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.
A Jew, a Christian and a Buddhist tell about their lives as trans people, and invite new understanding of spirituality by presenting the deeply religious question: "Who Am I?"
It's funny to think back on the early days of my relationship with John and realize how important sex was to us both then. It's hard to imagine that was even us. Today, we haven't had sex since early 2008.
Proof-texting is an intentionally deceptive practice that offers out of context proof while ignoring the greater witness of scripture and any other evidence that might rufute the desired (and predetermined) theological conclusion.
When I stood in the crowd with my pink glasses and suit, I understood the purpose of my life. That I was born into a world where I loved my mamma, and I loved my gay dad and I loved my cowboy uncle. That's what love is about, knowing that none of us are so different that we don't share something.
Confession time. Yes, LGBT people are absolutely making a choice. They are choosing to be the most honest, authentic versions of themselves. The only relevant choice for straight Christians is whether we are willing to examine both our personal opinions and our theology accordingly. The choice is ours.
As an intersex Christian theologian subjected to "reparative" therapies both medically and psychologically for decades, I invite Christians to consider ancient Christian leader Archbishop of Hippo and "Church Father" St. Augustine's view back in the early fifth century.
I am proud that my church was one of the first to express concern and take action. And I'm happy the legislature and governor listened to us and changed the law.
It makes me squirm that we are still talking about this, that a straight woman is being asked to discuss whether or not her gay sisters and brothers should or should not be granted their basic civil rights.
Could Jesus have been gay? This is not a new question for many theologians, and certainly not for me. I've played the central role in Terrence McNally's gay passion play Corpus Christi for the past nine years now. And with that exploration has come this beautiful yin and yang of backlash and catharsis that has transcended art and completely transformed my life as I knew it.
In the church, rejecting my sexuality and identity, I found a place; I found acceptance for the first time in years; I found friends who welcomed me, and all I had to do was sacrifice everything I was. I gave up my soul to find "God" in other people's acceptance.
Although not written to specifically target LGBT persons, there is now well-grounded concern that such laws will lead to increases in discrimination based on sexual orientation. What message are we sending to our children about their rights and their right to discriminate against others?
People who grow up being told that sex is only to happen between a man and a woman will quite naturally have discomfort about versions of sex that look different. But their discomfort does not mean that only hetero-sex is okay.
Good teeth. A sense of humor. Physically attractive. Can be trusted. Dresses well. Easy to talk to. These are some of the common features men and women say they look for in a partner. But new research is suggesting another overlooked quality may be a key to lasting relationships: humility.
Jesus arrives as a gay man of today in a modern city with "The Passion of Christ: A Gay Vision," a controversial series of paintings. The paintings and the new book that I wrote about them have been attacked as blasphemy by conservative Christians. But we refuse to concede Jesus to those who act like they own the copyright on Christ, then use him as a weapon to dominate others.
As an intersex person who recently transitioned from the female gender assigned at birth to a masculine one, healthier for me physically and psychologically, I have struggled in my relationship with the religious tradition in which I was ordained and taught university-level theology for two decades.