Board Member, Reconciling Ministries Network

Siblings in Christ,

I rise to speak in favor of this resolution.

I rise, because, for me, this is not an abstraction. It is personal.

I am a transgender man. I am also a United Methodist pastor. There was a time when I did not believe those two realities could coexist. I knew the gifts God had given me. I knew the call I had heard. But I also knew the fear of rejection, exclusion, and wondering whether there would be a place for me in the church I loved. And those fears came to life when I began my transition from female to male in 2016, while I was serving on staff as laity at a United Methodist Church in Florida. After promising their full support for my transition - the clergy couple co-pastors came to my house after church, the Sunday following my top surgery - as I sat there with surgical drains hanging at my sides, this couple, who had served communion at our wedding just one year prior, sat on my lanai and in front of my beloved wife, as our daughters napped - told me the church just wasn’t ready. They gave me the option to resign or be fired, and if I resigned there would be a severance check. They were willing to pay me a significant amount of money to go away, rather than back up the beliefs they proclaimed with their actions.

Suddenly, our ability to finalize the adoption of our girls was at risk, as I was now unemployed. Would I be able to find another job while in the middle of my transition? Where would we worship and where would we find community, when we had relocated there for the sole purpose of being in ministry with a church that had promised the whole of its support for exactly who we were.

There was, at that time, no ability for me to challenge this discrimination - after all, the conference office was stroking the severance check given in exchange for me signing the separation agreement they had crafted.

Our faith begins with the conviction that every person is created in the image of God. The question before us is whether transgender, non-binary, and gender-diverse people will hear that promise from us—not only in our words, but in our actions.

This resolution affirms what our denomination has already recognized: that gender identity is not a barrier to ministry, leadership, or participation in the life of the church.

I stand before you today because people in this conference and throughout this denomination chose courage over fear. They chose welcome over exclusion. They chose to trust that God’s grace is bigger than their uncertainty.

And because they did, I have had the privilege of preaching the gospel, welcoming new members into God’s church, sitting beside hospital beds, burying the dead, serving communion and so much more. My inboxes still fill weekly with hateful sentiments and proclamations that I am a heretic and an abomination.

But God calls me and all of my trans and gender nonconforming siblings: beloved.

I am not asking you to make a political statement. I’m asking you to uphold your baptismal vows to resist evil, injustice and oppression in all its forms.

I am asking you to support for the teenager wondering if God still loves them.

For the fearful parent trying to keep their child safe.

For the person who has given up on the church because they have only heard rejection.

And yes, for people like me, who have discovered that God’s call remains steadfast and God’s love remains true.

If we are created in God’s image, as we claim to believe, then the more diverse we are gathered around any table, the more full a picture of who God is, we get to see.

Friends, this resolution is an opportunity to proclaim with both our words and our witness that every person is of sacred worth, deserving of dignity, protection, and belonging.

Thank you.

Tomorrow, I have top surgery. Right now, I am swirling with all the emotions of that reality. The feelings are overwhelming, probably fueled by the fact I had to stop taking estrogen weeks ago after having it in my system for the last four years. Nothing like a hormone crash right before surgery.

I am feeling gratitude, fear, relief, disbelief, joy, and awe that this is really happening.

In 2010 I ran my first marathon and remember standing at the start line I kept repeating the line out loud, “holy s**t, this is actually happening.” That is how I feel today.

This feels like a threshold.

It feels like I am stepping into something I never thought was possible. I can remember not that long ago looking at pictures of trans women on social media and thinking none of this would be possible for me. I never imagined that I could have long hair and painted nails. Something like top surgery felt as realistic as winning the Boston marathon. Something I would love to do, but not in the realm of possibility for me.

I lived with a quiet, persistent fear that if I stepped into my truth, I would lose everything. That the church would turn its back on me. That my family would not understand. That I would have to choose between authenticity and safety.

That fear was real. It shaped how I moved through the world.

And yet, here I am.

This may be the last major step in my gender transition. That carries its own significance. Not as an ending, but as a metamorphosis that has been unfolding for years.

My family did not disappear. My sons have been my greatest allies and even my mom responded to a picture of me wearing implants by saying how nice I looked.

The church did not universally reject me. In many places, it opened its arms wider. Today I have become one of the leading voices for Trans justice in the global denomination. I’ve published one book on transgender faith and have another on the way.

There is a part of this journey that I can hardly put into words. Eighty-three different people donated to my gofundme. People who gave what they could so that I could access a surgery my insurance would not cover. Eighty-three acts of grace.

This is not just fundraising. This is community.

This is people saying to me, your life matters. Your wholeness matters. You matter.

This surgery is not something I am doing alone. Even though it is my body, my decision, my journey, it has never been just mine. This is what it looks like when a community journeys together. When people celebrate one another. When they refuse to let someone carry the weight of becoming on their own.

What I am stepping into tomorrow has been made possible by grace. Not abstract grace, but embodied grace. Grace that looks like a donation notification. Grace that looks like my phone blowing up today with words of encouragement. Grace that looks like someone not only choosing to stand with me, but taking action to help me grow.

I am overwhelmed by that.

This moment is not just about changing my body. It is about witnessing what is possible when fear does not get the final word. When we give God the space to move. God loves me too much to have left me in my self-loathing but has worked through community to make transformation happen.

Every Sunday at Church for All People we say God loves us just the way we are and God is not finished with me yet. Today, that statement is everything.

In scripture, grace is often described as gift. Something unearned, something given freely, something that transforms us. I am seeing that so clearly right now. Every person who gave, every person who supported, every person who is praying for me, they are part of that grace.

They are part of my becoming.

So today, on the eve of this surgery, I am holding all of it. The past version of me who could not imagine this. The present moment that feels almost too big to fully take in. And the future that is opening up on the other side of tomorrow.

In this moment, I am giving thanks.

Thanks for a body that has carried me this far. Thanks for a community that refused to let me walk alone. Thanks for a God whose grace keeps showing up in ways I never could have predicted.

Tomorrow, I step into something new.

Today, I pause here.

In awe.

In gratitude.

In the presence of a grace that has brought me all the way to this moment.

This is not the completion of a transition, but the beginning of living fully into my givenness, into joy.

For too long we have treated struggles as isolated, as if racism has nothing to do with economic injustice, as if transphobia has nothing to do with patriarchy, as if the marginalization of immigrants has nothing to do with nationalism. But the truth is, these forces are interconnected, and so must be our resistance.

The church, if we are honest, has struggled to live into this truth. For the last sixty years, we have watched a steady decline in church participation. Sanctuaries that were once full now echo with emptiness. Programs shrink, budgets tighten, and anxiety grows. It can feel like we are standing in the valley described in Ezekiel 37, surrounded by dry bones. Bones that once lived, once moved, once had purpose, now scattered and lifeless.

But God asks Ezekiel a question that echoes to us today, “Can these bones live?”

Ezekiel wisely responds, “O Lord God, you know.”

Because the answer is not simple. The bones cannot live if we keep doing what we have always done. The bones cannot live if we continue to center the same voices, protect the same power structures, and exclude those whom Jesus consistently drew near to. The bones cannot live if we are afraid of transformation.

But the Spirit of God does something unexpected. God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones, to speak life where there is none, to call forth connection where there is fragmentation. Bone to bone, sinew to sinew, flesh upon flesh, breath entering where there was only emptiness.

And what if the new life of the church depends on that same kind of reassembly? What if the Spirit is calling us not to preserve what was, but to become something new by centering those who have been pushed to the margins? What if immigrants, queer people, people of color, people living in poverty, the disabled, those long excluded, are not a threat to the church’s future but the very breath of life we have been missing?

Intersectionality is not just a social theory. It is a spiritual truth. Because the body of Christ has never been whole when parts of the body are cut off.

This is where the story of Lazarus in John 11 speaks so powerfully to us. Jesus arrives at the tomb of his friend, who has been dead for four days. The grief is real. The loss is heavy. Jesus weeps.

And yet, Jesus calls out, “Lazarus, come out.”

And Lazarus does. Still wrapped in grave clothes, still bound, still not fully free, he comes out of the tomb.

This is a coming out story. The courage it takes to step into the light, to emerge from what has confined you, to be seen for who you truly are. For many LGBTQ people, that moment of coming out is deeply resonant with Lazarus stepping into the open air.

But the story does not end there.

Because Jesus then turns to the community and says, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Lazarus cannot remove the grave clothes on his own. He cannot fully free himself. His liberation requires the participation of the community. It requires people willing to come close, to touch what others might avoid, to do the sacred and uncomfortable work of unbinding.

This is intersectionality in action. Liberation is not an individual act. It is communal. It is interconnected. As Martin Luther King Jr. described, we live in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.

I have seen that truth in my own life.

In less than a month from now I will be having top surgery. My insurance will not cover this necessary surgery, but in their absence I have experienced the power of interconnected community in a tangible way. More than 70 people have contributed to my gofundme. This is not just financial support. That is a community saying, “We see you. We believe in your wholeness. Let us unbind you.”

