My conversion to Christianity came less than a month before my first mature sexual experience, and those two events have been tangled together in my understanding ever since. My conversion came out of the blue — I did not see it coming, and to this
Read the rest of the series … I talk about my life anyway because if, on the one hand, hardly anything could be less important, on the other hand, hardly anything could be more important. My story is important not because it is mine, God
“You can’t be a Lesbian and be a Christian!” These words kept me away from the throne of God for 22 years. I was raised a Catholic as a child, but it never meant very much to me. I saw it as an archaic list
The fourth Sunday in Advent, 1998. Having been accepted into membership of my church just a month before, I was looking forward to Christmas with my new congregation. The sanctuary was all decked out with wreaths, a crèche and a tree. The pews were full.
I was born the second of three children. My brother was thirteen months older and my sister was nine years younger. During my early childhood, my father was an officer in the Navy and my mother was a housewife, having taken time off from her
“You can’t be GLBT and Christian!” That statement is used to wound more people. I know I was one of them. God has healed my wounds in a very gentle and slow process. We always want God to act like Flash Gordon, but that is
A couple of months ago, I guess I hit a “midlife crisis.” I was looking at my life and saying “Is this all there is?” It was suggested to me that I explore my identity, including my sexual identity. I looked at my life and
I wanted to tell you a little about my partner Bob and I, and our hearts for God’s gay and lesbian children. For 20 of our 31 years together we were not Christian, in fact, we spent most of our time looking at the bottom
It’s been said that when the pupil is ready, the master will appear. Well, I wasn’t ready for a long time. Oh sure, there were clues along the way if I had wanted to see — clues that I did not seem to fit into
I was born to Robert and Emily Meek in 1957. I was my mama’s 6th pregnancy, and the only one that lived. (Six years later, my sister was adopted into our family.) This meant I was, as she said, “The apple of my eye and