I anointed him with a spirit of peace and prayed blessings upon his life from Exodus 33:12–23 and Psalm 33:4–5. It was a treasured moment, between both queer biological siblings and siblings in Christ. It was a moment of encouragement and a reminder that the Lord uses us to bless one another. A reminder that we need one another.

Because, in my fiery soul, I have a hope that burns brightly. It is a hope that, like Jesus approaching Samaria, we look toward the dim corners of our table and know that we have to go there. Not to dominate with our own fire but to see and tend to the flames that have been neglected, both by society and by our own community… Because the thriving of this table is not someone else’s responsibility. It belongs to each of us.

Sometimes, people will ask me why I need a word for being asexual.  They will ask me why it even matters. They will ask me why it is included under the LGBTQ+ umbrella.  After all, it's not like asexual people are getting discriminated against, right? And I want to start by saying that suffering is not comparative. All pain matters.  The biggest struggle I have had as an asexual person is continually being doubted. I am not believed, not by Christians, not by non-Christians, not by anyone. Several years ago, I was at the doctor's office getting some shots, and they wanted to give me one to protect against STDs.  I told them I was asexual and had no plans to be sexually active.  The doctor looked both ways in the empty room, leaned close to me, and said, "Honey, I'm not your mom. You can be honest." Our world is so saturated by sexualized things that most people don't seem to even be able to comprehend that someone like me exists.  Even when I'm standing right in front of them explaining myself, they're still sure I must be confused!  I just haven't met the right person, clearly. 

It was almost Lent, and Pastor Mary was answering a question she often heard from students: Why does Easter even matter? And to put a much finer point on that question, What does Jesus’ resurrection have to do with something that matters a lot to us, like sex?

Well. Hold my grape juice. 

One of the most central resurrection texts we have in the New Testament is 1 Corinthians 15. It’s like Paul’s “ICYMI (in case you missed it) before we’re done here” moment: if Christ’s resurrection isn’t for you and if it doesn’t change absolutely everything for us in this life and in the next—then we’re all liars, our ministry is useless, your faith is meaningless, and all we can look forward to is death.

Both Christian churches and associated parachurch ministries have long been mostly concerned with intervening in the sexualities of men when it comes to same-sex attraction. This particular pressure on men and anxiety around men’s appropriate masculinity creates a discrepancy around men’s and women’s involvement in ex-gay, reparative, and sexual orientation change “therapies.” For some, this can seem like a rare privilege that women have over men in the Side B community, but this privilege has its own drawbacks.

Some of the experiences commonly reported in women’s affinity meetings at Revoice and in the recent women’s survey is how the heavy expectation/assumption that girls are straight, that they will be married, and that they will be biological mothers makes it more difficult for many women to discern their own desires and attractions. The refusal to see women as sexual beings in many Christian circles not only hinders the development of healthy sexuality for married straight women, but also creates mental, emotional, and spiritual hurdles for women to recognize when they are attracted to other women.

My first in-person experience [at Revoice] in St. Louis was overwhelming. I didn't expect there to be so many men, rooms felt loud, I didn't know who to sit with, and I recall the newcomer breakout session during lunch the first day was a circle of chairs composed of nearly 30 white men. I was enjoying the content of the conference, but felt on edge… 

Thankfully I met two other gals that I got to hang out with the rest of the time–that made a huge difference… we have since become friends and keep in touch. But, we literally met over her asking me how I was doing and me saying, "Can I be real for a second? There are so many men here!!" — Anonymous response to Revoice’s survey to LGBTQ/ SSA women

So, Lent. It’s not in the Bible. Or is it…? 

OK, technically no. But the elements are all in there: ashes, confession and repentance, 40 days, fasting, palm branches, deepening our study of Scripture, and many more. Lent is a season of walking with Jesus on his way to the Cross and Resurrection. 

But what does this season mean for us? Are there unique ways LGBTQ+ Christians can celebrate Lent? Oh honey, I only have 500 words here. So let me just offer a short list of Side B ways that queer folk can Lent it UP.

I offer that by responding to God’s love in worship and prayer, by not waiting for the approval of institutions to act in the interests of the people around us, by establishing God-honoring and human-honoring boundaries about the types of treatment we will receive, and by knowing how we will (and won’t) respond–and honoring those boundaries with ourselves–we cultivate the same kind of agapic energy that sustained Civil Rights Movement leaders like Fannie Lou Hamer. This was an energy that could not be sapped by the lack of support from fellow Believers, and, in time, even drew some into relationship and resistance at long last.