Transgender and Pro-Life

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This is part two of my extended post regarding my process of deciding between two churches.  I ended part one talking about favoring the PCUSA church and having a strong reaction to an e-mail that led me to meditate some more.

It wasn’t long before the Lord spoke to me and I realized why I reacted so strongly.  It tied in with a link to a story I received on Facebook, a BBC News story about a midwife in Kenya who had saved two Intersex babies.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-39780214?SThisFB&fbclid=IwAR14VC_myVcSubgDv5jMLn37_lyUExIl9MLLFtSz07b5q__AAXlk9KOtxzI

First of all, I identify with Intersex people because the brain is also an organ in the body (in fact the most sexual organ in the body) and because so many of my secondary sex characteristics are female (without surgery and before cross gender hormones).  And soon the Lord spoke a phrase that resonated with me: “innocent blood”.  It is a phrase that I count occurring 22 times in 21 verses in the KJV (all but one in the Old Testament).

Suddenly it became clear to me.  It surprised me and I wasn’t happy about it.  But my eyes were opened.  I am most sure it is from the Lord when I receive an answer I am not looking for but once I examine it, I see how well it fits.

An item that wasn’t even on my original list of comparison categories was what God wanted me to see.  I knew that the Salvation Army is pro-life (as am I) while the PCUSA church is pro-choice.  The pastor at the latter church knew that we disagreed on that issue and acknowledged that basically we disagreed on when life begins.  It was an important issue for me, but not a deal-breaker.  I am neither able to bear children or father one.  Yet at the insistent prodding of the Holy Spirit, it became the sole factor in choosing which church to leave, for two reasons.

20 week ultrasound

First was the selective abortion issue.  If unwanted children can be killed after they’re born in the 21^st century, how is that different than killing them in the womb?  Perhaps it is theoretical now, but at some point with continued technological advances it may be possible to determine if a preborn child is transgender.  An unwanted transgender child who can be aborted will probably be aborted.  The difficulty in saving two Intersex children, knowing that many are not saved, hit very close to home for me.

Second was the idea of innocent blood.  The most pure innocent blood that ever existed on earth was that of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Even Judas testifies to the innocence of the blood of Jesus (Matthew 27:4) and Pontius Pilate tried his best to avoid associating with the guilt from the shedding of His blood (Matthew 27:24).  But close behind is the blood of preborn children.  In their mother’s womb, they are doing what they are designed to do: draw resources from their mother until they develop enough to survive outside the womb.  (And with technological advances, that age is getting younger and younger.)  As far as I know they are still in a state of innocence, having committed no sins.  And yet, if there is blood in them, there is life.  And that was one of the first things I did: look up when blood starts to form in a preborn child.  The answer: the heart starts to beat and pump fluid through blood vessels around day 20-22.  The first red blood cells begin to form the next day.

God’s timing is perfect.  And God has interesting ways to confirm His message.

I attended the Bible study after the worship service at the PCUSA church on 1/5/20.  The group is studying Genesis but I missed some Sundays so I didn’t know how far they had gotten.  It turned out that we covered the last three verses of chapter 8 and the first seventeen verses of chapter 9.  The pastor asked me to read the verses in chapter 9.

After reading and some discussion, I mentioned that this reading covered two very important topics for me: the rainbow (being transgender) and the blood.  The pastor nodded and I assume she thought I was referring to my salvation, or maybe to Communion (my original reason for attending there, although she didn’t know I didn’t take it that day).  But I was referring to verse 4: “But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat.”  The life, according to God, is in the blood.  This is reiterated in Leviticus 17:11 and Deuteronomy 12:23.  So important was this idea that when the early leaders of the Church were confronted with the first Gentile followers of Jesus, not eating meat with blood in it was one of only four rules they gave these converts to follow (Acts 15: 20,29).

(And yes, I plan to look closer at my eating habits in the near future in regards to eating meat.  But one issue at a time: this would be a separate blog post.)

Ironically, the pastor also unwittingly provided the second confirmation of my choice to leave.  It has become her practice around the celebration of Epiphany to hand out stars with “star words” on them: words to meditate on, gaze at and follow.  The stars are upside down paper cutouts in a basket which she circulates and each person picks one.  Sitting in the back, I was one of the last to take one.  Only I picked up two, so as carefully as I could without looking at either word, I put back the one on top and took the one whose word at most I might have caught a glimpse of.

The basket was handed back and I looked at the word.  I smiled although a bit wanly.  The word was “repentance”.  We were given time to meditate on the word during the service and answer some questions about it.  I immediately saw the connection to my situation. While the word is used specifically in religion to regret one’s sins and turn away from them, in general it can simply mean to turn around or turn back.  I was turning my attention back to the church where I am a member.  At the end of the Bible study after I announced that it was my last Sunday, I shared the word.  The pastor blinked a bit of surprise but then nodded.  She understood how the broader meaning confirmed my decision.

Remember that career counselor I mentioned in part one?  Something else he used to say was along the lines of “You don’t realize you’ve reached a new destination until you pass it.”  While I had started to switch a greater percentage of my time to the PCUSA church in mid-late winter 2019 with all the pastoral turmoil at the Salvation Army, I think what made it come to a head was being present at the PCUSA church for Stewardship Sunday (when I sang my second solo).  Not only did I make a financial commitment, I was making commitments of time and talent.  By doing so, I had put the cart before the horse.  Yet it’s all good because it cornered me into deciding whether to fish or cut bait.  And for the record, I kept my financial vow for the entire year on the first Sunday.  It will be impossible for me to keep the other vows, as they can understand.

I still love this church, the pastor and the congregation.  I couldn’t reach everyone and some weren’t there on Sunday, but among those I told, I was prayed for, encouraged, thanked, received words of regret for me leaving and had a few of my tears wiped away.  I would heartily recommend this church to anyone who doesn’t share my convictions on pro-life.  In fact I recommended this church to a Christian member of the transgender community at lunch on the day after I said goodbye.  They welcome anyone of any identity.  The only thing they do not welcome are those who champion hate and bigotry.

And this is an important thing for me to make clear: I do not believe that their pro-choice position comes from hatred or evil, not for one minute.  I believe it comes from different interpretations and a different focus for their expression of compassion.  And as I stated in the beginning of this post, I do make exceptions.  (And unlike some followers of Christ, I do not believe that birth control is a sin.)  For two years I thought I could agree to disagree on this topic and continue my association with them, whether part-time, full-time or even back to the occasional Communion Sunday throughout the year.

It would have made my life a lot easier if I could have continued there.  I am continuing to shed tears because I am not.  But as I shared with some people, it was like Acts 16 when Paul and his entourage were planning on leaving Mysia to go to Bithynia, but the Holy Spirit would not allow it and bid them go to Macedonia from Troas instead.

And in the future, that same Spirit may open the door for me to do some things with the pastor and other members of the PCUSA church.  This past Sunday, she announced that their church would be cooperating with the Salvation Army in collecting warm winter garb for those locally in need.  Perhaps I had a part in that.  I know her opinion of the Army is higher after my ongoing testimony about how I have been welcomed there.

Leaving the PCUSA church will be a sacrifice for me on many levels.  Because of where I live, the turnover is much greater at my Salvation Army corps than the typical corps and certainly higher than at the PCUSA church.  Therefore I was able to develop and maintain friendships easier at the PCUSA church.  Even as a non-member, ministry doors and opportunities to share my abilities were much easier at the PCUSA church.  As an adherent member at the Army in a corps top heavy with officers and soldiers, my avenues for service were more limited.  Furthermore, ministry opportunities were decreasing.  Without a presence at the PCUSA church, it will be harder for me to find avenues for my writing, my singing and getting my Born Thrice ministry off the ground.

Yet I have no idea whether God wants me to prosper in any of these areas, regardless of where I am.  I do know that it is more likely that God will not bless me if I am somewhere other than where He wants me to be.  And even if I achieve some success while in a church against His will, it doesn’t mean that the Lord will ultimately bless me with it.

This is definitely a walk of faith, not knowing what the future holds.  At present, it seems very inconvenient with negative consequences to choose what I perceive as God’s will for my life over my own feelings.  Some might even call me foolish for walking away from such an extraordinarily supportive church when so many transgender people are searching in vain for one.  There are times when the Christian walk reaps a bountiful harvest and times when it calls for sacrifice.  This is a time of sacrifice.

At this point, I am not even certain that I will be staying with the Salvation Army.  I started going to the PCUSA church a few times a year to fill one void: the lack of Communion.  Certainly there were a lot of positives at the PCUSA church to draw me.  But as fellowship decreased, ministry opportunities decreased, effective communications decreased and confusion increased at the Army, I had more voids to fill.  The only good news is that little or none of these things happened because I am transgender.  Even so, I have sent hard questions to the pastors at the Salvation Army to see what is happening to get things back on track.  Even if I stay, I am back at square one, looking for a church where I can celebrate communion a few times a year (or I have the daunting task of finding enough people who would want to celebrate communion privately; as someone who has been ordained as an elder, I believe I would qualify to serve communion).

If I don’t stay, I have to find a church within reasonable driving distance that is conservative enough to be pro-life but open-minded enough to welcome someone who is transgender; and they also have to celebrate Holy Communion in a manner that I can theologically accept (generally what is known as “spiritual presence”).  I may have some digging to do.  A number of churches in my local area are scrubbing their stance on LGBT and abortion from their websites.

One thing I know for sure is that my heart is breaking over leaving the people at the PCUSA church.  When I consider leaving the Salvation Army corps, I don’t sense an intense emotional reaction.

I have stated my conscience on the issue.  Each person has to deal with their own conscience as to what they would do in their own life and what they believe for society.  If there was universal agreement on when life begins, the issue would resolve itself.  But there isn’t that agreement.  I have many perspectives from which to view this issue (scientifically, spiritually/morally as a Christian, politically as someone leaning more and more Libertarian, and legally as an American constitutionalist) and they don’t all agree.

Besides, we live in such a cancel culture these days and I am not the ideal spokesperson on the issue.  So I will leave that to those who have either given birth or have the capacity to do so, and to others who can speak with expertise on the various elements of the topic.  My primary focus (and the focus of my blog) will remain the intersection between being Christian and being transgender.

At the same time, I live in the United States, a country that I see becoming more divided and irreconcilable, trending more to the extreme.  We have had our highs and lows as a country, but we could at least agree that as a country we had lofty ideals that attracted the world.  Now we can’t even seem to agree on that.  One side emphasizes all the positives of America and the other side emphasizes all the negatives.  And this divide is being reflected in the Christian community.  (The blog post on the Church divide has been posted; the national divide post is in progress.)

So I am concerned for my country.  I note two places in Jeremiah where God reveals to the prophet what He will do if Judah does right.  The second time, He also reveals what He will do if Judah does wrong.  And He defines what He means by doing right or wrong.

For if ye throughly amend your ways and your doings; if ye throughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbour; If ye oppress not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and shed not innocent blood in this place, neither walk after other gods to your hurt: Then will I cause you to dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers, for ever and ever. – Jeremiah 7:5-7

Log is a barrier, but where’s the speck?

I believe that both churches and their respective denominations do an excellent job of advocating for good government and justice for all, going the extra mile and more to help those most in need.  Neither of them are worshiping or promoting false gods.  And we could argue that the nation at large has fallen short in all these areas.  But we also have that commandment to not shed innocent blood.  There are many headlines that could be used as examples of innocent blood being shed.  Over the years, I have learned that we get nowhere in solving problems by pointing fingers at each other: if we are both contributing to the problem in our own way, the beginning of the solution is to point the finger at ourselves.  Whether it is a speck of sawdust or a log in the other person’s eye, we can be most effective after taking the log out of our own eye.

But for now it is tears, not logs, in my eyes.  I miss the pastor and congregation at the PCUSA church very much.  I am heartbroken more than I can say.  Holding onto and trusting my dear Lord is what sustains me for now.

Thus saith the LORD; Execute ye judgment and righteousness, and deliver the spoiled out of the hand of the oppressor: and do no wrong, do no violence to the stranger, the fatherless, nor the widow, neither shed innocent blood in this place. For if ye do this thing indeed, then shall there enter in by the gates of this house kings sitting upon the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses, he, and his servants, and his people. But if ye will not hear these words, I swear by myself, saith the LORD, that this house shall become a desolation. – Jeremiah 22:3-5

God bless,

Lois

A Tale of Two Churches

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Many transgender Christians have difficulty finding one church that accepts them.  I found two.  And therein has been the cause of a struggle I faced since mid-December.  I realized that I can no longer split my time between them.

How to decide?  The process was more difficult than expected and led me places I didn’t foresee.  It was the most joyous of times; it was the most miserable of times.  To give the story proper context, I need to go back to when my parents and their siblings were young adults during the Great Depression.

My mom’s relationship with my dad’s family (especially my paternal grandfather) was usually like oil and water.  So I knew that when my mom said something praiseworthy about them, it was time to sit up and take notice.

I inherit my storytelling abilities from my mom.  But there were certain topics that were reserved for “when you’re older”.  Anything related to human sexuality was one of those topics.  And this was typical for the 1950’s.

So when my mom told me a certain story about my aunt and uncle early in my teen years, I doubly knew to pay attention.  It was the story of my aunt’s first pregnancy and how she lost the baby.  This would have been in the late 1930’s, a couple of years before their first surviving child was born.

My dad’s family was Roman Catholic.  So when my aunt developed complications, my uncle brought her to a hospital that was affiliated with the Catholic Church. There they heard the sad news.  They could save my aunt or they could save the baby, but not both.  However, it was their strict policy that they would attempt to save the life of the baby.  I guess the best they could offer was to hope and pray for a miracle to save my aunt’s life, and they expected my aunt and uncle to feel the same way.

They didn’t feel the same way.  They felt that they could have more children much easier than it would be for my uncle to raise a baby as a single parent and to hope he could find another wife (and mother for this child).

