The Kids Are Alright?

I am participating in the UncoSynchro blog, a writing collaborative effort from ‪#‎UNCO‬‬, focusing on subversive themes of faith and life. The theme for March is (un)Lucky.

Disclaimer: this blog post is in no way intended to criticize, shame or otherwise denigrate those who have made a different life choice than me. It is simply intended to give my thoughts on the matter.

 I want to write today about a topic that has been on my mind for many years now: the subject of kids. For a long time, I really did genuinely believe that I wanted kids. I thought that that was something I wanted and thought I would make a great dad someday.

  Yet, I've come to think slightly differently on the matter. I've been giving it a lot of thought and I've realised that having kids isn't as important to me as I once thought it to be. I think I've realised that if I never have kids, that's ok. Not everyone has to have children. Not everyone has to make that choice. That doesn't mean that I've somehow failed or that I've been unlucky. That also doesn't mean that my life is somehow less fulfilling if I haven't had kids.

 That's a phrase that really gets under my skin: this idea that people who don't have children are somehow less fulfilled or less satisfied with life. That's quite frankly, incredibly insulting and ignorant to say to someone. You can have just as fulfilling and just as successful a life if you never have children as someone who has. It just means that you put your centre of value into something else besides your children. It could be your career or your volunteer work or your partner or your friends or your pets or something else entirely. Any number of things can bring you fulfilment or joy, it doesn't have to be children.

  Also, can we please not look down on people who don't have kids and feel sorry for them? Again, insulting and degrading. You don't know all their life circumstances that have led to them not having children. For me personally, I just don't see the appeal or the point really. I recently went through and made a pro/con list of all the reasons to have or not have children and honestly, the cons won out. This doesn't mean that having children is a bad thing or the wrong choice. I want to validate those people who have had children and let you know that I support your decision and the reasons why you made it (whether or not it was intentional).

  For me, though, I just don't see the appeal. Having kids can be a real burden and a real pain and I don't see a reason to sign up for that. Plus, I love to travel and I know that that would probably not be able to continue if I have children (or at least not to the extent that I would like it to). There's also the fact that you lose a piece of your identity when you have children. You no longer are yourself. Instead, you become "Jacob's daddy" or "Susie's mommy" or simply just "Daddy". For me, as someone who's struggled with identity issues my whole life, having to give up a part of my identity has zero appeal for me. Not to mention the fact that I would never get to sleep in again and as someone with insomnia, I crave being able to sleep in! And there's also the fact that your time is not yours anymore. Your days become all about your kids and their schedules and their needs and it stops becoming about you.

  So, are those selfish reasons to not have children? Perhaps but isn't it also just a little bit for selfish reasons that people have children anyway? There's a need to care for something. There's a need to have your legacy preserved. There's a need to have that identity or status that being a parent gives you. I'm not saying that those are bad reasons to want kids. Not at all. What I am saying is that they are, in a sense, selfish reasons. So, it is selfish to want kids and selfish to not want kids.

  Here's my somewhat rambling point of all this. Not having kids doesn't mean that I'm somehow unlucky or haven't been successful in life. I'd like to think that when I get to the end of my life, I will look back with pride on my accomplishments even if they don't include children. I'd like to believe that irregardless of having children or not, I will still feel like my life has been blessed and that I've led a pretty lucky life. I'd like to think that my choice to not have children will be respected and appreciated by society and by my friends. For the longest time, I was bowing to societal pressure to want kids. Now, I'm choosing to go against the grain and declare that it really doesn't matter to me if I never have children. I'm going to be ok either way. At the end, what really matters is whether or not I've made a difference in the world and whether or not I've been loved and have loved. That can come in a myriad of other ways besides children.

 I think I'm a pretty lucky guy, even without the kids. And I think that will continue to be the case even if the children never happen. The kids will be alright and so will I!

All About that Treble?

I am participating in the UncoSynchro blog, a writing collaborative effort from ‪#‎UNCO‬‬, focusing on subversive themes of faith and life. The theme for February is (un)Loved.

It's Valentine's Day, a day I hate more than almost any other day. Thus, I felt it necessary to write a blog post about everyone's favourite subject, self-love. The following represent my thoughts on a subject that is highly personal to me and one that is also highly charged.

"You're too skinny"
"Are you anorexic?"
"You just need to eat more. That will put the weight on ya!"
"Have you tried working out? Lift some weights, it will do wonders for you."
"Come over to my house and I'll fatten you up in no time."

These are all comments I've received over the years from people who mean well. I admit it, I'm skinny. For those of you who've only read my blog and have never actually met me in person, let me paint the picture for you. I'm 5 ft 9.5 inches tall. I weigh maybe 130 pounds if I'm lucky. I have zero body fat and my metabolism is super fast meaning that I can't gain weight even when I try. I know what you're thinking. "He's so lucky. I'd love to have that problem. I'll gladly give him some of my weight."

Yeah, I've heard that one before too. How it must be so great to eat as much as I want and not gain a pound. Or how lucky I am that I'm not overweight and have to worry about health problems that come from that. I've heard pretty much every comment a person can hear about my weight. I know people mean well. I know those comments aren't meant to be hurtful. Most of the time, I am able to laugh it off and smile.