Each donation is an act of solidarity. Each gift is a declaration that my freedom is bound up with theirs. That my ability to live authentically is not mine alone, but something we create together.

That is what the church is called to be.

Not a place where people are told to fix themselves before they belong. Not a place where only certain identities are centered and celebrated. But a place where we recognize that we need each other. That our liberation is intertwined. That the Spirit breathes life into dry bones when we come together across our differences and commit to justice that includes everyone.

Intersectionality invites us to ask deeper questions. Who is missing from our tables? Whose voices have we ignored? Whose bodies have we deemed unwelcome? And what would it look like to not just include them, but to center them?

Because when those who have been marginalized are brought to the center, something transformative happens. We begin to see more clearly. We begin to love more fully. We begin to embody the kind of community that Jesus was always creating.

The valley of dry bones is not the end of the story. The tomb of Lazarus is not the end of the story. Decline, death, and despair do not have the final word.

The Spirit is still moving. The voice of Christ is still calling. And the invitation is still before us, to come out, to unbind one another, to participate in a liberation that is as expansive as God’s love.

So may we have the courage to embrace intersectionality not as a threat, but as a gift. May we see in one another the interconnected web of mutuality that binds us together. And may we become a community where dry bones rise, where the bound are set free, and where new life emerges in ways we never imagined possible.

Amen.

My name is Rev Dr Joelle Henneman, my pronouns are she/her, and I am the pastor of the United Methodist Church for All People here in Columbus Ohio. I preach the good news, I care for people who live in poverty, and I speak across Ohio, and nationally, about faith, justice, and compassion.

I am here today because Ohio House Bill 249 could make my ministry a crime.

HB 249 restricts adult cabaret performances from places “where minors may be present.” This bill is worded so broadly that it defines adult cabaret performers as those who, “exhibit a gender identity that is different from the performer’s or entertainer’s biological sex using clothing, makeup, prosthetic or imitation genitals or breasts, or other physical markers.” This definition could be used to include me preaching on a Sunday morning, providing pastoral care during the week, or sitting before you today.

Under the language of HB 249, someone could claim that my presence itself is an adult performance simply because I am a transgender woman standing in front of an audience.

If a child is present, the bill could expose me to criminal charges.

That is not a theoretical concern. The bill’s language is broad and ambiguous. It does not clearly distinguish between theatrical drag performances and the everyday public presence of transgender people. When legislation is written this broadly, it invites selective enforcement and legal uncertainty.

This bill sends a message to transgender people that their presence in public spaces is unwanted. Last year, after a worship service, a transgender woman in attendance shared with me that until she saw me she did not know a transgender woman could be a pastor or in any kind of leadership position. My presence led her to see herself and her potential differently. This bill would do the opposite. It tells people like me that our calling to serve our communities may be treated by the state as something indecent if our gender identity does not conform to someone else’s expectations.

Throughout American history, laws about morality have often been used to silence marginalized voices. They have been used against Black ministers who challenged segregation, against women who sought the right to vote, and against LGBTQ people whose lives were labeled obscene simply for existing.

HB 249 risks repeating that pattern.

Children deserve safety and protection. In the United Methodist Church we take this seriously through our mandated Safe Sanctuaries program. But this bill does not protect children. Instead, it creates a vague legal framework that could criminalize people based on who they are rather than what they do.

One of the central truths of the Christian faith is that every person is created in the image of God. This comes from the creation story in Genesis 1:26 that states, “God said, “Let us make humans in our image, according to our likeness.” This bill sends a message to transgender people that their presence is obscene, that my speaking about God before you today is obscene.

That includes me as a transgender woman and my friends who are drag performers. Drag does not equate to nudity or erotica. In preparing for this testimony I could not find one instance of a drag performer harming a child in Ohio.

Because of this, every person has sacred value and divine worth and deserves the freedom to live honestly and safely in the world. In our call to worship at Church for All People we confess every week, “No matter who we are or what we have done, we are all beloved children of God.”

HB 249 threatens that dignity by turning identity into suspicion; and, public presence into criminality.

I ask this committee to consider the real consequences of this legislation for transgender Ohioans.

Do not pass this bill that would further criminalize our identity.

Thank you for your time and your consideration

The court allowed West Virginia to exclude gender-affirming surgery from Medicaid, arguing that banning a category of procedures is not discrimination against transgender people.

That logic opens the door for governments to remove coverage for gender-affirming care altogether.

the political movement behind this is clear. Leaders connected to The Heritage Foundation have openly said the goal is to outlaw transgender care, even for adults.

I have already experienced this personally. My medical insurance is with TriCare as I am a military veteran of 20 years. As it is, TriCare does not cover costs for gender affirming surgeries, such as the top surgery I am having in a month. Soon I will be losing access to having my hormones covered.

Empire has always relied on scapegoating and fear enforced with violence.

Today that violence is written into policy and court decisions that decide whose bodies deserve care.

Transgender justice is not a niche issue. Trans healthcare is healthcare.

This moment is a test of whether we believe every person bears the image of God, worthy of having a full life, and deserving of access to healthcare.

And yet it is to her that Jesus reveals something profound.

The text says the woman believed him. Later, many Samaritans also believe because of her testimony. The Greek word behind “believe” is pisteuō.

Pisteuō does not mean believing certain facts are true. It does not mean agreeing with the correct doctrines or signing onto the right creed. At its heart, pisteuō means to trust, to rely upon, to place confidence in someone.

Over time, much of Christianity shifted the meaning of belief into an intellectual agreement. Faith became defined by whether one confessed the right understanding about God. Even salvation has been conditionally tied to belief as correct understanding.

But that is not what pisteuō means. pisteuō is trust built from relationship.

For people who have been pushed to the margins, the difference between belief as intellectual correctness and belief as relational trust is enormous.

If faith is primarily about agreeing to the right set of facts, then institutions become gatekeepers. They decide who is orthodox enough to belong. But if faith is about trust, then something else happens.

Trust grows in relationship. Trust is mutual. Trust cannot be coerced or forced through fear. It is built through being fully seen, fully known, and fully loved.

The woman at the well trusted Jesus because he saw her and treated her as an equal conversation partner.

He listened to her questions.

He did not silence her voice.

And in that moment of mutual recognition, belief grew from relationship.

That is the kind of faith that can transform lives and transform communities.

#lentphotoaday

OF WHOM THE WORLD WAS NOT WORTHY

A Sermon for Transgender Day of Remembrance

Hebrews 11:1–16

Good afternoon. My name is Joelle Henneman, my pronouns are she/her, I serve as a pastor at the United Methodist Church for All People, and am on the socials @TransPreacher.

Thank you for inviting me to speak today, as this week we honor Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day carved out of the pain of witnessing God’s vulnerable children killed. A day when we speak aloud the names of those taken by violence: violence that is physical, political, spiritual, and too often justified by distorted interpretations of the faith we love.

Yet we do not gather only to grieve.We gather to proclaim something far more subversive.

We gather to declare that transgender lives are sacred, beloved, Spirit-filled.We gather to say that gender diversity is woven into the creativity of God.We gather to honor the gifts that transgender people bring into this world—gifts so radiant that, as Hebrews 11 says, we are those “of whom the world was not worthy.”

One of those who died in the last year was my friend, Meka Shabaaz.

A transgender woman who danced in churches and community centers across Columbus.

A woman who sought to share her joy with others by teaching dance classes.

A woman who this world rejected because of the color of her skin and her gender expression. She was truly one for whom this world was not worthy.

Through my friend Meka, I have seen how the world often reacts with fear, with cruelty, with violence toward those who dare to live outside its anxious norms. But scripture reminds us that faith itself has always been the heart of living beyond what the world can understand.

The author of Hebrews writes, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

Faith is not certainty.Faith is not conformity.Faith is not fear of difference.

Faith is the assurance of something beyond the world we know, the conviction of something the world has not yet recognized.

And isn’t that the story of every transgender person who has ever lived?

Before some of us had words for who we were, we carried a conviction of things not seen.

We lived with the assurance of something hoped for: a truer self, a fuller life, a name to call our own, an external expression that matched the internal spirit God creates us with.

This is not unlike the faith of Abram and Sarai, who God renamed to Abraham and Sarah, who set out “not knowing where they were going.” They trusted the inner call, the divine whisper, the identity not yet visible to the world around them. They were willing to journey into a future that contradicted everything others expected of them.

Transgender people understand that kind of faith.We practice it every day.

To transition is to step into the unknown.To live authentically is to risk rejection.To claim your truth is to challenge the world’s assumptions.

And because we embody that kind of faith, some call us dangerous.Some call us unholy.Some call us a threat to the “order” of things.

But Scripture calls us something entirely different:

People of faith.People who walk by courage, not by sight.People who prepare the way for worlds not yet imagined.

