until realizing I had actually WRITTEN IT.
It can be found in Swedish on the link above, and translated here:
In the text for the 4th Sunday of Easter time we talk about being the shepherd of a flock. To watch over it not by force but voluntarily as God wants, not by greed but by devotion. In my faith we are all both shepherd and flock to each other. In our faith we will be able to support others well as to seek support. In the certainty of Christ's love we are able to share all the burdens, big or small, and to share them even with those who are not Christians. In that we commit an act of love. We do God's will.
The importance of being humble is also emphasized in the text. That we do not make ourselves out to be "Lords", but only good examples. For me, it is also important that we dare to face each other in humility and humanity. Jesus came to us to show us what it ultimately is to be human and to sacrifice yourself as a human. In my previous Christian life, I often ran into these "Lords" rather than examples, which found it difficult to meet in the humility that I believe to be Christianity's core.
Why it is so difficult, I do not know. But I know that I try to be humble myself and I see that it plays a big part in how others will respond to and see me. It is not difficult to help if we feel that we can also get help when we need it. It is not difficult to lead if we feel that we can be led, not only by God but by people around us.
Therefore, we constantly have a responsibility to ourselves and others. To be humble so that others may be strong for us and to be strong for those who can not. The need to help or seek help does not always need to come from an explicit Christian faith, but often it can show the way to another way of looking at ourselves and others. A vision that springs from a grace and a freedom - in a sacrifice from God.
I will be featured two more times this spring/summer.
To be honest, I had forgetten that I did it and read the piece getting a more and more familiar feeling about- until realizing I had actually WRITTEN IT.
It can be found in Swedish on the link above, and translated here:
1 Book of Peter 5:1-4
To the elders among you, I appeal as a fellow elder, a witness
of Christ's sufferings and one who also will share in the glory to be revealed:
Be shepherds of God's flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not
because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not
greedy for money, but eager to serve; not lording it over those entrusted to
you, but being examples to the flock. And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you
will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away.
In the text for the 4th Sunday of Easter time we talk about being the shepherd of a flock. To watch over it not by force but voluntarily as God wants, not by greed but by devotion. In my faith we are all both shepherd and flock to each other. In our faith we will be able to support others well as to seek support. In the certainty of Christ's love we are able to share all the burdens, big or small, and to share them even with those who are not Christians. In that we commit an act of love. We do God's will.
The importance of being humble is also emphasized in the text. That we do not make ourselves out to be "Lords", but only good examples. For me, it is also important that we dare to face each other in humility and humanity. Jesus came to us to show us what it ultimately is to be human and to sacrifice yourself as a human. In my previous Christian life, I often ran into these "Lords" rather than examples, which found it difficult to meet in the humility that I believe to be Christianity's core.
Why it is so difficult, I do not know. But I know that I try to be humble myself and I see that it plays a big part in how others will respond to and see me. It is not difficult to help if we feel that we can also get help when we need it. It is not difficult to lead if we feel that we can be led, not only by God but by people around us.
Therefore, we constantly have a responsibility to ourselves and others. To be humble so that others may be strong for us and to be strong for those who can not. The need to help or seek help does not always need to come from an explicit Christian faith, but often it can show the way to another way of looking at ourselves and others. A vision that springs from a grace and a freedom - in a sacrifice from God.
I will be featured two more times this spring/summer.
lördag 2 maj 2009
On Christiano-phobia
Due to a piece on this on Swedish Tv’s (SVT) program ”Existens” (http://www.svtplay.se/) I thought I would blog about the phenomena, if there is one.
In the piece they interview Swedish Pentecostal Christian politician Lennart Sacredéus who says he has experienced this kind of phobia. That he knows people who have been ridiculed and persecuted for their Christian faith.
Sacredéus says:
This made me wonder, is it so that when challenged for certain statements of their faith right wing Christians will now go around calling it a phobia? And have I experienced that phobia anywhere?
Firstly, I do well believe that when challenged in the more conservative areas of their faith Christians like Sacredéus (part of the Swedish Christian party which opposes gay marriage, gay adoption and abortion for a start) might well be crying wolf about a phobia spreading through the land. There is no phobia! There is critique on what kind of view on other people and their autonomy these kinds of groups present.
In the same program the former Arch Bishop of Sweden KG Hammar says:
I agree, I think KG Hammar is actually one of the most reasonable Christians Sweden has ever seen. If the conservative Christian movement needs to go on about homophobic and oppressing ideas they can well face up to being critiqued on that, as they critique the lack of “morality” in the secular world.
