Coming to terms with Christianity and being healed

I first got clean in October of 2012 after a suicide attempt and subsequent stay in a lock down psychiatric ward. I had begun using illegal drugs to self-medicate the lows brought on by my bipolar disorder. I had separated from my partner of twenty five years about four years before and was not living with her and my kids anymore; I just couldn't deal with the loss and had turned to marijuana and then to synthetic marijuana ("spice") to cope. I ended up losing my job, apartment, and self respect, becoming an addict and prostitute. I'll spend more time on that journey in another post. I want to focus on my journey to becoming a Christian in this post.

The day after I was released from the psych ward I was taking a bus to get my prescriptions filled and realized I wasn't going to make the rest of the day without buying and using drugs. I had attended an AA meeting during my stay and was told about Narcotics Anonymous (NA). I called their number and found a local meeting.

I began attending meetings but was unable to work any of the 12 steps as I could not reconcile myself with any perception of a higher power. I was raised in the 7th Day Adventist cult (a cult is defined as:  a small religious group that is not part of a larger and more accepted religion and that has beliefs regarded by many people as extreme or dangerous) and subsequently spent time in a Southern Baptist church. In both environments I was expected to be able to tell a friend that she would burn in the fiery pits of hell if she did not believe exactly and precisely as I did! The words arrogance and hypocrisy both come to mind. In my mind these views were simply veiled hatred, and I simply found myself unable to use the word "hate" in any context, even finding the phrase "love the sinner, hate the sin" to be offensive as it too often masked a deep rooted intolerance of other beliefs, cultures, faith etc. I studied and participated in a number of religious types, denominations, and activities, but never found anything that I could accept. 

Perhaps four or five months after I began going to NA meetings I was told by a friend about Metropolitan Community Church, a church where I found that I could feel at home with my fellows from the LGBTQ community. Unfortunately, I found myself still unable to either pray or accept my spirituality. Over the past decade I had studied quantum physics, genetics, evolution, archaeology, astrophysics, and many other branches of science, finally coming to the same decision (albeit by a more lowly path) that Stephen Hawking did; there is no place in the universe for God. I had allowed my intellect to completely overwhelm and subdue my spirituality. Although I read the words of Jesus, I read them as though Jesus were a great philosopher, and they brought me no comfort. Mahatma Ghandi told us to "Be the change you wish to see in the world". I believe that to be a wise saying, but it brings me no comfort when I am ill or in distress. Jesus told us in Matthew 15:11 that "It is not what goes into your mouth but rather that which come out of your mouth that defiles you". This is perhaps my favorite of all the words of Jesus, and you will find it re-stated in his teachings in several ways. Still, it brought me neither comfort nor solace when I read it simply as a statement of philosophy, the same as I read Ghandi.

After almost eight months clean, I relapsed and spent the next four or five months sinking back into the same pit of despair that I had been in prior to my visit to the psych ward the prior year. As I lay dying, and wishing for death, in my car in the last few days before I checked myself voluntarily into treatment, I made no contract with God. My faith is not a "foxhole prayer"; I actively sought my death during that last week, going so far as to see my physician attempting to get narcotics for "back pain" and "lack of sleep" which I intended to use to commit suicide, but she would not provide it. Neither is my faith "jailhouse religion"; I was arrested and incarcerated twice during the weeks before I went into rehab, both times being treated so unkindly and put in such horrible circumstances that I do not know if I will ever find myself able to trust an officer of the law again. Forgive; certainly. Trust; unlikely.

A friend and her husband, both kind and devout Christians drove to where I was living in my car to buy me some food and to share their love of Christ with me. I hadn't eaten but perhaps a few thousand calories in the past few weeks; I had an upper respiratory infection so bad I coughed and hacked constantly; I could not speak above a whisper because I had burned up my vocal chords smoking drugs out of a small glass "crack" pipe. I was so dehydrated I often couldn't swallow. I hadn't showered in days. I refused to spend any of my remaining money on food, water, cigarettes, or anything other than drugs. I had ran out of money even for drugs, and knew that I would not be able to prevent myself from turning back to prostitution the next day, as I had before, to feed my addiction. They bought me some food and helped me make the difficult decision to check myself into rehab the next day, where I feared being treated abusively, almost horrifically, as I had been treated in jails and institutions on prior "visits". Still, I remained an avowed atheist; there was no room in my life for a deity. I had neither prayed to nor cursed any deity during any of my experiences. I simply did not believe there was anything to pray to or curse.

My first week in rehab was a nightmare. I had only been allowed 14 days by the state, and refused to go to detox, wanting to go straight into the recovery program. As a state and donation supported facility I found the food to be simply inedible in my condition. Additionally, there were several women in the womens residential unit that were incredibly angry during their recovery, and the stress contributed to my inability to eat. On the third or perhaps fourth day (some things are a bit fuzzy) I collapsed in the bathroom after dry heaving until I thought my head was going to explode. I was discovered after the group session I had been in ended, and many people in scrubs scrambled about frenetically. After they determined that I was able, they helped me to my bed and went out to confer in the hall. Realizing that they were certainly planning to discharge me to a hospital, where I would spend zero time in recovery, but would eat better, I got up out of my bed and walked into the hall, hunched over like a centenarian. As I walked up to this huddle of men and women in scrubs they looked at me like they expected me to fall dead before them. I very simply begged them to let me stay. 

I asked only to be given something I could eat. I begged them not to send me away. I begged them to allow me to stay in the group sessions. I told them in no uncertain terms that I wanted, that I needed to be where I was, that I would cause no trouble, and that I asked for nothing more than food that I could eat. They found me some chicken broth and light soups out of the donations received and made those available to me until I had recovered my ability to eat perhaps six or eight days later. Still, there was no room in my life for spirituality; intellect ruled my thoughts and actions; realizing of course that "my best thinking had gotten me here."

