How Do You Feel About Polygamy?

I am so glad I found your blog because MAN so many other lgbtq+ Christian related things tend to be buried :,DD you seem cool!!

THANK YOU!!! I am honoured and thrilled!

i don't know what else to tell you except to be brave and to be kind. take it day by day. go outside and watch the clouds paint the sky. call a friend.

we are still here, and furious. you are still here, and that matters. you can still do and make and be something important. i promise. stay alive. it matters, and you matter. i know it is easy to succumb to anxiety and exhaustion and defeat.

communities can start with tiny ideas. google "dnd meeting near me" or whatever your interest might be. google "volunteering near me." google "support groups near me." start journalling. start a discord. start a book club.

when you close your eyes and hear hamlet, answer his prayer: it's better still to be.

What is your biggest regret? None of that "i don't have any regrets" nonsense. Everyone regrets something.

Haha wow, you’re strict! Alright, I promise, no nonsense. To answer your question, it’s not quite that I don’t have any regrets, but I’m too young to have any serious regrets. I regret things like…dating a guy who was too young for me. (That was my biggest regret for years) For a while, I decided that what I really regretted was breaking up with him before I was ready, and not letting the relationship just run its course. Now I’m back to regretting dating him in the first place. I regret dating a guy who didn’t share my faith. I regret not writing down the phone number a guy gestured to me through an airplane window, cause that would have made a great story, but now it’s just a “what if?” I regret being an immature child who was accidentally insensitive and self-righteous and judgmental at times when I came into contact with people who were hurting. Most recently, I regret not taking University seriously and expecting to get my marks as easily as I did in high school. So you know what I mean, I regret little stuff. Nothing that I’ll carry with me to my dying day and whisper on my deathbed. But I agree with you that everyone regrets something. I don’t subscribe to the “it was exactly what you wanted at the time” or “never regret something that made you smile” mentality. I know I’ve made mistakes. So, so many mistakes. Countless mistakes. And there are lots of times that I know I hurt someone and I would like nothing better than to erase that decision I made so that the person wouldn’t be hurt anymore. But that’s life. My mom told me that no one expects me to be perfect (except me) and when we screw up, all we can do is apologize and keep moving forward, trying to do better everyday. Maybe if I’m lucky, my regrets will always be little, silly stuff like they are now. But if I was a bettin’ woman, I’d wager that someday, I’ll have a really big, really painful regret. But I hope when that day comes that I’ll remember that I can’t hold on to my regrets forever, and that I’ll be able to forgive myself and accept my imperfection and embrace the love and grace that God offers me despite me constant failings. :) Peace and love! -Katherine 

The church is called to be the safest, most gracious, loving place on the face of the earth. No one should ever be shamed for their brokenness. No one can be left behind. No one’s sin deserves more or less attention, and we all have equal access to the Heavenly Father by way of His Son.

J.S. Park (via jspark3000)

Short Story: Beauty is a Beast

            You know that moment when you step off the schoolbus in the afternoon, or when you shut your bedroom door behind you, or lie in bed at night, and just breathe deeply, finally completely alone. You know the person you are in that moment? That’s the real you, with all your true hopes and dreams and values. Nobody can watch you or judge you, or tell you what to do or who to be. People should be that person more often.

        I see it a lot. People are always totally themselves around me. I’m your corner store cashier. I’m like a part of the wallpaper. Because honestly, what effect do I have on the rest of your life outside this miniscule window of time for your trip to buy chocolate or scotch tape? It’s amazing the things I can learn about people as a cashier just by simple observation. I’ve worked here at my tiny corner-store-attached-to-a-pharmacy on the corner of my street for two years, and we sell everything from a turnip to tweezers. In two years of working 7-11 every day of the summer and 7-11 every Saturday and Sunday during the school year, I’ve gotten to know most of the people who live in our neighborhood, through routine visits and fragments of conversation here and there.

 For example, elderly Mrs. McAllister lives all alone at the top of the hill with her four cats, whose photos she carries in her purse. Boots is the black one with white paws, Snowball is all white, Mittens is yellow with a black triangle on his forehead and Tommy is orange striped. She buys a 2L of milk and a Big Turk chocolate bar every single Saturday morning between 7:00 and 7:30 without fail.

 I expect Mr. Watkins visit around 9 every second Sunday morning. He always buys Werther’s hard caramel candies, Purity cream crackers, a bottle of ginger ale, a loaf of bread and bologna. He carries two tiny school photos in his wallet of his grandchildren, Jeffrey who is in grade five this year, and Alyssa, who is in grade two. They love the caramel candies.