However, I find there actually exists an other kind of Christiano-phobia. One that has nothing to do with the ideas that specific Christian’s present but with the concept of being Christian.
A phobia that makes me, a highly progressive bisexual Christian, as bad as any conservative bigot ever was.
It has nothing to do with what I believe, only the fact that I do believe!
A phobia that tells me that it doesn’t matter how many autonomous choices I make in life. How much I try to break away from bigots and other foul “religious” people. The pure fact that I accept Christ as my Saviour (oh my- really?) is enough to make me a stupid and un-emancipated girl. One who is fooled by doctrine and patriarchy into submission and silence.
If the people telling me these things knew the least bit about me they would see how ludicrous there statements about me are.
(I use my vast knowledge of the Bible in ways they could never imagine- Hah!)
I often experience a stiff silence when I come out as a Christian (yes I really feel I need to come out about it.) When I tell people I was brought up in the Pentecostal movement it’s often even worse. I find I start every conversation on my faith with an excuse.
You see I am not….
Even if they say...
My point of view on this is not…
Now I wonder who gave the conservatives the right to patent my faith!?
Also, who makes it perfectly okay for non-believers to tell believers believing is a sign of weakness!?
(I will not speak about my “favourite” non-believer Richard Dawkins here; I think that man has had enough publicity already!)
In my life as a Christian I seek opportunities to actively do good for others, I seek opportunities to be friendly and help, to be supportive and to speak up in anyway suitable when things are not as they should be. I try to love my neighbour. Sometimes I fail, of course I do.
But I try my hardest to love the homophobes, the patriarchal oppressors, and the pro-life madness people.
I try; I really, really try to love the mad and mean Richard Dawkins. In my love for the people behind the arguments I find it natural to speak up about the wrong that they do.
All of you – YOU GIVE CHRISTIANITY A BAD NAME!
In the piece they interview Swedish Pentecostal Christian politician Lennart Sacredéus who says he has experienced this kind of phobia. That he knows people who have been ridiculed and persecuted for their Christian faith.
Sacredéus says:
“It is when they have displayed a traditionally Christian point of view in
certain questions that they have experienced this kind of “critique” from
others, in their work environment, in their schools, amongst ‘friends’.”
As an example the program brings up the standard traditionally Christian “points of view” as pro-life and homophobic statements. Of course nothing about people being persecuted for what I believe is the most traditional Christian point of view: Love thy neighbour.
This made me wonder, is it so that when challenged for certain statements of their faith right wing Christians will now go around calling it a phobia? And have I experienced that phobia anywhere?
Firstly, I do well believe that when challenged in the more conservative areas of their faith Christians like Sacredéus (part of the Swedish Christian party which opposes gay marriage, gay adoption and abortion for a start) might well be crying wolf about a phobia spreading through the land. There is no phobia! There is critique on what kind of view on other people and their autonomy these kinds of groups present.
In the same program the former Arch Bishop of Sweden KG Hammar says:
“It is only ridiculous to assume there is a Christo-phobia, what is happening is
that conservative Christian values are given critique, like all other things are
critiqued. As Christians we must all be ready to take critique our self if we
critique others.”I agree, I think KG Hammar is actually one of the most
reasonable Christians Sweden has ever seen. If the conservative Christian
movement needs to go on about homophobic and oppressing ideas they can well face
up to being critiqued on that, as they critique the lack of “morality” in the
secular world.
I agree, I think KG Hammar is actually one of the most reasonable Christians Sweden has ever seen. If the conservative Christian movement needs to go on about homophobic and oppressing ideas they can well face up to being critiqued on that, as they critique the lack of “morality” in the secular world.
However, I find there actually exists an other kind of Christiano-phobia. One that has nothing to do with the ideas that specific Christian’s present but with the concept of being Christian.
A phobia that makes me, a highly progressive bisexual Christian, as bad as any conservative bigot ever was.
It has nothing to do with what I believe, only the fact that I do believe!
A phobia that tells me that it doesn’t matter how many autonomous choices I make in life. How much I try to break away from bigots and other foul “religious” people. The pure fact that I accept Christ as my Saviour (oh my- really?) is enough to make me a stupid and un-emancipated girl. One who is fooled by doctrine and patriarchy into submission and silence.
If the people telling me these things knew the least bit about me they would see how ludicrous there statements about me are.
(I use my vast knowledge of the Bible in ways they could never imagine- Hah!)
I often experience a stiff silence when I come out as a Christian (yes I really feel I need to come out about it.) When I tell people I was brought up in the Pentecostal movement it’s often even worse. I find I start every conversation on my faith with an excuse.
You see I am not….
Even if they say...