During my stay I met a woman of faith. She had been in prison and was in the unit for treatment as I was. I found her to be an intelligent, well read, and willing conversationalist, something precious to me. Over the few days I had to talk to her we discussed the meaning of various passages in both the New and Old Testaments. I taunted her as Satan had taunted Jesus; was her faith not shaken by horrific accounts such as the commission of genocide in Joshua? How could she believe in a religion responsible for the horrors of the crusades. She held steadfastly to her faith and I was inspired. 

A tiny bookshelf on the unit contained a book by Phillip Yancy "The Jesus I Never Knew". As a speed reader since a very early age I was able to devour the book in perhaps a day and a half. Upon reading Mr. Yancy's book I realized that, in all the time I spent searching for my spirituality, with all of my studying of various sciences and religions, I had forgotten one thing; I had forgotten to study the Bible. 

Some of my earliest memories are of a small room with a felt board with biblical figures, other children, and a woman who undoubtedly was attempting to compete with the cookies and our inattention to help us understand a bit of scripture or teach us the words to a simple children's hymn. I was perhaps three or four at the time, so I've had fifty years of exposure to the book that has been printed more than any other. I was exposed to it by stories and pictures as a child, sermons and readings as a young person, I have read it as a history book, as a book of philosophy, as poetry, songs, lamentations, and professions of love. I had never read, nor studied the bible as an adult as map for my spirituality. 

I re-read the New Testament there in rehab, using a paperback bible that had been given to me by a church charity, then I read again in more detail the gospels, then I went back to the gospels for words of inspiration during the daily, sometimes twice daily affirmations that we shared. I went back to the gospels and began highlighting passages that meant something to me as well as those that might mean something to the other women on the unit who I had come to love as I have never been able to love a friend. Still, I could not pray. Still, the words were wise, but they brought me neither comfort nor hope, nor did they bring me relief from the guilt and shame I had accumulated over a lifetime as an atheist and years as an addict and often, as a prostitute. 

I asked if there was a chaplain in the facility, as I had no one to talk to now that my friend of faith had left, but there was none, nor was there any bible study, although we had 12 step (AA) meetings nightly. I was told by one of my friends that the therapist that I was seeing on the unit was an ordained minister. A few days later when I was able to see him he asked me, as he always does, "what brings you so far to see me?" I told him of my experience, and briefly, of my life, and asked him to help me pray. I had at this time accepted that I must accept Jesus Christ as my savior and God as the Lord of my life, but try as I might, I simply found myself unable to open my mouth and utter the words.

During that session I prayed to my Father for the first time in over thirty years, for the first time as the mature woman that I am, and for the first time with a full and complete knowledge of what I was doing, why I was doing it, and what it meant. I walked out of that session filled with the Holy Spirit. I was comforted. I had faith. I had hope. For the first time in many years I felt peace. The guilt and shame I had been feeling over my addiction, prostitution, and separation from my family was gone, leaving only a healthy regret and desire to make amends.

For the past year and a half, since I had spent almost eight months in Las Vegas as a "crack whore", I had heard music that no one else could hear. At first I thought it was a neighbor playing music too loud, but I couldn't recognize the music so I thought it was a band. I finally realized that my mind was fabricating "music" that simply was not there. It sounded like the tinny over-bleed from a cheap set of headphones. By the time I went into rehab it was almost a constant companion, sometimes coming out of white noise like rain on a roof and sometimes coming out of complete silence as when I was trying to sleep. I was going insane. I had used drugs (mostly "spice") so much and for so long that I had suffered brain damage. I heard it for the first week or so in rehab. I almost got up several times to see if my roommates were wearing headphones or earbuds to sleep, but I knew they weren't. I was hearing the distress call of my brain as it was dying. 

Since the evening that I prayed in my therapists office I have not heard that "music", not once. My only change in medication was to begin taking sertraline, which should fog my thinking if anything, and I had only begun taking that a few days before, not time for it to have any effect. I think clearer now than I have at any time in memory. God healed me both emotionally and physically. As a scientist and engineer I looked for every possible option to explain this, but I am left with only the explanation that the Holy Spirit filled me and made me whole.

I did not come to my Father because I was in pain. I did not come to my Father because I was destitute and homeless. I did not come to my Father because I had estranged myself from my family and friends. I accepted all these things; I accepted my responsibility for them; I accepted the consequences of them. I came to my Father because, for the first time in memory, I had found myself in a position where I was able to love and to be loved as myself and without shame. Other women on the unit had no shoes or coats. I had extra, I gave them freely, and my heart opened a little. Others were in pain. I said a kind word or offered a shoulder, and my heart was opened more. When I was so ill I could barely speak, was coughing and vomiting almost continuously and snapped at those around me, I was offered kind words, an extra coat when we were outside and I was chilled, and my heart opened even more. I read the word of God and found truth and love.

I still believe in evolution and that man evolved from apes. I still wonder at the miracle of quantum entanglement. I still believe that the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old and the earth is approximately 4.5 billion years old. I still believe that the speed of light is constant throughout the universe (e=mc2) and that no physical object can approach the speed of light due to the infinite increase in mass. I still don't believe that inter-stellar travel is possible due to e=mc2 and that the use of wormholes is impossible due to time dilation (although I do not discount future discoveries such as traversable wormholes). I still believe that there is no time outside the beginning of the universe. What's my point? Simply; what difference does any of this make?

I searched for years for my spirituality. As an educated woman and a speed reader I have learned so much about so many things that I find myself all too frequently stopping conversations simply by trying to join them and (unintentionally) taken them to a depth with which others are not comfortable. Some of these things I have knowledge of casually and some with enough depth to speak with scholars on the subject. I've studied in depth or casually (casually to me may mean something different than casually to the reader) and discussed in depth with adherents the philosophies of Christianity, Buddhism, Native American religions, Wicca, and others. None of these allowed me to accept my spirituality and to connect with what the 12 step programs refer to as a "higher power". 