I have seen my transgender siblings so much in the example of Hebrews 11, that I wrote a TRANSlation of this scripture, naming our trancestors, their contributions to the world, and their rejection.

Here is my Hebrews 11 parahprase:

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of dignity not yet seen. By faith our transcestors bore witness, and through their courage we now stand.

By faith Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson stood at Stonewall, casting out fear and shame, declaring that trans people belong. Though scorned and rejected, their love birthed movements of liberation.

By faith Lou Sullivan told the world that gay trans men exist, insisting that one could be both transgender and queer, because of his witness, generations found language for their truth.

By faith Christine Jorgensen stepped into the public eye, bearing the weight of curiosity and ridicule, so that trans lives could no longer be hidden in silence.

By faith Leslie Feinberg gave us words, proclaiming that our struggle is holy and our survival a gospel of resistance.

By faith Miss Major carried the torch of Stonewall, nurturing trans women discarded by the world, lifting up Black trans women as prophets of survival.

By faith Monica Roberts, told the stories others ignored, naming our dead with dignity, proclaiming that Black trans lives matter.

By faith Miriam Rivera stood before the world unapologetic, declaring that trans is beautiful, teaching millions to see the image of God in us.

By faith Cecilia Chung fought for healthcare and justice, ensuring that trans women living with HIV were not forgotten but embraced.

By faith countless unnamed trans saints: sex workers, caregivers, artists, dreamers, laid down their lives so that we might live openly. And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Stormé DeLarverie, protector of her community, or Meka Shabaaz, who danced with joy around Columbus churches or Pauli Murray, priest and poet, whose vision of human dignity points us still toward freedom.

All of these died in faith, not having received the fullness of promise, but seeing it from afar, they greeted it. They confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on this earth, yet they made a way for us.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance the race set before us, casting off the weight of shame and the sin of self-hatred, looking to the One who made us in divine diversity, who for the joy set before them endured the cross of rejection, and now calls us beloved.

These trancestors, and the people whose names we read today, and the others who were killed for who they are, but whose names we do not know are those for whom the world was not worthy.

Not because they were perfect.Not because they were powerful.Not because they fit in.

The world was not worthy of them precisely because their existence exposed the limits of the world’s imagination.

How many transgender people have walked this earth and were never recognized for their brilliance?How many were saints whose compassion grew from suffering the world refused to see?How many were warriors for joy, beauty, embodiment, and truth—whose lives were cut short because the world could not handle the freedom they represented?

We remember them today.

We remember the Black trans women whose murders go unreported, unnamed, unmourned by the world that refuses to see their humanity.We remember the trans men, the nonbinary folks, the two-spirit relatives who dared to live honestly and paid with their lives.

Their deaths are not holy.Their suffering is not redemptive.Their violence is not God’s will.

But their lives—their lives were holy.Their presence was sacred.Their courage was prophetic.

And in the language of Hebrews, they were people “of whom the world was not worthy”—not because they were less, but because they were more.

More honest.More courageous.More imaginative.More reflective of the God who creates in infinite diversity.

Transgender people bring gifts that challenge the world to widen its heart.When I was working on my DMin I interviewed the Scottish playright, Jo Clifford who wrote a play called “Jesus: Queen of Heaven.” Jo said to me that she believed that God is doing a new work in the world through people like us, And, whenever God is doing something new, people and systems will resist.

But despite the political rhetoric of this year diversity is NEVER a mistake—it is a sacred manifestation of God’s creativity.

The God who not only made light and dark, but also dawn and dusk, did not suddenly run out of imagination when crafting humanity.The God who invented coral reefs, singing whales, and fractals did not intend human gender to be monochromatic.

Black holes and daisies exist in the same creation.So do trans women and cis men.Nonbinary folk and intersex folk

trans men and genderfluid people—all reflect the kaleidoscopic glory of the Divine.

When we embrace gender diversity, we are not stepping outside God’s creation—we are stepping deeper into it.

Psalm 139 says we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” or as I like to say “queerfully and wonderfully made”

But I wonder if we’ve underestimated how wonderful God truly is.

Transgender bodies are miracles of emergence.Transgender identities are revelations of authenticity.Transgender journeys are testimonies of resilience.

We are not lesser versions of humanity; we are living parables of transformation.

If the church cannot see that, then it is the church—not transgender people—that is in need of conversion.

Hebrews 11 tells the story of people who lived by faith, not conformity. And for that, they suffered.

The world has always been cruel to those who refuse to fit into the boxes it constructs.

The early Christians were killed for building a community that defied empire.The prophets were silenced for speaking truth to power.Jesus was crucified because he revealed a kindom the world wasn’t ready for.

And trans people today face violence for a similar reason:We reveal that God created gender to be as diverse as the rest of creation—and that terrifies a world built on the gendered controls of patriarchy, misogyny, and white supremacy.

Trans existence destabilizes social binaries.Trans joy undermines privilege.Trans community reveals that chosen family can be holier than inherited systems.

Violence is the tool of an unjust world that senses its power slipping.

So what does power do, it wields violence through

Legislative attacks.Bathroom bans.Healthcare restrictions.

Sports bans.

Passport restrictionsDehumanizing rhetoric.Which all lead to the physical violence that has taken the lives of our siblings who we remember today.

These are modern expressions of the same fear that led ancient rulers to persecute the prophets.

But:Fear has never been holy.Violence has never been righteous.Exclusion has never been the will of God.

We are called to be a people who make room for the faith-filled, the courageous, the expansive, and the free.

Let us honor the gifts transgender people offer—not abstractly, but concretely.

Trans People Bring the Gift of Authenticity: We take off the mask of what Carl Jung described as the false self and show our true self. Our lives teach the world that the antidote to despair is truth.

Trans People Bring the Gift of Imagination: We imagine possibilities beyond the binaries and boundaries the world insists on. We show that identity is dynamic, relational, alive.

Trans People Bring the Gift of Revelation: We reveal the fluidity already present in creation. We help the world see that God is still creating.

Trans lives are testimonies of faith—evidence of things not yet fully seen.

As a seminary community, as leaders of the church:

You have a choice.Will you become leaders who shrink back in fear,

Will you be like so many institutions who are eager to comply with legalized bigotry?or will you be leaders who step forward “by faith”?

Hebrews says that God is not ashamed to be called the God of those who seek a better country—a more just world.

The question is:

Will the church be that country?Will your ministries create that world?

Transgender people do not need saviors.We don’t even need allies.

We need accomplices.We need advocates.We need pastors who preach courage.We need leaders who will confront legislation, challenge exclusion, and create spaces where transgender people can not only survive but thrive.

We need a church that says not just “you are welcome,” but “you are celebrated; your existence reveals the nature of God.”

Hebrews 11 ends by telling us that the ancestors “did not receive what was promised,” like Dr King they did not make it to the mountain top, but their faith helped shape a world where the promise could be realized.

What future are we shaping for the people yet to come?

A future where their names are mourned,

or a future where their names are celebrated?A future where people hide,

or a future where people thrive?A future where people are erased,

or a future where people shine?

Faith is not passive.Faith builds.Faith disrupts.Faith refuses to accept the world as it is.Faith prepares the way for the world as it should be.

And that is the calling of this community—this seminary—this church.

Let us strive to be the people who do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly by faith.

Let us run the race with perseverance, so that we may be counted among those for whom the world is not worthy.

Amen.

Support the ministries of Church for All People with a gift to https://c4ap.churchtrac.com/give

This week violence has been written into law. Representative Nancy Mace has introduced an amendment to the Defense Authorization Bill that would prohibit TRICARE from covering gender-affirming care. That means people like me, military retirees, veterans, and our families, could lose access to the hormones and therapy that keep us alive. Perhaps this is the beginning of an across the board ban on transgender healthcare.

But she didn’t stop with policy. In her testimony offering this amendment, she called us “trannies, freaks, weirdos, and mentally deranged.” Those words are not just insults. They are weapons. Words like that give permission for violence. They tell the world that trans lives are disposable. And when lawmakers use them, they legitimize hatred.

Watch Nancy Mace’s introduction of this amendment at:

But here’s the truth: we are not freaks, we are not broken. We are human beings, beloved, sacred, created in the image of God. And no amendment, no slur, no attempt to erase us will change that.

This is the cycle: first they legislate us out of healthcare, then they legislate us out of public life, then they legislate us out of existence. But we resist by telling the truth about who we are: resilient, beautiful, and still here.

To my trans siblings who are scared right now: you are not alone. I am scared too. But, we will fight this together. We will support each other. I got a text from my friend Cassie last night that said “I saw they’re looking at going after Tricare again. Just wanted to reiterate that we’re here for you.”

We are here for each other.

We are not going anywhere.

We will not go gentle in to this dark night.

We will rise above.

But he is also remembered for something else. In the year 591, Gregory preached a sermon that forever changed how the church viewed Mary Magdalene. In his sermon, he identified Mary as a prostitute, conflating her with the unnamed woman who anointed Jesus’ feet. This was not based on the biblical text itself, but on his own interpretation and authority.

