June 26th was the fifth year we've marched in San Francisco LGBT Pride. It's one of the world's largest celebrations, with usually well over 500,000 people attending. Over the years, I've learned to spot the Mormons in the crowd. It's easy once you know what to look for. Yesterday right in the middle of Market Street a young woman caught my eye--she was looking at me, jumping up and down and yelling, "Thank you!"
I looked back and mouthed the words, "Are you Mormon?" already knowing the answer. And then over the screaming crowd and music I actually *heard* her. "YES!" she yelled back to me.
I left my place at the start of the contingent and ran over, reached across the barricade and into the crowd. Her arms reached out for mine. We hugged, and I told her "You are loved, sister. By many Mormons and most certainly by your Savior." She started sobbing--her breath was actually heaving and she pushed out the words, "Thank you, thank you, I never thought I would see this, thank you and I love you, too!"
I broke away and she held my hand and I looked into her eyes for just a split second. I don't know the details of her history with our faith and I may never know, but her eyes told me it was a painful one. And she clearly misses the love she once felt in this faith that used to be her home.
All of that happened in under ten seconds. Yet it's a memory that for both of us, I am betting, will last forever.
So, why do Mormons march in LGBT Pride?
For the girl I hugged and who hugged me back.
For the millions like her.
For the healing it represents not only to those in the crowd--but to those who march.
For the fact that we belong together.
And because expressing unconditional love is never the wrong thing to do.
To view more of our contingent check out this quick and well done video.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Coming Out From Our Safe Places
Diane and her son, Ross |
I've had the distinct pleasure of knowing Diane since 2008, when we worked together as part a stake-wide effort to repair relationships with the LGBT community after the damage we caused with our involvement in Prop 8.
I loved this woman the moment I met her. Time hasn't changed that--if anything, it's made it stronger. Her kindness, her compassion, her humility and humor--all combine to make her a remarkable human being, and I'm quite confident in my belief she is a blessing to everyone who has the good fortune to encounter her.
Enjoy.
_________________________________________________________
Author Fiona Givens wrote:
“The body of Christ needs its full complement of members:
-the devout,
-the wayward,
-the uncomfortable,
-the struggling.”
I have been all of these at different points in my lifetime. But I am still here
because hands and hearts of my fellow Latter-day Saints have lifted me; because I feel the need to return the
favor; because here, within this church, I have come to know my Savior.
I know many who have not had the experience I have. They
have been shunned for doubting, for questioning, or for standing up for the
right of their LGBT loved ones to belong in a religious environment that
appears to have no place and no plan for them. I weep with them and have vowed
to be a voice for keeping Christ’s example at the forefront of how we practice
our theology.
I have always imagined myself a “live and let live” sort of
person—tolerant and accepting. But I did not realize how far I had to go until
my immediate family became the square peg that didn’t fit.
I grew up with an alcoholic, chain smoking mother. I would
sit in primary and inwardly cry at the thought that I did not have a celestial
family. The idea that we might not all be together after we died terrified me.
I grew up determined to create my own celestial family by marrying in the
temple and keeping God’s commandments, so that my children would never feel
that fear that I felt.
To be sure, I felt inadequate as a mother and keeper of the
religious flame that flickered off and on in our home over the years. But
nothing had prepared me for the despair I felt when our son Ross came out as
gay to our family nine years ago. The cavalcade of questions borne of fear
about what this meant for him and our family in the eternities took me to a
dark and lonely place emotionally. Yet, as the Persian poet Rumi said, “…the
wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Fast forward nine years, and that light is still coming and
I am still learning what it means to love as Christ loves. I am being taught by
those who have been marginalized for not fitting into the plan. My life is
richer, more textured, more meaningful from these associations. Knowledge and
faith have replaced fear.
I am now converted to the idea that in order to be one in
Christ, we must do as Apostle Elder Renlund counseled. We must:
“…see people through a
parent’s eyes, through Heavenly Father’s eyes. Only then can we comprehend the
true worth of a soul. Only then can we sense the Savior’s caring concern for
them. We cannot completely fulfill our covenant to mourn with those who mourn
and comfort those in need of comfort unless we see them through God’s eyes.”