Only when I finally had read and understood the words in red as an educated and informed scientist, engineer, and woman; when I had found myself in an environment where I was accepted and loved in my lowest and basest form; when I had allowed myself to feel and share love and compassion with my fellows both exalted and humbled; only when I had exhausted every other path with complete and total disregard to my safety, comfort and reputation, forsaking even my family and friends; only when I found the strength to simply ask God to come into my life, to forgive me, and to help me understand his will for me and to show me the path he would have me take; only then and only now have I found comfort. 

My prayer that evening in my therapists office was one of thanks. I thanked God for allowing me to take a path and to take up burdens that weakened me enough that I could see. I asked Him only for enough time that my children would know that I had recovered and had turned my life around. Other than that I asked Him only to use me as He would to glorify His word. I had been told to be careful about telling God you'd follow whatever path he desired for me, but after years of addiction, multiple suicide attempts, multiple overdoses, and living as a prostitute, I figured that God had done enough for me by just keeping me alive. If He has a bus under which He'd like me to throw myself, so be it.

My therapist, on hearing my story, reminded me of the story of Saul on the road to Damascus. Saul became Paul who wrote 13 of the 21 letters in the New Testament. There are 4 Gospels, Acts (the story of the formation of the new church after the resurrection), and Revelations, for a total of 27 books in the New Testament. Paul wrote almost half of the books that we use for our understanding of the word of God (not by word count, but by inclusion of books). Paul had been rounding up Christians, both men and women, watching as they were stoned to death or put in prison then executed. He went to the synagogues and obtained letters allowing him to take what was effectively a "lynch mob" to Damascus where he would continue to kick down the doors of homes, churches, temples, and synagogues where Christians were worshiping, dragging them off to be killed in a brutal manner. He was essentially the Hermann Göring of his time, gladly committing the most horrific crimes against humanity in the name of an evil regime. If God could forgive Saul and choose him to witness for His word, couldn't I be forgiven as well?

Saul was wicked, as was I. God struck Saul down, as he struck me down. God gave Saul two choices; live as a blind beggar or walk His path. God gave me two choices; jails, institutions, or death, or walk his path. Saul spent a few days in Damascus with the disciples and then immediately began sharing the word of God wherever he could. I spent a short time understanding my faith and then immediately began sharing the word of God with my fellows in the program as well as staff, and now my family and friends and those I meet at church or at recovery meetings. Saul had no shame in his faith, nor do I. Saul had no fear in his faith, stating in II Corinthians 11:23-29 that he had been flogged, beaten, and shipwrecked. Ok, perhaps I'm not as fearless as Paul! But I am a work in progress!

How has this changed my life? Both a lot and very little. I am truly happy and at peace for the first time in memory. I feel like I have a purpose in life after having told friends for months prior to my self imposed horror that I had felt lost. I have hope for both myself and for my friends and family. Still, I am destitute; I am not however homeless, nor am I without love. I am living with my mother and will move towards getting a job so that I can contribute, pay my legal fees, and help my kids, friends, and family. These things haven't changed, but my approach to them has.

If a friend had told me six months ago that she had accepted God and that God had physically healed her, I would have listened quietly while feeling pity for my friend, believing that her mind had gone. But now I'm the friend telling you that God healed me. If I could explain what happened to me in any other way, I assure you that I would! The last thing I ever wanted to be was a Christian, and yet God had mercy on me and let me become one anyway. 

No doubt He knew that I would not accept any evidence if it could be explained away by any other phenomena. How do I explain away the healing of brain damage other than by His grace? I cannot. You might think that the falling away of my guilt and shame I might be able to explain away. I cannot. I had just spent a year in 12 step programs trying to get rid of them, but was constantly sharing in the 'burning desire' time because I simply could not get over them. My constant relapse was almost solely because I simply could not stand who I was and who I had been. All of that is gone.

Define the word 'miracle'. Wikipedia defines it as '...an event not ascribable to human power or the laws of nature...' I had been to medical doctors and had taken medications. I had tried to heal myself by thinking positively. By any definition, what happened to me is a miracle. As an engineer and scientist who is an advocate of the scientific method, if I assume no a priori knowledge, I must accept the conclusion that what happened to me is a miracle. 

For those of you who do not understand evolution, the big bang theory, genetics, etc., I can tell you that you are fortunate. It is a far greater leap of faith to be a scientist who believes that man evolved from apes over the past six or seven million years, and that the earth was formed from clouds of gas four and a half billion years ago than it is to recognize the truth in science and simultaneously accept the truth of Gods word. Jesus told us to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." That's worth repeating again; "...and with all your mind." 

I don't believe He intended us to put blinders on and worship him in ignorance. Most of the people that I know who believe in a literal creation story go to modern doctors and drive modern cars and cook on modern ovens and live in modern, heated homes. They don't go to faith healers when they or their children or loved ones are sick. These people are hypocritically accepting the branches of science which afford them comfort while simultaneously rejecting the branches of science which challenge their faith. Is their faith in God not strong enough to withstand science? If their faith in God is stronger than their faith in science, why do they not simply pray for healing or go to a faith healer? 

Every day now I pray to my Father and ask him, among other things, "Father, help me with my unbelief!" Every day I must remind myself of the miracle that He bestowed on me lest my mind slip back into the thinking of the atheist scientist that I was before. My faith is strong enough to withstand my intellectual beliefs. Did not Jesus tell us to love the Lord with all your mind?

My interpretation of the parable of the yeast and the dough is that the Holy Spirit is the yeast and we are the dough. We only need let in the Holy Spirit a tiny bit, but then, just like you must knead yeast thoroughly into dough, working to ensure that is completely spread, we have to work to ensure that the Holy Spirit permeates all of who we are, accepting it into all areas of our lives and our persons. It might be harder to accept God if I also believe in evolution, but Jesus told me to love with my mind as well as my heart and soul, and he told me I would have to work to integrate that love into all areas of my life.

Yes, It's hard being a Christian. What's your point?

What Did Jesus Say About Homosexuality?

What did Jesus say about homosexuality?