That act of misnaming and mischaracterizing has echoed through the centuries. Mary Magdalene, the first witness to the resurrection, the apostle to the apostles, was instead remembered by the church as “impure.” Her witness was diminished. Her truth was denied. Her story was rewritten.

This is not just about Mary. It is about the way the church has treated women for centuries, casting us as fallen, unworthy, or sinful, even while depending on our leadership and witness. It is about the way marginalized people are silenced when their truth threatens the authority of the powerful.

As trans and queer people, many of us know what it is like to be misnamed, misrepresented, and diminished. Like Mary Magdalene, we too have been called impure. But the gospel tells a different story. Mary was not defined by Gregory’s sermon. She was defined by Christ’s resurrection, by her role as the first to proclaim the good news: “I have seen the Lord.”

And so today, as we remember Gregory, we also remember the damage done when the church rewrites people’s stories to serve its own purposes. We choose instead to honor Mary Magdalene for who she truly was: apostle, witness, disciple, beloved of Christ. And we claim our own truth as fearfully, wonderfully, and gloriously made in God’s image.

by Trans Preacher

You call Me He

As if the whole of My being

Could be defined in one pronoun

As if Eternity fit into a suit

I am not your invention

I told Moses

From a bush that refused to be consumed,

I will be who I will be

Yet, you love the mask

and hide from the face behind it

You worship the portraits

but never see my wink

You do not know how it hurts

stretching across galaxies

weaving every chromosome

To hear you insist I am only one thing

I am the Morning and the Storm

The color outside your spectrum

Still you misgender Me

Like you name your ships and my hurricanes

Until you know all of who I am

You will never know

How deeply I love

All of who you are

Pete,

Let’s talk about fairness.

Because clearly,

the most unfair element of late stage capitalism

is a 14-year-old trans girl

trying to join her high school swim team.

Meanwhile—

Trans people are losing healthcare

While doctors are threatened with prison.

We are

banned from bathrooms,

kicked off sports teams,

fired for showing up to work

The Democratic Party,

the epitome of fairness,

Loses elections

by abandoning the base;

then scapegoats trans folks

for existing in public

Try fairness when you get pulled over for driving while trans,

Try fairness when a TSA agent asks what’s in your pants and in humiliation you respond, a penis,

Try fairness when no one will hire you for a job,

Try fairness when your boss misgenders you in front of your colleagues and doesn’t even realize it,

Try fairness when your tires are flattened and hate mail is sent to your home

What would fairness look like, Pete?

Fairness would look like trans youth not struggling with suicidal ideation,

Fairness would look like young, black trans women having a life expectancy longer than 35 years,

Fairness would look like laws passed to protect our rights instead of taking them away

We do have a serious fairness issue, Pete,

It is you

In the political world we live in today, we might feel vulnerable and want to hide our rainbow light. But Jesus says in Matthew 5:

You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.

We all have a light to shine.

Who we are in our multiple identities is a work of God’s creation. God made you who you are, beautiful and wonderful, and we are invited to shine with that light.

I love the phrasing of this translation: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world.

What is your God color? What is the particular part of the light spectrum that shines from you?

Beam with that God light.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine

* “Topless dancers”

* “Go-go dancers”

* “Exotic dancers”

* “Strippers”

* “Performers or entertainers who exhibit a gender identity that is different from the performer’s or entertainer’s biological sex using clothing, makeup, prosthetic or imitation genitals or breasts, or other physical markers.”

Sacred Indecency

For a long time, activists did not necessarily think that it mattered to take care of themselves; in terms of what they eat, in terms of mental self care, corporal self care, spiritual self care… I know that there were some people who emphasised it.. I’m thinking about one of the leaders of the Black Panther Party, Ericka Huggins, who began to practice yoga and medication in the 70’s, and she encouraged many people including Huey Newton and Bobby Seale to join that practice.. I think they did a little bit of it, but I think that movement would have been very different, had we understood the importance of that kind of self care. Personally, I started practicing yoga and meditation when I was in jail. But it was more of an individual practice; later I had to recognize the importance of emphasizing the collective character, of that work, on the self.

This book primarily looks at the gifts gender-diverse people bring to ministry. Instead of being defensive about who we are, this book asks questions like: what unique experiences have we had that particularly equip us to offer spiritual care? As a people who have distinctly experienced transformation, what voice can we offer to interpreting and proclaiming scripture? How do we bring ourselves to justice work and have a social media presence?

While the book focuses on equipping transgender people in ministry, at it’s core it is about exploring the gifts any of us bring into the world. The lessons of this book are not limited to gender-diversity and ministry, but authentically living out all of who you are.

TRANSitions is available in print and kindle editions at amazon. If you would like a free pdf version, message me and it is yours. My motivation in sharing this is for you to be able to express all of who you are.

Paraphrasing the theologian Howard Thurman, what the world needs now, is for you to come fully alive. I hope this book will help you to shine.

Saint Marina the Monk, also known as Marinos, is a lesser-known but powerful figure whose story resonates deeply within transgender history. Born in the 5th century in Lebanon, Marina was assigned female at birth but chose to live as a man in order to enter a monastery with their father. Adopting the name Marinos, Marina lived as a monk for many years, their identity accepted by fellow monks.

Marina’s life challenges reflects a historic example of gender variance being lived authentically—even within a religious context. When falsely accused of fathering a child, Marina did not reveal their assigned gender and accepted the punishment in silence, embodying a deep spiritual and personal conviction. Only upon death was Marina’s sex discovered, leading to the veneration of a life marked by devotion and humility.

Though historical interpretations vary, some in the transgender community see Saint Marina as a symbol of resilience, spiritual dignity, and gender nonconformity. Their story provides a rare, early record of a life lived across gender boundaries, offering inspiration and reflection for those exploring or affirming their gender identities today.

Saint Marina stands as a testament to the complexity and endurance of transgender history across centuries.

ReplyForward

As a former historian myself, I want to go way back and highlight one of the earliest transgender people in recorded history,

Elagabulus served as a Roman emperor around 220 AD. Assigned male at birth, Elagabulus used female pronouns, including a quote attributed to her saying "call me not Lord, for I am a Lady". The emperor also preferred women’s clothing and make-up. She offered a large sum of money to anyone who could perform what we would call today gender affirming surgery. Medical practices at that day were not able to offer that operation and in the year 222 she was assassinated.

I find Elagabulus a fascinating person. Her gender expression was criticized as unmanly and unRoman. And yet, she lived her truth to the point of it costing her life.

This week, let us remember the contributions of the trancestors who came before us so that we can live fully.

Reintroduced this week, the proposed drag ban. But the actual name of the bill is, the Indecent Exposure Modernization Act.

Who is labeled indecent?

“Performers or entertainers who exhibit a gender identity that is different from the performer's or entertainer's biological sex using clothing, makeup, prosthetic or imitation genitals or breasts, or other physical markers”

So, basically anyone who publically performs wearing clothes different than their “biological sex”.

Let’s say, hypothetically, there was a person assigned male at birth… who is a pastor and a transgender woman… who preaches in a dress while wearing makeup… am I indecent?

Defining someone by their biological sex is indecent.

The bill defines biological sex as “sex chromosomes, naturally occurring sex hormones, gonads, and nonambiguous internal and external genitalia present at birth, without regard to an individual's psychological, chosen, or subjective experience of gender.”

This law legally defines a person by their gonads and then makes it a criminal offense to dress in a way culturally opposite of that, in disregard of who a person truly is, not by what they have between their legs, but who they are in their mind, heart, and spirit.

Representatives Angela King and Josh Williams, you are indecent.

But when we take off our masks, some will wish that we put the mask back on. Over the years I have had people say to me that they don’t understand who I am. Yesterday, I got a text from my mom saying the same thing.

I don’t understand what that means. I would not dismiss a woman of Color, a senior citizen, or a person from another country because that isn’t my experience. I wouldn’t tell someone different from me I don’t understand who you are. And yet, I hear this sentiment on the regular.

People not understanding who we are is particularly true for people who express their gender different than the societal norms and expectations—but it can be true for anyone.

It is okay for you to be what others don’t understand.

It is okay for you to be you.

Society wants people who fit neatly in to boxes. When we don’t fit others expectations, that can be jarring for them. But don’t limit yourself for someone else.

Be you

Be your wonderful self.

Be your beautiful self.

Be the unique person who you were created to be.

When you are authentic to who you are, you shine.

Don’t let anyone take your shine away—shine on!

For the last dozen years he challenged the church to be more loving to all people, more like the grace of God that knows no limits.

This morning I talked with a Roman Catholic friend of mine that worries for her, and other people’s, inclusion in the church. Pope Francis did a lot to recognize the sacred value of LGBT+ people. From asking, “who am I to judge” to sitting at tables and sharing meals with transgender Women of Color who are sex workers, Francis showed incredible courage.

