This explains everything!
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Yikes!
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"What's up?"

I remember in highschool how my friends and I would greet each other in the halls. We would say something like, "What's up?" or, "How's it hangin', dude?" We didn't really expect to get the lowdown on how either of us was "really feeling", only, it was a way to say hello.

Now, in my adulthood, I find that my friends often say, "Hey, what's up?" or, "How's life treating you?". I've learned that greetings rarely change. However, once in awhile, I find a friend or they find me and ask with genuine interest, "How you are doing?" It is with these special friends that I and they, have the permission to really sit down and share our lives with one another. Thomas Merton has this really great quote, which is written out below, that speaks to these conversations. His words take such intimate conversations deeper and encourage us to ask those really insightful and meaningful questions of those we call our truest friends.

Identity
Thomas Merton

If you want to identify me,
ask me not where I live,
or what I like to eat, or
how I comb my hair;
but ask me what I am living for,
in detail, and ask me
what I think is keeping me
from living fully for
the thing I want to live for.

Gotta love them vacations

Okay, so I thought I would've written more on my blog during my vacation than just that one post about getting into first class on my flight. As it turned out, my vacation was one heck of a rest and relaxation experience.

Here are the things I did on my vacation: got up late, ate brunch, hung out with my family, napped, ate, watched cable tv, went dancing, stopped off at Dunkin Donuts to bring home a dozen donuts for breakfast the next day (they make these really tastey and heavy donuts, nothing like they serve here in NYC), and then went to bed. Repeat. Of the times I varied from this schedule, I: drank Margaritas pool side (at my brother's house), played golf, visited with old friends.

My family is doing quite well. Mom is looking and feeling good, Sig is enjoying himself, my eldest brother and his family are doing well (although he did have a brief health scare on the evening of my return flight). My middle brother, well.. he is up to his old tricks again, which, as it turns, is a really bad thing. However, that is normal for him- so.. I guess things are the same for everyone.

One of the jewels in my vacation crown was the golf outing with an old friend (and his wife who kicks butt on the golf course). We both played pretty well (although he did beat the stuffing out of me), it was fun to laugh (or not have to laugh, depending on where you were sitting), swing, and get reaquainted. Thanks Paul for a great time (he reads my blog from time to time)!

The bad thing about my vacation is that it ended too soon. And, I won't be able to have another vacation until the Fall. However, that said, my vacation couldn't've been any better.

Upon returning to New York City, I feel refreshed and ready to begin again with all the fun and serious responsibilities that have waited for me. I think I'll put off some of those serious things until I get the "donut binges" out of my system- Lord only knows how that kind of withdraw can affect one's ability to get much accomplished. :)

First Class, Woo-hoo!

I finally did it- I was upgraded to First Class! Wowsers, it was an amazing experience. I got some great food, wine before and after each meal, and plenty of leg room. I'd never flown first class before and now, I want to fly it every time.

What made the trip even better was this guy who was seated next to me. Sitting down, we both noticed we carried a "spit cup" on board, and grinning from ear to ear, we both felt we'd met a kindred spirit in each other. (Isn't it amazing what smokeless tobacco can do to unite strangers?) heh heh

We sat down and began talking. We learned that we both went to the same college, knew some of the same friends, both were church guys- it was a facinating experience that revealed to us how small the world really is.

I am a big fan of being open to the movement of the Spirit- and realizing that God often connects us with other people in surprising and unexpected ways. But a person really must remain open to the movement of God for this to happen. In some ways, it is like a HotSpot at a local coffee shop- the Spirit is always on, it is up to us to get connected. Through prayer and recognizing ways in which the Spirit connects us, we find this really amazing network that God keeps up and running. By seeing God at work around me and being attentive to the Spirit, I met a new friend. Together, we talked and shared our faith; and I was enriched by his.

Who'd've thought that on a first class flight to Oklahoma, I would connect with the Spirit and meet a new friend along the way. Daaaaaaaaaaang, this is just another reason I loved my flight. Pretty cool, eh?

A Thomas Merton Prayer

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. - Thomas Merton

This prayer seems so relevant to me- sometimes I think I am haplessly stumbling along and yet, with faith, I hope to turn my haplessness into a more errant journey. (There is a difference.. at least, in my mind there is one.)

