My Journey Towards Queer Spirituality

My Journey Towards Queer Spirituality

I attended part of a church service yesterday. My own spiritual journey has been one that others have mostly inwardly, if not outwardly, scoffed at and judged. Maybe I’m making up the whole judgment thing with my autistic assumptions. But being raised in the Bible Belt, daily life was steeped in religion. Steeped isn’t strong enough of a word. Everything about our lives was about church. Even to this day, you ask my dad something, and he brings it around to God, or prison ministry, or something he did at work, and then a few sentences later how he didn’t have time because he was doing something church related. 

There’s nothing wrong with having religion being a part of your daily life. But we were spiritually abused. I hesitate to throw the term around because as the victim, it’s still hard for me to not normalize the abuse, but most times I see it. I see it in the way I can’t make decisions for myself. Either my dad or my sister had to make them for me, or the little voice in my head that I thought was God but was probably my dad had to make them. It was the way I was confident that I was right and everyone else in the room was wrong no matter what the topic was because God was on my side. It was the way I looked down on everyone, including myself, believing they were going to hell for not believing what I believed. I was going to hell for sinning, and even if I didn’t believe I was sinning, I was wrong in believing that because I always sinned. I was always guilty of something.

This led to low self-esteem which I’m working on. I know I don’t have an excuse just because of childhood traumas. I let go of my father this year, vowing never to talk to him again unless he made some serious changes in his life. It seems like every day is a step further from where I grew up, and I have to decide every day to step away from the past. People think “it was abusive; it should be an easy choice,” but stepping away from what you spent over half your life thinking and feeling comfortable with is not an easy choice. Doing what’s best is usually not easy, I’m coming to learn. I’m learning to step out of my comfort zone and lean into the unease. 

But back to church. I joined via Zoom. I thought I had used Zoom before, but not on my laptop, and not on my phone, so I was scrambling to get things situated right at the right time. Good thing they started a bit late! The only reason I decided to try this church is because it was meant specifically for queer people who were scarred by the church in the past. That, and I have monthly meetings with the pastor about spirituality, what that would look like for me, etc. He listens at least 80% of the time. He clarifies what he’s hearing. He admits if he doesn’t know something, and there’s a lot he doesn’t know, but he reads books and somehow has educated himself on queerness even though I don’t think he’s queer himself, but his co-pastor is.

They kicked it off with asking how everyone was doing and a prayer. Of course I got uncomfortable right away with the prayer. It wasn’t the prayer itself. It was just that it was prayer. In a church. With a group of people. It immediately brought back all the church services, good and bad, and it was just uncomfortable. The moment passed. They talked about how they wanted to skip the liturgy thing that week because it was talking about forgiveness and loving your enemies. Ouch. They sang a song, which I couldn’t hear because it kept cutting in and out. I would hear a part of a note, a few seconds would go by, then I would hear a part of another note. That was fine. Worship used to be my favorite part when I felt close to God, but now I don’t know who God is, so… yeah…

Then they asked the people gathered in person and online what were good things and bad things that happened to them. I don’t remember most of the replies. But I was close to tears anyways. I missed community. I missed the sense of camaraderie, not for the purpose of exclusion but for the purpose of deeper relationship. A shared goal. A group that despite everything different decided we have at least one thing in common, and we want to share our lives, or at least part of our lives, with each other and celebrate the commonality. I MISS THAT!

I had to leave before the talk because of my back and because my husband was home after hours of picking up litter. I missed him. I really wanted to hear the talk! But that’s all the God I could take for one day. Little by little, I will build my exposure. And my back will heal. And I will be able to sit in a chair for longer than 45 minutes. Everything about that called out to what I’ve been missing. It’s not because of the abuse I suffered as a child. If anything, it’s in spite of it!

What is one step you can make towards community today?