Sunday, 13 May 2018

Reflections on Mothers' Day

So my friend tried to invite me for service at my old church for this weekend's Mothers' Day service. I tried to use the irrelevance of Mothers' Day for myself as a foil but it didn't seem to work very well.

Ian always asked me why I don't say how I really feel inside.

It's difficult.

I've been used to concealing and not feeling (doesn't that remind you of a certain song?)

In any case, how could she know if I didn't tell her?

How could she know that 2 years ago precisely on Mothers' Day I thought I heard an affirming sermon about Naomi and Ruth but was proved to be horribly wrong with the homophobic sermons that followed?

How could she know that in a particular morning prayer, the deacon prayed for God to judge all those involved in Pink Dot and not to

How could she know that even in the safer environment in my old church that my cell group leader had preached in a sermon that we are to "love the sinner, not the sin" but that I am defined by the very sin she despised?

How could she know how I cringed inwardly at the auditorium of the megachurch where in the row in front of me 2 youths made a joke about a gay person and I just sat there, numb and unable to speak up?

I don't want to end up like my dead friend who killed herself partly because she couldn't accept her own orientation even as she hid it from the church family she grew up with.

And even though I do feel like church is like family, even children are brought out of abusive relationships. I feel like the relationship between myself and a traditional church is somewhat like that.

For the sake of my own mental health, I shall retreat to safer places like the Gay Christian Fellowship and the Queer Book & Movie Club for now.

Till next time.

Where I belong

At my first church, I felt like I was part of a family. Until it wasn't. A guest pastor had come from New York and made a homophobic...