May you boldly speak your name

Do you see him?

He's the flamboyant kid with the eyeliner and the bleached hair and the pink shorts, who dares you to question who he is. He's the kid who seems so confident in who he is that you think he can't possibly be bothered by the slurs that he hears as he passes the other kids in the hall.

Fag.

Pansy.

Homo.

But inside, a piece of him dies each time the darts hit their mark.

Do you see him?

What about her?

Do you see her?

She's the quiet kid who comes into class and doesn't make eye contact because she's afraid of what people will say to her. She's afraid of what people will see. She is afraid what her parents, her friends, her teachers, her church, will say or do if they know the truth that she likes girls instead of boys.

Do you see her?

Over the last few days, I have seen several news articles about the teenage boy in Huntsville, Alabama who took his life because of anti-gay bullying he had suffered that he got to the point he could no longer endure.

Did anyone see him?

Did they see the damage they did with their words?

With their judgement?

With their ignorance?

With their hate?

Each time I hear a story like the one that has played out this week, of a child taking their life because of the hate they endured for being gay, my heart breaks.

For them.

For their family.

For all those who loved them.

For all that they could have become but never will.

It breaks my heart any time a child, or adult, chooses to end their life because their pain is so deep they think they can't dig out from underneath it.

My heart breaks extra when that pain they are suffering is from ignorance or hatred or judgment because their sexuality or their gender identity doesn't fit the mold that society thinks it should.

Because of who they are.

Because of who God made them to be.

I had the opportunity to sit in a room tonight with a group of straight and queer adults, and straight and queer youth, all allies for each other. It's the third time I've had the opportunity to sit with these people, and the 5th time they have had the chance to meet together.

I have heard coming out stories that have made my heart break.

I have heard a beautiful daughter of God tell stories of how she felt in life that she had to make a decision about being gay or being a Christian, and despite how hard she tried, she couldn't not be gay.

I see the healing that has come to that beautiful woman because of the love and acceptance she feels from this motley group of teenagers and adults.

I have sat and listened to two precious teenage boys describe how they each, at different times and places, during the time they were realizing that they were gay and trying to come to terms with that fact, stood in front of their mirrors and repeated to themselves over and over, "I am straight. I am not gay. I am straight."

I see the confidence each of those boys now have because they know, without a doubt, that they are fully loved, fully affirmed, and fully supported by their pastor, a strong group of loving and vocal friends, and an amazing group of straight and queer adults who are standing before, beside, and behind them, as they walk what isn't always an easy road.

This group of adults and teenagers has come together in a way that is God designed and God directed. The purpose isn't to convert or to proselytize or to convince these kids of anything. The purpose is to love these kids, and to love each other. Because when that happens? All that other stuff just falls into place.

If you question whether homosexuality is a choice, sit and talk to someone you know who is queer. Ask them about their journey. Ask them about their pain. Ask them not about when they decided to be gay but about when they realized they were gay. And then ask yourself when you decided you were straight. Oh, wait, you didn't?

Oh, but I don't know anyone who is queer, you may say. Yes, Yes you do. They just haven't come out to you because they don't feel safe with you to do so.

And when you have that conversation? Don't bring your theology with you. Bring your God with you. That, my friends, will make all the difference.