As a transsexual lesbian I self identify as a homosexual. I am accepted in society as a woman and so will be identified as a homosexual (lesbian) if I am in a relationship with another woman, which is my preference. I am also a follower of the path of Jesus of Nazareth and believe Him to be both the Son of God and the Son of Man. As such, and with consideration to the rabid opposition of most evangelical Christians to homosexuality, what is actually said by the Son of Man regarding us 'queers' is of some interest to me. In this post I want to discuss Jesus' opinion of and his statements regarding homosexuality.

Regarding the statements of Jesus concerning homosexuality; there are none. Zippo. Nada. Zilcho. The empty set. The big goose egg. Jesus never said a single word regarding homosexuality.

Jesus did have something to say about divorce! He specifically stated, "Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate." This quote from Mark does include the passage "But at the beginning of creation God ‘made them male and female. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh", but Jesus said it in the context of divorce and nothing else! The next time someone makes an anti-gay statement couched in biblical terms, ask them why he or she is not speaking out even more strongly against divorce!

It can be argued that Jesus healed the homosexual lover of a man when asked. Remember the story in Matthew 19 of the centurion who comes to Jesus and asks that his slave be healed? Did it ever seem odd to you both that a centurion (a high ranking military officer in the Roman army) would come to Jesus for help, and that this military leader would be seeking healing for his slave? I always thought this was a bit out of place, odd I thought that it was included.

An argument can be made based on the original Greek texts that the man and his slave were gay lovers. Is this conclusive evidence that Jesus sanctioned a gay relationship? Absolutely not! Neither are many of the arguments made against homosexuality. None of the passages quoted to damn gay people speak of committed gay or lesbian couples living in Gods grace. You can read more details at http://www.wouldjesusdiscriminate.org/.

Most of my arguments can be found at the website just mentioned, but the point of this post is simply to answer the question of "what did Jesus say about homosexuality?" The answer remains resoundingly; nothing; not a single word.

If a person or an institution is speaking out against homosexuality in the name of Jesus, who brought a new covenant from God which would be written in our hearts, that person or institution is what Jesus referred to as a false prophet; "Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves."

Jesus never made a single statement about homosexuality, but he spoke strongly about judging others; "For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." If you bring this up to someone who is behaving as a false prophet, and he or she simply persists in their rhetoric of hate, remember also Jesus' admonition; "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces." At some point when being confronted by someone who simply wishes to engage in hatred you are best served to do as Jesus told the disciples; "If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet."

A Transsexual Lesbian's Search For A Christian Church

In this post I want to outline my search for a Christian church home. Please refer to my other posts for supporting and background information.

I recently got out of rehab and moved in with my mother and we began looking for a home church. Both of us are comfortable reading the bible with the words of Jesus in the forefront and were looking for a fellowship focused more on grace than on law. We were saddened by finding congregations that, while consisting of kind and accepting individuals, have in their statement of beliefs codifications of individual laws which would exclude, condemn, or denigrate one or the other of us. 

As an example; I am a lesbian. I have a personal relationship with God ("No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, 'Know the Lord,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest.") and, while he has made it clear to me that my past as a drug addict and prostitute has been wicked, he hasn't mentioned anything to me regarding either my sexuality or my gender identity. I found churches (both through attendance and online research) that make statements in their beliefs such as: "Our stand on the social issue of homosexuality is that... while we understand the... perversions... that lead to the choice of homosexuality... God's will is sufficient to overcome the practice of homosexuality" and; "we believe that God’s design for the gift of sexuality is that it is to be exercised and enjoyed only within the covenant relationship of marriage between one man and one woman.  We also believe that Christians are to live by God's moral law, which is found in both the Old and New Testaments." I found it disheartening that people will pick and choose which scriptures to use to judge their neighbors in this manner while avoiding those that might cause their own congregation to recoil in horror such as Paul's statement that "Women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church".

I read the words of Jesus first, then I read the Gospels around them, then the rest of the New Testament, then the Old Testament as reference, particularly of course with regard to those references that were made directly by Jesus or the authors of the books of the New Testament. I believe that Jesus effectively released us from the mores and letter of the law in the Old Testament that were followed by the Jewish community by statements such as "it is not what goes into your mouth, but rather that which comes out of it that defile you" (no more Leviticus restrictions on diet, this also is confirmed by Peter's vision), and "let those among you who are without sin cast the first stone." And yes, I am well aware of Mark 10:6-9 "But at the beginning of creation God made them male and female. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate." He actually made this statement in the context of divorce and was criticizing divorce, not a same sex union!

I talk to Him daily and he hasn't mentioned to me that he finds me a "perversion". Jesus associated with prostitutes, Samaritans, adulteresses, lepers, and yes, even tax collectors. He continually confused and angered others, including his followers, by his insistence on being kind to all while running from the masses and from the spotlight, admonishing those he healed to "tell no one" and even taking a boat across a lake to avoid the throngs. Jesus didn't discriminate; except perhaps against legalists; and it did seem that he had a particular issue with the rich; and he did consistently speak out against those who condemn others; "For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

Perhaps those who choose to condemn me for being gay should also consider placing in their statement of beliefs Jesus' position on divorce as stated above. I cannot find it in my heart to believe in this type of "cafeteria Christianity", where one can pick and choose which "sins" to wink at and which to condemn. 

I must either live by grace as a child of God or I live as a false prophet, condemning others based on my own prejudice and fear, known by the fruit of my vine. 

I know that this is a narrow precipice to tread. On the one hand I have Jesus' parable stating "for many are called, few are chosen", and on the other I have his admonition to the disciples of "if anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet." 

In fact Jesus never stated any position on homosexuality, other than his position on marriage and against divorce of course; in which case I should be hesitant to read part of his statement without the other. I am just as hesitant to listen to the word of those who are comfortable taking His word out of context in this manner. I am similarly unwilling to read his statement that "it easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than a rich man into heaven" without also reading his follow up of "with man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

I have found that many churches feel the need to have written "beliefs" that, in my understanding, contradict the message of the Son of Man, to love God with all your heart, and to love your neighbor as yourself. When asked by a Pharisee to define the word neighbor he gave us the parable of the good Samaritan, a person reviled by the Jewish community. He never mentioned the Samaritan or the Jew he helped having to undergo ritual cleansing during or after the aid. I don't recall the parable including any condemnation of either party for either perceived or imagined wrongs. He never mentioned the necessity of taking a "stand" on the social issue of the Samaritan being outside the Jewish community and their laws. 