However, I don't think people realise how hurtful their comments can be sometimes. I've struggled with body image issues my whole life. I got called anorexic every single day of high school because I weighed less than 100 pounds the whole way through high school and people thought for sure I must be anorexic or something. For the record, I've never had any sort of eating disorder and I do in fact like to eat. I eat at least 2 meals a day, sometimes 3 and I snack constantly. The idea of intentionally skipping a meal or intentionally throwing it up after eating it has zero appeal to me. So, you don't need to worry. I'm eating. That's one thing I'm really good at: eating.

I've made peace with the way I look, mostly. Do I have times when I wish I was fatter or had more curves or had a six pack? Yes, yes I do. Somedays I look in the mirror and I'm really disgusted by what I see. I think our culture glamorises and idolises thinness to an unhealthy degree. We demonize fat people and call them lazy. However, that also means that we sometimes don't think about the fact that thin people can also struggle with body image. Yes, I'm skinny but it's not the "good" kind of skinny. I'm too skinny (whatever that might mean). I look like I haven't eaten in days or like I'm starving myself.

I'm trying to get to a place where I can love myself, all my non curves and non edges. Self-love is actually the hardest kind of love there is. It requires you to accept the fact that you are the way you are and that that isn't likely to change anytime soon. It requires you to quiet all the voices in your head that tell you that you are too skinny or that maybe you should be anorexic since everyone thinks you are anyway. It is not helped by well meaning voices telling me to eat more or work out more or offering to fatten me up. What those comments are really implying is that I'm not good enough as I am and that my current weight is unacceptable to those people. That doesn't make the task of loving myself very easy.

We need to think about the way we speak to each other and we need to be careful that our comments never imply that the other person isn't perfect the way they are. What I want more than anything is for others to affirm that the way I am is great and beautiful and worthy of being loved and that I don't need to do a thing to change it. I currently weigh the most I have ever weighed in my entire life. It is very possible that I will stay this weight for several more years, even decades. I want to be okay with that fact. I want to accept the fact that I weigh what I weigh and that is good enough. But then, somebody else says something like, "we need to fatten you up" and I realise that I'm not ok with it.

On this Valentine's Day, a day when we recognize and celebrate love, let us begin with self-love. Let us love ourselves as we are and not be so quick to try and change it. Let us love the bodies we were born with. Ok, so I don't have a six pack and I don't have muscles and I don't look like a male model. That's ok. I don't need to. I look like myself and that's good enough, don't you think?

You Can't Stop the Beat

Here's the sermon I preached this morning at my church. Scripture text is Philemon 1: 8-21