I received my Patriarchal blessing at age eighteen. There is
a beautiful passage in it about learning to embody Christ’s Beatitudes in word
and deed. I have loved the Sermon on the Mount my whole life. I never tire of
its simple yet profound message. I keep the Sermon uppermost in my mind as I
run a support group in our home through an organization for LGBT Mormons called
Affirmation.
Diane with Carol Lynn Pearson |
My husband Tom and I spend time affirming these mostly
twenty something gay young men, many of whom have felt degrees of rejection
from family members or church leaders.I mourn with them, I comfort them. I see them through a
parent’s eyes—not hard for me as the mother of a gay son. I say to them, when
they worry about their connection to their faith, what Carol Lynn Pearson said
to me when I sobbed out my anguish over my son nine years ago. She said, “Tell
Ross that I have a testimony of HIM!”
My patriarchal blessing also has a passage about my home
being a refuge for God’s children who do not feel welcome elsewhere. A passage
I did not understand until I was asked to do this work that is now so sacred
and holy to me. My dear friend from Arizona, Bryce Cook,
faithful Latter-day Saint and father of two gay sons, echoes my feelings about
this perfectly:
“I have experienced a
joyful awakening and enriching of the soul and have seen it happen to many
others who have become involved in getting to know and serving our LGBT
brothers and sisters. It is truly an awakening because you see with new eyes
and are given a new heart. What many thought they once knew- the firm
convictions, the doctrinal justifications, the prejudices- all seem to fade in
to irrelevance once they see someone as Christ sees them. This kind of
conversion experience will both enlarge your spirit and refine your faith like
nothing else I know.”
I have mentioned how much fear ruled my head and heart when
my son came out and I saw my dreams for him evaporate and felt his utter
despair at the thought that he would never marry in the temple and have a
family unless he lived a lie. Fear is what causes us to judge what we don’t
understand. We fear difference, we fear doubt. We value certainty.
Brian
Whitney, LDS scholar said:
“For me, when I see
the example of the Savior, I see Him spending His time with those who want to
be healed and desperately want to feel his mercy, not those who were so certain
of their own righteousness.”
Fear impedes faith, and it impedes love. It keeps us from
opening our hearts to change and learning from others. It is borne of
insecurity. It is behind the divisive rhetoric we are hearing in this election
season. It is what creates emotional distance.
Does fear make us like the priest and the Levite who pass on
the far side of the road from the wounded so as to insure our own purity? My
friend Tom Montgomery posed this question after his gay teen son was shunned by
ward members who refused to take the sacrament from him on Sundays.
I have learned to be vulnerable on this journey, to admit
that my notions are not always correct; that different kinds of people with
different views enrich my life; that there is more than one way to be a Mormon,
a follower of Christ; that Christ-like action can come from unlikely places.
Christians can be un-Christ-like. Conversely Muslims, like
my favorite family at work, can literally embody the beatitudes in word and
deed, even though they do not believe in Christ the way we do.
A friend wrote in real time, recently, of an experience in
his ward back east that touched me deeply.
“In Sunday school, a
substitute teacher is talking about how his son, now on parole after six years
in jail for selling cocaine, is making a life outside of the church. He is
speaking about how people make beautiful lives amidst great diversity. He is
speaking from a place of vulnerability, going way off the script, and bringing
out the real gospel of Christ. Now others are sharing more personal
experiences. The people who are sharing don’t typically talk during the
meetings. It’s beautiful. The teacher just now related how the prisoners miss
his son. Apparently this now non-member son was instrumental in reaching out
and helping his fellow prisoners. The teacher brings it back to how Mosiah
spoke of how these groups that support one another were called “the churches of
God”.
Are we brave enough to go off script? The script of our tidy
little lives in order to break through that emotional distance borne of fear
and ignorance, in order to reach the one? To create the “churches of God” in
diverse places?