Understanding Singleness

I am going out of town tomorrow and one thing I like to do before I travel is to do a complete cleaning of my apartment. I hate coming home to a dirty place, so tomorrow before my flight leaves, I'll be scrubbing, vacuuming, and generally making my place real tidy.

Yesterday, I was in the bathroom cleaning up a bit and noticed mildrew on my shower curtains. It kinda ticked me off because I bought those curtians pretty recently with the promise on the package that mildrew cannot form on these special and expensive curtains. But then, I've never really cleaned them and they are a bit long for my shower (there is an overlap at the bottom, where all the mildrew is spreading like wildfire). Still- there is lots of gross mildew and I gotta get rid of it.

So, like all single guys everywhere (or at least, the single guys I know), instead of taking down the shower curtains to soak in bleach and scrub away the mildew, I am just going out to buy some new ones. ;) And this time, I'll buy shorter ones.

Thinking about singleness and the upkeep of all things dirty reminds me that I need to not be single. Of course, I am not being sexist (or role specific) by implying that my next boyfriend will be the cleaner in the apartment- I simply find that if I know I'll have guests or someone staying over, I am more inclinded to keep the place tidier. Being alone in the apartment, I really don't care how untidy the place gets.

Maybe this is the reason that God desires that we not be alone- otherwise, we'd all live like complete slobs.

Redneck Jokes

Q: What has 132 legs and 8 teeth?

A: The front row of a Garth Brooks concert!

++++++++

Top 10 Reasons to Know You're a Redneck

1. Your dog rides in your truck more than your wife.
2. You wear specific hats to farm sales, livestock auctions,
customer appreciation suppers, and vacations.
3. You have ever had to wash off in the backyard with a garden
hose before your wife would let you in the house.
4. You've never thrown away a 5-gallon bucket.
5. You can remember the fertilizer rate, seed population,
herbicide rate and yields on a farm you rented 10 years ago,
but cannot recall your wife's birthday.
6. You have used a velvet leaf plant as toilet paper.
7. You have driven off the road while examining your neighbors
crops.
8. You have borrowed gravel from the county road to fill potholes
in your driveway.
9. You have buried a dog and cried like a baby.
10. You've used the same knife to make bull calves steers and
peel apples.

Great Weekend

I love it when I have a lot to do and lots get done. This weekend I went to a few parties (two birthday parties, and one housewarming party), hung out with some friends, spoke at a church, stood to march in a parade (although I couldn't stay longer), and participated in a great worship service.

At church, we have several folks looking to get involved in full-time pastoral ministry. One of those folks preached one heck of a great sermon yesterday. His name is James Campbell and you can read his sermon on our church website. I tell you, that boy is gonna make a fab pastor.

This week I am preparing to go home to Oklahoma for a brief vacation. I am very much looking forward to my trip home although I am not looking forward to getting to the airport. Here in NYC, I take a subway to the train, then transfer from one train to the airport tram and then walk what seems like forever once I am at Newark Airport. The whole trip there takes about 2 hours. Yuck.

I'll post a couple of notes once I am home and let you know how fabulous a time I am having.

The Power of Prayer

**WARNING: LONG POST**

Well, it just happened again.. twice in two days it has. There are whole weeks that go by without it happening and then suddenly, out of nowhere and back-to-back no less, I am praying with people.

Yesterday was kinda tough, to be honest. A man came to the door looking for an AA/NA group, he thought they were meeting at the church where I serve. To his dismay, we have no such meetings on a Wednesday (we have them on the weekends). He was really desperate and needed to talk with someone. I, out of lack of experience, told him I am not a qualified AA person or counselor. He didn't care- he needed someone to talk with and fast. So, in a moment of confusion and sympathy, I invited him in and downstairs. We each pulled up a chair in the fellowship hall and he began to tell his story to me.

Almost immediately, he began to cry. Actually, to say that he was crying was an understatement. He was whailing... loudly... head tiled back, mouth open, slobber going everywhere, like an excited Great Dane, who welcomes you after a long absence, tears flying out, and head shaking uncontrollably. "WHY?!! Why does God allow me to suffer?!", he screamed. He is a substance and alcohol abuser and cannot break his habit. He'd been on a 2-week stint away from his family and was just now coming down from his heigh feeling guilty. "Where is your God?!! Where is my God??! Why?! Why?! Why must I suffer?!" Then, in a moment of almost exhaustion, he whispers, "I ought to just go ahead and kill myself."