 Finally, there’s a tall, dirty blonde boy around my age who seems to live on Nestea and Peppermint Lifesavers. He visits my store faithfully every day at around 10 during the summer to get his fix and still comes back every Saturday and Sunday morning during the school year. I know that he likes the Red Hot Chili Peppers, that he plays basketball and that he goes to the school on the other side of the city even though he’s not zoned for it. Name? Not a clue. I call him Lifesavers-Guy in my head.

 I’m writing all this down because I want to tell you the story of a boy and girl. Well mostly a girl, but the boy is in it a little bit. The girl’s name is Purple-Monster-Girl. Or at least, that’s what I call her.

 She appeared on the scene around the end of June, right after I had finished grade 11. That day I was teasing 13-year-old Joshua about his first date that night as I put his comic book and Sour Patch Kids into a bag. He was beet-red, right to the tips of his ears and was probably all too happy to escape when my attention was diverted. The little bell above the door tinkled and I looked up to see who it was. My first impression was that she looked really...for lack of a better word, Normal. I wish I could say she looked Mysterious, or she was gorgeous but she looked sad, but she just looked perfectly normal. She was about 5’7’’, with dark brown hair falling in loose waves to her shoulder blades, looking like she had let it dry on its own. I will say she has a really pretty face, with nice skin. She was wearing knee-length cut-off shorts, a black tshirt with a colourful graphic on the front that matched her turquoise converse. She wasn’t stick-thin but she wasn’t chubby by any means. She was just...normal. She had two earbuds stuck in her ears.

 She picked up a bag of Doritos, a purple Monster energy drink and a pack of Stride Spearmint gum. When she brought it to the counter I pointed at her ear and said

 “What are you listening to?”

 She cocked her head and looked at me for a second, as if sizing me up, then she said

 “Nothing. People are just less likely to try and make conversation with me if I have them in.”

 Something told me I should have been at least a little bit offended by that, but I wasn’t at all. I just felt like I had passed some secret character test. She left the store and I was left shaking my head.

 “Weird chick.” I thought, and that was the last I thought of it, until she became a recurring presence. She came back every now and then for her purple Monster and  Stride Spearmint, though the junk food varied, sometimes chocolate, sometimes candy, sometimes chips.

 Around mid-July when I was selling popsicles and soft serves to droves of sticky, smiling children, she started coming in at 7 in workout clothes. She stopped buying junk food then too. It was around this same time that Purple-Monster-Girl met Lifesavers-Guy. She happened to come later that day, and both of them approached my counter with their usual purchases at the exact same time. Sometimes, replaying the scene in my head, it strikes me that it’s just like a movie. He stepped back like a gentleman and gestured for her to go ahead of him. She just looked up at him, right in his eyes and almost literally glowed at him, like, her smile looked like he was a child who had just said his first word. While I rang in her purple Monster and Stride Spearmint and she gave me the exact change without me asking her, Lifesavers-Guy asked her the pivotal question:

 “What are you listening to?”

 I looked at her quizzically. Would she be as honest with him as she was with me? She wasn’t. After a glance at me so fast it was almost imperceptible, she took one earbud out, smiled and lied. This is a perfect example of how people are themselves around me. She had no trouble admitting that she wasn’t really listening to music to the corner store cashier, but to this stranger, this boy, who might judge her, she had to lie.

 “Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

 And what a lucky lie. Lifesavers-Guy’s face lit up and they chatted eagerly all through his order, in which I had to tell him his total twice because he wasn’t paying attention the first time, and out the door. I could see them standing on the sidewalk outside the store. She laughed a lot and he smiled shyly, then they switched their phones and gave them back. I just grinned.

 As the days scorched and summer wore on, I sold a cool drink to every customer who walked in the store. August was giving us a beating this year. I stood behind my counter and watched harried fathers buying a box of cereal early in the morning, little old ladies buying tea bags and muffins, and people of all ages rushing in to pick up a card for various occasions and asking to borrow my pen. And I watched Purple-Monster-Girl and Lifesavers –Guy. Not in a creepy way, I mean when they came in the store. Sometimes, if he was alone, he bought Stride Spearmint or a purple Monster with his traditional order, or she bought Nestea or Lifesavers to accompany her drink and gum. Purple-Monster-Girl’s early morning workouts seemed to be working for her too, because the soft curves of June has transformed to taut, toned lines for August. As summer died with blazing red and orange sunsets, I saw them come in together sometimes holding hands. If one or both of them were in the store when Red Hot Chili Peppers came on the radio, I saw them smile like they shared some kind of secret. It obviously wasn’t such a huge secret if I was in on it, but nobody thinks of that.