I love what sister Neill Marriott has to say on this:
“With the help of the
Holy Ghost, we can create an emotionally healing place for the discriminated
against, the rejected, the stranger. In these tender yet powerful ways, we
build the kingdom of God. All of us need a spiritual and physical place of
belonging. We can create this. It is even a holy place.”
Elder Kearon, in a talk about ministering to refugees, spoke
this beautiful passage:
“We [Latter-day
Saints] have found refuge. Let us come out from our safe places and share with
them, from our abundance, hope for a brighter future, faith in god and in our
fellowman, and love that sees beyond cultural and ideological differences to
the glorious truth that we are all children of our Heavenly Father. “For God
has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and love.”
I would posit that there are refugees of a different kind in
our midst here within Mormonism. Those of us who fit nicely in to the plan must
come from the safety and certainty of our abundance to literally “touch the
cross” as Fiona Givens says, of those who are hurting, because they don’t see a
place of welcome here. These spiritual refugees need a healing place, a place
of belonging.
In his marvelous book “Planted,” Mormon studies professor
Patrick Mason gets right to the point:
“In order to fulfill
its mission to invite all to come to Christ, our meetings must be a place where
all people feel welcome: smokers and nonsmokers, women and men, the elderly and
babes in arms. Native Americans and Arabs and everyone else. Welfare recipients
and billionaires, single and married, divorced and widowed, childless and child
blessed, soldiers and peace activists, believers and doubters, straight and gay.
Every weekers and once a yearers, feminists and non- feminists, intellectuals
and the illiterate, groomed and unkempt. Those in suits or jeans and those in
dresses or pants. Conservatives and liberals, publicans and Pharisees. This
inclusiveness is not by way of contemporary political correctness. It is by way
of commandment.”
My four year olds in Primary get this. Every week we talk
about how Jesus loves everyone, and how great it is that we are all different,
and they enthusiastically embrace this concept. This is why Primary feels like
a sanctuary to me. Kindness can never be over emphasized; it is the light that
enters our wounds.
This poignant poem by Naomi Shihab Nye speaks to my soul:
Before you know what
kindness really is, you must lose things. Feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and
carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will
stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the
road.
You must see how this
could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the
deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with
sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense
anymore. Only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to
mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the
crowd of the world to say, “It is I you have been looking for”, and then goes
with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
My husband Tom and I are still here sitting in these pews in part,
because of two humble leaders who let love and kindness rule their response to
our child’s anguish and subsequent departure from a church that did not want
him as his authentic self.
My friends with gay children in other parts of the country
have not always been so lucky. There have been judgement and condemnation. Most
of their children have left the church. Some have left their life here on earth
as well when the pain became too much.
What we do and say to others matters tremendously—more than doctrine,
more than policy. Lives are at stake. As stated in first Corinthians chapter
12, we cannot cut off parts of the body of Christ if we are to be one in
Christ. My former Bishop knew this. My Stake President did, too. They reached
out and gathered us up as a shepherd gathers his flock. They answered this
question Patrick Mason poses in “Planted”:
“In our ward families,
can we, in our pale imitation of Christ, develop deep empathy for those
struggling with doubt, disbelief, feelings of betrayal, or suffering from God’s
silence? Can the church be a place for people who cannot now, always or ever
say I know?”
Our family’s experience says yes, it can.
I will close with the simple declaration by Rumi:
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and
right-doing is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
It is my fervent prayer that that field can be right here,
right now.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Monday, April 11, 2016
On His Blindness (LGBT Edition)
In March of 2016, Bishop Don Fletcher (the former bishop of the
Bay Ward here in San Francisco, and the bishop who called me to serve as his executive
secretary) delivered a talk at a Fireside here in the Bay Area.
The Fireside is part of an ongoing initiative by a group called
The Hearth, which sponsors and hosts events that build and strengthen an
LGBT-inclusive LDS community. I’m blessed to be part of a community of fellow Latter-day Saints involved in The Hearth, and blessed to know someone
like Bishop Fletcher.
Over the course of the past several years as I’ve worked deeply in
the Mormon community on the LGBT topic, I’ve had the chance to meet what I
think might be the absolute best humans to walk the planet. In fact, I secretly
suspect they might actually be angels in disguise—the depth of kindness, the
compassion, and the willingness to do what is right despite the consequences
are among just a few of the qualities these folks possess.