All a person in my shoes could do was listen. And that I did ever so quietly. I let him cry and scream and cuss. I nodded silently while at other times simply shrugged my shoulders. There wasn't much I could say. Why indeed, does God allow us to suffer like we do? What could I have said in that moment to make him feel better or to calm him? So, I said nothing... or a long while.

Then, when his tears began to subside, I asked him about his family. He told me about his three kids and, courageous wife, who but for the grace of God, hasn't left him. I asked him if he loved his kids and if he knew that his kids (who were too young to not love their dad) loved him too. We talked about the consequences life has for us when we make bad decisions and how some of those consequences stay with us long after we make our bad choices. He seemed to agree and promised me that he'd stick around for his kids' sake.

And then.. and then we prayed. I thanked God for God's care and protection; I asked God to surround this man with kindness and people who care about him; I asked God to pour out God's spirit on us as we go about doing that which we ought, even when things get tough. I also praised God for Jesus and the love demonstrated by God for us. All the while, the man sat somewhat quietly, offering his own prayers and nodding his head every once in awhile (yes, sometimes I pray with my eyes open, sometimes I need to do that in nyc).

After it was all over and we prayed to God, the man thanked me and promised to come by once in awhile to see me, when he was sober or when he needed someone to pray for him.

I experienced a pure ministerial moment. And I did again this afternoon. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, our church (working cooperatively with the Franciscan Community Center) hand out free sandwiches on the street corner. We have our usual customers and every so often a new one who stops by for the sandwich lunch in a brown paper sack. Today, when I brought the sandwiches upstairs, there was a line around the corner and the sandwiches, which are handed out on a first-come, first-serve basis, were handed out in about 26 seconds.

As I was taking down the tables, I was approached by one of the regulars who missed the sandwich give-a-way. He is usually there right on time, today he was late. Astounded the sandwiches were gone so fast, we talked a bit about his life and hard times. Presently, he was to be evicted because the landlord in his Single Resident Occupany (SRO) apartment run with the city's Housing Authority and private owners, said he hadn't paid his rent (when he had). He was almost out on the street when he found the proof he needed, with a document trail, from his bank. Jubilant, he asked if we could thank God for this victory. Happy for him, we prayed right there on the street corner. Thanking God for God's blessings and asking the Spirit to continue to provide great things, my friend experienced a special moment with God.

I am hear to tell you, many of the folks who live and wander the streets around the church know first-hand the power of God. For some of them, God is all they have left. Their substance abuse has driven off most, if not all, family members and friends. When they are down on the luck, with only change in their pockets, they know it is only God that sustains them, even while they carry around their various demons.

When I think about the struggles of the homeless and disenfranchised in my city, (yes, New York City is my city as it is to everyone who lives here, it is their city too)- I wonder how far apart they are from the very wealthy, who, too, have their own various demons and afflictions yet fail to 'fall on their knees' when they need God the most deciding instead to trust in themselves. For many of the disenfranchised in this city that I am called to serve, I think they are the ones who God cares for in an extra special way. If only the rest of us could trust in God like they do, this world would be such a better place.

Parental Lame Excuses

Remember when you were a kid and your parents would tell you to do things NOT because they had the time to explain the dynamic between responsible parent and wayward child but, "Because I say so, that's why!"? Remember when we promised to never ever 'not gonna do that' to our kids? Well, it seems that BushCo is doing that to us, as if we're his kids or something. You just gotta read this to believe it.

10 Foods You Should Never Eat

Since I am always worried that the girth of my tummy may once again exceed the girth of my doorways, I continue to look for ways to stay slim (sometimes even neurotically so). If you're as interested as I in this, read about the 10 Foods You Should Never Eat.

A Fable for You

Let me tell you a story...

Once upon a time, there was a group of folk who wanted to find the best person to be the mayor of their tiny town, a small black and white town. They looked high and low for that person. They looked up and down. They looked this way and that way. Wherever they looked, they just couldn't seem to find the person they wanted to lead them.

Then one day, they heard about a fella, a tall fella, who they heard from someone would be a very good person for the job. They called him and said, "We think you would be a very good person for the job. Please come and meet with us so we can know for sure." So, the fella went to meet with them. They talked. He talked. They talked. He talked. At the end of the conversation, they liked him and he liked them. And they asked him to be their mayor.