My uncle checked my aunt out of that hospital and took her to another one, one that wasn’t Catholic.  There the doctors followed the wishes of my aunt and uncle.  They delivered the baby to save the life of my aunt.  The baby didn’t survive.  But they had two children who survived into their senior citizen years.  And my aunt survived over forty years.  I’m thirteen years younger than their oldest son and I was able to drive to my aunt’s funeral.

My mom agreed with their decision on the child that didn’t survive.  I knew by the tone of her voice even before she said so.  It taught me that not every situation is cut and dried.  Circumstances have to be weighed.  Ethicists pose difficult questions like these to show that sometimes people have to face hard choices.  Unfortunately some of those questions can be so far-fetched they can almost distract you from the moral dilemma (e.g. trolleys loaded with explosives and you have to throw a switch to determine whether it will hit your mother tied to the track or many people on the other track).  My aunt and uncle faced a real life situation with two sets of doctors.  Someone would live and someone would die no matter what decision they made.  And if they made no decision at all, someone would still die.  So if that was playing God, so be it.

As far as I know, no one would die if I did nothing and continued to split my time between two churches.  And no one would die regardless of which church I chose.  But I did begin to feel in my spirit that by splitting between both churches, neither was getting my best.  Both were being cheated.  It was taking a lot of mental and spiritual energy to keep track, especially when I started to sing in both choirs.  In fact, it was becoming overwhelming.  I also began to realize it wouldn’t make sense if I invited someone to go to church with me and then the following week I went to a different church.

Both are fairly mainstream churches when it comes to the basics of their Christian theology.  One (Salvation Army) is Wesleyan Methodist and therefore Arminian in terms of their views on salvation.  The other (Presbyterian) is in the Calvinist Reformed tradition in terms of their views on salvation (and is in the same denomination I was raised).  I am a member of the first, but felt doors opening for ministry in the second.  Both accept that I am transgender, but I feel that I can be more open about it at the second church (although that isn’t necessarily true nationwide for this denomination: I know of a trans woman who was a minister in this denomination in a neighboring county who was treated poorly when she came out).

So I began to do what any Christian should do in this situation: pray.  Specifically I prayed to hear from God for His guidance.  And I didn’t get a direct answer right away.  But I did begin to receive encouraging reminders of times in the past when I heard from God.  One of the reminders brought me back to a time when my ex came back into my life for a season almost 25 years after our marriage broke up.

That time, God gave me a passage of scripture: not an exact parallel, but with similarities.  It was the story of how Jacob returned from Padanaram, the land of his ancestors, and was preparing to meet his brother Esau.  Jacob left with the knowledge that Esau wanted to kill him.  He had no idea how Esau would receive him upon his return.  While my ex didn’t want to kill me, she had become very hostile and wanted me totally out of her life.  I had no idea how she would react when a third party told her that I had found her.

I had not searched for her looking to remarry her.  I was trying to return something of value that belonged to her son (my stepson).  In fact, the information I had was that she had remarried (true, but I didn’t know of a subsequent divorce).  Even so, when my Christian friends heard the story of what it took for me to find her and reconnect, most of them assumed that it was God bringing us back together, especially when they learned she was single again.  I tried to remain cautious, mindful of the past, but it was hard not to get swept up in their enthusiasm.  But God had given me the story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis 32-33 for an additional reason: Jacob and Esau don’t stay together very long.  It is on friendlier terms this time, but they soon part ways again.

And so my ex and I connected in July, split in September, reconnected in December and split one last time the following May.  Instead of for reconciliation, God meant it so I would have closure.  Unfortunately, it was more acrimonious than the second separation of Jacob and Esau.  (And to my knowledge, she knows nothing about my gender transition.)

This time, God gave me 1^st Kings 18:21.  God has sent the prophet Elijah to challenge the people of Israel (by this time, the ten tribes of the northern kingdom).  They are trying to worship both Baal and the LORD.  But the two are incompatible.  Only one can be the true God: Elijah tells them to only worship whichever one is the true God.

It took a while for the Lord to get my full attention with this verse.  Then I got hit with a bout of sciatica the Thursday before Thanksgiving and my legs still aren’t 100% back to normal.  So now I was literally limping around (as the modern versions describe how Israel was moving between their two beliefs).

I know that the analogy is not perfect.  I know this is not a contest between good and evil.  I know that both churches worship the true God, even if they have some differences in their understanding of God, theology and priorities of service.  So I know that I can’t pit them against one another in some sort of a challenge match (as was done between 450 prophets of Baal and Elijah the lone representative of the LORD).  Yet when I was at a loss on how to proceed, all I could think of doing was to set up some sort of logical comparison.  I was going to compare them in various areas and then weight the areas as to which were more important to me.

And it was no surprise that before weighting the areas, it came out pretty even.  Some areas were ties.  One church is more evenly divided between men and women and also more diverse in age with more children and younger adults.  The other church will have a harder time surviving if it doesn’t start to attract more young adults and children who will stay with the church when they become adults.  If a transgender friend is willing to accept an invitation to church, many of them would probably be more comfortable in one than the other, although there would be exceptions.  I enjoyed the fellowship at both, but at one more than the other; therefore it was more likely that I might develop close friendships at that church.  One church had a more modern and less liturgical worship service than the other and I tended to prefer that, even though it ran a bit longer.

At some point in the process, I decided to employ a technique I learned years ago from my career counselor: if “both” doesn’t work, “neither” probably will.  In other words, if I couldn’t decide from going to both churches, stepping away for a season and going to neither church for worship or choir practice probably will help.  But then I violated that a bit by going to the Christmas Eve service at both churches.  The Salvation Army service was first.  When I left there for the seven minute drive to the other church, I thought I had made up my mind to pick the Presbyterian (hereafter called PCUSA) church.

I was shocked within a few minutes of being there.  In two weeks’ time, it didn’t feel like the same church any more.  It didn’t feel like my church.  The arrangements of carols we rehearsed in choir practice had been altered.  I rebelled against saying common prayers and part of me didn’t know why.  I was sullen.  I knew I couldn’t go up to receive communion in that mood, so I didn’t.  And that was initially the only reason I sought out a second church!

I was able to light my candle and sing “Silent Night”, badly.  (It is really difficult to sing while choking back tears.)  And then I couldn’t leave the pew because all I wanted to do was cry.  The more people came to see me and then minister to me, the more I cried.  Those who knew I was in the process of deciding assumed I was crying because I had made my decision to leave.  I tried to explain that I arrived thinking that I had chosen them, but it was hard to convey that.

In fact, I felt like I was in a wrestling match.  My heart, head, feelings and emotions were doing battle with each other and the Holy Spirit.  Now my limping was more like what Jacob went through the night before he reunited with Esau.  My verse from 2006 was merging with my verse from this autumn.  And after favoring my left leg so long, as that leg started to heal, my right leg was beginning to hurt.

Two people in particular talked a lot with me after the service ended.  That helped calm me down and clarified a few issues for me.  It brought me back to square one and that was okay.  I meditated on the idea of common prayer and how did that compare to hymns and praise music.  I realized that the only one I really had a problem with was the corporate prayer of confession because sometimes there were things in it that were not in my heart to confess.  But I remembered that I had those same feelings years ago.  It wasn’t a deal-breaker then and I could still work around it.  And soon, I was starting to lean toward the PCUSA church again.  I thought about how close I had gotten to many people there and how well I was received after I preached and sang solos.

On the second day of 2020, the pastor of the PCUSA church shared a meme on Facebook that is to the left.  I didn’t comment on it or react to it.  But it made me think and I meditated on it.  The personal preferences in my church comparison were downgraded.  I could be part of the Church’s mission and purpose at either church.  And at both churches I could fill a part where there was a lack if there was a willingness to open that door wider.  So there was no direct push from that part of the statement.  But by decreasing my emphasis on personal preferences, I took away some of the PCUSA church’s advantage.

But the next day, two things occurred that turned the tide.  Still strongly leaning towards the PCUSA church but not quite ready to make a commitment, especially after what happened on Christmas Eve, I sent out an e-mail on Thursday, January 2, saying that I was ready to return to choir practice the following week (i.e. this week: Tuesday at the Salvation Army and Thursday at the PCUSA church).  I also stated that I would be going to the PCUSA church on January 5 and the Salvation Army on January 12, and that I wouldn’t be ready to sing on January 5 since I had missed some choir practices, but that I should be able to sing on January 12 as long as my legs felt good enough to be able to stand.  I had a very strong reaction to a response I received and that gave me another reason to meditate on why I reacted so strongly.

In the second part of this blog post, I will reveal how the Lord spoke to me to show me why I was reacting so strongly.  I will also continue to describe my process and why I haven’t totally made a decision, although I have definitely left one of the two churches.

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. – Psalm 126:5-6

God bless,

Lois

My Sermon on 10/20/2019

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I had the privilege of delivering the worship service message at New Hempstead Presbyterian Church in New City, NY on 10/20/19. I thank the pastor, the Rev. Dr. Lori Knight-Whitehouse, for the opportunity. At the end of the text, I am posting a link to my portion of the service (the second Bible reading and my sermon, plus a great hug at the end from Pastor Lori). I chose both readings for the service: 1st Samuel 16:1-7 and Luke 11:37-44.

What Difference Does It Make?

Today’s scripture passages deal with insides and outsides of people.  In both cases, God is far more interested in the heart and mind of a person than the outer appearance.  In 1^st Samuel, God notes that it is human nature to judge based on what’s outside.  It’s a lot easier to see external features and we like to keep our complicated lives as simple as possible.  When the children of Israel ignored God’s warnings and desired a human king to rule over them, He gave them an impressive physical specimen.  But tall, studly King Saul was found wanting: not only disobedient but making excuses for it.  So the Lord lets Samuel know that with this new king, the king whose lineage would lead to Jesus, God would select based on His ability to see and judge the worthiness of the one selected.  David wasn’t perfect.  But when confronted with his sin, he owned up to it and returned to being a man after God’s own heart.

The ritual of hand washing

The passage in Luke might hit closer to home.  It is not likely that anyone here will be chosen for a royal position.  But it is very likely that all of us have either judged others or have been judged based on our appearance or based on expectations.  And who among us would not have felt foolish if the person we judged negatively turned out to be Christ?  Yet Jesus goes a step further.  In condemning the Pharisees of His day, Jesus uses very strong language.  As they used to say in the movies, “Dems fighting words!”

We have to be careful here.  In Matthew 5:22, Jesus warned about calling someone a fool.  Now He calls the Pharisees fools for their hypocritical concern with the outside while neglecting their wickedness inside.  But in the Matthew passage, the Greek word translated as “fool” is “moros”.  That word carried a connotation of being godless as well as being foolish.  In Luke 11:40, the Greek word translated as “fool” is “aphron” [af-rone].  It insults the intelligence of the Pharisees, but not their piety.

About seven years ago, a woman I knew from church who I considered a friend told me that something I was doing was “foolish and evil”.  Then she added that she would pray for me.  I suppose in her mind that was supposed to cover it.  But it was clear to me she was implying that I was doing moros type foolishness.

What’s my difference?  My message today will focus on one that is very rare.  The current estimate is six tenths of a percent or six people in a random group of a thousand.  New Hempstead is much smaller than one thousand people.  But a church is not a random sample.  It is populated by people with similar beliefs and common purpose.  Two of the beliefs that connect me to New Hempstead are Christianity and social justice.

Some of you already know about my difference.  Many of you do not know and might be surprised.  Some might even be shocked.  Hopefully none of you are dismayed.  Unfortunately, a large portion of the Christian community around the world is dismayed.  To them, I am living in sin, have a reprobate mind and most likely not even saved.  And if I am saved, in their opinion at best I am terribly backslidden and in need of prayer for deliverance.

So let me introduce myself as I sometimes do when I speak before secular groups.  First, I am Christian.  That is my eternal spiritual identity.  Second, I am female.  That is my innate gender identity.  Somewhere down on the list, I am transgender.  That is my biological anatomical reality.

Lois Simmons, author of this blog!

It is also my anatomical reality that most of my secondary sex characteristics, even prior to cross-gender hormones and without any visible surgeries, are female.  That doesn’t make me any more female or any more transgender than another trans woman.  It just makes me more fortunate in my ability to go through life without being hassled in public.

In other ways, I am pretty much the same person I was before I transitioned socially nearly seven years ago.  I am still good in math, I can still parallel park, I still have a good sense of direction, I still have the same crazy sense of humor, I still like sports and I still love the Lord.

It is the last item on that list that makes my remarks relevant to this congregation.  Otherwise, what I have to say might be an interesting YouTube video or Facebook post that you read and then move on.  But it is my heart for Christ, my heart for those who do not know Him and my heart for other transgender people, that fuels my remarks today.  A transgender ally could have presented most of this same message.  But it would be deceitful for me if I failed to disclose the truth about who I am and where I am coming from.

At this point, I am reminded of the parable of the sower. Luke’s Gospel records it in chapter 8, verses 5-8: A sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it.  And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture.  And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold.  And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.

hard soil

If you take one thing away from my message today, it is this: sharing Jesus with the transgender community is hard soil.  And not only has the body of Christ dropped the ball, many have kicked the ball away.  There are a number of denominations and independent churches who will turn away a transgender person, whether Christian or seeker; many others will accept them in the hopes that they can pray away the trans or expose the trans person to enough teaching … “in love”, of course … that the trans person will renounce their transgender identity.

There are grim consequences for both transgender people and the Christian Church as a result of these widespread and well-known attitudes.  For example, for many years I attended a support group in Bergen County that met in an open, accepting and affirming Evangelical Lutheran Church.  More often than not when someone contacted us about joining the group, when they heard that we met in a church, they would stop e-mailing us, or we could hear their interest wane, or they would flat out tell us that they would not come to a meeting at a church.  Whether because of personal experience or Christian church reputation, like the lyrics of a song by The Who, they do not want to be fooled again.