My name is Onesimus. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m mentioned several times in your Holy Book but only in one portion. The letter that Paul wrote to my master, Philemon. Paul says that he has met me and that he has converted me to his faith and that now he is sending me back to my master with the hope that my master will do the right thing and set me free as a favor to him.
What I find so interesting about Paul’s letter to my master is that not once does Paul ever ask me what I want. My voice is left completely out of the story and my silence is never once accounted for. Did Paul even think to ask me whether or not I wanted to return to my master? Did he think to ask me if I might rather have been seeking him out as a way to get away from my master? Did Paul bother to even consult me about what I thought my ultimate fate should be? No, he didn’t. My voice wasn’t considered important or interesting or necessary to Paul or to Philemon. Just like so many other characters in your Holy Book, I am left voiceless with no one to come to my defense and stand up for me. Who will speak for me? Who will stand up for me? Who will give me my voice back?
Onesimus has been silenced in the Bible. His voice and his interests are left completely out. He is just another nameless, faceless, speechless character whose own interests aren’t considered important or necessary or good. Yet, those were biblical times. Things were different then. We don’t still do that now, do we? We give everyone a voice and everyone a say, don't we?
Trayvon Martin. Oscar Grant. Michael Brown. Eric Garner. Sound familiar? These four men were all shot dead over the last few years because of the color of their skin. Their voices were silenced. Their voices weren’t considered important. Their voices were considered less worthy of attention and focus than their white assailants. Since their deaths, there have been attempts by the public and the media to paint some or all of them as “thugs” or “criminals” or some other such label that would somehow justify them being shot dead. As if it is somehow more socially acceptable to kill someone if they are a thug than it is if they aren’t. Their deaths have inspired protests and have also created the “Black Lives Matter” motto on social media.
More importantly, their deaths have sparked conversations all over the country about issues of race and racism. It has forced many white people to confront their own internal prejudices and biases toward their black brothers and sisters. It has also exposed the inherent racism that exists in our justice system as so far not a single indictment has come down for the white men who killed these black men.
Tomorrow, we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a national holiday in which we are asked to remember the legacy of Dr. King, a man who worked so tirelessly for so long to help the Black voice be heard and be considered important. We are almost fifty years out from his assassination and it sadly doesn’t look like we are any closer to realizing his vision of living in a society where we really do believe that the black voice matters and shouldn’t be silenced.
It is absolutely vital that more white people speak up about this issue and stand in solidarity with their black brothers and sisters. Since we are the ones who perpetuate the racist system, we are also the ones who have the power to stop it. We can take action against the systems that perpetuate racism. We can stand up against racism and declare that the status quo isn’t benefiting all. We can even work to enact new laws that will ensure that our black brothers and sisters are given a more equal footing in society.
We can be the ones who demand that the black voices no longer be silenced. We can stand up and declare that the deaths of Trayvon, Eric, Oscar and Michael do matter and that their voices were silenced just like Onesimus’. We have to be the ones who demand that they be heard and that justice prevail. We can give Onesimus his voice back. We can demand that he be given a chance to speak his truth, his experience and his life. We can do the same for all the black people in our own lives whose voices have been silenced. I hear the cries of Trayvon & Michael and I hear the protests in places like Ferguson and New York City. As a white person, I admit my own complicity in the silencing of black voices and in the attempts to slander them and keep them oppressed.
So, I’ve identified the trouble with the text: the fact that Onesimus is silent. What about the grace then? What words of hope does this text have to say to a world troubled by Trayvon & Eric & Michael & Oscar? What does this text say to us that we can use to better engage with our black brothers and sisters and be a part of the solution, not the problem? It comes through Paul’s words that Onesimus was his beloved brother in Christ and thus Paul didn’t see him as a slave anymore. Through Christ Jesus, we are all united. We are Trayvon Martin. We are Eric Garner. We are Michael Brown & Oscar Grant and the many other nameless, faceless, silent black men who have been killed. This is the hope that white people can provide. A hope that one day, our system will support and uplift black bodies, not destroy them.
As Martin Luther King says, though, in his Letter From A Birmingham Jail, “Justice delayed is justice denied.” Thus, while we can provide hope, hope won’t be enough. While we continue to sit by and wait for a day when racism will end, more black people will die or be the victims of our racist policies. So, yes, hope is great but hope won’t prevent people like Michael Brown from being killed.
We have to be more than the hope then. We have to be the agents of change. Change is coming. You can’t stop the beat of history as it marches forward toward a new day. Let’s help make that new day today. Let’s be that change. Let’s be aware of our own privilege and use it to help, not hurt. Change won’t come about if we hope for it. We have to actively work for it, for the good of our black brothers and sisters. We have to fight for it, with them, not against them. It is up to us to begin the hard work of dismantling the systems of privilege that keep oppressing black people. It is up to us to vote for elected officials that will represent those voices that are silenced. It is up to us to stand up and speak out against racism in our culture and our world. It is up to us to do this hard and difficult yet necessary work. Onesimus won’t be kept silent anymore. Michael Brown won’t be kept silent anymore. Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, Oscar Grant won’t be kept silent anymore. Their voices are rising up, out of the pages of history. Out of the pages of the Bible. Out of the pages that tell them that they should stay silent and stay oppressed. Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of revolution. That’s the sound of their voices. That’s the sound of change. It’s coming. The only question that remains: are you going to join in or stay on the sidelines?