Bishop Don Fletcher is among the best of them. I hope you enjoy his words from the Fireside as
much as I did.
___________________________________________________________________
On His Blindness
by John Milton
When I consider how my light is
spent
Ere half my days in this dark
world and wide,
And that one talent which is
death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though
my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and
present
My true account, lest he
returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labour,
light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience to
prevent
That murmur, soon replies:
"God doth not need
Either man's work or his own
gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve
him best. His state
Is kingly. Thousands at his
bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean
without rest:
They also serve who only stand
and wait.
Bishop Don Fletcher and his wonderful wife Terri. |
In seventh grade, my English teacher gave our class the assignment
to memorize John’s Milton’s sonnet “On His Blindness”. Amazingly I still remember it verbatim, now
some 48 years later. Though I still have
it memorized, I am certain that I don’t fully understand it.
If I recall the situation correctly, in about the year 1650, Milton
had lost his sight and wrote this poem about aspects of patience with his
visual impairment which profoundly impacted his talent of writing. Interestingly, in seventh grade, I did not
have any idea that I would not only become an ophthalmologist, but that I would
also specialize in rehabilitation of the blind and visually impaired.
At this point in my professional career, I have personally cared
for over 25,000 visually impaired patients.
My comments today are going to merge my professional path with my
spiritual path, and touch on blindness issues as they relate to the LGBT
community.
I’ll start by admitting that I was actually “blind” myself, until
I was over the age of 50, when my brother came out to me as gay. While my
physical vision was perfectly fine, I was spiritually blind to and ignorant of the
issues and challenges LGBT individuals face.
Like the healed blind man in John 9:25, I can now say that through
gifts of the Savior – “one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.”
I owe a great debt of gratitude to my
brother Bob and my good friend Mitch Mayne and the Lord for opening my eyes.
A few years ago, my brother contacted me and asked to meet. Bob
and I had always been close, so it didn’t really come as a surprise when he made
the request. But something unusual happened to me before that meeting. While I
don’t want to pretend to be in the same class as Joseph of Egypt, I had a dream
in which I had a vision that Bob was gay.
By the time the meeting took place, I was pretty certain what the
topic was going to be—and I was correct. While the dream was helpful in terms
of giving me revelation, it did something else that might even be more
important. By sharing the vision with Bob, he said, it made the whole coming
out process easier for him. Coming out is never easy—and it’s certainly not
easy when you’re a married man with a history of 50 years of living in the
closet. But that dream gave Bob an extra boost of courage that enabled him to
finally be his authentic self with me, and eventually with the rest of our
family. The revelation made it clear to Bob—and to me—that there was indeed a
grander hand behind all of this. That hand opened the doorway, and Bob—an authentic
Bob—stepped through to the other side.
While I am glad that I could be there for my brother, I am also profoundly
grateful for what that dream did for me.
The Lord provided that dream for me as a tender mercy, to smooth the
process for receiving the loving gifts of insight that my brother would open to
my understanding.
My brother Bob and Mitch Mayne have shared many great insights with
me over the years – Bob as a family member and Mitch as my executive secretary
when I was bishop of the San Francisco Bay ward. I estimate that the wonderful Bay ward may
have a larger gay membership than any other ward on the planet. While laboring in San Francisco, I would
occasionally become impatient with straight “gay unfriendly” people. I had to be gently reminded to give them a
break, that there was often little malice behind their opinions, but instead
blindness—not unlike my own.
We find ourselves now at another extremely difficult period of
time for LGBT members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Much of the great work we did with
reactivation of LGBT members in the Bay ward would now be much more
difficult.
But, the lens through which I would examine today’s circumstances
is perfectly expressed by Sonny in the wonderful movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel: “Everything will be all right in
the end. And if it’s not all right, then it’s not the end.” With all my heart, I believe that applies to
our situation in the church today—it is not the end.
