We both go to church. We both believe in Jesus. I am a Christian. You are something else. Such is the message I often hear from organized religion, and as a gay man and ex-fundamentalist, I find it divisive and presumptuous.
Robert Gates is not to blame that the ban on homosexual adult leaders was not addressed years sooner, but he must answer for the current plan that seeks to devolve anti-LGBT discrimination to all of those faith-based chartered organizations that might prefer to exclude LGBT parents. This is wrong and divisive.
In the nineteenth century, one way to measure whiteness was in distance from blackness -- and so it was with the Mormons. Over the course of the nineteenth century, they moved away from their own black converts toward whiteness.
I'm a long way from saying I've achieved this, but I'm far enough into it that I'm skeptical of the idea of achieving anything. If I give up all my lists and checkmarks, then where am I? Maybe I'm just where I'm supposed to BE.
Talking to a friend recently who was experiencing some serious doubt about her belief in God, I found myself saying, "Everyone has to give up the old God and find the real one."
The so-called religious freedom laws Republican wannabees seek are fig leafs for discrimination against gay couples. But should such laws become reality, they would go far beyond the ability of a Christian business to refuse to cater a gay wedding.
Struggling with my own limited capacity of faith, I nonetheless cling to the hope that Christ understands all pain, even this one. He was not a woman, but in the Garden of Gethsemane, part of the Atonement was his experiencing every kind of human suffering.
My 13-year-old daughter turned to me at one point and said, "One day I will tell my kids that I remember when gays and lesbians won the right to be married." I glowed. It was one of those moments when I could pat myself on the back, knowing I was a good parent.
Among those evangelical Christians leading the fight against marriage equality are the same people who were legally marginalized a mere 50 years ago and have still yet to receive full justice and equality in a white supremacist society.
The editorial finishes by warning readers that a key lesson to learn from this tragedy is to avoid of "the dangers of a rising secularism that would limit religious expression."
I will never look at Mormon missionaries the same way, the next time they come to my door.
Is it enough, white America? Is it enough to make us look at ourselves and wonder -- am I part of this problem? Am I doing anything to change racism? Will my children be part of a new problem or part of a solution? There is a particularly Mormon bent to this problem of racism.
In his early years before founding the Mormon church, Joseph Smith admitted that he sought after gold through magical means. Some might argue that his search for "magic" never ended, that the "golden plates" which he translated by use of seer stones in a hat were an extension of the same search.
I have begun to wonder if it might not be useful for Mormons to understand more clearly why so many people think of Mormonism as a cult. Are these reasons that are true and are things we embrace? Are they true and things we might want to change? Are they simply not true and things we need to correct people about?
Growing up in a very conservative religious environment, it turned our world upside down when our 13-year-old son came out to us. The learning curve was steep since we were coming from a place of almost total ignorance about all things LGBT-related.
I want to find every struggling gay Mormon child and cup their faces in my hands, and tell them how loved they are, AS they are.