A Year Without A White Man

  I want to take some time to write to all of you about a project I took on this past year and the many ways it expanded my worldview. This past January 1, I decided to take on a rather unique and unusual reading project. I love to read. I've been a bookworm for as far back as I can remember. However, I haven't always done a good job of reading outside my comfort zone or reading about other cultures. Thus, I gave myself a challenge: that I would only read books written by non-white men. I did this partly because I think that white men have had enough of a voice in our culture and I wanted to give other voices a chance to speak up. I also did it as a way to confront my own internalized racism. I realized when deciding to begin this project that the vast majority of my own favorite authors or favorite books are written by white men. While I don't mean to denigrate or deny their own marvelous writing abilities, I was aware that I needed to branch out and read books by some non-white men. Instead, I focused exclusively on historically oppressed groups. I would like to add the caveat that I did still read books by white women. This was because I wanted to include all the various ways that women, even white ones, are still systemically oppressed in our society. However, of the 46 books I read this past year, the vast majority were written by people of color.
  So, what did I learn from doing this project and how did it open my eyes? A big takeaway for me is just how institutionalized and systemic racism really is. Through reading books like Americanah (Chimamanda Adichie); Roots (Alex Haley) and 12 Years a Slave (Solomon Northrup), I was exposed to the ways in which my white culture has made racism a part of every system and how far back it really goes. I confess to having a much different view of slavery and even racism before hand. My history textbooks growing up gave the image that slavery wasn't as bad as it might have been portrayed. They portrayed the idea that most slaves preferred slavery over being free and were indeed happy with their lot. I realize now just how racist and awful an idea that is to even think but before reading Roots or 12 Years a Slave, it had never occurred to me to re-think this. As a white person, I've come to realize just how little I had actually ever thought about race mainly because it doesn't affect me. I even remember thinking to myself how this project sounded very racist to take on because isn't it racist against white people to not read them for an entire year? My whiteness protects me and gives me a level of privilege that people of color don't have access to no matter their financial resources or education or ability. The books I read this year helped me see just how hard it is to be a person of color in America.
   Through reading 100 Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez); And the Mountains Echoed (Khaled Hosseini) and the House of the Spirits (Isabel Allende), I was exposed to what life is like for those who live in other countries. It gave me a new global perspective.
It also gave me the opportunity to finally read some books by authors who are well-established and critically acclaimed but who I had never read before for some reason. I finally had a chance to read Toni Morrison (The Bluest Eye, Beloved); Alice Walker (The Color Purple); Maya Angelou (I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings); Chinua Achebe (Things Fall Apart); Jhumpa Lahiri (The Namesake) and Ralph Ellison (Invisible Man). Somehow, I had never before read any of these authors and they completely expanded my reading abilities and my worldview.
  What were the best books I read this year? I have to admit, not every book I read this year was that great. That's ok. I didn't go into this thinking they all would be. I knew there would be some books I'd read that would be less than awesome. However, there were definitely some that stood out to me as being excellent works. Redefining Realness by Janet Mock was an incredible book for me to read this year. Mock is an African-American transgender woman who writes about her experience growing up as a boy and then realizing that she was actually a woman and then deciding to go through with transitioning. It is a powerful story about what it is like to be transgender, black and a woman in the United States. Definitely highly recommended for anyone who wants to know more about that experience. The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri was a powerful story about the immigrant experience in America. Also highly recommended. I can't say enough good things about the Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. He writes about his experience growing up as a Native American and choosing to attend school off of his reservation. A powerful look at how white culture has supplanted and made shameful Native American culture. I read two Khaled Hosseini novels this year (And the Mountains Echoed and A Thousand Splendid Suns). Both were great but incredibly devastating reads. He really paints a vivid picture of what Afghani life is like both pre and post Taliban. I can't stop thinking about The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende. Such a strong, vivid prose style that has stuck with me even now almost a year after reading it.
  I had my eyes opened to the many ways that being a minority can be hard. It can feel shameful or lonely or isolating. It can even be dangerous. I won't say that I was completely unaware of this before but it became clearer to me through the works I read this past year. Some of these books were quite difficult to read and I had to force myself to get through them. Some of them contained extremely graphic sexual acts of violence, particularly against children. Not exactly pleasure reading. Some of them made me feel so incredibly ashamed of my whiteness and the fact that my ancestors did such terrible things to an entire group of people. Some even forced me to acknowledge my inner racism. That was the hardest part of this project: acknowledging that even as a somewhat enlightened, highly educated queer person that I am still guilty of racism in some ways. I still have racist thoughts or racist tendencies. I admit that. What this project did was bring them to light and help me be willing to acknowledge them to myself.
  Now, that we've hit a new year, I've come to the end of my year long project. I'm looking forward to being able to read some Charles Dickens and John Green and Orson Scott Card again, three authors I had been particularly missing reading over the last year. However, I'm also going to be more intentional about seeking out and reading more books by people of color. I've got a good place to start after this past year with several authors that I really want to read more from. Perhaps I'll even be willing to admit some of them into my hard to crack list of favorite authors or favorite books! I'd encourage everyone to take on a project similar to this in your own lives. If you aren't a reader, maybe try it with something else you enjoy. Maybe only watch TV shows or movies starring or written by people of color? Perhaps only cook foods that are enjoyed in countries other than America? Travel someplace where you are likely to be the minority? Whatever you do, you owe it to yourself to do it. It will enrich your life in so many ways, I promise you. I can't believe I waited so long to discover so many of these authors but now that I have I'm very excited to see what else they have in store for me!

Counting Our (Un)Blessings!

I am participating in the UncoSynchro blog, a writing collaborative effort from ‪#‎Unco14, focusing on subversive themes of faith and life. The theme for November is (Un)Gratitude. This is my first entry for the UncoSynchro blog, and I will participate monthly.

In this season of gratitude and a time in which we give thanks for all the good things in our lives, I think we too often don't acknowledge or hide the not-so-good things in our lives. We focus on all we have and conveniently (for one month at least) forget about all the things that aren't. In an attempt to change the conversation, this post represents my attempt to take stock of all the many things in my life and in the larger world that I am not grateful for. If you don't want to read about this topic and think that I'm being a terrible person or negative Nancy for even mentioning these things, that's fine. I  invite you to move on and ignore this post. However, I think there are some of you who could use this and so I write this for all those who don't always want to be told to be grateful for what they have.

I'm Not Grateful: That I will be spending yet another holiday season without a special someone in my life. I mean, really? Again? Why do I seem to suck so much at this one particular aspect of my life? I'm thriving in all other areas of my life so why not this one? Does my special someone even exist? Am I a leper? Am I so completely undesirable that no one could even stand the thought of being with me for longer than two dates? I'm so over this dating game shenanigans. I'd love to just once have a special someone to spend the holidays with. This whole being single during the holidays thing is so over-rated.