And unfortunately for churches like New Hempstead, even though we aren’t part of this mud puddle of bigotry, we get splashed with that same dirty reputation in the eyes of very many who identify as L, G, B, or T.  How many LGBT+ welcoming churches are seeing an influx of members of those groups?  How many of these churches are struggling to survive or are even closing their doors?  At the same time, how many LGBT+ identified people are closing their hearts to the saving knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Based on personal experience, the testimony of other trans people and mounting scientific evidence, I do not believe that someone who is truly born transgender can change that identity, whether through secular or spiritual intervention.  But that is a separate discussion.  For now taking that as a given, what is the right course for us in the Church of Jesus Christ?

I decided after years of resisting to join Facebook this summer.  Quickly I found a closed group of Transgender Christians, over 700 both strong and suffering alike.  It was a larger group than I expected to find.  There was a time that I couldn’t find another transgender Christian anywhere online.  That was one reason I started my own blog on the subject.

Edited and paraphrased to maintain privacy, these are the testimonies of some of our fellow believers and what they are going through because of their combination of identities.  Hear what your sisters and brothers in Christ are crying out.

I met with my parents for the first time since coming out to them a few weeks ago.  It is the first time they saw me presenting as female.  Our time together was pleasant, but transgender and my transition were never mentioned.  As we were parting, my mom handed me a book to read.  (The book is one of many books that supposedly use the Gospel lovingly to show transgender people the sin and error of our ways so we will repent.  Often their premise is that we are either not saved, don’t know the Bible, that we are rebelling against God, or some combination thereof.)

Post: God is good all the time.  I finally found a church here deep in the Bible Belt that accepts me as the trans woman that I am.  Reply: Great news.  There are accepting churches out there.  It isn’t always easy finding one.

When I was still presenting as a cisgender male, a cis male friend who was a member of a men’s church study group persuaded me to attend a presentation by a man who wrote an anti-transgender paper.  When I asked the presenter what he used for research material, he showed me a stack of pornographic magazines.  I never attended another men’s Bible study group again.

I was rejected by my previous church.  Yet I am encouraged by what someone in my current church told me: “You challenge us to live our faith.”

My transgender identity remained when I was saved in my mid-20’s.  It has been a constant battle to please my Lord and Savior at the same time as continuing to work towards becoming the woman I truly am.

I feel my faith ebbing away.  I don’t sense God being there for me.  Goodbye to the group.  (This person revealed that she had been molested in the past and that someone else tried recently.  She was feeling shame because she felt she may have caused it by dressing to look pretty.  With encouragement from others, so far she stayed in the group.)

A trans woman member of the group, who is known in her church as female and transgender, was invited to join a small group in her church.  Then she was told that they were going to address her only by her former male name because that was how God created her.  The reason given was that they would lovingly accept anyone who wanted to join their group, but they had to remain true to their understanding of God’s word.  The invitation to join the group was declined.  The leader of the group acted like she was the judged and aggrieved party.

The pastor of the church I used to attend told me that it would be better for their church if I didn’t come back after I transitioned to female. 

My pastor knows my transgender identity, but he and the church are lukewarm on transgender issues.  I attend a mega-church and the pastor has a lot of status even beyond the local community.  I want my church to take a more positive stance on transgender issues instead of ignoring their existence.  But I think my pastor is more concerned about what it will do to his reputation in the Christian community if he steps out in favor of transgender people.

I used to attend a church that claimed to be LGBT friendly.  They had members, including the pastor, who were either gay or lesbian.  But I was the only transgender person there.  Most of the people ignored me and one gay couple was downright negative towards me.  Not only did I leave that church, I am avoiding church altogether now.

I have been attending a church for a few months and things were going well in terms of acceptance as a woman.  Then I came out as transgender.  Now I’ve been told that I cannot be part of any woman’s group or do any ministry work.  (In general this points to the dilemmas all transgender people face: should we come out at all, who should we come out to and under what circumstances?)

An acquaintance told me today that I am trash for violating God’s word.  Furthermore, I and anyone transgender should be put to death if we don’t turn away from this wickedness.

One group member is currently in the closet as a pastor in a conservative denomination that does not accept transgender.  Another member in similar circumstances in the past stepped down and found a job as a chaplain so she could transition.

coming out – should I or not?

My spouse has been sacrificially supportive since I came out.  Now she feels the need to leave her church, the church I started to attend with her.  We thought we were welcome.  Now we found out that they only welcomed us hoping that we would eventually be convicted to turn away from our relationship with me being transgender.  We are continuing to attend, but no longer feel welcome and are starting to look for another church.  But that is very difficult in our area.  Also a transgender teen had been coming with her family.  Once the church’s stance became known, this family stopped coming as well. 

These are just some examples.  They confirm what I believe the Holy Spirit was laying on my heart as I was exploring transition in 2012.  The Lord laid a new ministry idea on my heart.  I call it “Born Thrice”.

In a sense, a transgender Christian who transitions is not only born again, but born three times: physical birth, spiritual birth and gender rebirth or reassignment.  To the world, in many ways I am a new person.  I have a new name and a new gender marker on my birth certificate, my passport, my driver’s license and with Social Security.  My brother for the first time has a sister.  My senior men’s honorary society at Cornell retroactively had their first female member.

Here are the aims of my proposed ministry.  Note how well they fit in with the needs expressed in a sample of unsolicited posts that were taken from the Transgender Christian Facebook Group over the past month.

• Provide support so that transgender Christians can remain steadfast in their faith. This can include helping find a new church.
• Help transgender Christians who became discouraged and turned away from Christ so that they will return to their first love; shine the light of Christ’s love to those who were raised in the church and proclaim that there is a place in the body of Christ for transgender people with many faithful churches now receiving them with gladness and without judgment.
• Proclaim to the rest of the transgender community that God loves them just as they are and that there is peace and wholeness without shame in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
• Educate pastors, ruling elders and congregations that there is no conflict between Christianity and transgenderism. This can be done discreetly on behalf of a transgender Christian who would like to come out in their own church but is unsure of what the reaction will be and would like the waters tested.  It can also be done to help find a new church or for any church that wants to know more about transgender.
• Talk with Christian family members of a transgender individual who has or plans to come out, helping the family respond with love and compassion rather than condemnation, while also showing compassion for the adjustment that the family members will be making.

Some of the transgender Christians I am meeting will become part of the pool of counselors.  But more groundwork needs to be laid.  It would help to have someone with the skill to take a vision and get an organization off the ground successfully.  Denominational support and endorsement will be helpful.  Once a ministry gets large enough, a good advisory board and a board of trustees is needed.  And prayer support is always necessary for a successful Christian organization.

How else can you make a difference?

As far as I know, no one else in the New Hempstead congregation is transgender.  But allies are always a blessing.  And if there are enough people interested, I would be willing to help lead a discussion group on transgender.  Key Bible verses and books on the topic are available as discussion starters.

Bee Love Slater, a transgender woman of color, was burned to death in this car on 9/4/19

Other ministry opportunities are likely to arise.  The transgender population, particularly transgender women of color, tend to be underemployed and living in poverty.  Some turn to sex work as their answer and this makes them very vulnerable to physical violence.  [But all transgender people are at a higher risk to be victims of physical violence.]  There are also times when transgender identified young people need safe places to obtain education or even refuge from their immediate family.

And I challenge you today to consider your own common interest community.  Maybe it is music or pet lovers or senior citizens or gardening or crafts.  Maybe it is your profession or the sports team you root for or centered on the activities of your children or grandchildren.  Are you shining the light of Christ in your communities?  Do people know that you are Christian?  Or would they be surprised to find out?  Maybe you’d like to share what Jesus has done in your life but you aren’t sure how.  Pastor Lori and I have ideas on that subject and would love to share them with you.

Lord, I pray that those who have heard this message will apply it to their life according to Your will.  And I pray that whether it is through Born Thrice or other instruments of Your choosing, that you will help many transgender people abide in Your grace, peace, joy and love. Amen

Salute to Misfile (and all my favorite comic strips)

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Lois Lane – my cartoon alter ego

Sometimes people ask me what I do for fun. One of the things I do is read comic strips. My selection of comic strips provides me with everything from a good belly laugh to insight about life, to a look at today’s world with a healthy degree of separation from the news media and today’s divisive rhetoric, to enable me to find a way to laugh at myself when needed. And in today’s world, laughter is needed more than ever.

There are a handful of strips that I read daily. Some are the same as will be found in the daily newspaper (as long as newspapers will continue to exist). One is a comic that used to appear in newspapers daily but now only on Sunday. A few of them are classic comic reprints.

I also read two web-based comic strips. Since they require going to separate websites and they are based on ongoing arcs, I prefer to read those once a week.

Chris Hazelton

One of those web comics, Misfile, ended its run recently. The author of the strip is Chris Hazelton. The basic story line is that an angel in heaven’s filing room screws up (as is his tendency), but really big time this time. His error causes one teen girl at a high school in NW Massachusetts to lose two years of her life and go from a senior on the brink of graduation to sophomore. The error also causes another sophomore to suddenly be physically transformed overnight from male to female. They are the only ones aware of the changes. Everyone else in their life has had their memories transformed so they only know this new reality. Somehow these two teens find each other and are joined by the screw up angel and a cast of other heavenly host characters and unwitting earthbound characters in the attempt to restore the original history and all the conflicts that brings.

Chris has started a new web comic called “Hell High” that seems to be based on the same universe, perhaps the result of what appeared to be the solution to the dilemma faced by the key characters in Misfile. I have just started reading it and will give it a month or two to see if it holds my interest.

Ash (Misfile)

Misfile premiered online on February 23, 2004 (I had a lot of catching up to do when I found it). On November 20, 2014, Chris revealed part of the inspiration for the main character who is transformed from male to female and frequently struggles with being in the wrong body. Chris’s father, one of his earliest fans of the comic, was a male to female transsexual who transitioned prior to the inception of Misfile. (I am identifying her the way that Chris does.)

http://www.misfile.com/?date=2014-11-20

In 2007, Chris’s father died. She developed a blood clot that led to a fatal heart attack. It is believed that the cause was the estrogen that she was taking as part of her transition. It was the worth the risk to her.

Doppler ultrasound to detect blood clot

It is also worth the risk to me. I suffered from a blood clot around the time that I had my GRS. I believe that it was a result of the combination of a trauma to my ankle and the changes in medication that were necessitated by surgery (removing anti-coagulants from my normal dosage, although also removing estrogen, except for a shot of Heparin while in post-op). I was taken off of estrogen and put on a strong anti-coagulant (Xarelto) for about 4 months. I began to suffer from curling fingers and loss of shoulder mobility and the symptoms were getting worse. To restore quality of life, I stopped the Xarelto and resumed estrogen. To minimize the risks I switched from sublingual to topical estrogen, take only half the dose that was originally prescribed (blood tests are showing high enough estrogen levels to justify the change) and faithfully take a baby aspirin a day (or more if I have a headache or body aches that day).

The date in which Chris made the reveal is significant. He did so on the official day to observe the Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR). It is the day when we remember those who died in the past year because of their transgender identity (real or perceived) or alliance, whether through murder or lack of medical care. When my health allows, I participate in TDOR ceremonies locally and spoke at one a few years ago.

The TDOR ceremonies are quite moving. Even one person who dies this way is too many. In the United States, some twenty to thirty people die in this way. Around the world the number is approaching four hundred that are reported. The number is likely higher than that. Some are not reported because the family of the victim hides the facts.  In other cases, the police or the government hides the information. Russia and the People’s Republic of China are two of the larger countries that do not report this information.

Some deaths are caused by hatred towards gender variance even when the victim does not identify as transgender. In some especially heart-wrenching cases, the person doesn’t get a chance to identify. The saddest (and they are all sad) murder I have read about happened nine years ago. A sixteen month old toddler was playing with his mother’s clothes. The mother’s boyfriend (not the baby’s father) told police that he struck the child several times with his closed fist, “trying to make him act like a boy instead of a little girl.”

To end on a lighter note, here are the other comics I read regularly:

Andy Capp – The title character is a lovable layabout who is a perpetual beneficiary of the British social welfare system, his long-suffering wife and any friend he can sponge off of. I get my dose of British humor and slang. Andy is either cadging beer or ale at a local pub (and getting drunk), cheating at cards, darts or snooker (presumably to get some money as well as massaging his pride).

B.C. – One of two Johnny Hart originated comics I read, it delightfully morphs modern times and the stone age, but without the Honeymooners parallel that The Flintstones had. Some strips feature early homo sapiens, some feature critters (both extant and extinct), some strips combine the two.

Calvin & Hobbes (classic) – One of the most brilliant of all comic strips, Calvin’s adventures and insights stem from him being super-intelligent and very bored. At the same time we often see his vulnerability. His best friend relationship with his toy stuffed tiger, Hobbes, reveals a lot about Calvin. Hobbes only becomes animated when alone with Calvin. Calvin has a vivid imagination, but sometimes it seems like something more must be going on.

Dilbert (w/ Dogbert)

Dilbert – The inanity of the modern world as seen through the everyday life of a dysfunctional, fictional tech company. The title character exhibits the highest degree of job skill competence while dealing with the frustrations of being inept at climbing the corporate ladder and being socially clueless (sometimes because of his own intelligence combined with lack of tact).

Dumbing of Age (web comic) – Indiana University is the locale for this look at modern college life using characters brought forward from earlier strips in the same universe in shuffled roles. Many, but not all, characters are LGBT, including at least one T in the closet. One of the main characters, Joyce, finds her rigidly fundamentalist and legalistic Christian beliefs challenged on a regular basis. Her challenge is to continue to love her new friends (and one close friend from high school) even though some worship differently, some are atheist, some are in same sex relationships, some have vastly different scientific beliefs and some simply aren’t very lovable. Joyce’s world often gets turned upside down but she manages to bounce back up and hold onto her belief that through faith and her good works, she can help the people she cares about live happily ever after.

cartoon self-portrait of the author of “For Better or Worse”

For Better or Worse (classic) – Family life north of the border, it is loosely autobiographical. Over time the characters age and the family grows. Although these strips are reruns, here and there the author updates them. On gocomics.com, the comments section will include the author’s remarks about how something similar happened to her in real life. Canada isn’t that different from the U.S., especially since hockey is becoming more common here, and it can be just as funny.