It would seem that some churches believe that taking a stand on social or political issues is consistent with their following the words of Jesus. I remember only his admonition to "Give unto Caesar what is Caesars, and give unto God what is Gods." My mother is a staunch Republican who watches Fox News and thinks Glenn Beck is a good Christian and messenger of God. I am as far left as you can get, a Democrat, watch Rachel Maddow for my news, and find both Beck and Fox News to be offensive at best. But we're not looking to join either a political organization or a social activist group. We are looking for a church that follows the teachings of the Son of Man based on His word and His parables such as those of the good Samaritan, the yeast and the dough, etc. We would both enjoy the opportunity to learn and grow within a church and to give back to the community in ways that glorify His Word and His Will rather than our own.

My being a lesbian is not a "choice" nor is it a "practice" which requires being "overcome"; it is simply who I am and how God made me. It is not a "social issue" on which anyone has a right to "take a stand". It is not a perversion for me to be gay. I am not in the closet nor do I intend to ever crawl back in it. I realize there are churches for "people like me" such as Metropolitan Community Church. Are you old enough to remember segregation? I am. I read Phillip Yancy's book "Church: Why Bother" yesterday. I found his position that he searches for a church where the congregation is unlike him to be very interesting.

Here's the funny part; as a non-surgical (non-operative - no body altering surgery has been performed) transsexual lesbian, I still have male genitalia. Most bigots will regard me as a man, regardless of how long (over five years) I've lived as me and as a woman. Those same people will find me abhorrent (they've told me to my face, really, I don't have to guess anymore) and identify me as a man who lives as a woman. As a transsexual lesbian, I am only interested in romantic relationships with women, therefore the average "Christian" will say I'm gay based on who I date, and will find me despicable based on who I am living as. Again, God hasn't mentioned this to me in our conversations. Clearly, people such as these are simply looking for opportunities to hate. 

Hating people isn't something that I remember Jesus having done. Perhaps you, dear reader, can point out the verse to me. I recall him calling Judas 'friend' when Judas led the crowd to take him in the garden of Gethsemane. I recall him saving an adulteress from a horrible death. I recall him using a Samaritan divorcee as an impromptu disciple to save many in a Samaritan town. I have read his words many times and several times recently, but I can find no mention of his being willing to hate.

Jesus was not the 'pablum Jesus' that modern Christians would have us believe. He was not always gentle and kind and strong and confident and composed. Philip Yancy refers to this post-Constantine illusion as the 'Prozac Jesus'. 

Mother Teresa, that “when we judge people, we have no time to love them.”

Accepting God; A Scientists' Perspective

I described in a prior post how I had come to accept God and how I had been healed both physically and emotionally by God. In this post I want to share how I have managed to reconcile my intellectual beliefs as a scientist, and how I continue on a daily basis to reaffirm those beliefs with my acceptance of God through the Word of Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of Man and the Son of God.


I have a degree in engineering from a reasonably prestigious state university, and have spent the past three to three and a half decades reaffirming my atheism. I read Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance while in high school and it changed my life. I refined my view of the world to be one where logic and intellect ruled. I designed and built machines and software programs that could do virtually anything. I had been known to say "if I can image it, I can build it."

My experience with God and religion had been through a prism of fundamentalist religion that was imposed on me as a child through the cult that my family was a member of. Hell fire, brimstone, and righteous judgement ruled the day. There was no concept of either grace or forgiveness, only perpetual living with shame. Even though I was familiar with the bible my view was tainted by this Old Testament view and I judged the bible and all persons who followed it by the evils perpetrated in its pages such as the genocides of Joshua.

When, in my mid-forties, I experienced a traumatic life experience, that of losing my family to an ugly separation, I had neither deity nor religious belief to turn to. My family includes many alcoholics and drug addicts, none of whom could help me. Most of them simply would not help me, preferring instead to ridicule and denigrate me due to my being a transsexual lesbian. I was alone with my atheism, surrounded by the cold intellectual framework of Stephen Hawking, James Watson, and Francis Crick. We had seen the mind of God, unraveling the mysteries of both the universe and of life itself.

I studied quantum physics, wondering at the mystery of quantum entanglement and wave particle duality. I studied astrophysics, accepting the age of the universe as approximately 13.7 years old. I studied paleoarchaeology, accepting that humans evolved from lower mammals (effectively from apes) over the last five to six million years. I studied paleogeology, accepting the age of the earth as approximately 4.5 billion years old. I came to believe that the theory of panspermia best explained the development of DNA. 

I studied and sometimes participated in religious ceremonies and beliefs including Wicca, Buddhism, Islam, and others. I never found any religion that coincided with my intellectual beliefs and continued to scoff at those who accepted the concept of a deity. I had found nothing in my studies that would explain how any supernatural force would work. I reveled in my atheism, stating that atheists were more likely to be good people as they didn't get a "second chance". Only when I had hit rock bottom for the second time, ending up in a state supported treatment facility as an addict did I reevaluate my position.

I have covered how I came to be in rehab in a prior post, and the impact that my addiction to synthetic marijuana had on my life in another. In this post I am only addressing how I have managed to accept God into my life while still accepting the scientific evidence of the world and the universe around me. 

White willow bark has been mentioned in some of the oldest texts known to exist and is believed to  have been used as far back as six millennia. Modern tests conclude that "The active extract of the bark, called salicin... was isolated to its crystalline form in 1828 by Henri Leroux, a French pharmacist, and Raffaele Piria, an Italian chemist, who then succeeded in separating out the acid in its pure state. Salicylic acid, like aspirin, is a chemical derivative of salicin." White willow bark is, effectively, Mother Nature's aspirin. Ancient civilizations had no way of knowing this of course, but they knew that it was effective as an analgesic and anti-inflammatory agent. It is likely that our ancestors, as hunter-gatherers,  tested virtually every species of both flora and fauna for edibility in their efforts to survive. Those found to be inedible due to unwanted reactions were avoided; those found to be edible were gathered (and eventually farmed); those found to provide beneficial side effects (such pain and inflammation relief) would certainly have been identified and used for medicinal (or recreational!) purposes. It was not necessary for these people to know the underlying chemical compounds responsible. Our ancestors were wise enough to use what worked. 