I'm Not Grateful: That my dad died when I was 19 years old. He never got to see me become the amazing man I am now. He never got to see me mature or graduate from college. He will never get to be a part of my wedding day (if I do meet someone to marry). He will never meet any kids I someday have. I'm ungrateful that he had to die when I was still too young to really appreciate him fully. I really wish he were still here. I miss having a dad in my life. I miss having that special connection with someone who never let me forget that he loved me. I really wish I could call him up next week and wish him a Happy Thanksgiving. The fact that I can't ever do that again makes me really ungrateful and really angry.

I'm Not Grateful: That I never really knew my grandparents. I was a late in life child and my grandparents were pretty old when I came around and lived on the other end of the country. They all died when I was young. Thus, I never really got to have any type of significant relationship with them. I'm so jealous of my friends who have great relationships with their grandparents and can tell stories of summers spent with them and time spent learning from their wisdom. I never had that. I wish I had. I have almost no memory of any of my grandparents and that makes me very bitter and very ungrateful.

I'm Not Grateful: That there will still be hungry people on the day after Thanksgiving. Despite however many of us spend at least part of our Thanksgiving at a soup kitchen feeding the hungry, there will still be hungry people. Why? Our world produces enough food every single day for every single person on the planet to have more than enough food to eat every single day. So, why are there hungry people then? No one should have to go hungry, not in a world of plenty. I guess I just don't understand why we allow this system to continue. Maybe I'm just being naive but it seems like feeding everyone would benefit everyone. While you consume your pumpkin pie and your fifth piece of turkey this Thanksgiving, remember all those who would love just to have the crumbs off your pie.

I'm Not Grateful: That 40% of homeless youth are LGBTQ. Yes, really, 40% of the youth that are homeless consider themselves part of the LGBTQ alliance. Why isn't this addressed more? Don't get me wrong, it makes me so happy to see more and more states finally allow marriage equality but what  about all the other issues that aren't about marriage equality but affect the LGBTQ community? I worked with homeless youth in Chicago. It was hard work. It's what inspired me to go to seminary. It made me angry that any of them were homeless. Let's address this issue NOW. Let's help get these youths off the streets and into some type of permanent housing situations. Let's work to keep them safe, find them jobs and help them with their bills so they can afford to stay off the streets. Most importantly, let's work to enact laws that will protect them from harassment. They deserve that.

I'm Not Grateful: That we still cannot seem to have a real, actual conversation about the horrible state of mental health care in our country. I thought and hoped that the death of Robin Williams might have finally been the impetus we needed to have a dialogue about the terrible state of our mental health care in this country. It doesn't seem to have done anything, though. We need to actually have a conversation and begin the process of doing something to address the very real issue of mental health. I say this as someone who deals with mental illness every day and would love to be able to get some better mental health care for myself and for all the others who need it so desperately. This is an issue that affects all of us and it needs to be addressed.

I'm Not Grateful: That we've had over 70 school shootings since Newtown, CT and yet we can't seem to get any sort of gun legislation passed. Our children are literally dying and yet we don't seem to care enough to do anything about it.

I'm Not Grateful: That we are all expected to be cheery and merry and full of joy during the holidays. Not all of us feel that way about the holidays. Many people dread them. Some just downright hate them. Yet, we are still expected to smile and put on a happy face and be cheerful even when all we want to do is cry and rant. Just let us have our time away from the holly and the jolly. And for the record, I love the holidays but I resent being told that I have to always be happy or jolly during them. Sometimes, I don't want to be and I want that choice to be respected.

I'm Not Grateful: That I spent so many years hiding who I really was from people and not allowing people to know the real me. My life has improved so much in the five years since coming out of the closet. I really wish I'd done it sooner. I feel like I missed out on so much by staying closeted for so long and that my friends didn't get to know the real me.

There's plenty more things that I'm ungrateful for but that seems to be enough for one post. What are some things you're ungrateful for this holiday season?

Give Me Something to Sing About!

Diclaimer: What I write about here is very sensitive, very personal information. It is not something that I share lightly or share looking for sympathy. I share all this because I believe it is time to be completely honest and open about who I am. It is time to quit hiding. Also, I want to add that the experiences I relate here are mine and that I do not claim to speak for anyone else even in places where I use plural pronouns. My story is not everyone's story. It is mine alone. With that being said, please read below.

Actor/comedian/entertainer Robin Williams died earlier this week by taking his own life. His death shocked and saddened many. What so many found shocking was that it was so hard to believe that someone as well-loved and well-liked and respected and funny as Williams would do that. He seemed to have it all together. How could he do that? Why would he do that?

I can tell you why. You see, I have struggled with many of the very same demons that Williams himself battled. His death shook me up because it made me realize just how deadly depression can be. I've battled depression for years now. It's something I've learned to live with and have accepted the fact that it is something I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. I think I've written on here before somewhat about it but this post is intended to be my full, honest account of what I struggle with every day. It is intended to put a human face on it and to show that depression doesn't discriminate. Even those of us who seem so put-together and so care free can still be fighting a terrible internal battle.