FoxTrot (Sunday only) – Family trials and tribulations with mom, dad, two painfully average teens and a preteen brother who is a genius. Of course, this means the youngest is also a nerd. The strip ran seven days a week from its inception in April 1988 until the end of 2006 and classic versions of those strips are available online, but I am only reading current strips.

Garfield

Garfield – With apologies to Heathcliff fans, Garfield is the only comic strip cat for me (with occasional cameos by Arlene and Nermal). Supporting characters including a lovable pet dog (Odie) who barks but otherwise has only spoken once in a thought bubble (other animals in the strip speak regularly that way), a nerdy owner (Jon) of Garfield and Odie, and a veterinarian (Liz) who eventually became romantically involved with Jon despite his clumsiness (physically and socially) and lack of fashion sense.

JumpStart – The life of Joe the Philadelphia police officer, his wife Marcy, a nurse with a rising career, and their four adorable children: daughter Sunny an ecology maven, son Jo-Jo a budding politician and martial artist wannabe, and adorable infant twins Tammi and Tommy whose thought bubbles alone are worth the read. While the characters are diverse, the cartoonist and the family are one of the few successful ones in the industry that are black.

Luann

Luann – The life of an awkward young girl who is slowly growing into a young woman (aging, but in cartoon time).  Many story arcs focus on her family (but rarely her parents) and friends rather than Luann. Some of her public school friends have departed and were replaced by new friends now that she is in college. This is the most popular current strip that I read. It is as close as I have come to having insight into the life of a teenage girl.

One Big Happy (new comics but on time delay in gocomics.com) – An extended family who live next door to each other (grandparents, parents and children), they are Italian except for the mother. While all are featured, as well as some friends and neighbors of all ages, the central character of the strip is Ruthie, the youngest child, six going on fifty, who is super-smart, super-confident, and doesn’t let her lack of experience knowledge gaps get in the way of her mouth. In short, she is a pip! (I identify with the confidence Ruthie has, which I had before gender issues kicked in.)

Peanuts (classic) – Perhaps the best known comic strip of all time, all kids all the time, and a few anthropomorphic animals with starring or supporting roles. Charles Schulz stipulated that no one else would ever do the strip after his death (unlike other strips that have had successors). In Snoopy, he may have created the most lovable cartoon character of all time.

Rose is Rose – The strips about the nuclear family of romantic couple Rose and Jimbo and their adorable son Pasquale are great. The ones about the other characters and the anthropomorphic animals, not so much. I think the difference with the animals is that most of them are drawn realistically (unlike Schulz whose animals were caricatures) but are doing things that are not what an animal would do and not believable. This is the comic strip that I debate dropping from time to time, but the nuclear family brings me back.

Sen. Batson D. Belfry

Shoe – All anthropomorphic birds all the time, the title character is a sarcastic, given to anger, newspaper editor. Similar to Pogo, the strip often brings up the current state of politics (especially with Sen. Batson D. Belfry) with humor making it more palatable. The strip started in 1977 and after Watergate and the onset of economic malaise, it helped me think of politics and still be able to smile again. It is needed more than ever now.

Wizard of Id – The other Johnny Hart originated strip I read, this one conflates modern society with medieval times. In addition to the Wizard, the strip features a little king who is not at all benevolent. a troop of incompetent knights and a host of rabble citizenry (plus constantly attacking Huns who should have overrun Id by now).

And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name. And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you. Notwithstanding in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven. In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes: even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight. – Luke 10:17-21

God bless,

Lois

Non-Christians, Baby Christians, Discipleship and Moderation

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I attend two churches, one that tilts a bit to the right and one that tilts a bit to the left.  It took me a year to figure out that when one of them moves their worship service up an hour for the summer and the other one leaves it where it is, I can attend both services on the same Sunday for a few months.  The churches are only a five minute drive from each other.

And so when I thought of a scripture verse and a possible blog post to go with it, and then that general theme (if not the verse) was mentioned at some point during both services that Sunday, I took that as spiritual landing lights to move ahead with it.  So here goes.

I am concerned about the divisions in the body of Christ, the Church.  I am concerned about deep divisions in the United States of America.  Because this country was founded upon Judeo-Christian based values and ideals, augmented by commentaries of some of the best and brightest minds over the centuries, I believe that the two are connected.  I acknowledge that the U.S. has had mixed results in implementing those ideals.  Yet until now, they have been an inspiration for millions and to millions to do better, to want something better, to believe in something better.

Like the tangle of cords beneath my computer desk, it matters little how the mess began.  It might seem like a fruitful exercise to ponder whether a declining America led to a declining Christian church or did a declining Christian church lead to a declining America.  But at this point it would more likely lead to one more thing to disagree about, one more fine mess to get into.  Right now the priority is to get things untangled.

Since the topic was spiritually inspired for me, I will start from that side of it.  What I am seeing is that how the two poles of the Church get things wrong are mirror images of each other.

Let’s look at the Scripture passage that triggered this blog post: Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen. – Matthew 28:19-20

Now I pledged at the inception of my blog to use the KJV as my source for all Bible quotes.  But the KJV is often not the version used when I am in church or a Bible study or hearing a Christian teaching.  So certain popular verses will come to mind in an alternate translation.  And the more modern translations are consistent in rendering “teach” as “make disciples of”.  The KJV emphasizes the action to be taken.  The newer translations emphasize the desired result: for people of every nation to not only receive the Gospel message, but for it to have an eternal life changing effect on at least some people from every nation and for that change to have a practical manifestation on their lives here on earth.

It was “make disciples of” that resonated with me on Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church.  But how do you make disciples without teaching?  And how do you teach without first witnessing and getting a positive response?  And how do you get a positive response if non-Christians will not even listen to or read your message; if they stop their ears and kick you out from their presence or shame you into silence?

It wasn’t always this way during my lifetime.  I like to watch old television shows.  They are familiar, I find them more entertaining and they provide perspective.  Lately I’ve been watching old quiz and game shows like “What’s My Line?” and “Password”.  Previously I had been watching “Bonanza”, a show that mixed drama, adventure, comedy and some moralizing.

It is not the purpose of this blog post to postulate how we got from there to here in attitude.  But the difference can be startling, even to someone who lived through the gradual change.  It was taken for granted then that Christianity would be a major component of American life on these programs and it was respected.  Jewish game show panelists had no problem wishing people a Merry Christmas.  Every Friday, Allen Ludden would urge the audience members to attend worship services that weekend and show gratitude for their blessings.  Jewish actor Michael Landon not only portrayed a church-going Joe Cartwright on Bonanza, he made Christianity a major theme on “Little House on the Prairie”, and the focus of “Highway to Heaven” was clearly spiritual and Christian.  (Landon’s character is given a Gentile name, and in the very first episode alludes to Christ’s teaching to turn the other cheek, something with no direct equivalent in the Tanakh.)   Even clearer in its focus on Christianity was the Michael Landon created and produced show “Father Murphy”. While these shows continued for nearly twenty years after the end of “Bonanza” and were bucking the secularization trend in Hollywood, they were highly successful and point back to the way things had been.

There is nothing wrong with Christians wishing for a return to the respectful way that Christianity was treated two generations ago and earlier.  However, the way that many Christians try to bring this about can be counterproductive.

One of the biggest errors that some Christians (usually the more conservative ones) make is expecting non-Christians to live by Biblical standards.  If a person doesn’t acknowledge the Bible as authoritative, why would they follow its rules?  That’s like expecting me as an American citizen to live by the constitution of Russia, Saudi Arabia, Israel or Japan.  A similar problem is expecting non-Christians to automatically understand Christian-speak.  That might have been fairly likely over 50 years ago when the U.S. was steeped in Christian culture and even the biggest reprobate knew what they were straying from.  It’s no longer true and wishing it won’t make it so.

What are some of the biggest objections that non-Christians have to Christians and Christianity?  I was hoping for a poll, but I didn’t find one.  So I had to glean it from online articles: some written by non-Christians and some by Christians taking a hard look at themselves and their fellow believers.  Here are ones that made the list:

• Judgmental
• Hypocrites
• Unfriendly
• Shaming and sarcastic
• Unloving
• Hateful

Now if this was merely due to people living sinful, corrupt, wicked lives feeling uncomfortable, I would praise the Lord for that.  That isn’t because of what the Christians are doing.  That’s their own consciences convicting them of wrongdoing.  Comfortable people have little to no reason to change their ways.  It is only when they become uncomfortable and can find no peace that they are motivated to better themselves.

I also know that non-Christians do their fair share of hypocrisy, judging, shaming, mocking, turning away from and hating Christians.  So this is a two-way street.

But I think back to a Hebrew National commercials from years ago.  It was based on all the things that the U.S. Department of Agriculture (portrayed by Uncle Sam) allowed in hot dogs that they would not put in theirs because they were held to a higher standard by God. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAXvEFqLdm8

Any group that claims to follow God automatically puts themselves in a position of being held to a higher standard by both God and man.  So I don’t mind when non-Christians hold Christians to a higher standard, unless there is some violence or tangible loss connected with it.

It is true that some people are more motivated by the carrot and some are more motivated by the stick.  There are many Christians who only use the carrot and won’t talk about sin and hell at all.  There are many Christians who only use the stick and think they can shame or force non-Christians into conversion and heaven.  Sadly there are Christians who think they are showing love when they are using the stick far too often.  And there are Christians who think they are being compassionate when they are actually hurting others with that compassion.  So it is a complicated topic.

I heard someone’s testimony today.  He found Jesus Christ while in prison.  Upon release he returned home and went to church with a family member.  The people in that church knew about his prison background.  Rather than rejoicing that he would go to church, they all looked at him with expressions of “what are you doing here?”  When it came time for people to greet their neighbor, the person sitting next to him, literally his neighbor on his street as well as in the pew, did not greet him.  No one did.

He left church that day and went back to the streets and his old friends.  Two more years of his life were wasted, all because of a coldhearted church that didn’t evidence Christ in their walk.  But the Lord didn’t give up on him, even if some people representing Christ did.

Driving without a license landed him back in jail for a short period of time.  When he was released, he felt led to walk home 7½ miles instead of calling someone for a ride.  As he walked and meditated, he felt led to start a conversation with the Lord.  He rededicated himself that night.  Praise God, this time he found a church that demonstrated the love of Christ in their walk and in their outreach to a new person.  Many years later, that man now faithfully serves the Lord.

So someone becomes a new creature in Christ and finds your church.  Now what?  Hopefully you greet these people warmly and welcome them into fellowship.  But is that all that’s required of the church?  NO!  They are baby Christians.  On the one hand, their salvation experience may have them on fire for the Lord, but they are still a toddler in their walk.  Going back to that Matthew 28 verse, salvation is only the first step.  They need to be discipled.  They need to learn some discipline, just like any other baby.

Of course it is slowly and lovingly at first.  But this new Christian is only a baby in spirit.  Mentally they are older than that.  So you won’t just be saying “No”, you will be teaching and explaining the right way according to Scriptures.

And just as conservatives are prone to err on the side of legalism with non-Christians, liberals in the body of Christ are prone to err on the side of permissiveness when it comes to baby Christians.  In the name of love, grace and compassion, they are reluctant to correct new Christians for fear of either quenching their spirit or being legalistic.  But while we may disagree on what constitutes sin, it is clear that from the Bible that if we are new creatures, we are also to put off the old sins that beset us and separated us from God.  While we are to remember that we will never achieve perfection in this life, it is the target.

I am currently serving as a mentor in a local high school in a neighboring school district that has a large minority population.  To help us, especially those of us who are white, learn how to best mentor the teenage males, we are being trained by two black men who have made a career in education and mentoring.  Part of that training is reading books they have written.  I have already finished reading “Madd Truth” by Alfonso Wyatt and I am now reading “Soar” by David Banks.  There are similarities in their approach to educating these black teens and helping them grow into young men of achievement.

Discipline isn’t the only element, but it is a key one.  But it has to be the right kind of discipline in the right environment, built upon trust and peer support.  One of the chapters in “Soar” is subtitled “Discipline to teach, not punish”.  When trust is earned, hope for success is instilled and the right kind of peer pressure has been established, teen boys will want to follow the rules, do the right thing and succeed in the tasks put before them, whether in education, athletics, other projects, appearance, or on time attendance.

Yes, they acknowledge racism in society.  But giving black children an excuse to fail in the name of compassion by giving too much weight to racism is not compassionate.  Too many black teens, especially young males, are falling through the cracks when discipline is lacking because it is too tempting to take the easy way out, the excuse that the system is stacked against them.  Just as important, Wyatt and Banks use their lives and the lives of other black mentors to show that success is possible for black men.  Once they have the trust and attention of their students and mentees, their job is to guide and be a resource to help each one find their path of success in their area of interest and talent.  That guidance is based on discipline: discipline in thinking, in choice of friends, in commitment to assignments, even in the route that one takes from school to home.

Not surprisingly, one of these authors, Alfonso Wyatt, is a Christian.  His full title is Rev. Dr. Alfonso Wyatt, an elder on the staff of The Greater Allen A.M.E. Cathedral of New York in Jamaica, borough of Queens.  And just as discipline is required for a successful life, especially one when dangers are lurking, discipline is required for a victorious Christian walk.  After all, Christians face spiritual battles.  Even if it is motivated by love and compassion, an undisciplined Christian is likely to succumb in those battles.  A disciplined Christian is equipped to keep faithful to a Christian walk.

A sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it.  And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture.  And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it.  And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold. And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.  Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God.  Those by the way side are they that hear; then cometh the devil, and taketh away the word out of their hearts, lest they should believe and be saved.  They on the rock are they, which, when they hear, receive the word with joy; and these have no root, which for a while believe, and in time of temptation fall away.  And that which fell among thorns are they, which, when they have heard, go forth, and are choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection.  But that on the good ground are they, which in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience. – Luke 8:5-8,11-15

Many conservative churches tilt so far towards truth that they become cold, legalistic and fail to show the love of Christ.  They drive people away from Christ.  Many liberal churches tilt so far towards grace that almost anything goes.  They produce little spiritual fruit, although they are a friendly place.  New believers and those seeking God often soon find little reason to stay.  They’d do just as well joining a social club.