My point of view on this is not…
Now I wonder who gave the conservatives the right to patent my faith!?
Also, who makes it perfectly okay for non-believers to tell believers believing is a sign of weakness!?
(I will not speak about my “favourite” non-believer Richard Dawkins here; I think that man has had enough publicity already!)
In my life as a Christian I seek opportunities to actively do good for others, I seek opportunities to be friendly and help, to be supportive and to speak up in anyway suitable when things are not as they should be. I try to love my neighbour. Sometimes I fail, of course I do.
But I try my hardest to love the homophobes, the patriarchal oppressors, and the pro-life madness people.
I try; I really, really try to love the mad and mean Richard Dawkins. In my love for the people behind the arguments I find it natural to speak up about the wrong that they do.
All of you – YOU GIVE CHRISTIANITY A BAD NAME!
onsdag 22 april 2009
On faith, queer-ness and prayers
A text orginally written in Swedish for http://www.queerteologi.com.
To come to terms with our faith, we must examine our faith through ourselves. We must, in some way measure ourselves and find out what we consist of. I have done it many times. First as a child in a family of religious parents and relatives, then as a teenager in a group of other teenagers who believed, but not as I did, and finally as an adult all alone with only myself as a reference to how I wanted to live.
My birth is based on faith. It is a miracle or a mistake, a sin or a blessing, for both believers and non-believers. For my religious parents, there is meaning in mine and my brother's disability and that is how I am raised. Believing that God wished me well on that summer morning when I was picked out by a Caesarean-section three months premature. That he held his hand over us when we were fighting our way in to life. That he wanted us to live.
I was brought up to believe, without doubt, that:
"Jesus loves all children, all children on earth, red and white and yellow and black - doesn't matter, he said."
Therefore, my disability was an asset, a blessing and a gift to the world so it would remain diverse.
But in the Christian tradition which I am partly raised in, and which my father and mother belonged to, but left, physical shortcomings are often seen as an evidence of sin. Either I have sinned or my disability is a penalty for my parents' sins, whatever they might be.
As an adult, during a Sunday service in a Pentecostal church in a city where I lived, the members of the congregation asked if they could pray for me, I said yes. Then I thought we would pray for my studies at the time, and for a continued blessed life in the arts. Perhaps the members, which kneeled and put their hands on me thought that my career-choice was a pity. That the acting and the performing could lead me on paths away from the straight and narrow leading to the Pearly Gates.
However, they said nothing about that and when they prayed for me, in that charismatic way I have seen and heard so many times before I felt at home and secure. In these "excesses", in this sweaty jubilation and prayer, was a style of worship that I loved.
After the intercession one of the people who prayed for me asked me if I did not want intercession for "my legs".
I was very puzzled, never had I received this question before. It stood in contrast to all I had been taught in the past. That my legs were a sign of God's diversity, yes, a blessing from him, even. The man who asked me did it based on something he thought was right. He wanted me to be healed, and he thought it would be so. He justified his question by saying he "believed that Jesus wanted us to be healthy."
I replied that I believed that Jesus wanted diversity, and then we left the subject and he continued to play Christian tapes in his car while he drove me home through the sunny spring day.
But there in the car just that spring day, something happened. Something that I came to wrestle with a long time. The faith which I wanted to be a part of would not accept me as I was. My childhood-faith full of confidence in a good and accepting God who loved everyone
"and therefore gave his only son so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life" did not match anymore.
I feel most at home in what is called the Pentecostal Curch, that's where my my mum grew up and where my grandparents had their Christian faith. I have played there and glued Jesus pictures on cardboard, amongst lots of other children, sang songs and eaten cinnamon-rolls .
I have also seen a prayer and worship so strong that the people wept and spoke foreign languages. Shooked, laughed and rejoiced. All in the name of Jesus.
I wanted to dwell in that church.
But I also knew that I had to hide myself. I could not tell them everything about myself. I would be forced to sweep a big piece of my personailty under the carpet. Such as the fact that I sometimes fall in love with women. That I could imagine sharing a life with a woman I loved as much as if I loved a man. That it is perfectly possible for me to have children with this woman or this man and that I want our love to be blessed. Then there's a no-trespassing sign.
You can not live like that for the Old Testament says "you shall not lie with a man as a man lies with a woman because this is a sin."
Still I believe that all love must come from God since God is love. Still I believe that we must respect each other and not judge sinceJesus says,
"with the measure you weigh up for others it will be measured for you"
and as long as we act in love for ourselves and our fellow humanbeings, we do the work of God.
So, how to behave then if you are initially excluded, if the way that you love is not only unacceptable but a sin so great it is a as a cancer in the body of society, according to some.