When we began our outreach in the San Francisco Bay Ward, one of
the mantras we adopted was a quote by Elder Jeffrey Holland, and one that is
still true today:
“… some members exclude from their circle of fellowship those who are different. When our actions or words discourage someone from taking full advantage of Church membership, we fail them—and the Lord.” (October 2007)
Since I’m not as eloquent
as Elder Holland, I paraphrased his words to come up with a common mantra of my
own—and one that guided the work we did with the ward. That mantra was, “I
don’t care whether you are straight or gay, or whether you have stripes or
spots—you are welcome in our ward.”
With Mitch’s
help, I composed a quarterly hard-copy letter to every member on the ward records(including
those who were less active) and personally signed each and every one. In that
first letter, one of the things I wrote was this:
“In my tenure as a bishop and in the stake presidency, I’ve noted
many reasons members hold back from their faith. Some of them include:
- Those who were offended by a crusty member or insensitive remarks
- Those who are uncomfortable paying tithing, for whatever reason
- Those who are gay or lesbian and struggle to understand how they fit within the faith
- Those who grapple with the Word of Wisdom or other compulsions
None of those reasons - or any other - should keep you away from
the faith you once called ‘home.’ Please
come back. We have a wonderful ward full
of diversity – you are welcome too. You
will be valued here and welcomed as part of our ward family. We meet in the chapel at Pacific and Gough at
9:00 a.m. on Sundays.”
I had the
opportunity to personally meet with dozens of LGBT members (and straight
members) who had become inactive for a variety of reasons. Many of them told me
that upon opening the letter, they were skeptical—yet they kept it, and it laid
on their desk or counter for several months. They would pick it up, reread it,
ponder it—and often summoned the courage to give me or Mitch a call.
Several times I
was asked, “Is this for real? Do you
really mean what you wrote? Am I really welcome at church?” I was always enthusiastic when I responded in
the affirmative—but inside, I quietly found it most distressing that so many
LGBT members expressed surprise to learn that they were welcome to participate
in the ward.
One memorable
story involved a returned missionary who had not attended church in many, many
years. His was a frequently heard
scenario. He assumed that serving a
mission as a 19-year-old would “cure” him of his gayness. It
didn’t.
So, San Francisco
became home and he found and committed to a wonderful partner with whom he
had shared
a close relationship for over 20 years.
As he started to attend our church meetings he felt something very warm,
wonderful and familiar return to his life.
His non-member partner noticed that he was significantly happier and
more satisfied with life, as well.
Liking what he
saw in his partner, the non-member of the couple inquired if it would be okay
if he attended also. I enthusiastically agreed,
and he was a great addition to our weekly meetings. He ended up taking the
discussions, reading the Book of Mormon and gaining a testimony that it was
true. We really should not be surprised
– the Book of Mormon is true. This couple moved across the bay, and they now
attend another ward that welcomes and supports them.
One of the things
I like best about holding the priesthood is the opportunity to use it a service
to others through giving them blessings. As a bishop, I was very generous in my
use of priesthood blessings. I always offered to give a blessing to all gay
members (and non-members).
I laid my hands
on the heads of many wonderful men and women, and the situations were all
remarkably consistent. My first impression, without exception, was
that I needed to tell this individual of the Lord’s love for them, right now,
exactly as they were. Every one of us
needs to know that, but especially those who are LGBT often feel
unlovable.
As a doctor, I have
seen blindness, ill health, and death. I
have done volunteer work in Asia and in Africa and in many impoverished areas
where I have seen much suffering. But perhaps
the greatest human tragedy, with as great suffering as any I have seen, is in
those who don’t feel they are capable of being loved by the Savior just as they
are.
Many LGBT ward
members and many disconnected straight ally members returned to active
participation while we ministered in San Francisco. I now live in Wichita but Mitch and I
continue to have much passion for ministering to those who don’t feel the love
of the Lord in their lives. And while the formal ministry of our work in the
Bay Ward might, for now, be on hold, each of us continues to feel the call of
our Savior to do the work necessary to help our fellows see His hand in their
lives, and feel His love.