I think I first started dealing with depression when I was in middle school. I can't really remember specific instances but I just felt such a deep sadness in my body. I also started hearing voices in my head. Voices that told me that I was worthless and would never amount to anything and that nobody loved me and nobody would ever love me. Voices that said that the people in my life would be better off if I wasn't still around. Those voices were always there, every single day. Sometimes they were quiet and I was able to get through an entire day without hearing them. Other days, they wouldn't shut up and I would be pestered by them all day. My teenage years were rough. I dealt with a lot of self-loathing and self shame. Some of this was due to the extreme verbal abuse I was receiving from outside forces but some of it was also my depression making itself manifest and telling me that I didn't deserve to live. At my darkest and lowest points, suicide seemed like a great and viable option. It would free me from my torment and it would relieve my suffering and misery. I came very close to killing myself on a couple different occasions. I really can't say why I didn't do it. To this day, I'm unsure. Something always stopped me. Still, the belief that I wasn't worth much always was there, preventing me from fully enjoying my life.

I want to address something here that I have seen come up over and over in the national debate about suicide that has been happening this week. I've seen several people call Mr. Williams selfish for taking his own life. Over the years, I've heard that repeated over and over that people who commit suicide are selfish. For a long time, I even believed that myself and that may be why I didn't do it. However, I've been thinking back on those times when I got so depressed that suicide seemed like a viable option. I have to say that at the time, I wasn't at all thinking of it as a selfish act. To me, it seemed like a selfless one. I felt like such a terrible burden to my family and friends that I honestly believed that they would be better off if they didn't have to deal with me. I wasn't very popular and had very few friends and the friends that I did have I wasn't very close with anyway so I honestly didn't feel like anyone would miss me regardless. I felt their lives would be better off if I wasn't a part of them anymore. I would no longer be a burden to anybody ever again. So, again, suicide felt like a self-less not selfish choice.When you are in that deep a spiral of depression, you lose your ability to think logically sometimes. Suicide can seem like a good option then. It can seem like the only option. It can seem like the self-less option.

Do I wish I didn't have to battle with this every day? Yes, I really do. You can't pray it away or wish it away though. You can only live with it and deal with it in the best way possible, whether that be through medication or therapy or something else. I never know when my depression is going to hit. It can come at any time and stay for as long as it needs to. I don't get to control it or tell it when it is allowed to visit. It sets the agenda. That's the most frustrating part. I can wake up one morning and be completely depressed and there can literally be no reason at all for me to be depressed. I can be completely miserable even though things in my life are going great. The voices in my head tell me that even though I have amazing, supportive friends and am going into a career that I have excitement about and am thriving at school and enjoying life, that none of it is good enough or that I don't deserve it or that it is all an illusion and will be gone in just the blink of an eye. The voices in my head tell me that I should be miserable, not happy. It's messed up, I get it. Believe me, I wish it wasn't this way.

I don't always tell people when I'm feeling depressed. I hide it pretty well. I don't like dealing with all the attention or the questions or the probing that telling people would involve. I have social anxiety disorder and Asperger's so being the center of attention is really difficult for me. This is also why I don't always tell someone when I'm feeling suicidal. I don't want to deal with all the attention and exposure that would bring me. Sometimes, I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone to cry or feel sad in peace. This is why I take some issue with the whole "if you need help, get it" mentality. I don't always want to ask for help because of the attention it will bring me. I don't want to deal with all the questions or scrutiny or probing that will come about if I tell anyone I'm suicidal. Plus, what if word were to get out publicly to all my friends and family? I would feel so ashamed and so embarrassed and even humiliated and that is not something I want to be put through. That is guaranteed to make me feel much worse, not better. Instead of putting the onus on the person suffering, how about others around that person reach out to them instead? Look them in the eyes and ask them how they are doing. Be sincere with them. Maybe they still won't tell you. That's ok. Don't demand that they do. Don't shame them into telling you something that personal and private. Also, keep in mind that even if you do tell them that they are loved, that they may not believe you. I don't always. Doesn't matter who tells me. The voices in my head say otherwise. They say that that person is lying or just being nice or polite. How could anybody love me, a messed up screwup of a person who can't do anything right? These are the things that they tell me sometimes. These are the things that I live with.

Can I say with 100% certainty that I won't ever be suicidal or try to take my life again? No, I can't. I wish I could but I can't predict the future. I can't predict just how bad things might get for me someday or how bleak things might seem or what the voices inside my head will tell me. I hope I don't get to that point ever again. I certainly don't plan to. I plan to live a long, healthy life and die an old man surrounded by my loved ones. However, I also have to be realistic here and just admit that I can't say with any degree of certainty what might happen to me in the future. Am I ok now? Yes, I am actually. It's been a few months since my depression last hit. I'm feeling good at this point in my life and hope those feelings continue for a long while. Do you need to be worried about me? If you want to be, sure. Know that I do go to therapy and that my therapist has been really great at helping me mute the voices in my head. She might literally save my life someday. However, no method is 100% effective so there's no guarantee that I will be ok even with therapy. My depression can come back at any moment.