I remained silent, it's stupid I know and to some extent un-Christian because Jesus says that "the truth shall set you free".
I did not lie, I just did not tell the truth.
Kept quiet and spoke only under my breath if someone asked something about boyfriends or so. In my bisexuality, I could of course choose to show the relationships I had with men, just mention them and everything was "normal". I remained silent in youth meetings and evenings, during the exultant praise meetings and Sunday services.
I had a great time with Jesus and loved to be so vibrantly and personally saved.
However, during all of this something ate away at me. I knew I could not continue to live in this congregation, not if I lied and certainly not if I told them how it was.
Fortunately, summer came and I finished my education and moved from the congregation without the need to come out.
Back home I made the decision to never lie about something in my life that I felt was right. If it was not possible to live in that type of congregation I had done in the past if I was open about everything about me, then I was not meant to. From now on "the truth shall set you free" became my favourite Bible verse and my beacon.
Under that guiding principle I was also "forced" to be true to my faith. Everywhere and everytime my queer orientation and my faith in Jesus came hand in hand. And it confused, not least other LGBTQ-people.
That somewhere along the way, had learned that the Christians were narrow minded and quick to judge. My Christian faith was something very exotic, and my yearning for the Pentecostal sweaty and charismatic worship left people very puzzled. I explained that it was the faith I had grown up in and that this was they way I wanted to celbrate
Yet I find that I often have to defend myself and sometimes even excuse myself for my Christian faith. Emphasizing that even if other Christians feel this or that, it is not my faith. That the Christian group is not at all streamlined but made up of individuals, as much as the LGBTQ movement (which I also belong to).
The Christian Church has a history marked by persecution and terror, the early Christian congregations were forced to hide themselves and to communicate with symbols to avoid the risk of being found out about and murdered. They were forced to hide and ridiculed for what they believed.
That also happended in the earliest days of the Pentecostal Church during the 1920's. The members were called heretics and gabblers and there were psychiatric examinations to assess their health.
Thus, both the early Christian movement, the Pentecostal Church and the LGBTQ-movement share a history (and a present experience)of being persecuted and hated because they chose to follow the only thing that seems important in life, to live being true to themselves and to show love!
For me the common ground is easy to see, even if I did not stand with one foot in the LGBTQ -movement and the other in Christianity, it would probably not take me long to see these similarities
How did I do then?
Why, good, thank you. I stopped being silent. Now I come out about as often as a Christian among LGBTQ-people as I do a bisexual among Christians. Usually the reaction is positive.
But still I havent told my former congregation. I presume they would like to pray for me and I would have to say: thanks, but no thanks, I think Jesus likes diversity because he loves all the children on earth.
I can imagine how they would respond but I do not want to speak about that now.
To come to terms with our faith, we must examine our faith through ourselves. We must, in some way measure ourselves and find out what we consist of. I have done it many times. First as a child in a family of religious parents and relatives, then as a teenager in a group of other teenagers who believed, but not as I did, and finally as an adult all alone with only myself as a reference to how I wanted to live.
My birth is based on faith. It is a miracle or a mistake, a sin or a blessing, for both believers and non-believers. For my religious parents, there is meaning in mine and my brother's disability and that is how I am raised. Believing that God wished me well on that summer morning when I was picked out by a Caesarean-section three months premature. That he held his hand over us when we were fighting our way in to life. That he wanted us to live.
I was brought up to believe, without doubt, that:
"Jesus loves all children, all children on earth, red and white and yellow and black - doesn't matter, he said."
Therefore, my disability was an asset, a blessing and a gift to the world so it would remain diverse.
But in the Christian tradition which I am partly raised in, and which my father and mother belonged to, but left, physical shortcomings are often seen as an evidence of sin. Either I have sinned or my disability is a penalty for my parents' sins, whatever they might be.
As an adult, during a Sunday service in a Pentecostal church in a city where I lived, the members of the congregation asked if they could pray for me, I said yes. Then I thought we would pray for my studies at the time, and for a continued blessed life in the arts. Perhaps the members, which kneeled and put their hands on me thought that my career-choice was a pity. That the acting and the performing could lead me on paths away from the straight and narrow leading to the Pearly Gates.
However, they said nothing about that and when they prayed for me, in that charismatic way I have seen and heard so many times before I felt at home and secure. In these "excesses", in this sweaty jubilation and prayer, was a style of worship that I loved.
After the intercession one of the people who prayed for me asked me if I did not want intercession for "my legs".