Carol Lynn Peason |
One of the people
who I most respect on this planet is Carol Lynn Pearson. She was asked to write a song for the
children’s hymnbook dealing with disabilities.
She has told me that, although a child in a wheelchair is pictured in
the primary song book, she has always seen this as applicable to our members
who are LGBT, as well.
If you
don’t walk as most people do,
Some
people walk away from you,
But I
won’t! I won’t!
If you
don’t talk as most people do,
Some
people talk and laugh at you,
But I
won’t! I won’t!
I’ll walk
with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how
I’ll show my love for you.
Jesus
walked away from none.
He gave
his love to ev’ryone.
So I will!
I will!
Jesus
blessed all he could see,
Then
turned and said, “Come, follow me.”
And I
will! I will!
I will! I
will!
I’ll walk
with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how
I’ll show my love for you.
(Children’s
Songbook #140)
That song proposes an easy doctrine for this group of people I am
addressing tonight, but there is perhaps a more difficult twist for us now. But even with the offenses of “visually
impaired” Latter-day Saint mortals, please do not feel tempted to walk away
from the Savior’s Church. In spite of what is said to us and around us, we need
to remember that this church is His.
Now, more than ever, we need His love and support—and He needs
ours. One way that we can show our love
for the Savior is by being long-suffering and patient with other members of His
Church.
I love the Lord Jesus Christ, and I know that He loves me. The doctrine of His Church that is rock solid
in my heart, and the cornerstone of that doctrine is His unconditional love for
each of us. And while I am mortal too,
and I can allow myself to get frustrated with how mortals fail to express and
demonstrate His love, in my heart I still know that His love for each of us is
universal, and we are infinitely valuable in His eyes.
When I get impatient and feel inclined to question, I think back
to my days serving as a missionary in England.
In addition to Milton, another passage I had memorized verbatim was
Joseph Smith’s rendition of the first vision.
In presenting the first discussion, I would retell it in the first
person, with much feeling. Every time I
told that story, I would feel the Holy Ghost bear witness that it really
happened as Joseph Smith described. I
have no question that it did. He was a
prophet, and the God of Heaven used him to restore His church to the
earth.
One of the things I like best about the Joseph Smith story is
learning that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father knew Joseph Smith personally,
and called him by name. Likewise, they know
each of our names and love and care for us personally. That is true, and as frustrated as I get at
times, I cannot deny it.
Like me, most members have a testimony of the first vision. At the
same time, it feels like many good people lack a vision of the place of LGBT
individuals in the Lord’s church.
So, what are we to do?
Here, I will make another movie reference. I am a Rocky Balboa fan. In one of the sequels, the aging boxer Rocky
gives advice to the son he dearly loves.
His son is having difficulty getting his life together and he blames his
father’s shadow for his problems.
To that, Rocky says:
“Let me
tell you something you already know. The
world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.
It is a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are, it
will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is gonna hit as hard as
life.
But it
ain’t about how hard you hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep
moving forward. It’s how much you can
take, and keep moving forward. That’s
how winning is done.
Now, if
you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what your worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hits,
and not point fingers and blame other people.
Cowards do that and that ain’t you.
You’re better than that!
I am
always going to love you, no matter what happens.”
This has tremendous relevance to our discussion today. In fact, I think there are a lot of
similarities between the LGBT community and prize fighters. Both are groups of people that get knocked
down a lot.
In all of the things Rocky said, of especial significance is this
line:
“If you
know what you’re worth, then go out and get what your worth.”
That is where we have the most critical need in our LGBT
ministering. We need to help all
internalize the label of “child of God” and “loved of the Savior” - that each
of us has great worth.
A critical factor in self-worth is the labels we allow to be
attached to us. As a physician, labelling
is also a critical factor in my professional life. And, I have learned that labels
have a lot to do with whether or not my patients are successful in low vision rehabilitation.
Let me tell you what I mean.
The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) coined a term almost a century
ago that has been a great disservice to my field as an eye doctor. It is the label “legal blindness.” If you cannot see a certain size letter on
the letter chart (20/200) you are labeled “legally blind.”