But then something dawned on the fella. He asked them if they had spoken with the whole town about exactly what they were looking for? Surprised, the people looked at one another and discovered that no, they had not talked with anyone. They believed that what they wanted, everyone wanted.

So the fella asked if those who wanted him would ask the townsfolk what they wanted. The fella, you see, was somewhat different from other fellas and he knew it. While he was a handsome and friendly fella, he was also a very colorful fella. And knowing the town was very "black and white," he thought it best to make sure the townsfolk wouldn't mind having someone of his hue.

And lo and behold, when the few of them asked everyone else, they learned that the townfolk didn't want the fella. However, not everyone in the town thought a fella of many hues was a bad thing, especially the leader of the group that asked the fella in the first place. He and the fella thought about it together and seeing how the fella didn't want to create too much of a confusion or make the black and white town folk too nervous, the fella agreed with the townsfolk and withdrew his name from further consideration (also knowing that even if some of the townsfolk really really wanted him, the ones who didn't want him would cause a lot of unrest for everyone). When the fella told this to the leader of the group, he was sad but he understood.

And the black and white town went back looking for a leader to lead them in their tiny town of black and white townfolk. Only this time, the tiny town of black and white townfolk and those who went about looking for their new mayor all knew exactly what they were looking for.. or at least, they knew they didn't want a colorful person.

+++++
The moral to this story is that it always helps to know what you want before you go looking for it. It'll save time, energy, and whole heck of a lot of confusion.

THE END

Understanding the newspaper you are reading

1. The Wall Street Journal is read by the people who run the country.

2. The Washington Post is read by people who think they run the country.

3. The New York Times is read by people who think they should run the country, and who are very good at crosswords.

4. USA Today is read by people who think they ought to run the country but don't really understand the Washington Post. They do, however, like their statistics shown in pie charts.

5. The Los Angeles Times is read by people who wouldn't mind running the country, if they could spare the time, and if they didn't have to leave LA to do it.

6. The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used to run the country and did a far superior job of it, thank you very much.

7. The New York Daily News is read by people who aren't too sure who's running the country, and don't really care as long as they can get a seat on the train.

8. The New York Post is read by people who don't care who's running the country, as long as they do something really scandalous, preferably while intoxicated.

9. The San Francisco Chronicle is read by people who aren't sure there is a country ... or that anyone is running it; but whoever it is, they oppose all that they stand for. There are occasional exceptions if the leaders are handicapped minority feminist atheist dwarfs, who also happen to be illegal aliens from ANY country or galaxy as long as they are Democrats.

10. The Miami Herald is read by people who are running another country but need the baseball scores.

11. The National Enquirer is read by people trapped in line at the grocery store.

Kindly Pastor or Justice Activist?

I have been thinking, which picture best captures the spirit of Pastor Bo? The old one below this post or the new one in my profile? The old one looks like the me that I want to be felt by those with whom I am called to minister and serve. You know the type, the guy you can tell your worries to, the one who sympathizes with all the crap we humans have to put up with in life.

The other pic, well, looks more like what I do when I am not pastoring. It looks like the guy who goes to the residence of an ambassador to march and protest the lack of condom distribution in some far off country. It looks like the guy who chairs several local community justice-seeking boards and committees. It looks like the guy who grabs his expresso at the local fab coffee house on his way to City Hall.

Both pictures are accurate depictions of me, just in different settings. And, as a result of those different settings, the pictures look very different.. almost as if they are two different guys both claiming to be me. You can see other pictures of me, all taken very recently (within a couple of months) and see the confusion.

So my discernment is, is this blog the place for a picture of me looking pastoral, or as I normally am, the *out* activist seeking to change the world? Hmmm.. what do you think?

This is my old blog pic, do you think I should use this one instead of what I am using now?
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Haircuts should not cost over $10...

..but that didn't change the fact that I finally went and paid an enormous price for my new doo. Truth is, my old barber moved to Staten Island (opened up his own shop) and I was left high and dry. For the last several months, I've been trying to find a new barber but each time I got my haircut, it was cut way too short. Each barber would rev up his electric trimmer and set it to a particular setting (7 I think) and in about 8 minutes of buzzing and swooshing sounds, all my hair would be on the floor and my cut would be complete. Sure, I was only paying between $10-15 but still..