 I guess they just felt special, as only new couples can. They were like a modern day Romeo and Juliet. Actually, scratch that. Let’s say they were like a modern day Beauty and the Beast. Not that either one of them was ugly and the other one was beautiful, I just think that story is infinitely more romantic than Shakespeare’s tragedy because it’s about seeing people for who they really are and looking past outward appearances. Anyway.

 The days grew shorter, the soft serve machine went into storage, and Purple-Monster-Girl, Lifesavers-Guy and I all went back to our respective schools for our last year. My time spent behind my corner-store counter was cut from seven days to two. But I still got visits from my favourite couple on the weekends. It was around the time that Crayola crayons and loose leaf were in big clearance bins at the front of the store, and big boxes of mini chocolate bars were on display that I saw Purple-Monster-Girl’s hair straightened for the very first time ever. She wasn’t wearing her workout clothes this Sunday. She was wearing shorts that were, in my humble opinion, too short. If not for the weather, at least for propriety. And she wore the same tshirt I had first seen her in. It hung on her differently now. It slipped right past her flat, toned stomach and didn’t even catch on her hips.

 And there was trouble in paradise for our neighborhood lovers. Or at least, that’s how I interpreted it. One chilly morning early November, I was organising a magazine rack and shaking my head at celebrities exploits when the two of them approached the store, seemingly in a heated discussion, judging from their faces through the glass. They stopped talking as soon as they entered the store. The tinny radio music couldn’t quite handle the oppressive silence, and only made it awkward when Red Hot Chili Peppers came on. I pretended to be totally absorbed in perfecting the magazine display, until they had paid for their items and left, still in silence.

 Chocolate Santas, chocolate Snowmen and chocolate Reindeer were flying off the shelves and we had our first snowfall. I smiled at all my customers and wished them a Merry Christmas as they left the store. The same five annoying Christmas songs played over and over the store speakers for a month straight, and everybody was jolly. And I watched tiny changes in Purple-Monster-Girl. Dark eyeliner rimming her eyes. A lower neckline than I’d ever seen her wear. Her hair was more often straight and more seldom wavy. She was still beautiful, but she packaged it more. She looked like beauty was no longer natural, but something she put on like a mask when she got up every morning. The day after school let out for Christmas vacation, they came in together, looking happy again. He kept his arm around her waist, not possessively, just kinda chillin there, like he was supporting her, or protecting her. And I saw the way he set his jaw.

 New Year’s Day the corner store was open. It closed only Christmas Day and two other forced holidays under the labor law. Anyway, I sold a lot of Advil, Tylenol, Coffee and Gatorade that morning. I didn’t try to make conversation with those customers, I just kind of smiled gently at them. One such girl laid a box of Advil on the counter with a purple Monster energy drink and a pack of Stride Spearmint gum. She didn’t really resemble the one who came in five months ago and told me there was nothing coming through her earbuds. Her whip straight hair had been highlighted with caramel streaks. That looked great to me. What didn’t look great was the tank top that looked two sizes too small and the painted-on jeans which revealed stick arms and legs and a waist so tiny it looked like it would fit between my finger and thumb. I stared at her for a few seconds in wonderment. There were dark circles under her eyes and her cheekbones had become very defined. I passed her her plastic bag of three items and wondered who she had kissed at midnight.

 It evidently wasn’t her boyfriend. No more did they enter the store together or buy each other’s items. Red Hot Chili Peppers on the radio elicited a stony face from him and...nothing from her, no recognition whatsoever. A week after we went back to school I watched Lifesavers-Guy stalk resolutely past the Monster cooler and refuse to let his gaze wander to the gum display next to the counter. I didn’t make any eye-contact with him as I rang in his Nestea and Lifesavers.

 The following month saw weather as cold and blustery as the night the enchantress sought refuge in the Prince’s castle. Business was slow. I sold contact solution, Benadryl, Root Beer and Reese’s Pieces. At home, I did homework and I started watching Beauty and the Beast again, to relive my childhood. I only saw the beginning before I fell asleep though. I saw the Beast shut himself up in his tower, ashamed at his own appearance, despising himself and repulse any human companionship. I felt bad for him. After all, who said he was ugly? Only society’s socially constructed ideas of “beauty” made him think that. It only took the right person to see the real him, and to see how beautiful he actually was. But I digress.