When Pope Francis was asked about the risk he took in welcoming

“For this reason, I am not worried that some will throw in my face that I receive [transgender people] in the general audience on Wednesdays... The first time [the transgender group] came and saw me, they left crying, saying that I shook their hand, gave a kiss… As if I had done something exceptional with them. But they are daughters of God! [God] still loves you just like that, just the way you are. Jesus teaches us not to set limits.”

Pope Francis saw people like me as “daughters of God.”

Let us all work, in every place we find ourselves, to see each other as divine siblings. We can not exclude anyone if we see them as family.

I don’t know what will happen without Pope Francis leadership, but we can all work to make the church at least as inclusive as Jesus was.

Much of our lives are lived in the space between, liminal space The space of the now and the not yet The space between life and death. The space between the notes that shapes the music.

Yesterday, over 150 people gathered for Good Trouble Friday in Columbus, Ohio. Fourteen faith leaders spoke in a justice-oriented interpretation of the Stations of the Cross. People called out realities of food insecurity, Palastinian genocide, violence against Black trans women, racism, education, and other places where Christ is being crucified today.

We live in the space between the work for justice and its realization, the kingdom of empire and the kindom of God, a resurrected people still working for resurrection.

Sabreen Abu Obaid, MD, Baladna, Palestine Society of Columbus, prayed:

“We remember that Jesus, a Palestinian Jew under Roman occupation, was crucified by a state that feared the truth he carried. And still today, the rulers of the world crucify prophets in Congo, in Sudan, in Yemen, in Myanmar, on Native lands from Turtle Island to the Amazon— where resistance continues to rise in sacred defiance. From Ohio to Rafah, from East Palestine to the Jordan Valley, let Your justice roll down like waters, and Your righteousness like a mighty stream. May our remembrance today not end in mourning, but move us into holy disruption. May we tear down the systems that harm— racism, settler colonialism, capitalism, environmental plunder, and militarized greed— and raise up a new kin-dom where no one profits off the pain of another, a kin-dom rooted in dignity, repair, and collective liberation. Bless our elders who carry memory like fire. Bless our children who dream despite the ruins. Bless our artists, healers, dancers, and poets— for art is resistance, joy is resistance, and culture is a form of prayer. O Christ, may we carry Your cross not with resignation, but with fierce and tender love that dares to confront injustice. Let your resurrection not be a distant hope, but a living practice that begins in us—here and now. Let it rise through action, through community, through unwavering solidarity until every wall falls and every people taste freedom. Amen.”

The philosopher Rene Girard wrote that societies rely on a scapegoat. Girard argued that when social tensions arise, a scapegoat is identified and blamed, and violence is directed at them, which temporarily restores order.

Today is Good Friday. The day Jesus’ was unjustly executed. Jesus was sacrificed by the religious leaders of his day to maintain order and appease empire.

While we live on the other side of the cross and the empty tomb, scapegoating continues.

We scapegoat the immigrant who scripture calls us to welcome, we scapegoat the person in poverty who we are called to provide for, we scapegoat people of Color who reflect God’s image.

I never imagined that I would find myself amongst the scapegoated. I lived the first part of my life as a white, male American—the most privileged position on the planet.

Now, as a transgender woman, I have become the easy target of the day. I am the scapegoat.

This week the United Kingdom’s Supreme Court denied my existence.

The United States Secretary of Health and Human services said, ““I Will Discriminate Against Trans Persons, Because It’s Legal”

Today, faith leaders in Columbus, Ohio, will march around the Ohio State Capital which has blood on its hands for scapegoating transgender people—denying our existence, taking away access to healthcare, and forcing the outing of transgender youth.

If you are in Columbus, meet us at Trinity Episcopal Church at noon. Tomorrow, there will be protests in state capitals around the country.

If you want to know what they have done with Jesus’ body, stand with and for the scapegoated.

A wild God

When we look at creation we can see wildness in the connected roots of aspens, we can hear it in the cry of wolves, we can touch it in oceans tides. Untamed creation reflects an untamed creator.

In order to feel safe and in control we have tried to contain God and tame ourselves.

When we are young we are taught to sit quietly in rows and as adults we are told to keep our politics respectable.

But we were created to mimic the undefinable God. We were designed wild.

Today, let a bit of your feralness free.

Dance like no one is looking

Love without abandon

Sing lustfully

Wear something out of fashion

Draw or paint recklessly

Turn your car radio up loud

Twirl

Roll on the floor with your kid or pet

Wave at a stranger

Fly

Swim

Search for that faraway girl

Like the Wild God

The Wild You

In the first 10 weeks of the Trump presidency I saw their attacks against transgender people as a continuation of the distraction and scapegoating from the election cycle. But yesterday, their actions took a dark turn.

First, after cutting hundreds of millions of dollars of funding for LBGTQIA+ health, the National Institute of Health was instructed to conduct research on “chemical and surgical mutilation” of children and adults.

Second was an executive order on child abuse. Child abuse is an epidemic in this country and worthy of national attention. But the focus of the child abuse executive order is not on root causes of addiction or mental health, lack of parenting skills or economic stress, the executive order blames child abuse on people like me.

After lifting up the virtue of a “strong mother and father”—denying the value of many family structures, the executive order goes on to blame child abuse on the evils of “hormone therapy, puberty blockers, and sexual mutilation surgery. The evil and backwards lies of gender insanity are robbing our children of their happiness, health, and freedom, while imposing unimaginable heartbreak on parents and families. As I stated during my Joint Address to the Congress last month, my message to every American child is simple: you are perfect exactly the way God made you.”

First, President Trump, I was not perfect the way I was born. I was born with horrible eyesight, extra sets of teeth, scoliosis, and more.

Second, God created me, queerfully and wonderfully transgender. God gifted me with a gender and orientation that exceeds your binary understanding.

These action show the direction of the administration—not only using gender diverse people as a means to create fear and whip up their base, but as a targeted group to be attacked and eradicated.

But to counter that narrative, it is important to emphasize that genderqueer people are capable of anything.

In the book of Genesis, we hear the story of a person named Jacob.

Jacob is the second born twin child of Isaac and Rebekah.

Jacob’s brother is the archetypal man: hairy, a hunter, and masculine.

Jacob is described as smooth skinned. Instead of hunting or going to war, he hangs out in feminine spaces of tents and kitchens. While his brother his out killing animals, Jacob is in the kitchen cooking stew.

Jacob dresses in drag to steal his brother’s birthright and then wrestles with a man throughout the night and is wounded, in some translations in his inner thigh, until receiving a new name, Israel.

Israel, the effeminate person who probably dreamed of being a kept woman, and who would later buy his effeminate son Joseph a princess dress, becomes the patriarch of the 12 tribes of Israel.

A few months ago, after worship, a trans woman said to me, “I didn’t realize a transgender person could be a pastor, I didn’t realize a transgender person could be in any position of leadership.

You can be anything. You can be you. You can do anything.

On Friday, our country slid further down the road of totalitarianism.

Here in Ohio Governor Mike DeWine signed Senate Bill 1, which will severely restrict what can be taught in colleges and universities. Not only does the bill prohibit teachers from striking, but prohibits education on the controversial topics of climate change, electoral politics, foreign policy, diversity and inclusion programs, immigration policy, marriage, or abortion. I have a master’s degree in international relations, which I imagine would no longer be legal with the state of Ohio’s prohibition on teaching college kids about foreign policy.

Also on Friday, President Trump signed an executive order directing content changes at the museums of the Smithsonian Institution. In particular, the order criticized the African American Heritage Museum and Women’s museum for content that speaks the truth about America’s history of racism, patriarchy, and white supremacy. With these topics forbidden, the content allowed at the Smithsonian can be best summarized at nationalism.

What can you do? Make your voice heard. Call your elected representatives. On Saturday, protests will take place in Washington DC and around the country. Show up. Speak up. Don’t let our history be erased. Don’t let us be erased.

The present moment we are living in feels overwhelming and sometimes unprecedented.

But we have been here before.

We have never really left here.

We live on land stolen from Indigenous people and made rich by the enslavement of African people.

Slavery and Jim Crow were not that long ago.

In my lifetime, people were arrested for being in a gay bar or for wearing clothes different than their gender assigned at birth.

A generation of our queercestors died from AIDS and our government refused to even say the disease’s name.

Our current moment is perilous. I don’t know where I will get my hormones from a few months from now. Transgender people have become the distraction and scapegoat of the moment.

But we will overcome, we have already overcome. For no one can take from us who we are or who we love. No executive order can take away the bonds of chosen family.

You can do whatever you want to my legal documents, but you can’t take away who I am.

We shall overcome because we have overcome.

Coming to a Statehouse near me is House Bill 190, the Given Name Act. This bill, with language gifted from the Heritage Foundation, would prohibit teachers from calling students by a name or pronoun different from their birth certificate, and would prohibit educators from asking the same of students.