So, a friend recommended his "stylist" to me who charges upwards of $44. Swallowing my pride, I went to give it a shot. After work, I went down to 14th Street in the west village to the Gina and Thomas Hair Studio. You can imagine my shock when, instead of immediately sitting down for the haircut, I was escorted over to a seat with a sink level with my neck. The haircut price includes a free hair-washing. I was a bit disappointed that a young woman was washing my hair instead of the really cute guy named Ian, who I have actually met before at an art gallery opening a few months back. However, she rubbed my head in this really relaxing kind of way, so I didn't mind (too much). ;)

Then, after my hair was washed and towel-dried, I was led to my stylist, her name is Lynn, who was definately very friendly. I was a bit disappointed that I was assigned to yet another woman in the salon (read, barber shop). However, she had that look that said, "Buddy, I am really good at what I do", so again, I didn't mind too much. (She also looked like she could take me in a fight, so I sat down right quick).

As I sat down, she draped the long plastic bib around my body. I noticed that my new expensive stylist didn't have an electric trimmer even near her. All she had in her possession was this razor like tool and a comb. The tool, is both a scizzor and a straight (no jokes please) razor. As she began, I noticed that Lynn was slicing (as well as cutting) my hair off. It was very interesting and quite different. We engaged in small talk; not too much yet also not too shallow. She asked what I did for a living and I told her I was a minister. She thought that was nice. She was curious how I knew Greg (the friend who recommended me to the salon and who is so truly fabulous, one would think immediately that he is a circuit dancing party boy instead of the vice president of marketing at Deutche Bank, which he is), as well as how I knew Affan, the image consultant at the salon (Affan is another really fab friend of mine).

So, Lynn had a few questions and seemed very interested to talk about issues of faith (she'd grown tired of the religion of her youth). I answered some questions she had about God and faith; and she seemed to appreciate it, saying that she would be very interested in coming to visit the church where I am called to serve.

We seemed to wrap up our conversation just as she was finished cutting (or slicing) my hair. Then, she rubbed some styling wax (yes, wax!) on my hair and whallah!, I had a new doo. And you know what? I really like it! I have been getting great comments on it and I am able to make it look more conservative when I have to do so, and yet, make it stick up when I am out and about. I am pretty excited even though with tip, my haircut cost me $50. I never dreamed of the day I'd pay that much. However, I guess its the cost of looking fabulous. (very big grin)

Okay, I'm hooked

Last night after the confrontation with the radio-grabber, I went out with a church member for my first-ever ballet performance at the Metropolitan Opera for a production of Swan Lake.

Oh mah gawd! It was amazing! At first, it was kind of interesting, seeing the set design and the attractive dancers in tip-top physical condition in those skin tight leotards. After that initial "Wow" feeling leaves, the performance minus the actual verbal discussion about what was going on, was spectacular. After intermission, the story-line (if you can call it that) really picked up and I found myself drawn into the show. When the young prince and princess commit suicide, I really felt it- when I saw them in the afterlife enjoying eternity together, it really was powerful!

I always wondered what the draw to ballet was; and while I always thought, in some redneck way, it was because of the almost nekkedness of the cast, I now know that it is just an added benefit of sorts ;), it's really all about the show and performance.

I am going to go back and see something else! And soon!

How Much is a Radio Worth?

You're not going to believe what I just did. So, instead of just outright telling you, I am going to draw out what happened to the point where you'll say in exhasperation, "Alright already.."

As some of you know, I work in a church basement (where my office is located). Periodically I take afternoon breaks, often to step out into the sunshine (there are no windows in my office) and go buy a candybar or some fresh fruit from the fruitstand guy. Right before leaving, I wondered if I should've locked my office but I figured I'd only be gone for a couple of minutes. Today, however, after getting some fresh strawberries, I remembered I needed some hand lotion. After I stopped off at the pharmacy, I remembered I needed to get some money out of the bank for tonight's ballet experience (it'll be my first). So, after getting some money, some strawberries and some hand lotion, I made it back to church.