 Lifesavers-Guy came to the store less, probably because Purple-Monster-Girl still visited faithfully to get her energy drink and gum. She never put food with it, but I did get a few surprises. One morning I was just listening to 10-year-old Jess tell me about the latest Nancy Drew mystery she had read, in between mouthfuls of Skittles. Purple-Monster-Girl slipped in somewhere around the falling action. After Jess left, Purple-Monster-Girl placed her traditional energy drink and gum on the counter and then plopped down beside it a box of condoms. I said nothing, just looked at her. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. I rang through her order in what was supposed to be disapproving silence but I don’t know if she got the vibe. That was Saturday. The next morning I sold her more Advil.

 Three weeks later it was uncommonly crowded in my tiny store. Purple-Monster-Girl was coming in as Lifesavers-Guy was going out. Manoeuvering around her, he placed his hand ever so lightly in the small of her back, an unconscious, tender touch, but drew it back suddenly as though stung. A moment later she turned around to get her Monster from the cooler and I could see why. Her thin, tight shirt revealed every vertebrae in her back in sharp relief, clearly visible through flesh and fabric. I looked at her with sad eyes. She wasn’t the normal girl she was in June. Seven months had transformed her into an entirely different person, one who was quite evidently underweight. One who...was buying a pregnancy test. Heaven help us. I glanced quickly at her face, but her gaze was focussed somewhere past my left ear. I could only hope that I didn’t see her back here in nine months buying baby formula. After THAT experience, I examined all the labels on our condom boxes, and concluded that she should have bought the ultra-strong ones. They were 98.2% effective, which is a whole 1.2% more effective than the normal kind, but my faith in them was shattered forever.

 The next Saturday, everbody was buying boxes of Barbie valentines and candy hearts and Hershey kisses. But not Purple-Monster-Girl. I caught myself staring at her stomach, looking for a bump. I knew it was too soon, but I did it unconsciously anyway. She just looked as shrunken as ever to me. However, to my immense relief, this shopping trip featured a box of tampons. I actually had to restrain myself from sighing in relief.

 The ides of March rolled around and a lot of green was on sale everywhere. I saw garlands of four leaf clover and plastic cut-outs of leprechauns and the young and middle-aged elementary school teachers who bought them for their classrooms. And quite suddenly, Purple-Monster-Girl disappeared. Saturday morning when the bell tinkled I didn’t even look up, until I heard a much heavier footfall than what I was used to, and beheld a strange man in a suit buying Pepsi and a muffin. I waited and waited and waited. The end of my four-hour shift came and still no sign of her. Nobody made any utterance of where she was. They didn’t need to.

 Near the end of March, I served a woman whom I had never seen before. It wouldn’t be weird to me because I do that all the time, except for a striking resemblance to a girl who used to come in here all the time, and the fact that she was buying a purple Monster energy drink and a pack of Stride Spearmint gum. And did I mention this corner store JUST HAPPENED to be just over the hill to the hospital? The woman’s hair was disheveled and she bore unmistakable signs of fatigue in the shadows under her eyes and the droop of her shoulders. She spoke in hushed tones to the woman standing next to her, whom I assumed was her sister of friend. Completely unintentionally, I caught snippets of their conversation. “ ...still refusing to eat...heartrate dangerously low...better in time for prom...” As I handed her her receipt, I smiled at her and wished her a good day as sincerely as I could.

 That night, I tried to finish watching Beauty and the Beast but I only got as far as the dance in the ballroom and Belle wearing her beautiful yellow dress. I reflected that yellow doesn’t look good on many people. In the meantime, I knew the rose in the tower of the castle was wilting. Time was running out. This Beauty felt more like the Beast and I didn’t know if she would get to dance with her prince. This story of a girl and boy is shaping up more like a Shakespearian tale than a Disney movie after all.

 A couple weeks later, I looked up to see a tall, dirty-blonde boy enter the corner store. He didn’t pick up Nestea and Lifesavers this time. He went straight to the Monster cooler and picked out a purple one, then a pack of Stride Spearmint gum, then on the counter next to them he placed a greeting card. There was a cartoon Teddy bear on the front with a bandaid on his head and big bold letters above it: “Get Well Soon!” I wanted to say something, but what would I say?

