I think most of us have heard some incarnation of the Brene Brown Daring Greatly talk by now. For me, it was a Facebook post that lead to a podcast interview, that led to the Netflix special and it, as for many, resonated with me.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, social researcher Brene Brown has a new book out about risk based largely upon the following Theodore Roosevelt quote:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Perhaps it's a concept that resonates with many people in many phases of life, but I felt like I heard it right when I needed to hear it the most. You see, I am the mother of a teenager who identifies as transgender.
Perhaps it's a concept that resonates with many people in many phases of life, but I felt like I heard it right when I needed to hear it the most. You see, I am the mother of a teenager who identifies as transgender.
I am definitely in the arena whether I chose to be or not. Some reading this may know that, some may be hearing it for the first time. I haven't been in the closet, but I haven't exactly been "out" yet, although my child has been out for months. There may come a time to write about this process for our family. There may come a time to write about my thoughts and feelings on all of this and why I choose to stand behind my child, but, quite frankly, I'm just too tired right now and I'm still working some things out.
This particular arena feels pretty tough anyway, but add to it being a clergy spouse and an candidate for ministry myself and it feels even tougher. Every single person associated with the United Methodist Church who knows that our beloved kiddo is trans has been incredibly positive and supportive, but LGBT+ issues are a hot-button topic in our denomination right now. (Don't get me wrong, I do not believe that PEOPLE are EVER issues, but the tension between traditional church doctrine and its effect on innocent lives certainly is an issue at the moment.) In the midst of the turmoil, I made a commitment to wear a rainbow heart pin to show solidarity with all my Methodist brothers and sisters in every situation having to do with the United Methodist Church.
So, I wear my pin to the church where I work, which has not taken a strong stance one way or another concerning this debate. I wore it to my state's annual conference (with my rainbow unicorn skirt because that's how I roll). I wear it to the church where my husband is appointed as pastor. I wear it to conferences, workshops, church services, and meetings. To be honest, if I forget to wear it anywhere, it's in the church where I am a member. They are a 100% affirming congregation and nobody has to wonder where its members stand.
I have been accused of being "divisive" for wearing my pin and encouraging others to do the same. (I have befriended a feisty pack of women at the church where my spouse was formerly appointed and I love them so much. Those ladies know how to wear some RAINBOWS!) I wear the pin so that any LGBT+ person I encounter within the church who has to wonder if they can trust me to love them and affirm them exactly as God made them. It's right up front for them to see. Still, few people have said that I'm causing trouble. I don't see how letting people know they are loved is causing trouble, but some seem to be troubled nonetheless.
So, I had the very first meeting with the committee that will eventually decide if I am fit to be ordained. Some are affirming and some are not. As I was getting dressed the morning of my meeting, I slid on my cardigan and there was my rainbow heart, staring at me in the mirror and asking me a very important question--am I really willing to wear it anywhere?
I'm not going to lie--I hesitated and considered throwing it into the bowl where I keep my extra jewelry. Nobody would judge me too harshly for this one meeting, right? But, I know deep down that my kid can't just throw the feeling that their body isn't quite the right one in a bowl and shed gender dysporia for the day. And I equally know that my friends can't take their orientation off and hang it up in the closet for a few hours to avoid a little confrontation. So I went to the meeting with my heart on my sleeve (lapel).
The meeting went well. I as well prayed for and felt calm and confident about this next step in my path.
I did have one person ask me specifically about Jesus. Apparently, I talk a good talk about social justice and do a lot of social justice work, but I dont' use the J-word a whole lot. I was actually caught a little off guard, not so much because I don't consider Christ a part of this work (he's kind of the center of it), but because it seemed so obvious that it hardly needed to be said.
The fact is, I believe the name "Jesus" has been so overused and misused that, unfortunately, it has either lost all meaning or has negative associations for many folks. Years ago, when discussing this conundrum with a friend, she told me that she never refers to Christ as Jesus, but as Emmanuel, which means, "God with us." I love that. Jesus isn't some guy who is sitting in heaven demanding you worship him or else. Instead, there is a spirit that is simply "God with us" that was perfected in the historic guy named Jesus. Some people believe he was the literal son of God and some people don't buy that but still admire him as an enlightened human being.
