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Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Why does God hate me?

We were supposed to meet at 10:00, to practice playing some music together.  But he didn’t show up.  At 11:00 I cancelled some of my other plans for the day and drove over to his apartment to see if he was okay.  I knocked on the door and waited.  After a few moments I heard him approaching from the inside. “Who is it?” he shouted through the closed door; I told him that it was me.

“You can’t come in…” he shouted back.  “You can’t come in, I’m in full drag.”

This wasn’t a surprise. He’d already told me about this.  The previous evening he’d shared with me a little bit, over the period of an hour, about his struggle with gender and sexual issues.

“You can’t come in; I’m in full drag,” then after a moment he said, “I told you about that, right?” He’d been a little drunk when he told me this the night before, so I wasn’t surprised that he’d forgotten.

“Have you had lunch?” I asked him through the still closed door.  “If I come back in half an hour, would you like to have lunch with me?”

After a brief pause he agreed.  So I left.  Did a few quick errands and then came back half an hour later.  He was ready for me, all evidence of his drag regalia removed or hidden.  And we went for lunch at a nearby fast-food joint of his choosing. And over burgers and fries he shared with me some more of his questions and struggles. “Why should I have to live in hell on earth and then die and go to hell?”  he demanded of me.  And I had no answer.

“Why does God hate me?

He’s had it drilled into him for so long that God hates him that he believes it.  Sincerely believes that God hates him; has created him this way out of spite so that he could be condemned to the fires of hell because of God’s inexplicable wrath.  I don't believe that God hates him, but I know I won't be able to overcome a lifetime of fear and confusion and pain in two days...

The restaurant soon became too crowded for such an intimate and painful conversation, so we cleared our table and left.  After lunch we drove around town for a while; listening to his favorite music and just enjoying the summer afternoon.  If I couldn’t answer his questions, I’d just be his friend.

1 comment:

  1. The Word of God breathes life and renews hope. I would just share the non-Zondervan gospel.


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