 “I’m sorry your ex-girlfriend who dumped you because she’s sick and whom you’re obviously still in love with is in the hospital”

 Yeah, no, that’s a little creepy.

 I thought for a second, then threw caution to the winds and just said

 “How is she?”

 He looked up as though mildly surprised that I was speaking to him, and took a minute to process my question.

 “She’s doing better than she was.”

 I nodded. “That’s good.”

 Then he left.

 I remember clearly Saturday, April 28th Lifesavers-Guy came in my store again. He didn’t buy a single thing, just marched straight the counter and said

 “Can I show you something?”

 I was completely taken aback and slightly apprehensive. In the past, such a question had precipitated photos of cats in various attitudes of idleness, of school portraits of grandchildren, but I didn’t know what to expect from this teenager.

 “Sure.”

 He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. It was of a couple under an arch decorated with swaths of white tulle and flowers. He wore dress pants, dress shirt, vest and tie and she wore a beautiful yellow dress, a perfect fairy tale dress. I recognized the dark hair with caramel highlights and the smile I had seen the day they met – the same glowing smile like a child had said their first word. She still looked skinny but I could see signs of returning curves, like back in June when I described her as “Very Normal.”

 “That was at her prom last Saturday.” He said.

 I looked up at him. “She’s beautiful.”

 He smiled. “I know.”

 That night I went home and finally finished watching Beauty and the Beast.  As Belle and her Prince kissed at the end and fireworks went off, I reflected on how thankful I am that there are people in this world who know true beauty when they see it.

 You know that moment – when you step off the schoolbus in the afternoon, or when you shut your bedroom door behind you, or lie in bed at night, and just breathe deeply, finally completely alone – you know the person you are in that moment? That’s the real you, with all your true hopes and dreams and values. Nobody can watch you or judge you, or tell you what to do or who to be. You should be that person more often. Who cares what anybody thinks? Because I can promise you there is somebody out there who will love the true you. 

"How the Media Failed Women in 2013," courtesy of Miss Representation. This is mind-boggling and you must watch it right now.

Your answer about suffering was beautifully written! I'm actually curious, you said that suffering is unnatural, that it isn't a part of this world since God loves us. Could you elaborate a bit on that?

thank you!! suffering is unnatural: God did not make the world with suffering in mind. he also did not make the world with death in mind. last year i took a course on death and this was the consistent theme in it: death is not natural, because God did not create the world with death in mind, he did not create death, but rather death is imported into creation after the fact, by creation, by our choice. it is the same with suffering. when the world is created, God declares it טוב, tov, what scripture calls "good." God makes the world with this in his mouth. among other things, tov means agreeable and sensorially pleasant, ethically good, well knowing, valuable, better (than another thing), capable of pleasure, morally good, ethical goodness. the creative word exits the mouth of God and brings creation into being and it is good, so good is incapable of suffering because suffering does not exist. suffering is a human creation. if we believe that the real is God, then suffering is not part of the real: the real is goodness, which is God, and it is incapable of being inhabited by suffering. suffering enters the real through our own experience, as suffering enters the world through human choice. this is the profundity of the crucifixion: that God, the real, chooses to endure suffering, when he is so far from the concept of suffering that he is incapable of creating it. he is capable of loneliness, though. which is suffering in its own way. and isn't that the root of all suffering? loneliness? but that's not the point of suffering being unnatural. God was also not lonely until he created a creation to miss.

I just saw this ad playing before a youtube video and I had to stop and watch the whole thing. Incredible.

Plot twist: as a christian, homophobia offends and appalls me far more than homosexuality ever could.

I’ve always had trouble with this idea of “hearing from God.” I always side-eye those super A+ put-together Christians who were hearing from God every week, and somehow I was outside the door of some secret club where God was throwing around fortune cookies full of His life-changing secrets.Let’s consider that God does speak to us every week. Let’s consider photosynthesis, the spinning of atoms, the burning of stars, the breath we just breathed, your child’s messy drawing, the twitching of your neurons to fire off emotions, a hug from your best friend. Let’s consider the sustaining of our molecules, which is purely by His grace. Let’s see all we are missing when our eyes are locked on a screen when the world is unrolling around us, as God makes His glory known through nature and coincidence. Let’s consider Christ, who is God’s spoken word and His very own glorious radiance (Hebrews 1:2-3). Let’s consider that God is already within the silence, and that even when we do not “feel” Him, God is okay with this too.

J.S. from this post (via yesdarlingido)