I think what I want to close this with is just a reminder to be kind to everyone. You don't know what type of battle they are fighting. We all are fighting some type of battle. The only difference is the combatant. I will also say that unless you yourself have battled with depression you don't get to judge those of us who do. Don't tell us that our problems are trivial and that there are starving children in Africa so what do we have to be depressed about anyway? That doesn't help. That trivializes my problems and insults me and my intelligence. Yes, I know there are starving children in Africa and people being blown up in Gaza and murders happening in Chicago. I know all that. That doesn't mean that my problems aren't real or aren't important or aren't worthy of attention. Treat me with kindness, not hostility. Treat everyone with kindness. Be gentle. Be supportive. Be a friend. Don't take offense if we have a hard time believing you when we say you care about us. We know you do. Our depression wants us to believe otherwise. The voices in my head tell me otherwise. Why would you want to be friends with me? Why would you care about me? Don't you know how messed up I am? You should stay away at your own risk so I don't become a burden to you later on. Get out now while you still can.

Like I said in the disclaimer, I didn't share this hoping to get attention or to elicit sympathy. I simply wanted to be more open and honest with everyone who happens to read this, whoever you might be. I wanted to put a human face on this illness that so many people struggle with on a daily basis. Just know that even if you see me laughing and smiling and making up a spontaneous song and dance routine that I just might be crying on the inside and may not even be able to tell you why.

We Are Each Other's Angels

Today, I was blessed to preach at the church that raised me. It was an honor and privilege to be among them today. The service went great and people loved hearing what I had to say. For those of you who couldn't physically be there, here's the text of my sermon. Hope it brings you some comfort during these turbulent times. Scripture texts were Micah 4: 1-4 and Matthew 5: 7-12