But people who cannot see below the 20/200 size letter generally
still have a good deal of remaining vision—they just need some
magnification. With the right devices
and training they can read the newspaper, cross the street, cook dinner and
answer emails on their computers. In
many cases, they live life just as normally as their perfectly-visioned
counterparts.
I would contend that more people are blinded by that inaccurate definition
than any eye disease known to man.
Labelling these people as legally blind is as preposterous as labeling someone
who is sick and in the hospital, “legally dead.”
In spite of timely and competent eye care, many people in America
lose vision with conditions like macular degeneration and diabetic
retinopathy. Here is the common scenario:
First, the patient loses vision, are told that there is no treatment
to restore it and that, by definition, they are now labeled legally blind. Goodbye
and good luck.
Then that patient finds their way to my office. By this time, they have internalized many negative
labels applied by trusted doctors and don’t believe there is any hope that I
can help them. Before I start the medical
rehabilitation process, I often have to rehabilitate their self-perception to a
degree, and in turn instill in them a little hope. In most cases, they are in
fact capable of living independent, productive and happy lives—but the way they
label themselves must change before that can happen.
So it was when I was bishop in the Bay ward. Helping rehabilitate people’s self-perception
was often the first order of business as I met with LGBT members. I had to change negative labels into positive
ones. Those included reminding them:
You are a loved child of God.
You are loved of God the way you are right now.
You are welcome in the Lord’s church the way you are right
now.
You are a good person.
You have great potential to do good and be good in this life.
You are here on earth now by design and it is no accident that you
are the way you are.
You are not alone.
You can become better and the Lord wants to help you to be your
best.
Disciplinary councils are also the source of many negative labels. I have been a bishop in three different
states, and I have served as a counselor in a stake presidency. Consequently, I have had lots of experience disciplinary
counsels and those interested in repentance and utilizing the atonement in
their lives.
If it were up to me, I’d rename the whole process. Instead of, “Disciplinary
Council” I would call it, “Proceedings for Atonement Application.” People that are “Disfellowshipped” need
anything but less fellowship. So I propose we change that label to, “Hyperfellowship
Candidates,” where they would be included first in every activity and invited
into the homes of their fellow members.
“Excommunication” is also a potently negative word. Microsoft Word gives me these synonyms for
excommunication: excluded, barred, ejected,
removed, expelled, thrown out. That’s not
a great list of positive labels. Here, I
would solicit your input—I would love to hear your ideas. So far on my short
list, I have “Reinvestigators” or “Lamb in Need of Lots of Love.”
I feel strongly that the Lord would have us as individuals and as
a church do much better than we have at blessing the lives of the at least
500,000 members of His church that are gay (using an exceedingly conservative
3% epidemiological estimation). We can
do so much more to relieve suffering with the truth of the Lord’s love for us.
So as I close tonight, let me summarize with a list of things I
hope you walk away with.
Let me summarize what I think is important:
- Beware of Labels – avoid negative, embrace positive.
- The most certain and positive label that can be applied to any of us is “a loved child of God.”
- Get up when you’re knocked down. You are not beaten unless you give up. It is a long fight but with the Lord in your corner, you will win.
- Everything will be alright in the end.
- Don’t walk away from the Savior.
- Challenge yourself by asking the question, “What can I personally do to relieve some of the suffering in this community?”
Let me close with a quote from our last general conference. This is from Sister Neill Marriott. Her talk was rich and powerful. Listen to her closing sentence:
“When we
offer our broken heart to Jesus Christ, He accepts our offering. He takes us
back. No matter what losses, wounds, and rejection we have suffered, His grace
and healing are mightier than all. Truly yoked to the Savior, we can say with
confidence, “It will all work out.”
There is much that the Lord would have us do. Don’t jump ship. Let the Spirit guide you as to how best to
use your time, talents and resources in the service of the Lord Jesus Christ. To
my mind, there is no greater cause that I want to be involved in than ministering
to LGBT Mormons – and to give sight to those who aren’t able to see the truth
of their own important place in the Lord’s eternal plan.
I bear testimony that He loves each and every one of us, in the
name of Jesus Christ, amen.
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