I haven't had much to say about Kim Davis and her disgusting war on the LGBT citizens of Rowan County, Kentucky. I haven't had much to say because there isn't much I can say.
I don't know if I will live to see the day when treating someone as less than based on their sexual orientation or gender identity is finally seen as a crime against humanity. That's what it is.
I can't tell you how many Rowan County, Kentucky teenagers have been harmed beyond repair in the last few months because the people in their lives, the people they are supposed to be able to turn to, are displaying their homophobia as if it were a badge of honor.
I can't figure out a way to explain it so that Huckabee can see beyond his hatred. And it is hatred with him. I am not using that word carelessly.
I don't have a magic wand or a secret solution to enlighten those who use Christ as a mechanism of oppression, as a weapon of mass destruction, as a tool for everything not Christ-like.
But what I do have, is the desire to continue to fight the fight. The strength to put the next foot in front of the last one. And the knowledge that the seeds I plant by trying to be an example of love-based activism have the potential to become the harvest of love-driven change the world so desperately needs to see.
In the meantime; somewhere in Rowan County, Kentucky; another LGBT young person is trying to decide if their life is worth living.
My heart is bleeding. My mind is screaming. My soul is pissed off beyond anything words can describe. So what can I say? Should I say that our children are dying? Should I say that some of the men who are running for president have blood on their hands?
And those damned words that Jesus spoke from the cross keep coming back into my consciousness. Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
And those damned words that Jesus spoke from the mountain side keep creeping back into my thoughts. Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.
I don't know how to do those things. There are too many tears in my eyes for me to see that right now.
But I know that the answer is love. I know that responding in kind only makes things worse. I know that responding with kindness is the right thing to do. My mother taught me not to say anything if I didn't have anything kind to say.
No, I haven't had much to say about Kim Davis and her disgusting war on the LGBT citizens of Rowan County, Kentucky. I haven't had much to say because there isn't much I can say.
I don't have a magic wand. I don't know how to explain it. I can't tell you how much damage is being done.
But what I do have, is the desire to continue to fight the fight. The strength to put the next foot in front of the last one. And the knowledge that the seeds I plant by trying to be an example of love-based activism have the potential to become the harvest of love-driven change the world so desperately needs to see.
Blessed be.