There are so many ways I have personally experienced "God with us." I experience it in the touch of a friend who rubs my back as I sob my guts out over a problem that feels insurmountable. It's in the loving gaze of my spouse, who knows me more intimately than anyone and still chooses to see how that makes me beautiful instead of ridiculous. It was in the care of my mother when I was too sick to get out of bed for weeks on end. And it's in this feeling I have that, despite the insurmountable odds, I am going to wake up every day and try to fight the injustices that I see my neighbors suffering. I try to be an instrument of this "God with us" and it's only through something supernatural that transforms me and gives me hope in the face of so much that looks hopeless that I'm able to lift my head from my pillow and move about in a world that seems so harsh and cruel.
So, if you see me in my rainbow heart, know that it's a tiny representation of my attempts to be a channel of Emmanuel and step into the ring just one more time.
So, I wear my pin to the church where I work, which has not taken a strong stance one way or another concerning this debate. I wore it to my state's annual conference (with my rainbow unicorn skirt because that's how I roll). I wear it to the church where my husband is appointed as pastor. I wear it to conferences, workshops, church services, and meetings. To be honest, if I forget to wear it anywhere, it's in the church where I am a member. They are a 100% affirming congregation and nobody has to wonder where its members stand.
I have been accused of being "divisive" for wearing my pin and encouraging others to do the same. (I have befriended a feisty pack of women at the church where my spouse was formerly appointed and I love them so much. Those ladies know how to wear some RAINBOWS!) I wear the pin so that any LGBT+ person I encounter within the church who has to wonder if they can trust me to love them and affirm them exactly as God made them. It's right up front for them to see. Still, few people have said that I'm causing trouble. I don't see how letting people know they are loved is causing trouble, but some seem to be troubled nonetheless.
So, I had the very first meeting with the committee that will eventually decide if I am fit to be ordained. Some are affirming and some are not. As I was getting dressed the morning of my meeting, I slid on my cardigan and there was my rainbow heart, staring at me in the mirror and asking me a very important question--am I really willing to wear it anywhere?
I'm not going to lie--I hesitated and considered throwing it into the bowl where I keep my extra jewelry. Nobody would judge me too harshly for this one meeting, right? But, I know deep down that my kid can't just throw the feeling that their body isn't quite the right one in a bowl and shed gender dysporia for the day. And I equally know that my friends can't take their orientation off and hang it up in the closet for a few hours to avoid a little confrontation. So I went to the meeting with my heart on my sleeve (lapel).
The meeting went well. I as well prayed for and felt calm and confident about this next step in my path.
I did have one person ask me specifically about Jesus. Apparently, I talk a good talk about social justice and do a lot of social justice work, but I dont' use the J-word a whole lot. I was actually caught a little off guard, not so much because I don't consider Christ a part of this work (he's kind of the center of it), but because it seemed so obvious that it hardly needed to be said.
The fact is, I believe the name "Jesus" has been so overused and misused that, unfortunately, it has either lost all meaning or has negative associations for many folks. Years ago, when discussing this conundrum with a friend, she told me that she never refers to Christ as Jesus, but as Emmanuel, which means, "God with us." I love that. Jesus isn't some guy who is sitting in heaven demanding you worship him or else. Instead, there is a spirit that is simply "God with us" that was perfected in the historic guy named Jesus. Some people believe he was the literal son of God and some people don't buy that but still admire him as an enlightened human being.
There are so many ways I have personally experienced "God with us." I experience it in the touch of a friend who rubs my back as I sob my guts out over a problem that feels insurmountable. It's in the loving gaze of my spouse, who knows me more intimately than anyone and still chooses to see how that makes me beautiful instead of ridiculous. It was in the care of my mother when I was too sick to get out of bed for weeks on end. And it's in this feeling I have that, despite the insurmountable odds, I am going to wake up every day and try to fight the injustices that I see my neighbors suffering. I try to be an instrument of this "God with us" and it's only through something supernatural that transforms me and gives me hope in the face of so much that looks hopeless that I'm able to lift my head from my pillow and move about in a world that seems so harsh and cruel.
So, if you see me in my rainbow heart, know that it's a tiny representation of my attempts to be a channel of Emmanuel and step into the ring just one more time.
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