Moderation, balancing grace and truth, should be the aim of every Christian church.  Attending two churches on slightly opposite sides of middle ground is a way for me to keep balance and moderation.  While anything inherently sinful cannot be done lawfully in moderation or to any extent at all, moderation is required when one needs to balance two competing virtues.

Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. – Philippians 4:5

And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace. For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ. – John 1:16-17

God bless,

Lois

Scapegoats

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Would you ever want to be a scapegoat?  I would.  At least I would want to be if I am dealing with God.  With God, the scapegoats were allowed to live.  The “scape” part of the word “scapegoat” is an archaic verb that means to depart or escape.  In other words, the scapegoat is the goat that escapes.

If you have guessed that at least one other goat is implied by the concept of a scapegoat you are correct.  In fact, it is only one other goat.  What happens to the scapegoat and the other goat?  We find out from the portion of Leviticus where God instructs the children of Israel about the rituals to be carried out on The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur).

And Aaron shall offer his bullock of the sin offering, which is for himself, and make an atonement for himself, and for his house.  And he shall take the two goats, and present them before the LORD at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation.  And Aaron shall cast lots upon the two goats; one lot for the LORD, and the other lot for the scapegoat.  And Aaron shall bring the goat upon which the LORD’S lot fell, and offer him for a sin offering. But the goat, on which the lot fell to be the scapegoat, shall be presented alive before the LORD, to make an atonement with him, and to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness. – Leviticus 16:6-10

Just to make it perfectly clear to those who might not be familiar with the terminology, when the goat and the bullock are offered for a sin offering, those animals were killed.  This is made quite clear in Leviticus 4:4 (for the bullock) and Leviticus 4:24 (for the goat).  The offering was not merely symbolic.

With the Biblical scapegoat and sin offering process, we see the Lord’s mercy.  All the people are guilty of sin.  No one is perfect and sinless.  But first the Lord substitutes the shed blood of animals for the sins of people.  Then he spares some animals, even though the blood of animals could never totally make atonement for the sins of the human race.

And certainly, I would want the lot to fall upon me to be spared, not slaughtered.  When the Lord casts a lot, He casts a perfect lot.

But people, as they sometimes do, have twisted the meaning of scapegoat into the ones who take upon themselves all the blame for a certain situation, even if they happen to be innocent.  No wonder King David, when he had committed a grievous sin against the Lord and was offered a choice among three punishments, he replied to the prophet who was God’s messenger bringing the choices to David: I am in a great strait: let me fall now into the hand of the LORD; for very great are his mercies: but let me not fall into the hand of man. – 1^st Chronicles 21:13 (portion)

Trans woman victim of violence

In the past few years, transgender people have found ourselves to be scapegoats more and more.  A tiny minority (estimated at 0.6% of the population), we are being blamed for the ills of society, charged with imposing ourselves and our agenda on the rest of the country, and impugned as being a group that uses our alleged gender identity as an excuse to violate girls and women, either by voyeurism or outright physical attack.  The latter charges fly in the face of the facts, as brought up by police chiefs and statistics around the country, that transgender people are not committing these crimes, even when access to bathrooms and other women-only spaces have been opened up to trans women.

Over a random period of a few months a while back when I was developing this post, I began to record mentions of sex crimes against women and children that were picked up in the news feeds that I receive.  I decided on at least a dozen examples (I ended up collecting a few more).  When I decided to start collecting this information, I had no idea what relevant news stories would be forthcoming and had no control over them.  These were the stories I collected.

• 40 year old white male middle school principal in upstate NY accused of having sex with a minor under the age of 17.
• 32 year old black male Assistant District Attorney in Brooklyn who had been given the task of prosecuting sex crimes accused of sexually assaulting a woman in her car.
• 49 year old white male Village Trustee, venture capitalist and professor accused of possessing and promoting an obscene sexual performance by a child (uploading a child porn video to a website).
• 48 year old white male former major league baseball player, serving a 7-15 year prison sentence for six counts of criminal sexual conduct, is negotiating a settlement with four women who had been students at the high school where he worked related to him inappropriately touching them while they were working out in the weight room of the school.
• 76 year old white male rabbi and yeshiva principal in Connecticut accused by an alleged victim of repeated rape, molestation and sexual assault while the victim was a student and a minor.
• 28 year old black male who previously served seven years for a combination robbery, physical assault and sexual assault and then violated his parole two years after release was caught on camera and arrested for a similar combination of crimes against an adult woman in connection with a string of robberies in New York City.
• 52 year old white male music teacher and founder of a music school in New York City was arrested for allegedly trying to have sex with girls as young as 8 years old and actually having sex with 15 year old girls on multiple occasions.
• 30 year old white male coach of a high school girls’ sports team in Michigan was convicted and sentenced after confessing to filming underage girl team members undressing, and also possessing child pornography.
• 73 year old white male coach in upstate New York was arrested for sexually abusing one of his athletes, a female under the age of 15.
• 29 year old white male computer programmer and member of the mayoral staff of a major U.S. city arrested for promoting a sexual performance by a child under age 16 and for possession of child pornography on his laptop: about 3,000 images and 89 videos of nude girls between the approximate ages of 6 months to 16 years old having sexual conduct with adult males.
• 29 year old black male masseuse at a legitimate massage parlor located within a major U.S. airport accused of raping a 25 year old female receiving a massage during a flight layover.
• 50 year old black male counselor at an upstate New York medical facility was sentenced to a long prison term for sexually abusing patients suffering from traumatic brain injuries.
• 43 year old white male in Northern New Jersey sentenced to 33 years in prison for sexually assaulting three girls, ages 12, 14 and 15 years old who were daughters of his close family friends.
• 28 year old white male practicing attorney in the NYC Metropolitan Area arrested for taking upskirt photos of two 19 year old females at a sporting event.
• A white female (in her late 30’s at the time) elementary school teacher in upstate New York was accused by her alleged victim (now an adult; gender not specified) of rape when the accuser was under the age of 13.
• 25 year old white male police officer in upstate New York was charged with raping a minor under the age of 17.

There were no transgender perpetrators.  All but one was a cisgender male.  None of them disguised themselves as women to carry out their attacks.  Many were involved with schools or worked for the government in some other capacity.  Are there calls for banning people in these categories from public restrooms on the grounds of prevention?  Of course not.  More to the point, the loudest voices crying out in support of so-called transgender bathroom bills say nothing about preventative measures against the most likely group to commit sex crimes: those convicted in the past of multiple sex crimes.

Another argument used against transgender people is the suicide argument.  Because of high suicide rates, the argument is made that transgender people must be mentally ill.  But is transgender the cause or is it the stress of the negative reaction of family, friends and institutions?  For comparison, let’s look at another group that suffers from high suicide rates.

According to the Department of Veterans Affairs in 2014, an average of 20 veterans committed suicide each day, shining a light on only the most visible group of vets suffering from mental illness. Of those 20, only six were users of VA services. Veterans who are dishonorably discharged or who make too much money wouldn’t be eligible for counseling.  The graphic included in this post shows that the frequency of suicides has increased since 2014.

A Government Accountability Office study published recently showed that 60 percent of troops who have been discharged for misconduct in recent years suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder or some other type of brain injury.

Has the anti-transgender crowd called for a disbanding of the U.S. military because of the negative effect military service has on young men and women who serve?  No.  Have they called upon the military to change its recruiting methods to filter out those who are prone to suicide?  No.  Have they charged that those who volunteer for military service are prima facie suffering from mental illness because of the high suicide rate?  Once again the answer is no.

In these examples, we see the nature of scapegoating.  One group is picked upon to receive a disproportionate share of blame or negativity.

To be fair, while there is a significant amount of both scapegoating and violence against transgender people in the United States, the evidence we see every November when we observe the Transgender Day of Remembrance is that it is much worse in many other countries.  Brazil, a country divided on the issue similar to the U.S., nonetheless sees in the neighborhood of five times as many murders of transgender people.  In many countries, Muslim ones in particular, it is against the law to be transgender.

Exactly how many countries have laws making it illegal to be transgender?  We don’t know for certain.  Or at least there is no definitive list online.  There are many lists of the countries where it is illegal to engage in homosexual activity or distribute homosexual “propaganda”.  The people who maintain these lists assume that it would be against the law to be transgender in these same countries.  But there is no specific documentation of that, nor is there any acknowledgement that a country that does not prohibit same sex activities might still have laws making transgender identity or expression illegal.  It’s a bit ironic that human rights organizations don’t bother to give special recognition to the status of transgender individuals around the world, no?

Bathroom bills would require him and all trans men to use the woman’s restroom in a public place

Many times I have been in a group discussion where it is stated that people fear those who are different than them.  Certainly transgender people compared to the vast cisgender majority are different than most people.  And yet not all differences are feared.  Redheads comprise between 1-2% of the population, yet they don’t seem to be feared.  About 8% of the population has blue eyes, but they aren’t feared, either.  Skin color seems to be more fear provoking than hair color or eye color.  One might opine that we fear the dark, but do people with the darkest hair shades face more discrimination than people with lighter shades?  Why the preoccupation with skin color is a question for which I do not have an answer.

When it comes to anything related to sexuality that departs from the norm, the reason is more obvious: the fear is that something deviant and therefore perverse will be done.  But obvious reasons do not automatically mean justified reasons.  It has already been pointed out that the evidence doesn’t back the fear when it comes to transgender people in public bathrooms.  And of course those who support bathroom bills to keep trans women out of women’s public bathrooms forget that those same bills would require trans men to use the women’s public bathroom.

Asexual Panromantic flag

So if prejudice is based on what people will or even might do, then shouldn’t we expect that there would not be prejudice against people who are asexual?  Certainly if there is any group who identifies with a minimum of sexual motivation, it is this group.  And yet studies find that there is a high degree of prejudice against the asexual community, as this Psychology Today article discusses.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/without-prejudice/201209/prejudice-against-group-x-asexuals

Discrimination may or may not be rational.  A person with a discriminating palate is justified in choosing a five star restaurant over a fast food restaurant and a $100 bottle of wine over a bottle of wine with a twist-off cap.

Discrimination based on prejudice is never rational.  Yet prejudicial people have to find reasons to rationalize and justify their prejudices.  People generally don’t want to appear to be bigoted.  People generally don’t want to appear to be irrational.

Statistics are often the bedfellow of prejudice.  And any time a person cites 79% or 63% or 51% (and sometimes even 10% or less) as a reason to discriminate against an individual, it is prejudice.  Until one gets to know that individual, it is unknown which side of the issue or which type of behavior that individual will represent.

And when the percentage approaches zero, as it does with transgender people and violence by us, and yet there is still prejudice against us, how much clearer can it be that we are being scapegoated?

Although this post is being published on Memorial Day weekend, there is an Easter message in this.  But it is fitting for Memorial Day as well.  The act of communion commemorates the broken body and shed blood of Jesus as He bore our sins as part of the Easter story.  We celebrate … yes celebrate such violence against Him … in remembrance of Him and what He did for us.  And as only someone who is 100% God and 100% human could do, in one process He bore our sins on the cross as the scapegoat, was the Passover sacrificial lamb offering who shed His blood and gave His life for us, and He forever became the Good Shepherd leading His flock.

For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps: Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously: Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls. – 1^st Peter 2:21-25

God bless,

Lois

And Now For Something Completely Different … – Part VI

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… and a Fortnight

After nearly three months, a lot of my stay in the hospital is a blur and I don’t remember the names of most of the staff anymore.  But what I do remember was that all the nurses and CNA’s (Certified Nursing Assistants) were very caring and supportive.  All of them were good and most were excellent.  Not once did I detect any measure of negativity towards me because I was transgender.

One major change for me since I transitioned is that I have a much more positive attitude towards medical situations and personnel than I used to have.  Yes, if I am truly in pain, I will not hide that fact.  But I try to be pleasant, even cheery and I can even tell a joke or two, sometimes in the midst of pain.  Hopefully the hospital staff came away with a good feeling after interacting with me with each shift.

Every so often, I had a few moments to chat with one of the staff members.  With one we talked about dealing with psoriasis.  Another time, I shared about probably having played high school baseball against Denzel Washington.  With another, I shared about my talent to imitate popular singers (although not enough breath to do it at the time and not sure if I will still be able to do so when I get dentures).  I remember explaining to one nurse the meaning of “cisgender” and talking about transgender issues in general.  Another staff member told me about some differences in Dr. McGinn’s protocol.  And shortly before I was about to be released, I had an emotional moment with an understanding CNA who had another staff member wait while I had “a moment”: talking about what my surgery meant to me, how fortunate I had been to not have any negative public incidents in the five years since I had begun presenting as Lois to the world and how bad I felt for my transgender sisters who haven’t been so fortunate.

That’s not to say that everything went perfectly.  The machines which monitored the drip from my IV bags beeped far more often than they should have.  One staff member told me that they never worked properly.  But I never wanted to ignore that beeping for long.  So I rang the nurse’s station more often than I would have liked, probably 90% of the time for that reason.

My operation was on a Thursday.  Business must have been slow because on Friday evening around 5 PM, I got a ride to a different wing of the hospital on that floor.  So few beds were occupied that they shut down the wing I was on and consolidated the patients.  That wasn’t a problem.  The problem was when the nurse went into my closet and didn’t find my belongings there.  They never came up with me from where they had been put before surgery.  And because it was now the weekend, it was much harder to find someone to bring my bag to me.  I had some jellied candies in it that I would have loved to eat at times when I had an appetite and no food in sight.  And I had some pocket testaments that I would have loved to have offered to some of the staff.  (If the conversation went in certain directions, I was not shy letting staff know that I am a Christian.)  I was only reunited with my belongings about 15 minutes before I was discharged on Sunday.

