I've been having a string of weird weeks lately, and I've been craving a way to make a difference. Most of my thoughts surrounding this were based on political and otherwise secular action. Sometimes, a fresh perspective is all that's needed. I was graciously provided with this fresh perspective by an AC repair man at the shop the other day, and it only confirmed what had already been on my mind lately.
Over the past several months - following my initiation at Crossroads, my previous game-changing experiences with Queer Spirituality, and the renaissance of my own, personal spirituality - I've come to realize that probably the most solid I have felt in a very long time have been those times when I've re-embraced my faith. Whether that faith has been based on a search for something more, or otherwise - the influence of those around me, a hope to find something that had been missing for a great while, etc., - faith is what got me through the darkest times, most of which I've experienced relatively recently (last two years or so).
Looking back, and remembering the feeling I experienced when Queer Spirituality and Valerie and Jordan and Kelli and everyone else had found me at the exact right moment to affect me in the greatest way, I know that there's no way I would have survived those challenges without that support system. I remember, and those of you who have been reading this blog since the beginning, too, the awe I felt when I finally realized that faith wasn't a conditional sort of deal. I had finally been told that this kind of love, this kind of acceptance, wasn't based on a set of contingencies, especially not ones I have no control over (such as sexuality or gender identity). Hearing that changed my life.
It is as a result of those experiences - the meditation (both being guided, and then guiding others), the prayer, the silent reflection, the studying of both the Bible and other religious texts, the exploring of various religious and other belief systems, the chance to review other experiences I had elsewhere, surrounded by other folks - that I've come full-circle.
When I was younger, I was "actively" involved in my synagogue's youth ministry. I emphasize actively intentionally. I loved my peers and my leaders, and I loved what I was a part of...until I felt that it no longer loved me. It no longer knew who I was or how best to help me. This isn't a reflection on the individuals I was surrounded by at all, but rather, a reflection of a larger crisis.
In Ryan and Josh Shook's book, Firsthand, their main goal is to break away from the idea of a "secondhand" faith - one that lets us coast by, basically, on the precepts of what our parents and leaders bring us up believing. For so long, that was what I allowed myself to do. Unfortunately, rather than "break away" from G-d, as they describe it, I was torn. There were/are things I wanted to believe, but felt that I was very actively being told "no, you're not the kind of person we want here after all, please exit out the back.'' I did. I wrote G-d off. My entire life, I had been told that I had a heavenly father to replace the earthly one that had abandoned me years earlier. You can imagine the devastation when He left too. I figured I could abandon just as easily as He had. Until QS, I didn't think anything of it. Until Valerie appeared with a guiding voice and all the right questions, I didn't realize I had been missing anything.
When I was "active," I had many people tell me that I had been called to youth ministry. I was zealous, and most people couldn't tell the difference between my authenticity and my neediness to please. I don't even think I could tell, towards the end. I believed them when I was told I would end up back there, but in a leadership capacity, rather than as a student.
So you can imagine my surprise, when, after years of resenting the idea of religion for the flaws presented within one very small group, the idea of youth ministry resurfaced in my head. This was only exacerbated by my deep internal desire to continue working with social justice issues, and in particular, continue work with the trans* community.
I had originally anticipated working in D.C., or getting involved with an LGBTQ organization of some kind (not ones I had previously been affiliated with, but something more radical, more NOW). I know there are "safe" churches, but in my experience, that safety typically extends to the L and the G, and gets lost somewhere along the path to the T. Our community is still working to reach the T and bring us into the more "mainstream" conversations happening. So, ultimately, yes. I wanted to become a trans* activist. But when I thought of the ways my life had been changed most dramatically since coming out as trans*, all I could think of was how supportive my collegiate spiritual community had been through the entire process. All I could think of was how amazing it would be to reach more queer teens and college students, especially if we could reach them before they had completely written G-d...and any kind of faith...off.
With that, I guess I can make this announcement.
With the regular readings I have been doing, my daily quiet time and reflection, the reinterpretations of the Bible I have been working on (rereading it again for the second time in a year, the third in as many), I have finally found out what I'm hoping is my calling. Or, rather, come to recognize it in a slightly different form than I had when I was fourteen and fifteen, before it all was blown to smithereens and I became a 21st-century skeptic.
From here on, I will be working towards not only becoming involved in youth ministry, but more specifically, I am looking forward to getting to work with, and eventually developing a stable version, different versions of queer youth outreach and ministry.
There are already a few of you I've talked to about this, but most of you I've been hesitant to discuss it around. I am used to skeptical comments about faith and those who bear it, but I've come to the realization that for me to do this, I can't take offense by those comments. I understand them better than most people; for so long, I was the one making them. For that, I apologize. It was a form of self-loathing, similar, in many ways, to those experiencing denial of other common unwanted identities. I recognize in myself, now, that it was mostly a way for me to distance myself from that loss I experienced so many years ago.
I'm looking forward to this adventure, and for those of you out there who have experienced similar struggles (and victories), please give me all the tips, advice, words of encouragement, etc., that you have. You know I can use them.
-Micah