I often wonder if we have lost the ability to appreciate both the beauty and wonder around us without dissecting it. We have become a culture of reductionists, our religion that of reductionism, disbelieving anything which we cannot both dissect and understand. Stephen Hawking stated "When people ask me if a god created the universe, I tell them that the question itself makes no sense... there is no god. No one created our universe,and no one directs our fate...There is probably no heaven, and no afterlife either. " We now know how DNA replicates to sustain and create life. To the pure scientist, the thrill is gone, the cat is out of the bag, what was hidden has been revealed. We no longer need gods; we have become gods. 

Some years ago I was working at manufacturing plant where one of my projects was to build a lab environment where the machinists and tool and die makers could build prototypes. I have an engineering degree and had at that time worked with machinists and tool and die makers for over a decade in addition to machine shop labs in school and years of helping my older brother, father, and step-father work on cars and various equipment. I determined that I would build one of the parts that I had designed in the new lab rather than assign it to one of the machinists. I finally had to give up after breaking several hundred dollars worth of milling heads and ruining perhaps half a dozen expensive tool steel blanks. I simply do not have the talent required to be a machinist. I had a similar experience with welding years before. Although I had a minor in welding metallurgy I could not (and most assuredly still cannot) weld two pieces of steel together adequately no matter how hard I try! I can calculate tool paths and figure metal alloys, design complex structures and machines, but I simply do not have the talent to be either a machinist or a welder. I can neither sing nor dance of note either. 

I believe that, given an expensive Swiss mechanical watch and the proper tools, I could take it apart, figure out how it works, and perhaps even design a new one or make improvements. I might even (with considerable luck and lots of notes!) be able to get the disassembled watch back together in working order (want to let me try on your Rolex?), but I have virtually zero confidence that I could build one from scratch. As an engineer and scientist I am able to dissect an object and understand it, even perhaps able to describe it and possibly determine what changes might do to its behavior. Still, none of this mean that I am capable of either building that object from scratch or, more importantly, in the absence of such an object, does it mean that I am able to conceive of and create that object. 

A heart surgeon brought his vintage motorcycle to the shop and was told it needed a valve job. On picking up the motorcycle some time later the mechanic asked him, "Doc, I opened up the head, cleaned the valves, and put it all back together so that it's running smooth. You open up a heart, clean the valves, and put it all back together so it's running smooth. Why is it I make thirty dollars and hour and you make three hundred dollars an hour?" The surgeon replied without pause, "Try doing it while the motor is running."

When I was healed of my brain damage, guilt, and shame, I had to come to terms with that. Either I denied that I had been healed, in which case I was back to the cold, stark reality of an atheist, or I accepted that I had been healed, in which case I had to understand how that happened. Further, denying that I had been healed would be an admission that I am in fact insane! I know what happened to me. The scientist in me "observed" the healing and compared that to prior data. There simply is no way for me to deny having been physically and emotionally healed other than to deny my own observations, effectively accepting that I am insane. (The astute among you will note my use of the scientific method to "prove" a very non-scientific result!).

That we understand how the "clockwork" of life, DNA, and of the universe works does not mean that we are capable of understanding why or how either was created nor that we would be able to create, envision, or understand either in the absence of their existence. In fact, we do not even come close to understanding either the universe or the creation of life. Proponents of the anthropic principle note the fine tuning of fundamental constants without which our universe and life would not be possible. Those who understand the replication of DNA are awestruck by the process, and we still do not understand how each cell "knows" what type of cell to become. How we are so different from chimpanzees although we differ in DNA by only a percentage.

I had to accept that I was healed, and that I had not been healed on prior occasions no matter how hard I wanted it. Not only was I powerless over my addiction, I had absolutely no control over the damage that drugs had done to my brain. Once I accepted this, it became obvious to me what I had been missing; our ability to dissect DNA and to mathematically describe the universe did not in fact make us gods. Stephen Hawking is wrong; no matter how well we describe the world around us, we will still not know the mind of God.

I have had conversations with those who don't believe in evolution, believe in a literal creation story where humans and all the flora and fauna of the world are immutable. Parallel with the belief that life on earth is immutable, believers in a literal creation story believe in a young earth, it being 'created' by God less than ten thousand years ago. Modern science has disproved both these theories. Charles Darwin, the primary developer of modern evolutionary theory fought to believe in a literal creation story. He had to recant, but only after years of research, stating on 11 January, 1844 in a letter to a friend that he was "almost convinced (quite contrary to opinion I started with) that species are not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable." Modern science has proven the literal interpretation of creation myths to be just that, mythology.

I still believe in evolution and that man evolved from apes. I still wonder at the miracle of quantum entanglement. I still believe that the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old and the earth is approximately 4.5 billion years old. I still believe that the speed of light is constant throughout the universe (e=mc2) and that no physical object can approach the speed of light due to the infinite increase in mass. I still don't believe that inter-stellar travel is possible due to e=mc2 and that the use of wormholes is impossible due to time dilation (although I do not discount future discoveries such as traversable wormholes). I still believe that there is no time outside the beginning of the universe. 

The leap of faith required by me in order to believe in God as a Creator is far greater than that of someone ignorant of modern science and too belligerent to consider it. I had to decide that I believe in God even though the evidence produced by all of humanity over the course of all history contradict His existence. The ignorant and close minded person simply has to believe his pastor. It is interesting to note that, of those who believe in a young earth and the immutability of species, most still rely on modern science when it comes to medicine. Hypocrite is the most appropriate term for these people, and it is interesting to note that the earliest reference I can find to its use other than in the original Greek, for an actor, is when Jesus used it repeatedly to those who followed the letter of the law while ignoring its spirit.