Then there was the food: do not go to the hospital for the food.  To be honest, I didn’t have much of an appetite for a couple of weeks after the operation.  Furthermore, I don’t understand the Romans wanting to be fed while lying on a couch.  Breakfast in bed doesn’t seem to be much of a luxury for me anymore.  In summation, the food was edible (and sometimes better than that) and occasionally I was hungry.

There was also a matter of timing.  We were served at 8 AM, Noon and 5 PM.  There was also a shift change at 8 AM.  One night, I ended up horizontal instead of slanted at my usual 30º angle.  I rang for someone to put me into position to eat breakfast.  It didn’t happen until 9 AM.  And I enjoyed that breakfast (French toast with bacon, as I recall, and both were very good).  But lunch three hours later was too soon.  And there was always a long gap between dinner and next morning’s breakfast.

Somehow by around 10:30 on Sunday morning, October 8, I was reunited with all my belongings, I had calmed down from my “moment” and one of my dearest trans women friends came to take me from the hospital to the recovery room at Dr. Leis’s office.  Since she had two of her children with her, I don’t know if she wants me to identify her by name.  But since she reads my blog, she can certainly do so if she wants to and if it won’t cause a problem for her.  And she knows that when it is time for her recovery from surgery, I will be there for her.

Slowly getting to my feet for the first time since Thursday morning, I managed to navigate the distance from my bed to the wheelchair and the walk from wheelchair to front seat of her car, while being cognizant of having to carefully handle the catheter bag.  While it was nice to get out of bed and out of the hospital in general (even as wonderful as everyone was), if I had my druthers I’d rather have stayed in place until that catheter had been taken out.

Roosevelt Boulevard (US 1&13), Philadelphia

And so I made the return trip from Bristol to Bala Cynwyd during daylight hours on a gray, drizzly, cool morning.  The GPS took us a different way than Dr. Leis used, a combination of I-95, US 13 and US 1.  There were lots of places with bumpy pavement (and the occasional railroad track) and after major surgery I was much more aware of those bumps than I was on Thursday morning.

Then we got to the doctor’s office and confusion.  I thought someone on staff was meeting me.  And I thought that Dr. Leis would examine me at some point, maybe even when I arrived.  (I didn’t see him at any point while in the hospital after the operation.)

A sequential compression device on a patient’s calves, while in a hospital bed.

But when we arrived, no one was there.  I finally reached the doctor on his cell phone and he told us to just go straight to the recovery room.  He saw me that evening.  So I gingerly made my way up the stairs with my thighs feeling like they had turned to lead in three days.  During the hospital portion of recovery, Dr. Leis uses SCD’s (sequential compression device) on the calves in lieu of walking early to prevent blood clots (plus an injection of blood thinner), but they do nothing to stimulate the thighs.  Having been told that everyone manages to do it, I pressed on and made it.

The most important thing I can tell you if you are facing GRS or any other major internal surgery in the future is that every person’s body reacts differently.  They can only tell you what happens in most cases.  Your mileage may vary.

Dr. Leis had told me that it would be a few days before I would have a bowel movement.  Jenna told me that for a while I would have a feeling of pressure like I was having a bowel movement, but it wasn’t one for the first few days.  The hospital staff doctor who checked me and pronounced that I was fit to be discharged told me that I wouldn’t have a bowel movement for a few days.

Even so, I had experienced a watery discharge from my bowels the day after the operation.  It had come on my quite suddenly, too fast for the nurses to get there when I rang for them.  So I got to experience what it is like to have your hospital bedding changed when you are in the bed.  I’m sure it isn’t their favorite job, but they are quite proficient at it.  And fortunately for them, I’m more featherweight than heavyweight.

Now I am in the recovery room in Bala Cynwyd.  I wasn’t able to get anyone to stay with me for the first day (my friend who chauffeured me had to leave for a family event) and there is no one staying in the adjoining room.  Jenna is going to come at some point and make something for me to eat but she hasn’t arrived yet.  I have finally figured out which remote will change the channels and I am looking forward to watching some playoff baseball.

You know how you are warned on the passenger side mirror that things aren’t what they seem to be?  Well I had been told that something that felt like a bowel movement wasn’t really a bowel movement.  But by golly it sure felt like one.  And finally I decided I couldn’t take the chance.  It was a good thing I moved when I did.  Dragging a catheter and moving at a reduced pace and trying to avoid soiling the floor, I made it over the toilet bowl just in time.  (Of course, I was in the room furthest from the bathroom, but it was the room out of the two where the TV worked.)  I couldn’t get the outer dressing out of the way in time, but I did the best I could.  Sorry Jenna!  At least I was wise enough not to flush and clog the plumbing with the dressing.  With rubber gloves, the packing could be retrieved (and was).  I think I finally convinced Jenna that I didn’t put the dressing in the toilet on purpose.  Hopefully by now she realizes it could have been much worse.  And life went on.

I got good news early on.  I was told that my friend Carolyn (wife of college classmate, Blair) had rearranged her schedule to come a day earlier than originally planned.  Actually she did more than rearrange.  She cancelled some piano lessons (paying customers) on Monday so she could come a day earlier.  Blair stopped in when they arrived and it was great to see them both.

Foley Catheter

All of my caregivers were wonderful.  But of the three, Carolyn was the only one who had children.  So she was the most experienced caregiver at a time when I needed the most care.  And she figured out how to empty the Foley catheter bag, a strange contraption of clamps, tubes and storage compartments that seems to be illogically configured at first, second and third glance.  (I had done it when no one else was there, but very clumsily and it was difficult for me to explain it.)

Dr. Leis showed me how to change the dressings when the catheter was in, and more importantly, once the catheter was removed.  The removal caused an interesting sensation and a moment of pain when it popped out, but then it was over.  I have been told to be glad that I never needed a penile catheter.

Carolyn was there from Monday to Saturday.  In between sleep, watching television, reading, phone calls, meal prep and Carolyn’s daily walk, we had many interesting conversations.  GRS in itself is somewhat surreal, even as much as it was important for me.  But it was also surreal to be having deep conversations with her.  My mind flashed back to having similar deep conversations with Blair, sometimes to the wee hours of the morning, whether about life in general or what we were going through in terms of relationships, school or career. Those conversations were ostensibly guy to guy.  Now I am having woman to woman conversations with his wife.  I am blessed to have two such wonderful friends and conversationalists in my life.

Carolyn was my caregiver (although she excused herself) when the catheter came out.  That was when I was handed the mirror and got a glimpse of the Dr. Leis’s handiwork for the first time.  The raw tissue and stitches were still very visible, but at least from the outside, I now look female there.  That wasn’t surreal.  It was very matter of fact.  I started to change my dressings with two non-woven sponges (that look more like gauze pads to me), covered with what is known as either a combine pad or an ABD pad.  And I learned how to pull up what Dr. Leis calls “granny panties” (aka wings) over them to serve as my disposable underwear.

Most of all, I had a surge of delight when Dr. Leis (clinically, of course), described my genitalia as “your urethra”, “your clitoris”, “your vagina”, “your vulva” and “your labia”.  This was my actual skin and tissue, not some prosthetic device.

While Carolyn was there, I got a visit from an aesthetician that Dr. Leis provides for his trans women patients recovering from GRS (perhaps others as well).  She told me that she could come back on Friday.  It would be a time of pampering, I was told.  She would arrive between 1:30 and 2:30 in the afternoon.  My friend Deirdre also called me to tell me she would be coming to visit on Friday afternoon.  Gauging the traffic and when she could leave, she expected to arrive around 4 and 4:30 PM.  No conflict, right?

Of course, the aesthetician arrived at 2:30 or even a few minutes after.  And Deirdre, even after a stop at Murray’s Deli, was early.  The traffic between DC and Philly must have set a record for lightest ever on a Friday afternoon.  And my tablet is ringing with her phone call while I am covered with a skin treatment and can’t get to it.

As far as the aesthetician, all I will say is that sometimes two people just do not hit it off.  I get along with almost everyone.  After all I move comfortably in very conservative Christian circles and very liberal LGBT circles.  But she and I, after the first few minutes, just did not click.  What was supposed to be a pleasant, relaxing pampering experience turned out to be the opposite.  In fact, I was somewhat agitated and talked to Deirdre and Carolyn about it a few times after the aesthetician left.  Plus the session cut short my visiting time with Deirdre, which in retrospect I would have much preferred.  (Fortunately Deirdre and Carolyn, both having music backgrounds, had friends in common and had a lovely conversation in the next room.)

Margaret, my friend from sixth grade, followed Carolyn in the caregiver role from Saturday to Monday.  Despite my telling them not to bring food (I had enough there to feed Sherman’s army and with me off my feed, it lasted longer than expected), they both did.  But it was good and we enjoyed it.

Standard equipment for Jamee before she retired.

My friend Jamee (a former engineering co-worker of Blair and a client of mine until she retired) took the final caregiving shift.  Jamee met me for the first time a couple of years before I transitioned and she and I just hit it off immediately.  It was also great to get to know her better as one can do when sharing a room for three days.  We also had some great conversations.

Jamee also helped make a key decision for me.  Dr. Leis wanted to see me before sending me home.  But he was delayed on Wednesday.  By the time he arrived and checked me out, it was past time for us to have dinner.  While Jamee had started to load the car for me (she was a blessing in that department), we hadn’t finished.  She told me that she could stay until the following morning and suggested I stay rather than leave and get home late.  It was an excellent suggestion.  So that’s what we did.

Mid-morning on Thursday October 19, I headed for home.  Wanting to avoid stopping to go to the bathroom if possible so I wouldn’t have to do a dressing change in a public bathroom (I eventually became quite good at doing so), I made excellent time and found myself home in a little over two hours.  But by then, I really did need to use the facilities.  I took care of business and then rushed back downstairs because I had cold food in the car that needed to be refrigerated.  From the exertion, I barely got inside my apartment when I passed out.  Fortunately, I grabbed hold of a quilt nearby and slid rather than fell.

I revived, put the food away and went to sleep rather than try to bring the rest of my things upstairs.  In fact, that would take a while and was done gradually over the next week or two.  The next day, October 20, I would have my next irreversible surgery of the month: all my teeth were being pulled in preparation for dentures.  As of this writing, due to complications in my healing, I expect to be without usable teeth and on a soft food diet for about three months before I have wearable dentures.  But that is an entirely different story.

I will have one more blog post in this series, dealing with the aftermath of the operation, evaluations and recommendations.

Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. – Isaiah 43:18-19

God bless,

Lois

And Now For Something Completely Different … – Part V

Tags

Abraham, admissions, anesthesiologist, antiseptic, Bala Cynwyd, birth of Christ, born again, caregivers, childbirth, Christ's return, Christian, Christmas, comfort, dangerous road design, Dr. Christine McGinn, Dr. Sherman Leis, Dulcolax, Emmie Smith, eternal salvation, Gender Reassignment Surgery, general anesthesia, genital hair removal, God's will, Gospel of Luke, GRS, Hibiclens, identical twin, Jesus, Joy to the World, Joy Vanderberg, laser tech, laxative, left turn, liquid diet, Lower Bucks Hospital, Luke 16, major surgery, Murray's Deli, National Geographic, nuchal cord, painkillers, Philadelphia drivers, rebirth, recovery room, rich man and Lazarus, right with God, rising from the dead, rush hour, shaved, The Lord's hands, torment, traffic, umbilical cord

Four Hours …

I had one stop to make in Bala Cynwyd before arriving at Dr. Leis’s office.  I needed to drop off a prescription for painkillers that Dr. Leis had given me a few weeks earlier.  Since they are a controlled substance, I could only fill the prescription in Pennsylvania and I chose to wait rather than keep them in my apartment (and possibly forget to bring them).  I would pick them up after I checked in with Dr. Leis and his staff.

There is a CVS on the corner of US 1 (City Avenue) and Bryn Mawr Avenue, not far from Dr. Leis’s office.  Since I have an account with CVS in New York, a computer data base made it easy to file the prescription since they had all of my personal and insurance records on file.  Then I headed north on Bryn Mawr Avenue to the good doctor’s office and found out that Philadelphia area drivers don’t take a back seat to New York City area drivers when it comes to rudeness.

Murray’s Deli, just down the street from Dr. Leis’s office. I would go there for a pastrami sandwich when I wasn’t on a liquid diet.

To continue on Bryn Mawr Avenue at Montgomery Avenue, one needs to drive a couple of car lengths on Montgomery before making a left.  But the traffic light is only on the corner of Bryn Mawr heading south.  The traffic planners of Bala Cynwyd didn’t place a corresponding traffic light on the corner of Bryn Mawr heading north.  (As a former prospective urban planner and traffic engineer, I notice unsafe situations like this.)

So it was no problem making the right onto Montgomery.  But making the left to continue on Bryn Mawr at rush hour was a nightmare.  First of all, it was the early part of rush hour and traffic was heavy.  Second, the drivers ignored the “Do Not Block The Intersection” sign.  When they were stopped for the light, I was blocked from making what should have been an easy left turn.  Finally, Montgomery is a four lane road.  So even when a car in the left lane stopped to let me turn (after traffic flow resumed), I couldn’t see the cars coming in the right lane.  I eventually darted across, hoping I had enough of a gap that I wouldn’t get T-boned on the passenger side of my car.  The possibility flashed in my head that I might be maimed or even die in a car accident on the night before this life-changing surgery.  What a cruel joke that would have been.  But I made it safely and was soon parked in the doctor’s parking lot.

After I settled my nerves, Dr. Leis took me into an examining room and did exactly what the room’s purpose suggested.  It was the first time he saw me naked.  He also shaved the area around my genitalia in preparation for the surgery the next day.  He commented that my laser tech, Joy Vanderberg, had done a good job removing “most” of the hairs.  Of course, the gray hairs would not succumb to her zaps.

I was shown what would become my recovery room once I came back from the hospital.  It would not be used by anyone else while I was at the hospital so I brought all of my things up from the car.  Not taking for granted that I would have help bringing everything back down in two weeks, I had packed one small suitcase and a lot of small bags, whether it was clothing, personal items or non-perishable food.  Knowing I would have to feed myself and a caregiver for 11 days, I wanted plenty of food on hand, things not difficult to prepare and a variety to accommodate the tastes of myself and three different caregivers.