My name is Javier. I am 10 years old and I am from the country of El Salvador. El Salvador is a country that has been wracked by violence and bloodshed for over 30 years now. Many of my friends have lost relatives due to the extreme violence. My own parents were murdered just last week. I was told that I needed to get out of El Salvador and head north to the United States, where I would be kept safe and free from violence. Instead, I’m being kept back at the border and told that because I’m an immigrant, I’m not welcome in this country. I thought the United States was a land where immigrants could come and be free and safe from their own countries. Now, I have men at the border pointing their guns at me and threatening to kill me if I attempt to cross.
My name is Kat. I am 22 years old. Last year, I came out to my parents as bisexual. They didn’t take the news well. In fact, they kicked me out of the house and told me I was not welcome to come back. Now, I’m homeless and forced to live on the streets. Did I mention I’m from Chicago, a city that is supposedly progressive and inclusive? How could this have happened then to me? Why don’t my parents love me for who I am? How could they do this to their own daughter? Why am I forced to live on the streets? It gets cold here in Chicago in the winter and I am forced to find some sort of shelter during those months. Last month, I was verbally harassed by a police officer. Two weeks ago, I was sexually assaulted by a man who thought that because I was homeless, it meant I didn’t mind being taken advantage of. No one should have to live like this. No one.
My name is Jonas. I’m 15 years old. Last month, my best friend was shot dead in another school shooting in another town in the United States. He was one of 15 victims. What’s sad is how little press coverage his death got. School shootings are so commonplace now that nobody really even bothers to report on them anymore. They have become just another fact of life. It saddens me that the life of my best friend and my other classmates weren’t worthy of being mentioned on the evening news, as if their lives weren’t important enough to warrant coverage. Why did this happen here? Why does this happen anywhere? Why are the lives of our citizens not worth more to our politicians and lawmakers? Why is my best friend dead and no one is being held accountable?
The stories you just heard are, in part at least, fictional. Javier, Kat and Jonas are just characters I made up in my imagination. However, the stories they share are, sadly, all too real and important. In our New Testament reading today, we hear Jesus say, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” Let’s think about that line for a second. “Blessed are the peacemakers.” “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Um, really? When I look at this scripture text and then read the news headlines, I can’t help but wonder if Jesus would still be saying this in our modern times.
You’ve read the stories, I’m sure. About Gaza and Russia and Ukraine and South Sudan and Venezuela and Iraq and Syria and El Salvador and it becomes increasingly clear that we live in unstable and violent times where peace is really hard to find and where people who try to make peace are seen as irrelevant and useless and not as important. We live in a world that glorifies war. We live in a world that is constantly showing us images of terror and violence and death. In our country alone, there have been 74 school shootings since Newtown, CT and our government has done absolutely nothing to address this. Children are fearing for their lives and are being gunned down every single day and yet we are so beholden to the gun lobby and so in love with our guns that we can’t even see that our current ways of living are not doing anyone any favors.
Is this the world where the peacemakers are blessed? A world where we give medals to people who kill others in combat and call them heroes? A world where we execute murderers so we can prove that we are tough on violence? A world where we tell children like Javier that they need to return to their own countries because we don’t want them draining our resources? A world where LGBTQ people like Kat are still subject to bodily harm and even death in more countries than we can count?
This world is where peacemakers are blessed? Really, this one? It sure doesn’t seem like it to me. I’d love to hear what Jesus would have to say to us now. I’d like to think that even he would just give up, throw in the towel and retire to a house in the woods and live in exile. It would certainly be easier to believe that.
“Nation shall not lift up sword against nation. Neither shall they learn war anymore.” It’s a great passage, isn’t it? One that pacifists love to trot out all the time to justify why they are against war and violence. Yet, I’ve seen no evidence either in our modern times or even our ancient times about this ever being the case. We are a world that knows how to conduct war all too well. As a friend of mine recently put it, “I used to believe the world could change. I’m not so sure anymore.” It’s hard not to agree with that sentiment, especially when looking at our own history.
Two weeks ago, I traveled to Ghost Ranch in New Mexico to attend a week-long retreat with prominent Celtic theologian John Philip Newell. We spent a week in the desert talking about God and participating in silent meditative walks through the beautiful landscape there. It was during one of these walks that we were asked to reflect on the statement, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” We were asked to think about what that means to us and our context.
I spent my walk observing the beauty of where we were. I spent my time reflecting on just how much natural beauty there is in the world. It gave me a sense of inner peace. That’s when I realized something. Perhaps Jesus isn’t talking about external peace, a peace that is so rare and increasingly hard to find. Perhaps Jesus was instead referring to an inner peace, the kind of peace that comes along only when we search for it. I’ve discovered that when you are at peace within yourself, it is very hard to have any desire to seek revenge against others. Perhaps that’s the kind of peace that we ought to be pursuing, a peace that calms our hearts and quiets our fears. A peace that results in contentment, not anger. A peace that comes about through Jesus and through our belief that Jesus is working in our hearts and in our world to make everything better.
Last weekend, I went to Indiana for a retreat that I look forward to every year. It is a retreat for all LGBTQ people that are in the Presbyterian ordination process. This is a community that knows all too well the sort of violence and hatred that others in the church are capable of. This is a community that knows personal stories of being rejected and abused by others. This is a community that could easily give up on the church. Many have. Yet, many of us have chosen to stay with it and are continuing to seek ordination in the church. Perhaps we’re crazy. Perhaps we’re weird. Perhaps we do it because we know that we can find some sense of inner peace and contentment through each other. We support each other, love each other, help each other through the process and in that helping, we start to find some sense of peace about everything.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” Perhaps that’s the kind of peacemaking we should be pursuing: inner peace. We can help each other get there. I can’t help but wonder what our world would look like if we started helping each other achieve inner peace. Maybe we wouldn’t feel the need to strike back in anger against each other. Maybe our children could go to school and feel safe. Maybe in our own quest for contentment, we might find that the world actually is capable of changing and our own inner cynicism and bitterness will melt away.
Let me clarify something here that I know is perhaps nagging at some of you. I’m not at all advocating for a withdrawal from the world or for us to focus only on ourselves and not on the problems of the world, vast as they are. What I’m instead advocating for is a different approach, an approach that emphasizes our own inner capabilities to change the world. When we find inner peace, we thus strive for outer peace. When we are at peace within ourselves, it can spur us on to action, action that will bring peace to others like Javier and Kat and Jonas. What might that action look like?
Best selling author Anne Lamott recently posted a compelling answer to that very question on her Facebook page: “I know that if I want to have loving feelings, I need to do loving things. It begins by putting your own oxygen mask on first: I try to keep the patient comfortable. I do the next right thing: left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. I think Jesus had a handle on times like these: get thirsty people water. Feed the hungry. Try not to kill anyone today. Pick up some litter in your neighborhood. Lie with your old dog under the bed and tell her what a good job she is doing with the ruptured ear drum. I try to quiet the drunken Russian separatists of my own mind, with their good ideas. I pray. I meditate. I rest, as a spiritual act. I spring for organic cherries. I return phone calls.
I remember the poor. I remember an image of Koko the sign-language gorilla, with the caption, "Law of the American Jungle: remain calm. Share your bananas." I remember Hushpuppy at the end of Beasts of the Southern Wild, just trying to take some food home to her daddy Wink, finally turning to face the hideous beast on the bridge, facing it down and saying, "I take care of my own."
I take care of my own. You are my own, and I am yours--I think this is what God is saying, or trying to, over the din. We are each other's. There are many forms of thirst, many kinds of water.”
Beloved, we are each other’s angels. So, take care of each other. Don’t let this crazy, violent, topsy-turvy world get you down. Find inner peace. Find contentment. Help others find theirs. If you see a homeless person on the street, help them. Offer them a hand up. If you hear about a school shooting on the news, find out what you can do to help the victims and survivors. If you hear about violence toward others trying to immigrate to the United States, ask yourself what you can do to be a part of the solution, not the problem.
Maybe it won’t do any good. Maybe tomorrow, Javier will still not be able to immigrate across the border. Maybe Kat will still be homeless. Maybe Jonas will still be grieving the loss of his best friend. Somehow, though, I think our efforts to find peace, real peace will do some good in the long run. I think it is worth trying anyway at least for the sake of Javier and Kat and Jonas. They deserve better. We deserve better. We can do better.
“Now, go answer your calling. Go and fill somebody’s cup. When you see an angel falling, won’t you stop and help them up? We are each other’s angels and we meet when it is time. We keep each other going and we show each other signs.”