My faith in God is strong enough that I don't need Him to fit within the mathematics of Stephen Hawking or within DNA sequencing theory. In truth, I would have no respect for a deity that could be described by our science. That said; I pray every day for God that "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

Do I know what God looks like? Of course not. That we are "made in His image" may not be a literal statement, just as the creation story is not literal. Made in "His image" may be a reference to how we think and act. Jesus said that "God is spirit." We don't even know what Jesus looked like. The popular "Caucasian" image or, as Philip Yancy labels him, the Prozak Jesus, most certainly looks nothing like a first century Jew. Jesus probably looked more like Lenny Bruce with a full beard, and the two probably would have understood each other quite well, generational issues aside.

Do I know what Heaven is or looks like or what the kingdom of God is or looks like? What a ridiculous question! It certainly isn't in the clouds, as was thought up until a few centuries past. Jesus told us that the kingdom of God is upon you. he also said that, wherever there are two or more of us in His name He will be there. Maybe we're in heaven and the kingdom of God right now, as Christians who actually try to follow the words of Jesus and who call on Him. You can find, and I have found, numerous arguments that will shred my simplified statements, however, once I accept that the bible is to be read primarily as a parable and I cast off the desire to be a legalist and interpret scripture as exact, trying instead to live by the spirit of the scripture, no more does the legalist have any hold over me.

I read the bible through the filter of the "words in red." I look for what Jesus actually meant rather than tearing apart the exact phrasing of a particular interpretation. Jesus repeatedly used this same method to both strike down existing law as in His statement that "it is not what goes into your mouth, but rather that which comes out of it that defiles you" as well in his actions such as fraternizing with Samaritans and lepers. 

When I read Paul saying that it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in church, I simply run that through the filter of the words of Jesus. Sorry! There is absolutely no way that Jesus would have taken that position! The last people at the cross and the first at the tomb were women. Women of means followed him and the disciples and helped to support them. Jesus used a Samaritan woman to carry the message to a Samaritan town, effectively making her a disciple.

Jesus' message to anyone who will read His words without the filter of his or her own prejudice. He spoke to us in parables that were so simple even children could understand them. When asked what to do to inherit eternal life he acknowledged that we must love the Lord with all our heart and love our neighbor as we do our self. When asked to define neighbor he gave us the parable of the good Samaritan. Samaritans and Jews hated one another, yet Jesus chose one of the most hated classes of people to demonstrate to the Jewish Pharisees what is meant by love. You must love everyone, regardless of differences, even as you love yourself. 

Jesus never mentioned any ritual cleansing that was required before or after the Samaritan helped the Jew, only that help was given and nothing expected in return. Is that really so difficult to understand? With that context in mind how can anyone justify condemning anyone else whether he or she be an adulterer, homosexual, Muslim, African American, or even a Republican?

I've had apologists explain Pauls' statement disallowing women to speak in church as being due to the women being "pagans", but that is not mentioned in Pauls' text. None seems willing to discuss the issue of divorce, although all will readily condemn homosexuality. Jesus was clear on his stance against divorce, but he never mentioned homosexuality. How can someone who professes to be a Christian castigate homosexuals but never mention divorce? Hypocrisy. Homosexuals are an easy target in our society; it is popular to hate us. Criticize divorcees in the same manner and watch your congregation, and hence your cash flow, run screaming for the doors.

Jesus made it clear that there would be a great cost in being a disciple. Those who succumb to social pressure or prejudice and treat others in a manner other than as a neighbor (in the sense that Jesus meant) are simply not following the path that He laid out for us. He made it clear that there would be false prophets. He even made it clear how to identify them; by their very actions. If someone professes to follow His path, but treats others badly, and not as Jesus outlined in his definition of neighbor, that is a false prophet.

Jesus brought to us a new covenant, in which God said; "I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts... No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more." How hard is it to read the words of Jesus, understanding his simple parables, and to pray to God in His name asking for understanding? I don't need someone with a degree in seminary to tell me that God doesn't hate me because I'm gay. It's obvious to me when I commune with God.

My Addiction To Synthetic Marijuana (K2/spice)

My other posts have given more details surrounding the issue of my addiction. In this post I specifically want to talk about the progress and effects of my addiction to synthetic marijuana, also known as "spice" or "K2". The synopsis is that this is dangerous stuff!

I began using spice as a replacement for marijuana (pot), seeing it as a legal alternative. My understanding was that it was essentially the same thing as pot, but sold retail over the counter so I didn't have to get busted. Within three to six months I was going through three to four grams daily (at approximately ten to fifteen dollars per gram).

I was already experiencing withdrawals including nausea and anxiety. I would smoke a bowl to go to bed, smoke a bowl if I got up at night to use the restroom, and smoke a bowl when I got up before I even made coffee. By this time I had begun to keep a pipe in my car, smoking a bowl before I left my apartment, then another bowl before I left my car to go to work. I'd come out at lunch and smoke a couple of bowls at lunch. Before long I was taking "smoke breaks", coming out to my car once or twice in the morning and again in the afternoon. I was no longer functional at work and lost my job.

I had stopped taking my medications, psych medications for manic/depressive/bipolar disorder. I was having to self medicate the lows anyway I thought, so why bother with my prescription medications? Once I stopped using the prescription drugs use of spice took off. I had no thought of being an addict at this time. I simply thought I was doing what I needed to do to feel 'normal'.

I overdosed the first time during this period. I smoked some stuff that I hadn't tried before and went to lay down. Within a few minutes I was paralyzed. I could swallow and blink my eyes, but I couldn't so much as move a finger. I could feel my heart beat once or twice "thump thump", then stop. I would gasp and my heart would start again. If I weren't such a healthy and strong woman I have no doubt that I would have died right there. After perhaps an hour and a half I was able to move again. I loaded another bowl, albeit with less than before.