Shopping Center where an Acme is located. I got the perishable food items there.

Once I had squared things away (including what I would be taking to the hospital with me the next day) and checked out what was supplied in the kitchen area (the basic condiments and sugar were there, plus a few other items), I headed out to buy perishable items.

There wasn’t much I could eat that night, however.  I had to do all that driving and all that carrying (up to the third floor, mind you) without the benefit of solid food since midnight on October 3.  I had some beef bouillon and then juice from a juice box, got comfortable in bed, and failed to figure out how to get more than one channel that night.

I washed down a Dulcolax tablet so any remaining solids would be out of my system before surgery.  I was to have nothing by mouth after midnight so hopefully I would be totally empty by the time I had the surgery.

And I needed to get some sleep, even though I wouldn’t be awake for much of the following day.  Despite the importance of what the next day would bring, I had been through enough packing, driving and lugging that I had no problem falling asleep.  And I was pretty calm, all things considered.  This operation had been covered in prayer for a long time.  I knew I had committed myself into the Lord’s hands.

I set my travel alarm clock for a ridiculously early time so I could shower and wash my body with the provided Hibiclens antiseptic liquid that I was required to use – after I had my final bowel movement and bladder emptying (so I thought).  I noted that it was to come nowhere near the eyes, so I used more conventional means to wash face and hair.  I also wondered why the Hibiclens shower wasn’t done at the hospital.  After all, I had to get dressed to travel to the hospital and there was no guarantee that my clothes were perfectly antiseptic (even though they were clean).  And while the car I rode in was clean (as best as I could tell in the dark with a black interior), it wasn’t antiseptic, either.

Having taken care of the necessities, I took my travel bag (actually a Dress Barn bonus for spending a bunch of money during my second group shopping trip to add to my meager stash of female clothing back in 2012) and my purse and put them at the foot of the stairs.  Then I waited for Dr. Leis to pick me up.  Yes, when Dr. Leis does your GRS, he is chauffeur as well as surgeon.

Of course, he showed up when I had gone back upstairs for a few moments.  Jenna was with him and she had to come upstairs to retrieve me.  But soon we were on our way through the dark streets of pre-dawn Philadelphia.  At that hour, anyway, Dr. Leis takes the route through center city Philadelphia to get from his office to Lower Bucks Hospital in Bristol.  It is the same hospital featured as part of the recent National Geographic program: the surgery by Dr. Christine McGinn of Emmie, the identical twin.

(Note: although done at the same hospital, and even though Dr. Leis trained Dr. McGinn, some of the procedures are different than the ones I went through. For example, I was not transferred from gurney to gurney while awake. I woke up in my own room on my own, not in the recovery room by the surgeon. And Dr. Leis uses some different techniques and different post-op protocol. Emmie seems to be experiencing more pain than I did, and they have her walking sooner.)

I found out a few things on that roughly 45 minute drive.  First, Dr. Leis has a very nice car with a very smooth ride.  Second, he has a nice touch behind the wheel, no sudden stops or jerky moves.  So I was quite comfortable in the back seat, never feeling a need for that involuntary move of my right foot to an imaginary brake pedal as I have with so many other drivers when I am a passenger.  But most of all, as we were driving through the construction zones on I-95, I was beginning to wonder if my surgeon was driving to Bristol Speedway in Tennessee instead of a hospital in Bristol, PA.  I don’t want to tell you at what speed he passed one of the temporary signs that were posted to inform motorists of a 45 mph speed limit in the construction zone (not that he was going that much faster than anyone else and he had plenty of company in the left lane.)  And yet I felt totally safe with him, just as I felt safe with him doing my surgery.  And when we arrived at the hospital, I felt no need to kiss the ground.  (One of the staff at the hospital told me after my surgery that he did get into a minor fender bender one time while bringing one of his patients, but they admitted that she didn’t know who was at fault.)

We were already hitting traffic on the southbound Schuylkill Expressway and for a sad reason.  South of where we turned onto the Vine Street Expressway there had been a terrible accident that I had heard about on the television as I was getting ready to go to the hospital.  A motorcycle rider was struck and killed on the Schuylkill Expressway.  That evening a second accident in Philadelphia claimed the life of another motorcyclist.  Fortunately it was not an omen of bad things ahead for me.

I found out that Dr. Leis also does some of his surgeries at Roxborough Hospital, about thirty minutes closer than the hospital in Bristol.  I would have been nicer to have the shorter ride, especially on the way back when I was in not the best of shape while still recovering from major surgery and there were some very bumpy sections of pavement to traverse.  My speculation is that either insurance or hospital logistics is the reason why my surgery was done at Lower Bucks.

Inside, Dr. Leis directed me to where I needed to go to get registered while he went to change into scrubs.  After all the initial bureaucratic paperwork, I was led past the spooky piano with the invisible piano player in the lobby.  Two great nurses took charge of me, my belongings and the little bit of valuables that I brought.

Whether it was the cool air when I disrobed or nerves or both, somehow my body found a little more urine to get rid of (so much for the Hibiclens once again), so the nurses told me where to go in the room to take care of that and they took the request in stride.  And before long I was being wheeled into a room with a lot of other gurneys and a lot of curtains that could be drawn around.

Soon I was greeted by the anesthesiologist who asked me some basic questions about any allergies to medicines, previous reactions to anesthesia and my approximate weight (115 pounds, thank you very much).  Dr. Leis came in, greeted me and then exchanged some small talk with the anesthesiologist before they turned their attention back to me.  An assistant anesthesiologist came in and introduced herself.

At that point, apparently everyone who would be in that room with me was present.  The anesthesiologist told me that I would feel a needle prick in my arm and I would slowly feel drowsy.  Darn, no more being told to count backwards from 100.  The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with soft music playing and pretty pictures on a monitor in front of me.  I was in my room and the monitor was my television.  Lower Bucks Hospital has a channel on their television system called C.A.R.E. that features nothing but soft music and pretty scenes.  And that must be what they have you wake up to.

The evening before the operation, Dr. Leis had asked me if there was anyone I wanted him to call after the surgery.  My Cousin Sherry had asked to be called.  Later, when she called me, she said that he told her that my surgery took four hours and that it went very well.  Of course, I was out longer than that, but the four hours of the surgery were the focal point of it all.  Of the three most important events in my life, I have no direct memory of two of them. All three have to do with birth or rebirth.

I don’t remember being born.  Who does?  All I know about it is what I was told by my mother: she had to go to the hospital in the pouring rain when she went into labor; she threw up at the end of her pregnancy rather than the beginning, so much so that the doctor asked if she was going to birth me or throw me up; I made her miss lunch as I was born shortly after noon; that I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck twice.

I would occasionally share that last item when childbirth stories were shared.  But since I have come out to most of the world, I have turned that story into a funny one, if a bit warped in some minds.  I say that I did the wrapping of the cord myself because just before I came out, I got a glance of what was between my legs for the first time.

Twice was a bit of overdoing it, but I have since learned that having what is known as a nuchal cord is common.  It occurs in approximately a third of births (less than 10% have it wrapped multiple times).  And babies don’t choke from it because they are not yet breathing through their nose or mouth until those passages are cleared and the baby gets that rude slap on its lower cheeks.  I did get some marks on my neck from where the cord had wrapped, but those went away in fairly short order.

The one life-changing moment I do remember quite well was the moment I associate quite clearly with being born again.  In fact, it happened just about where I am sitting now as I type this blog post in my apartment.  In June 1989, I wasn’t working out of my home yet and I hadn’t gotten my first PC, so I had a lot more room.  I was sitting in a lounge chair reading.  It took a few weeks before I realized just how significant it was, but that was soon enough that I remember many of the details.  But that is a story for a different topic.

GRS was the second time that I had been totally out with anesthesia.  Under anesthesia, there is no sense of being asleep, no sense of time passing, no sense of dreaming.  One moment you are in surrounded by a medical staff behind curtains and the next moment you are alone in private room with pretty pictures on a monitor and soft music playing.  I can imagine it being like waking from the dead.

It reminds me of a story that Jesus told as recorded in Luke’s gospel.  It’s a story about being right with God.  We always want to be right with God, because just as no one knows the day or hour of Christ’s return, no one knows their own personal day or hour.  But going into major surgery (my first of any type), I especially had to feel that I was right with God and was within God’s will having the surgery.

The story is about two men who knew of each other, one rich and the other poor, who died at about the same time.  The poor man was carried by angels to the comfort of Abraham, but the rich man was in torment.  And he cried to Abraham for mercy.

But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented. And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence. Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father’s house: For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them. And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. – Luke 16:25-31

On this Merry Christmas night as I finish this blog post, we continue to celebrate the birth of one foretold by Moses and the prophets, who rose from the dead and through whom we are offered the free gift of escaping torment and being eternally right with God.  I pray that all who read this will choose their course wisely, not like the rich man.

God bless,

Lois

Lois Simmons: Evangelical Transgender Woman

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Having finished my baseball themed thread, I had planned on continuing my GRS journey in my next post.  But a story caught my eye.  It was a follow up commentary to the recent Pew Research Center study and analysis on U.S. attitudes towards transgender.  It confirmed the basis for my blog and the name I gave it.  By being a transgender Christian, I belong to two groups that are not only nearly mutually exclusive, they are generally mutually uncomfortable with each other.

In connection with this article by Samantha Allen which appeared in the Daily Beast on 11/30/17, someone did a Google search for the following two phrases: “Evangelical transgender man” and “Evangelical transgender woman”.  According to the article, the first phrase turned up one person (who was interviewed for the article).  The second phrase turned up no one.

https://www.thedailybeast.com/will-evangelicals-ever-get-over-their-anti-trans-prejudice

Having defined myself for over 30 years as a born-again Christian and having gone public since 2012 as a transgender woman, I was aware that there weren’t many of us out there.  But I neglected to identify myself as an evangelical anywhere on my blog.  Before I rushed out to correct this defect, I decided I had better make sure the meaning hadn’t changed since I last checked.

I found a few variations on the meaning.  I decided to go with the definitions provided on the website of the National Association of Evangelicals.  (I also checked them out to make sure they were a representative organization.  Since my current denomination and the conference to which my previous church belonged are both members, I am confident in their validity as an organization well-equipped to define the term.)

https://www.nae.net/what-is-an-evangelical/

First what is evangelicalism?  The NAE website lists four primary characteristics:

• Conversionism: the belief that lives need to be transformed through a “born-again” experience and a lifelong process of following Jesus
• Activism: the expression and demonstration of the gospel in missionary and social reform efforts
• Biblicism: a high regard for and obedience to the Bible as the ultimate authority
• Crucicentrism: a stress on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross as making possible the redemption of humanity

Noting that evangelical individuals are often researched, and acknowledging that the researchers use a variety of criterion to identify evangelical subjects for their studies, NAE and LifeWay Research developed a method that they urge researchers to use to identify evangelical individuals.  According to this method, an evangelical must strongly agree to the following four statements:

• The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.
• It is very important for me personally to encourage non-Christians to trust Jesus Christ as their Savior.
• Jesus Christ’s death on the cross is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of my sin.
• Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God’s free gift of eternal salvation.

And my answer to all four is that I strongly agree with each and every one of them.

For a few years now, I have identified myself in the following manner:

• I am a Christian first. That is my eternal spiritual identity.
• I am female second. That is my innate gender identity.
• Somewhere on the list, I am transgender. That is my anatomical reality.

So I hereby step into the void that was claimed to exist by Daily Beast.  I, Lois Simmons, am a born-again Christian Evangelical transgender woman.

Note that I live in New York, the third least evangelical state in the U.S. According to the Association of Religious Data Archives, my county is only 5.5% evangelical, which is nearly half the percentage in the state, So I am well aware of what it is like to be a religious minority and a gender minority.

As if life wasn’t interesting enough already.  While I have received a measure of acceptance and support within both groups and hopefully have also educated those in one of the groups about the other group, I have also detected and experienced measures of prejudice within both groups.  While it doesn’t surprise me, it does sadden me.

There was a time when it might have surprised me.  First of all until recently, transgender was barely a blip on the Christian radar.  Until we started receiving more news exposure, Christians’ lack of familiarity with transgender individuals could be a plus if the issue was addressed in a positive way, with a sound Christian theological foundation.  Furthermore, Christians and transgender individuals are two of the most persecuted groups in the world.  One would think that there would be a natural affinity between groups that share significant persecution experience.

Sadly, over the years I have learned that this is not so.  And it isn’t limited to Christians and transgender individuals.  I have seen or heard of too many members of one persecuted group attack another persecuted group as part of their claim that they have suffered far greater persecution and the other group doesn’t have a valid claim.  A current example is some black leaders who claim that LGBT+ organizations have hijacked the Civil Rights movement.  And I have seen or heard too many members of one marginalized group mock or denigrate members of another marginalized group.  It is not just those with privilege who use slurs and hate speech.

Persecution of Christians

Based on statistics that have been kept on the persecution of Christians for the past 25 years, in 2014-16, this persecution has reached record numbers each year with 2016 being the worst year yet.  Millions of Christians face interrogation, arrest, torture, and/or death because of their religious convictions and cultural/ethnic identification.  While about 30 percent of the world’s population identifies as Christian, 80 percent of all acts of religious discrimination are directed at Christians.  Christians currently face persecution in more than 60 countries.  Between 2007 and 2014, Christians were targeted for harassment in more countries than any other religious group.  Evangelical and Pentecostal Christians are the most likely Christians to be persecuted.  Terrorist attacks against Christians escalated over 300 percent between 2003 and 2010.  It is estimated that 7100 Christians were martyred because of their religion in 2015, an increase of over 300 percent compared to 2123 martyred in 2013.  Christian response to persecution is almost always non-violent, demonstrating faith and forgiveness.  (Sources: International Society for Human Rights, U.S. State Department, Open Doors USA, Pew Research and Under Caesar’s Sword [at the University of Notre Dame in conjunction with the Religious Freedom Institute and Georgetown University])

It is not just adults who face this persecution.  It is children, too: at school, at play, on the street … anywhere.