I guess my teachers should’ve called me, Baby. I was not given a first name at birth and my original birth certificate says Baby and my biological mom’s last name.

But nobody puts baby in the corner.

The ironic thing about this is that organizations leading the anti-trans crusade are largely Christian and the Bible is full of name changes. Abram becomes Abraham, Sarai to Sarah, Jacob wrestles with an angel until given a new name, Jesus renames Simon to Peter, Saul gets knocked off a horse and becomes Paul.

In Revelation 2:17, those who overcome are given a new name on a white stone.

Are the Heritage Foundation and friends going to say, “hey God, this doesn’t match my birth certificate.”

Laws like this have nothing to do with morals or faith, they are completely about disrespect.

Intentionally calling someone by the wrong name or pronoun is nothing more than an act of disrespect.

God does not disrespect gender diverse people. In Isaiah 56, God honors the genderqueer saying:

I will give within my temple and its wallsa memorial and a namebetter than sons and daughters;I will give them an everlasting namethat will endure forever.

But coming out is not a new phrase, Jesus uses it in the gospel of John as he raises his friend Lazarus from the dead.

Jesus says, “Lazarus, come out.”

Father James Martin writes that to come out means to “accept, embrace, and love who you are, especially your sexuality and the way God made you.”

To come out is a bold statement that who we are does not need to be hidden in a cave, but when we come out we come alive.

We might think of coming out as an individual act. But coming out is not a solitary or one-time thing. Living in to all of who we are is a process.

The story of Lazarus doesn’t end with Jesus’ coming out invitation, Jesus goes on to say to the people gathered round, “unbind him and let him go.”

We unbind one another when we create safe and brave spaces for people to be fully know, fully accepted, fully celebrated.

In a world that tries to bind us for any aspect of our identity that is not considered the norm, let us all dedicate ourselves to unbinding each other, so we call all be free.

Come out. Unbind. Let them go. So we all can fly.

In this scripture Jesus describes Herod as a fox. Jesus says, “Go and tell that fox for me…”

In contrast to Herod the fox, Jesus describes themselves as a mother hen, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

In Christianity’s one-sided portrayal of God as male, we have often turned God in to an insecure, vengeful warrior.

But Jesus describes themselves as a hen who wants to gather her brood under her wings.

God as a compassionate nurturer and protector instead of a punishing autocrat.

Let us not confuse the fox for the hen.

Let us hear the good news of abundant life and not the Fox news of fear and damnation.

One of my core theological groundings is stated in the Latin phrase, imago Dei. Based on Genesis 1:27, the statement that all people are created in the image of God has powerful implications in how we see and treat one other. An ethic of imago Dei means that every person we see reflects the image of God, the person like me and the person completely different from me.

But what is the image of God who every person is created from? Most traditional Christian images of God are of an older, bearded, white man. The image of God in Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam.”

If we back up one verse to Genesis 1:26, in the first Biblical occurrence of God speaking about themselves, God says “let us make humankind in our image.”

Who is this “us” and “our”?

Some Bible scholars have argued that the plural speaks of angels and heavenly beings. Others believe it speaks of the trinity.

But what if God's image is not limited to a specific gender binary, but encompasses all gender expressions? God, not as man or woman, but as “us” and “our.” God who is all genders—cis, trans, non-binary, genderqueer.

The imago They (God of all genders) creates in imago Dei (all genders reflected in the image of God).

God not only creates gender diversity, God is gender diversity.

Today is International Women’s Day with the theme: “For ALL Women and Girls: Rights. Equality. Empowerment.”

Recognition of this day began in 1911 with a focus on women's equality, women's achievement, and to raise awareness about discrimination.

Over 100 years later, we are still fighting for the same basic recognition and dignity.

This year’s theme is on point: liberation for ALL women and girls.

Watching the political events of the last two months, we can see how women are pitted against each other.

Wealthy women against women in povery.

White women against women of Color.

CIS women against trans women.

Women who are American citizens against immigrant women.

The only way we can ever get to the equality envisioned over a hundred years ago is together. We are all on the losing side of the patriarchy that has systemically kept women underpaid and unsafe.

There are a number of ways to engage to create a more just world. For more on that, go to: https://www.internationalwomensday.com/

But let us start our action with seeing how we are united instead of letting ourselves be divided. What impacts any of us impacts all of us. The administration that is using “protecting women” as an excuse to take away my rights are also being used to segregate, discriminate, and marginalize all women.

We are all women. We are all being silenced. We are all marginalized. Let us stand as one so that ALL Women and Girls can have full Rights. Equality. and Empowerment.

Historically, Christians have used this season of lent to prepare to encounter the resurrected Christ by denying their own bodies. You might’ve heard people say things like I have given up chocolate for lent. I did that once, but to be honest it didn’t make me a more loving, kind, or just person.

Jesus themself fasted for 40 days in the wilderness.

But I would like to offer a different perspective.

I grew up in a church that continually shamed the body. I was taught to believe this body is sinful and little more than a shell for our souls.

As a person with a queer body I was made to feel that who I am was broken, I felt shame for who I am.

Shame is a common message. In the political rhetoric of the last several months us transgender folk have been described as predators, threats, and mentally ill. Our bodies seem to be an affront to the status quo.

But what if this lent we fasted from taking in all of these messages.

What if we fasted from guilt and shame?

What if we fasted from listening to those who deny and seek to destroy us?

What if we fasted from feeling like our bodies are too much and not enough?

If we practice this fast, we will see that our bodies are good, our bodies are a gift, we are queerfully and wonderfully made. Our bodies reflect the glory of God.

God loves all people

Beyond differences that may divide us…

We start every worship service, Sunday and weekdays before the Free Store opens, saying that God loves all people, beyond differences that may divide us.

This is a counter-cultural statement.

We live in a world where the differences that divide us are used to separate us and keep us in fear from one another.

It has long been a political strategy to pit poor white people against poor Black people.

Men against women.

Rich against poor.

Straight against gay.

People who are multiple generation immigrants against first generation immigrants.

That is the world we live in, but it is not the world God created it to be, it is not who we are.

We are the Church for All People.

We don’t just believe that every person has sacred value and divine worth, we have experienced it. We have felt the energy that is created when we live and work out of our diversity.

Somehow diversity has suddenly become a cancelled word. Not only in national politics, but two days ago Ohio State University closed its Office of Diversity and Inclusion and its Center for Belonging and Social Change.

Diversity is being portrayed as a negative trend that must be stopped, but we know that diversity is not a negative thing to be wiped from our culture, diversity is a gift and an opportunity that has made us who we are at Church for All People.

When we can bring all of who we are to the table, our unique perspectives and backgrounds, that is when we shine.

As our core value says, “All people have gifts to give and a desire to serve.”

The ability to express the diversity of our gifts is the miracle that makes Church for All People happen.

But we find ourselves living in this strange time where diversity is being devalued and people are being erased.

The contributions of people of color erased.

The gift of people who have come here from other countries erased.

The existence and sacredness of transgender people like me erased.

In last week’s sermon, Alex Clementson said “Your existence is a form of continual résistance to the laws and powers that be in a way that says God has formed me in this moment so that I may be a reminder to the empire that you cannot erase what God has determined to exist.”

You cannot erase what God has determined to exist.

But this world is sure trying.

Today is the final sermon in our series on the revised United Methodist Social Principles. All of these sermons have been about protecting the right to exist. We have heard messages about protecting the right of creation to exist, protecting the rights of people to exist in a world plagued by racism, slavery, human trafficking, and addiction.

Today we hear the invitation of the social principle to protect the rights of people of all sexual orientations and gender identities. Our social principle reads that people of diverse genders and orientations, “are disproportionately impacted by social stigmas, discrimination, coercion and violence, we call on churches, governments, businesses, and civic organizations to do all in their power to combat such unjust treatment and to promote equal rights and protections for all.”

Now, I planned this sermon back in December. Before the onslaught of executive orders and legal actions against transgender people that has taken place over the last six weeks.

These actions are not solely about bathrooms and sports and military service, they are ultimately about erasure. Denying the right of people like me to exist.

Perhaps the most obvious occurrence of erasure happened when the National Park Service recently removed the mention of transgender people from the Stonewall Memorial website.

This was not only an erasure of the category of transgender people, it is an erasure of history.

If you aren’t familiar with Stonewall, the Stonewall riots were a series of violent confrontations between police and queer people outside the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in the Greenwich Village, New York, in 1969. The riots lasted for six days and publicized the persecution of LGBTQ people, giving rise to the gay rights movement around the world.

The riots that happened at Stonewall began with transgender women of color pushing back against the police who regularly arrested and harassed them for simply being who they were. The saints of Stonewall, the people who gave birth to the movement for LGBT rights, were a Black, transgender woman Marsha P. Johnson, a Latina transgender woman Sylvia Rivera, and a Black, butch lesbian Stormé DeLarverie.

They were pushing back against a world trying to erase them… and here we are 55 years later in a world that literally erased their historic contributions.