I was very puzzled, never had I received this question before. It stood in contrast to all I had been taught in the past. That my legs were a sign of God's diversity, yes, a blessing from him, even. The man who asked me did it based on something he thought was right. He wanted me to be healed, and he thought it would be so. He justified his question by saying he "believed that Jesus wanted us to be healthy."
I replied that I believed that Jesus wanted diversity, and then we left the subject and he continued to play Christian tapes in his car while he drove me home through the sunny spring day.
But there in the car just that spring day, something happened. Something that I came to wrestle with a long time. The faith which I wanted to be a part of would not accept me as I was. My childhood-faith full of confidence in a good and accepting God who loved everyone
"and therefore gave his only son so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life" did not match anymore.
I feel most at home in what is called the Pentecostal Curch, that's where my my mum grew up and where my grandparents had their Christian faith. I have played there and glued Jesus pictures on cardboard, amongst lots of other children, sang songs and eaten cinnamon-rolls .
I have also seen a prayer and worship so strong that the people wept and spoke foreign languages. Shooked, laughed and rejoiced. All in the name of Jesus.
I wanted to dwell in that church.
But I also knew that I had to hide myself. I could not tell them everything about myself. I would be forced to sweep a big piece of my personailty under the carpet. Such as the fact that I sometimes fall in love with women. That I could imagine sharing a life with a woman I loved as much as if I loved a man. That it is perfectly possible for me to have children with this woman or this man and that I want our love to be blessed. Then there's a no-trespassing sign.
You can not live like that for the Old Testament says "you shall not lie with a man as a man lies with a woman because this is a sin."
Still I believe that all love must come from God since God is love. Still I believe that we must respect each other and not judge sinceJesus says,
"with the measure you weigh up for others it will be measured for you"
and as long as we act in love for ourselves and our fellow humanbeings, we do the work of God.
So, how to behave then if you are initially excluded, if the way that you love is not only unacceptable but a sin so great it is a as a cancer in the body of society, according to some.
I remained silent, it's stupid I know and to some extent un-Christian because Jesus says that "the truth shall set you free".
I did not lie, I just did not tell the truth.
Kept quiet and spoke only under my breath if someone asked something about boyfriends or so. In my bisexuality, I could of course choose to show the relationships I had with men, just mention them and everything was "normal". I remained silent in youth meetings and evenings, during the exultant praise meetings and Sunday services.
I had a great time with Jesus and loved to be so vibrantly and personally saved.
However, during all of this something ate away at me. I knew I could not continue to live in this congregation, not if I lied and certainly not if I told them how it was.
Fortunately, summer came and I finished my education and moved from the congregation without the need to come out.
Back home I made the decision to never lie about something in my life that I felt was right. If it was not possible to live in that type of congregation I had done in the past if I was open about everything about me, then I was not meant to. From now on "the truth shall set you free" became my favourite Bible verse and my beacon.
Under that guiding principle I was also "forced" to be true to my faith. Everywhere and everytime my queer orientation and my faith in Jesus came hand in hand. And it confused, not least other LGBTQ-people.
That somewhere along the way, had learned that the Christians were narrow minded and quick to judge. My Christian faith was something very exotic, and my yearning for the Pentecostal sweaty and charismatic worship left people very puzzled. I explained that it was the faith I had grown up in and that this was they way I wanted to celbrate
Yet I find that I often have to defend myself and sometimes even excuse myself for my Christian faith. Emphasizing that even if other Christians feel this or that, it is not my faith. That the Christian group is not at all streamlined but made up of individuals, as much as the LGBTQ movement (which I also belong to).
The Christian Church has a history marked by persecution and terror, the early Christian congregations were forced to hide themselves and to communicate with symbols to avoid the risk of being found out about and murdered. They were forced to hide and ridiculed for what they believed.
That also happended in the earliest days of the Pentecostal Church during the 1920's. The members were called heretics and gabblers and there were psychiatric examinations to assess their health.
Thus, both the early Christian movement, the Pentecostal Church and the LGBTQ-movement share a history (and a present experience)of being persecuted and hated because they chose to follow the only thing that seems important in life, to live being true to themselves and to show love!
For me the common ground is easy to see, even if I did not stand with one foot in the LGBTQ -movement and the other in Christianity, it would probably not take me long to see these similarities
How did I do then?
Why, good, thank you. I stopped being silent. Now I come out about as often as a Christian among LGBTQ-people as I do a bisexual among Christians. Usually the reaction is positive.
But still I havent told my former congregation. I presume they would like to pray for me and I would have to say: thanks, but no thanks, I think Jesus likes diversity because he loves all the children on earth.
I can imagine how they would respond but I do not want to speak about that now.
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