I stopped off in the kitchen (which is in the basement too) to pour some sugar into a bowl (for me to dip my strawberries into). Suddenly, I hear someone running past the kitchen door. I look up and hear a person running up the stairs. I quickly stopped what I was doing and ran after the person. Looking up to the top of the stairs, I see a guy leaving through the outside door, turning left and walking out holding something. I run back to my office, remembering the door was left unlocked, and immediately saw that my portable cd player/radio was gone. Without missing a beat, I turned and ran down the hall, up the stairs and outside. Turning left, I bolted after the man. I see him up ahead and pour on the speed. When I got just 2 feet from him, my common sense finally caught up to the adrinaline pumping through my veins. That sense said, "What the HELL are you doing??!" But then, it was too late. The guy turned around.

You should've seen the look on his face. Standing about 6'2 and having a pretty solid frame, he was definately startled. He stopped where he was and held my radio to his chest. Looking him square in the eye, I said to him in a nice but very irritated way, "Would you please give me back MY radio?" He handed it over. I said, "Did you steal anything else?" He said he didn't. Then I said, like an old man complaining about the state of current affairs, "For God's sake, how on earth can you steal from a church?" Looking embarrassed, he said he was sorry, and then turned and walked away. We both knew I wasn't going to call the cops- it was almost as if a small transaction had just occurred although no money changed hands.

Walking back to the church and thinking about what happened, I wasn't as fazed as when that guy threatened to kill me a few months ago on the subway. This time, it was different. I guess I am also thinking about what Bill Cosby said this week at the 50th anniversary celebration of Brown v the Board of Education when he spoke out against families not caring for their children enough and allowing their kids to become hoodlums. The response to Cosby's critique has been explosive here in NYC. While there are some who are very supportive of his thoughts, there are others who complain that he is being hypocritical or too condescending to understand all that is involved with raising kids in impoverished neighborhoods.

Who were the people Cosby was talking about? I tell you, the young man who stole my radio seemed good natured enough- he didn't look strung out (although he might have been). He was obviously sorry for stealing my radio (when he got caught) and no physical altercation occurred when I got back my radio. Whether Cosby was talking about the hoods who kill for drugs or the good natured guys who steal for whatever reason, he was trying to address a problem he sees within the African American community. Sure, his solution might seem too broad and void of specific challenges facing uneducated and impoverished parents, still his words are a challenge to our thinking.

I know there are many challenges facing parents today, especially challenges from minority parents in impoverished areas- still, the guy did steal my radio from inside a church. What on earth was he thinking?

I told this whole story to a collegue of mine right after it happened. She works upstairs and said, "You should've locked your office. If you had, none of this would have happened." It was almost as if she was saying this was my fault from the beginning. While I do realize that I should have locked my office (we have stuff stolen all the time here), that doesn't take away from the responsibility of the guy who stole my radio. That guy wasn't someone who was incapable of NOT stealing. He wasn't some upward walking animal that performs what his instinct tells him to do. He is a human being capable of being accountable for his actions. My collegues response seems to mirror many of Cosby's critics who have grown so accustomed to the plight of the disenfranchized that we no longer hold them responsible for decency and expected right relations.

I will not lower my standards of expectations for someone who refuses to be a good, moral person. While next time I am sure to lock my office when I go out for my afternoon break, I will still think that we are all supposed to do and be better people- not just because God has equipped us for doing so, but because that is what is necessary if we are to live together as a human family.

Oh, and if you were thinking, "Why did you go after him, you could've been killed, for crying out loud!" Yeah, that thought did occur to me but only when I was too close to the guy to reason that line of thinking out. If he would've had a gun, then I prolly wouldn't be writing this now, I'd be in the emergency room saying to myself, "For God's sake, what the hell were you thinking?!"

An Interesting Read

You'll notice a new book listed on the right panel of this blog, its a book called Pomosexuals. I have actually read the book before and am needing to reread it for some professional reasons. It is a great book if you want to understand the issues of gender and the assumptions that underlie what you think you may already know.

I attended our denomination's state annual conference over the weekend and had some interesting discussions with a couple of transgender collegues. Since I am one of the coordinators for our local denomination's lgbt clergy and lay fellowship group (officially we are called this really long title: the UCC Coalition for LGBT Concerns - NY Metro Chapter). Understanding the challenges of people who wrastle (yeah, I know its spelled 'wrestle' but being an Oklahoman, we say 'wrastle') with gender issues is imperative as a Christian, if I am to be a compassionate justice-seeker to my brothers, sisters, and trans folk.

The book Pomosexuals is both informative and fun. If you haven't ever read it and want a better grasp of trans issues, check it out and let me know what you think.