Almost 2,000 years ago the early Christian saint, Irenaeus, wrote that: “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Jesus said in John 10:10, “I came that you might have life and have it abundantly.” Everything we do here at Church and Community Development for All People centers on this vision of all people being alive.

Do you know what that feels like to be fully alive? To have that pep in your step. The feeling you have when you put out an outfit that fits just right? When you perform a song that really smacks? When the wind is at your back and the world is your oyster?

Jesus had that kind of moment in this scripture that is known as the transfiguration.

Jesus gave up whatever it was like to be God, humbled themselves, took on the form of a man, and lived amongst us. In our bodies, our frailty, our human condition.

But there is this one moment that is Jesus coming out party, where Jesus truly shines.

Jesus transitions in to his more authentic self.

And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, his clothes became dazzling white.

Jesus true nature is more fully revealed in this moment than in any other time in scripture.

More of his authentic self is displayed here than any other time.

And then, two very different things happen.

Jesus fully comes out as all that he is and from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’

Jesus is affirmed by his dad.

But while God affirms Jesus in this moment of sacred transformation, Peter, James, and John don’t know what to do with what they have seen.

The scripture says, And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

When you have had those moments of fully alive, has someone ever tried to put you in your place? Tell you to be quiet? Have you been ever told you are too much? What are you smiling about? How dare you shine so brightly? Keep silent and don’t tell anyone.

That is what it feels like to be erased.

I know for me I feel more fully alive today than I ever have in my life.

Perhaps the most telling transformation in my life is not in the clothes I wear or the length of my hair, but in my relationship with the mirror. I once avoided and hated mirrors. Now I look in to a mirror and smile and recognize myself and am proud of what I see and say to myself, “I love you.”

And yet, while I love who I am and who I am becoming, not everyone in the world is excited about me shining so brightly.

Who am I to dare to be my beautiful self when we have all been conditioned to play small, to go along with the crowd?

I believe that God has not only done a new work in me, but that God is doing a new work through people like me to expand our understanding of the diversity of creation and stretch our understanding of who the neighbor is that we are called to love.

Back in the fall I successfully defended my doctoral work. In those studies, I created resources to equip other transgender faith leaders.

In my research I interviewed a transgender playwright from England named Jo Clifford. Jo has gained some worldwide notoriety (positive and negative) for writing plays like God’s New Frock and Jesus Queen of Heaven.

In our interview, Jo talked about the struggle people have with us transgender folk. She said:

We're living in a time of transition. It's not just us that are in transition. It's the whole of Western Society that's in transition. One of the things that doesn't work anymore are traditional ideas of what it means to be a man and what it means to be a woman. The gender binary is no longer enough. It doesn't help anybody. And young people understand that--inside their own bodies deep, deep inside their selves. And this is what right wing politicians hate us so much. Because they know in their bones that we are bringing about change that will deprive these old patriarchs of their power. That's when they're kicking back against us so strongly. And so in a sense what we bring is very profound.

Diversity brings profound change.

Think of the diverse faces in the March on Washington.

The diversity of queer women of color who started the LGBT rights movement.

The diversity we see this in this room that has brought about the transfiguration of the South Side of Columbus.

In order for diversity to do its thing, we have to live out this social principle.

We have to be the ones to “do all in our power to combat such unjust treatment and to promote equal rights and protections for all.”

We know the government is no longer going to do it, corporations are no longer going to do it, universities aren’t going to do it.

So this is an opportunity for us as a church that promotes and protects all people, especially vulnerable queer people, so that we can glorify God.

A gallup study released a couple of weeks ago reported that 23 percent of Gen Z people identify as LGBTQ. Most queer people have a rightfully cautious view of the church. What if we were the church who lived out our own social principle and promoted equal rights and protections for this growing and vulnerable population?

I don’t have any ideas on how we can change the rest of the world. I can’t undo executive orders or change the policies of Ohio State University or Target or anyone else. Despite all of our advocacy work I have been a part of over the last several we couldn’t stop any of the harmful anti-trans legislation here in Ohio.

What can we do?

For my queer siblings, continue to show up and shine with the glory of who God created you to be. We might be tempted to hide, but that is not healthy for us. That leads to our own despair. Shine with all God created you with.

For my allies: do what God does in this scripture.

When someone is vulnerable and they shine with their full glory and they come out, affirm them.

All people want to be affirmed, known, and loved… especially LGBTQ people, many of whom have been rejected by families and communities.

When others say negative and hateful things, stand up for us: we are God’s creation

Say about us what God says about their own transitioned child: this is a child of God, listen to them.

Follow the example of Pastor Ernest. When people went to him complaining about me, he would simply respond: she is a child of God and this is a Church for All People.

Let us be the ones who fully affirm each other in our identity, our mission as a Church for All People, our journey to be all that God created us to be so we can shine with that glory.

Let us make space for the diversity of God’s creation to shine with all the colors of the rainbow. When we do that, God shows up, the miracle happens, we shine with the glory of God.

Like so many executive orders, this did not go through Congress. It was not reviewed by appropriate DoD agencies and channels.

The executive branch used the judicial branch to implement a ban during an ongoing court case.

Not only is this action an affront to democracy, the filing is hatelful.

The justification for this action, according to the court filing, reads:

“ It is the policy of the United States Government to establish high standards for Service member readiness, lethality, cohesion, honesty, humility, uniformity, and integrity. This policy is inconsistent with the medical, surgical, and mental health constraints on individuals with gender dysphoria or who have a current diagnosis or history of, or exhibit symptoms consistent with, gender dysphoria.”

I served 20 years in the Air Force.

I deployed five times.

I have three combat campaign credits.

And you want to describe people like me as lacking in honesty, humility, and integrity?

This language describing transgender people as having “mental health constraints” is not only offensive, it is contradictory to all established medicine and science.

I did not serve 20 years in the military to live in a country like this.

During my service, I was continually told that the communists and the terrorists were a threat to democracy and our way of life.

As an Air Force historian, I documented combat operations, watched people being killed and buildings destroyed, executed in the name of freedom, only to watch these freedoms be stripped away by this administration.

This is an affront to all that me, my friends, my father, my grandfather who died in World War II, my friend who is incarcerated for undertreated PTSD, served for.

President Trump, how dare you disrespect us, our sacrifices, our country.

This law mandates that school bathrooms and facilities be restricted by assigned sex at birth, putting transgender youth at risk of harm, harassment, and isolation.

This morning protestors occupied buildings at the University of Cincinnati who removed gender neutral restrooms, put up bathroom signs reading “biological male” and “biological female” and required the reporting of students violating the law.

Despite the rhetoric that espouses the natural separation of sexes, it has only been in the last hundred years that states passed laws segregating bathrooms.

While the justification of these laws has been spoken as “protection of women,” the real motivation was keeping women in their place.

In Jim Crow, restrooms were racially segregated, sometimes justified by needing to protect white women from Black people.

Today, bathroom bills like SB 104 are rooted in this same fear—protecting cis women from sexual assault by trans women, which is often spoken but never backed up with facts.

These laws are about erasing people like me and denying our rights and making us more vulnerable.

Don’t let them divide us, let us unite in this oppression and create safe spaces for everyone.

The category of transgender has been removed from government websites from the State Department to the Center for Disease Control. Not only our identity erased, but access to important medical information removed.

The National Park Service removed references to transgender people from the Stonewall National Monument website. This is an erasure of history, as so much of what happened at Stonewall is rooted in trying to prohibit gender expression. The sacrifices and struggles of people like Marsha P. Johnson erased. History erased.

It is easy for us to say we will not be erased, we are not going anywhere.

Those things are true. Transgender people have always existed and will always exist.

But the danger of this moment is we could become refugees in our own country.

So it is on us to show up more than ever before. To make our presence known.

We must choose to not allow the b******s to grind us down.

We must organize.

We must educate.

We must fight for our rights to exist.

Maybe it shouldn’t be on us to do this work. We need our allies with us and next to us.

But it starts with us. We must set the tone and standup for ourselves.

However, it provides a moment to hear the message of love.

The world constantly tells us we are not good enough or we are too much.

We are conditioned to compare ourselves to unrealistic standards.

And over the last month, whether you are a Person of Color, disabled, from another country, or transgender you have even heard words of condemnation from the president of the United States.

But let me say today, you are loved.

You are good.

You are beautiful.

You are strong.

You are worthy.

Not because of what you do or don’t do, but simply because of who you are.

I love you.

God loves you.

I hope you love you.

Happy Valentines Day!

The last month has been demoralizing.

This is not the country I ever expected to live in. As a 20 year Air Force veteran I did not serve to protect our freedoms, only to give them away.

But we have been through worse and we shall overcome.

No executive order can take away the gift of diversity.

We shall overcome.

No ICE officer can take away the power of community.

We shall overcome.

No can erase transgender beauty.

We shall overcome.

Deep in my heart, I do believe. We shall overcome, someday.