When I lost my job I loaded my car (which I hadn't made payments on in about three months) with some clothes, dropped off some photo albums off at a friends, and headed to Las Vegas where I theorized that I would make a living gambling. I ran out of money and gas on a long stretch of New Mexico highway and tried to beg for some money. I found that I had become invisible. People treated me like I had the plague. I prostituted myself for the first time at that truck stop. There is always a man around that will give you a twenty to give him oral sex.

When I got to Vegas my situation didn't improve. I would make a little money gambling, then lose a lot. I'd make it up hooking, only to do it over again. Before long I was hooking all day every day. All I cared about was getting high. I was going through five to ten grams of spice at this time, plus a couple of bottles of hydrocodone each week, plus whatever my 'client' had in his bowl when I arrived. 

I overdosed the second time while in Vegas. My price was either cash or drugs, negotiable depending on how bad I needed to get high. In any case, the party never started until I got high. I usually had no idea what I was smoking. I came over to a clients apartment and he had a bong waiting for me. I got high and, by the time he had finished with me, I was paralyzed again like I had been the first time. I slid off the couch onto the filthy carpet, naked and filthy from what he had done to me. Again I could feel my heart stopping, but this time was worse, and I prepared myself to die. My face was pressed into the filthy carpet, my mouth partially open, and every time I gasped bits of lint and filth got in my mouth. I was laying so that I could see underneath the couch. There was a worn out red flip and a small blue fuzzy ball that looked like a cat toy. I hadn't seen a cat in the apartment, and I remember thinking; "Who took the cat and why is he only wearing one shoe?" Such were my grand thoughts as I lay dying.

When the john saw that I was dying, he grabbed me by the wrist and drug me into his shower, putting me under cold water and slapping me until I could tell him where my car was. He carried me out and threw me and my clothes into the back of my car and left me there. As I lay there naked, wet from the shower, and filthy as I hadn't been able to clean myself after he had used me, what I felt was 'alone'. Not solitude; solitude is when you go off somewhere by yourself to contemplate. Not loneliness; loneliness requires you to have something to be lonely from, or for, and I had lost or given up every thing. I just felt alone. It was perhaps an hour before I could begin moving around in my car. My first act was neither to dress or clean myself. I loaded my pipe and smoked a bowl to numb back out. Still, it was several months before a friend talked me into coming back home and staying with her.

I had cut off all contact with my friends and family except for one friend, and I had refused to answer any of her calls or texts except the occasional late night text which I knew she wouldn't answer. I had convinced myself that giving oral sex to strangers was less degrading than working in an office writing software, and had saved up several bottles of hydrocodone, planning to commit suicide when I finally lost any will to go on. In fact, I had lost the will to live months before, but was only surviving on the desire to continue getting high. 

My friend convinced me to come home and stay with her the next time I went broke, so I did, and arrived with twenty dollars and a car that was repossessed almost immediately. I stayed clean for a few months simply because I had no money, no car to get out to turn tricks, and I stayed busy working in her backyard and garden. I drew unemployment from my prior job and saved up enough money to get a cheap car and immediately starting using spice again, going right back to prostitution to get it.

I had a car accident after about six months and had no money or insurance and had run out of drugs. I attempted suicide with a bottle of hydrocodone two days later. My friend came home early and found me and I spent some time under watch at the county hospital then locked down in the psych ward. The day after I got out I realized that I wouldn't make the day without taking the money my friend had given me to get my scripts filled and buying drugs. I attended my first Narcotics Anonymous meeting that evening.

I managed to stay clean for about six months, although I quit going to NA after about three months. The profanity and anger never helped me. I was clean, but I had not recovered. I was a dry addict. I had found a job and on the day I bought a car with money I saved up I went and got high. I spent the next four or five months trying to quit by myself but never could. I would go a day or two, but the nausea and anxiety was too much. In the last month before I was fired from this job (there had been two others in there somewhere in this story, but things are a bit fuzzy) I was going out to my car three to four times in the morning and again in the afternoon in addition to smoking before and after work and at lunch! I was going through five to ten grams of spice per day.

I was experiencing blackouts, and had overdosed twice more. I would get out to my car, smoke a bowl, then take off for home, coming to an hour or two later in an area of the metroplex that I had never even been in before and didn't know how I'd gotten there! Twice I was busted with cops banging on my window, sitting in my seat with a pipe in one hand and a lighter in the other, sitting at a stop sign completely unconscious.

I had begun to hear phantom music after I'd returned from Vegas. At first I thought it was a neighborhood band, then I thought the wiring in the house was picking up a strange radio station. By the time I was having blackouts almost daily I was hearing phantom music almost all times of the day. It was never the same music and never music that I was familiar with. It always sounded like the tinny music you hear when someone's headphones or earbuds are over bleeding. My brain was making up music on the fly that was completely unique. I was going insane. I had used so many drugs that I had caused brain damage and my brain was screaming for relief.

My friend had kicked me out and I was living in my car the week or so before I checked myself into rehab. As a transsexual woman, I had been treated horribly during my stays in the psych ward and in jail. I was terrified of going into rehab and instead was living in my car, spending all my money on spice, knowing that it was only a few days before I'd have to turn to prostitution again. A friend from work talked me into going into rehab where I did not let them know I was a transsexual woman so they treated me as any other woman and I was in the unit for almost two weeks before I voluntarily let everyone know.

I couldn't eat for almost a week. I had stomach cramps, nausea, and diarrhea as well as horrible anxiety. I know that alcoholics and heroin addicts probably have worse withdrawals, but spice withdrawal was horrible. 

You can read about how I was healed in my other blog posts. The point here is how I, an educated and intelligent woman with a good job history and capable of making eighty to ninety thousand a year salary decided instead to prostitute herself for a cheap high. During my addiction I had actually convinced myself that I was doing what was best for me.

I have some simple advice for you if you are thinking of using spice. Do some research. You'll find I'm not the only person who has become addicted to spice and has had brain damage or worse and who has experienced horrible withdrawals. Spice is some nasty stuff!