Today, a Gallup survey reported that a majority of Americans, 58%, continue to favor allowing openly transgender people to serve in the U.S. military.

However, this number is significantly down from 71% in 2019 and 66% in 2021.

Over the last few weeks the silence, even amongst Democrats, on executive orders around diversity, immigration, and gender has been deafening.

When President Trump ordered a funding freeze there was an outcry because it impacted people’s bottom line.

Where is the same outcry when people marginalized people are targeted?

We can’t put it on the backs of already oppressed people to achieve their own liberation. We must stand up for each other. We must cry out against ICE raids, we must cry out the diversity is a gift, we must cry out that all people are worthy of respect.

Proverbs 31, 8 says to “speak out for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the destitute.”

Speak out, not simply because it is the right thing to do, but because our existence depends on it.

In the 19th century a former slave named Frances Thompson because the first transgender person to testify before congress.

For three days, in May of 1866, white men rioted throughout a Black community in Memphis burning the homes, churches, and schools of the Black community. At least 48 African Americans were murdered, with close to 80 more injured, and five women testified to being raped.

Thompson’s testimony helped to get laws passed to protect emancipated slaves.

A decade later Thompson was arrested for “transvestism” to smear and discredit her.

The backlash Frances experienced is still so much of our world today. Black, transgender women continue to be some of the most vulnerable people in our country who have sacrificed to bring all of us freedom.

Let us remember Frances Thompson and so many others who suffered for simply being themselves.

This week Rep Nancy Mace repeatedly used an anti-trans slur during House committee hearings. Even when called out on it her response was “I don’t really care.”

This is not only a Republican issue, but Democrats haven’t really seemed to care either as Mace has described transgender people as perverted rapists.

This is not simply a matter of the language of Washington politics, it sets a tone for the whole country.

Over the last few weeks I have been misgendered more than I have been in years.

Yesterday, a group of people hung Nazi flags from an overpass in Cincinnati.

Words of hate give permission for others to hate. Words of violence beget violence.

When you hear someone talk this, stop them. Be an ally. Don’t tolerate hatred. Our lives depend on it.

All of the promised legislation and executive orders are underway and it would be easy for us to be demoralized by this.

But no matter what laws are passed no one can tell us who to love.

No one can legislate away our care for one another. No one can take away the beauty of chosen family. No one can stop us from being the one’s who practice love.

And that love includes your love for yourself. It is more important than ever that we learn to love ourselves. I’ve probably read and watched too much of the anti-trans rhetoric of the last three weeks. But I am not the monster they want to make me out to be.

I am beautiful.

I am strong.

I am Queerfully and wonderfully made—and so are you!

When you look in the mirror say out loud: I love myself. Replace every negative thought you have about yourself with two positive thoughts.

Love yourself like your life depends on it.

No one can take that away from you.

But the title and language of the executive order are interesting. The word trans only appears once in the order and in that case it is used in an innocuous way.

The title of the order is “Keeping men out of women’s sports.” Likewise, in the rambling half hour press conference, Trump kept referring to men in women’s sports. On one hand, my reaction was this doesn’t apply to me since I am not a man. But also interesting that transgender men are never mentioned.

There is a long history of greater fear and discrimination against trans women than men.

In the Nazi concentration camps trans women were more likely to be identified with the same pink triangle as gay men than were trans men.

Perhaps the difference in this response is due to the misogyny that poisons our culture. Yesterday’s press conference was a blatant pitting of cis women against trans women.

Allowing men to divide us is the oldest trick in the book.

We must learn to see that trans women’s issues and cis women’s issues are intertwined. We are both victims of patriarchy. In order for any of us to find equity, we must stand together.

This vote happened after hearing the testimony of doctors, scientists, hospital presidents, parents, and youth. All avenues of traditional advocacy work, inside game and outside game were exhausted. And none of that changed one vote.

We can never achieve justice within our own groups. If the only people working for environmental justice are environmentalists, if the only people working to dismantle racism are Black, if the only people standing up for trans rights are queer, we will never have the power to change systems.

We must work together and show up for each other so all people can have liberation.

Across the country today people will gather to protest Project 2025. A project that impacts all of us. My hope is that this day can bring us together across our personal areas and we can build community and intersectionality so we can upend the white supremacy, colonialism, and patriarchy that undergird all inequities. Go to 50protests.com and find a rally near you.

Let us join together so we can all set each other free.

But we will not be moved.

Last night’s Grammy’s awards was an incredibly beautiful embodiment of queer strength. Billie Eilish, Janelle Monae, and so many others proudly celebrated that art that LGBTQIA+ people bring to the world.

Chappel Roan set the tone for the evening on the red carpet as she said “They will never, no matter what happens, take trans joy away. That has to be protected more than anything.”

Some of that protection comes from allies like Chappel, but it also is an invite for us trans folk to not let the b******s steal our beauty and our joy.

The best way to respond to all that is happening is to be even more bold in who you are. Surround yourself with chosen family. Play queer music loud. Put on an empowering outfit.

Be joy, joy as an act of resistance.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Historically, we know that in 1776 all did not mean all.

It did not mean women.

It certainly did not mean indigenous peoples.

And it certainly did not mean people who had been kidnapped from Africa.

People like Dr King challenged us to have all mean all and in some ways we have made progress on that over the last 60 years.

But we are in a season of asking who is the all that is included.

As we have heard in executive orders issued the last two weeks, in this administrations eyes, all does not mean people from other countries, it does not mean people like me.

If we take a step back and listen to all the rhetoric of the last few weeks, it is a return to all only meaning wealthy cis white men.

You can hear it in President Trump playing the tragedy of the air collision in DC on diversity.

How dare the FAA employ people outside the dominant culture?

Diversity is our gift and our opportunity, not our scapegoat and fear.

Let us continue to stand tall in who we are. In those parts of ourselves that others might call profane. Until a day comes when all truly means all.

In 1948, President Truman not only desegrated the military but also created the Committee on Equality of Treatment and Opportunity in the Armed Services.

Yes, DEI, in 1948.

I enlisted in the Air Force in 1986 and every year we received training on race and sex. We received clear messages that racial or sexual harassment were not tolerated.

In basic training, two of my fellow squad members got kicked out for making a racist comment.

I served with people who were immigrants and served in the military as a path to citizenship.

The military is not a perfect place, but has long been a diverse place where people of all races, genders, nationalities, orientations, and classes learned the value of serving together.

The military has historically been staffed by a higher percentage of people of color than the general population.

This executive order turns the military against itself, against those who have disproportionately sacrificed.

This land is our land.

Sir, I served in the Air Force for 20 years, three months, and eight days. quite honorably.

I deployed five times.

I have three campaign credits.

Many of my friends sacrificed so much of their lives because we were told we were fighting for freedom: freedom from the communists, freedom from terrorists.

We never imagined the threat to freedom might come from within, and it has come from you.

But this is not your country, it is ours.

So let us all mobilize.

Let us all speak out.

Let us all act so that the freedoms my grandfather died for, my friends were injured for, are not in vain, but protected and cherished and honored.

We are all honorable.

Yesterday I was chatting with a friend of mine who said, “with everything going on I’ve had thoughts of going back in to the closet because white male privilege would let me be safer. I know I wouldn’t be happy.”

In a time like this where we feel unsafe, the desire to hide makes sense.

But if we hide our true self that only leads to our own despair. It is important in times like this to show up even more authentically.

As this card given to me by my friend Kathleen says, “when they stare, don’t shrink”

When they stare don’t shrink.

Show up in your power and strength. When you do you give other people permission to show up in all of who they are and you will shine.

Here in Columbus, Ohio, our county commissioner, Kevin Boyce, was scheduled to speak at a VA event honoring the legacy of Dr Martin Luther King, Jr. Two hours before the event he was told to restrict his comments without any mention of equity and inclusion. Boyce said, “I can’t separate diversity from the memory of Dr. King”

Surely not.

Somehow these principles of diversity, equity, and inclusion have been painted as a threat, when in fact they are a gift. A world where people have more equal voice and access is a world where everyone thrives, where we all benefit from one another.

A world that embodies DEI is the manifestation of King’s dream.

Let us not yield to the argument that DEI is bad. That narrative is a white supremacist’s attempt to hold on to power. Instead, let us double down in creating a world where every voice is heard and celebrated and protected.

I am an old punk rocker.

My favorite band from this century whose second album is titled, “Joy as an Act of Resistance.”

I have been trying to embody that this week.

In the midst of a spiteful inauguration, strangely worded executive orders, and being called “one of the worst among us” I am striving to practice joy as an act of resistance.

Surrounding myself with people who love me—friends and chosen family.

Singing at karaoke.

Listening to music.

Sharing meals.

Joy as an act of resistance.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not in denial of all that has happened this week. There are real potential implications for me. A friend of mine might have already lost her jobs.

But I am determined to not let the b******s bring me down, but to practice joy, as an act of resistance.