The extent of persecution of Christians may come as a surprise to some readers of this post.  According to these sources, both the mainstream media and human rights organizations give little attention to Christian persecution.  From 2008 to 2011, according to research done at Georgetown, Human Rights Watch had religious persecution as the focus of only 8 out of 323 published reports (about 2.5%), and less than half of those focused on persecution of Christians.

In the part of the world generally defined as “The West” (North America, South America, and Western and Central Europe), significant religious persecution was found to occur in only three countries: Cuba, Colombia and Mexico.  Even so, Pew Research reports that governmental restrictions on religion increased in 37 out of 43 European countries plus the United States and Canada from 2007 to 2013.  During the same time period, social hostilities towards religion increased in 38 of the 43 European countries.  As someone who just celebrated her 65^th birthday, I can testify that both of these categories have negatively impacted Christians’ religious freedom in the United States during my lifetime.

One of the ways Christians are persecuted in the world is that they are captured and enslaved.  Both men and women are subjected to forced labor.  Young girls and women are often forced into religious conversion and then a marriage to one of their captors.

I have shared Josh Groban’s version before, but it is appropriate for me to do so again.  Not only is it the right time of year, but the words of the second verse cry out to me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Zh-yR0pbmU

Persecution of Transgender Persons

While statistics of persecution of Christians can vary because not everyone defines Christian in the same way, international statistics on persecution of transgender persons are even more difficult to come by.  Many countries do not report crimes against transgender people at all, either denying the existence of transgender people in their country, or because it is not a crime to attack someone who is transgender in that country, or both.  Some countries simply don’t consider it important to report on such matters.  Others frequently misgender transgender people, using the gender assigned at birth rather than the personal gender identity of the person.

Even so, in countries where the statistics are more reliable, the trend is that violence against transgender people is increasing.  While some of this may be related to more accurate reporting, greater visibility of and backlash against transgender people also may be playing a role.  In the United States, a record number 23 violent deaths against transgender people occurred in 2016.  With four weeks remaining in 2017, that number was topped as 27 violent transgender deaths have been recorded so far this year.  Because some victims are misgendered in the initial reports, that number may rise even if there are no more murders before the end of the year.  And with violent deaths occurring at a rate of more than one every two weeks, there is no guarantee that there won’t be more murders before the end of the year.  The Christmas season of love and light provides no special protection for transgender people.

The vast preponderance of the 27 who were killed was trans women of color.  And again, while there are differences in deciding which cases are included and which cases are not, the trends and the identity of those who are most vulnerable are both unmistakable.  The annual murder rate for Americans age 15 to 34 is about one in 12,000.  For black trans women in the same age group, it is one in 2,600.

Gwendolyn Ann Smith

Another reason that the statistics may vary from website to website is that there are some cases that are in a gray area as far as whether it is a transgender related murder.  For example, a transgender person may be killed by violent means but it wasn’t because the person was transgender.  Gwendolyn Ann Smith, the founder of Transgender Day of Remembrance, points out that one of the 27 transgender victims of violence was killed as a result of an argument with a trans woman friend.  And there have also been cases where the victim did not identify as transgender, but it is likely that the perpetrator of the murder assumed that they were or might be transgender and that was part of the basis for the violence.

Even so at the root of the matter, the trend is getting worse.  And murder isn’t the only way that transgender people are persecuted.  According to the National Center for Transgender Equality, a 2015 survey of U.S. transgender people revealed that 55% of those who sought coverage for transition-related surgery in the previous year were denied.  77% of those taking the survey also reported that they were mistreated in some way when they were students during grades K-12.

I am one of the fortunate ones who was not negatively impacted in either of those areas.  But I did encounter discrimination from a person who at one time had been employed by my insurance carrier when it came to negotiating a fair market price for pre-GRS hair removal.  And I am about to contact a transgender-supportive state legislator’s office to look into why another reimbursement request related to my surgery has gone into a black hole: no approval, no denial and no explanation has been put forward.

The persecution of transgender people doesn’t just occur in dark alleys and private places.  It also has been occurring in the halls of government.  Although none of these bills have passed, sixteen states considered legislation to curtail the right of transgender people to use the public bathroom that corresponds with their personal gender identity, and six states have considered legislation to invalidate local anti-discrimination protections.  There have also been three actions taken by the Federal Government in 2017 to roll back recent gains in transgender equality: rescinding protection guidelines for transgender students, the effort to bar transgender troops, and the Justice Department decision to stop applying workplace discrimination protections to transgender people.

The language here is very important.  Note that I have deliberately used the phrase “transgender people”.  While we have a transgender identity, first and foremost, we are people.  Some of us have made significant positive contributions to our society, whether before our transition, or after, or both.  Many more hold down steady jobs in a variety of industries and professions, pay our taxes, are good neighbors in our communities and play an important role in our families, worship in accordance with our religious or spiritual beliefs, and help provide the goods and services that meet the needs, wants and desires of our fellow Americans.

Note also that I talk about “transgender equality”, not “transgender rights”.  We do not seek special rights above and beyond what our cisgender neighbors enjoy.  We want the right to apply for and hold a job, to find housing, to receive public accommodations without being discriminated against.  We want the right to feel safe in our homes, on the streets, and yes in bathrooms (where we are vulnerable, not perpetrators).  To summarize, we want our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness the same as any other American covered under the Constitution of the United States.

The trend for murders of transgender people around the world is also increasing compared to the previous year.  Based on statistics gathered by transrespect.org in preparation for TDOR 2017, there was an increase from 295 to 325 in the number of murders compared to the similar time period for the previous year.  Brazil by far continues to produce the most reported murders, with 171 for the 2016-17 time period, followed by Mexico (56) and the United States (25).  Since the statistics were first kept, there were 2,609 reported murders from January 1, 2008 to September 30, 2017.

There are many ways in which transgender victims of murder and other violent crimes are dehumanized as part of the systemic persecution.  One is that the names and/or ages of the victims are not reported.  Often, the victim is identified by birth name and gender in the official reports rather than their chosen name and personal gender identity.  In many countries around the world, including Brazil and Thailand, it is illegal to change your name.

And then there is the situation where many countries do not report these crimes at all, or do not consider them to be crimes.  Here is a salient quote from the transrespect.org website: “Trans and gender-diverse people around the world are victims of horrifying hate violence, including extortion, physical and sexual assaults, and murder, which often go unreported.  In most countries, data on violence against trans and gender-diverse people are not systematically produced and it is impossible to estimate the actual number of cases.”  Furthermore, it is suspected that there is vast underreporting of murders of transgender people from most Muslim countries, Russia and China, to name the largest and most flagrant instances.

On the other side of the reporting coin is Brazil.  The situation in Brazil is similar to that in the United States.  There are areas of the country, such as Rio de Janeiro, where there is a very visible and accepted transgender community.  But there are other areas of the country, such as Sao Paulo (less than 200 air miles away), where much of the murder and other violent crimes against transgender people occur.  Brazil has a little less than 2/3 the population of the United States, but nearly seven times as many murders of transgender people.  For all citizens, Brazil’s murder rate is 4½ times as high as the United States, so that explains some, but not all of the discrepancy.  Differences in the religious makeup of the population may also explain some of the discrepancy.

Comparing the persecution of the two groups, you may have noticed something.  As a member of both groups, I am certainly aware of it.  As much as a significant number of Christians feel antipathy toward transgender people and a significant number of transgender people feel antipathy toward Christians, both face a significant amount of their persecution by the same outside groups.

It is not uncommon for the enemy of my enemy to become my friend as a way for group alliances to be formed.  But the groups have to sense that they have enough in common and have to reduce if not eliminate any sniping they are doing at each other.  And that brings me back to one of the purposes of my blog.  I have found a way to reconcile these two parts of my identity that many would claim to be diametrically opposed.  If I can do it within me and not abandon one part or the other, then theoretically speaking it is doable in society.  But both groups need to reach a place where they would prefer making allies instead of looking for gotchas and ways of putting the other group down.  And that usually starts with one side making the first peace overture and the other side responding in kind.  That might not be easy in view of the past history and lack of a centralized leadership for either group.

But here is where my Christian background comes to the fore.  All things are possible with God.  It doesn’t mean that it will happen, and I confess that at times it feels like I am shoveling sand against the tide.  But it can happen.  So for now, I stay at the task.

When I went to college, I had hopes of being a civil engineer/urban planner/transportation engineer.  Maybe I can still be a bridge.

Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. – Philippians 4:6

God bless,

Lois

And Now For Something Completely Different … – Part IV

Tags

answered prayer, AO Fox Hospital, Bala Cynwyd, balancing tasks, bathroom bills, blood test, cardiologist, curettage, Dr. Carolyn Wolf-Gould, Dr. Sherman Leis, early MTF transition, echocardiogram, EKG, estrogen, female, full schedule, Gender Reassignment Surgery, genital hair removal, genital size, God, God's will, GRS, identity, lab technician, MTF, multi-tasking, new technique, Oneonta NY, orchiectomy, painkiller, passing out, penile skin, personal gender, pubertal blockers, rename, sitting, standing, stress test, surgical risk, surgical technique, testicles, Transgender, undescended genitalia, urinalysis, urination, vaginoplasty

Fifty-four years later, prayers are answered

Sometimes God answers prayers with a yes.  He also has a couple of different ways of saying no.  One is, “No, I love you too much to give you that.”  Another is, “No, because I have something better in store for you.”

And then there’s the one most of us heard at some point in our childhood: “You’re too young now; maybe when you’re older.”  Of course, there is no maybe with the Lord.  He knows whether it will be a yes or a no.  But after all, we are His children.  And sometimes we do need to wait until we are older.

American girls – 1960’s style

I recognized my female identity when I was seven.  It didn’t become problematic until I was around age 10 or 11.  I was at that age that I started to pray that I would wake up with a girl’s body (an interesting prayer, since I still didn’t know what a naked girl’s body looked like).  And it was soon after that time that I renamed myself.  After all, if I trusted that God grants prayer requests, I needed to be prepared with a girl’s name to tell people.

Renaming wasn’t new to me.  By that age, I had heard the story of the younger sibling of a girl in my brother’s grammar school class.  When this sibling was born, the gender assigned at birth was female.  The child was given a female name and raised as a girl.  At some point in time before the sibling started school, the sibling started to complain about severe pains in the abdominal area.

When the doctors did their examination, it was found that this child was really a male who was born with genitalia that didn’t descend out of the body: therefore the female appearance at birth.  After surgery was performed to correct the problem, the child’s first name was masculinized and was now raised as a boy.  And by the time I was ten, I heard about this event.

(As a side note, some of the so-called “bathroom bills” aimed at restricting transgender people from using the bathroom that corresponds with their personal gender identity would require this person and others like him to use the women’s bathroom in public places.  Why?  Because his initial birth certificate identified him as female and that is one of the criteria in these bills for assigning the bathroom to use.  The result: a very masculine person in all other regards breaking the law if he uses the men’s bathroom in public.)

But back to my story: although the battle over dental insurance was ongoing, things had quieted down on the GRS front.  My hair removal was proceeding on schedule and by September, virtually all the dark hairs were removed.  I was ready for my pre-surgery visit with Dr. Sherman Leis on September 13, 2017.  This was where the rubber would truly meet the road.

One of the sobering parts of the meeting is the reading of the long list of possible risks of the surgery.  Some of them were minor and some were rare.  One or two risks were so rare that Dr. Leis said that he had never seen a case or heard of a case of it occurring.  Nevertheless, it was part of the list.  I was glad that death was not on the list.  I took a breath and signed a copy of the list that indicated that I had heard and received a copy.

One of the things that impressed me was that my surgeon stays current on technique.  If I understood him in terms of the time frame, he had learned a significantly new surgical technique compared to what he was using when I had seen him for the initial consult on 11/30/16.  Previously, after the orchiectomy (removal of the testicles), the remaining genitalia was completely removed.  To complete the vaginoplasty, the penile skin is sewn back in.  The surgical scar would roughly be in the shape of the letter “O”.

With the new technique, the remaining penile skin is not completely removed.  At the top of the genital area (i.e. the part furthest from the anus), the penile skin is left attached to the rest of the body.  Anything that needs to be done can be done from that position, but not as many nerves are detached and there continues to be a flow of blood into the penile skin at all times.  This new procedure reduces risk, such as risk of necrosis, and aids in healing the surgical area.  With this procedure, the surgical scar is roughly in the shape of the letter “U”.

Of course, I had some questions.  Someone in the transgender community asked me if Dr. Leis “scraped” (technical term: curettage) to remove any stray or gray hairs.  He said that he did not do so because penile skin is very thin and delicate and curettage tends to be harmful to it.  He would remove any stray and gray hairs with a needle (the only painless form of electrology, presuming the patient is totally knocked out on general anesthesia!).  He might have described it as a form of cauterization, but my memory may be less accurate on the term.

I also wanted to know why he hadn’t asked to examine my genital area.  Other trans women I had read about who either were post-op or were in the process had been examined to make sure they had sufficient depth without resorting to additional procedures.  Dr. Leis asked me I had a normal sex life and if my genitals had developed normally (i.e. not a micro penis or inhibited by using blockers from an early age).  When I responded in the affirmative, he told me that size would not be an issue.  (This can be an issue, however, for those who start their transition these days at a young age and go on pubertal blockers and then start on estrogen to block the effect of testosterone on their body.)

During the visit, we also discovered that I had a gap in coverage during the first two days after I left the hospital.  I could have sworn I was told that I would be in the hospital for five to seven days after the surgery.  It turns out that I was told (I found it later in my notes) that I would be released after three days.  I generally have a very good memory.  The only explanation I can think of is that I read about someone else going through GRS who was going to be released after 5-7 days (or who had that experience).

In some ways it didn’t matter.  None of the people who would be taking care of me for the 11-12 days after my release from the hospital were available for those two extra days.  (In the end the first person taking care of me rearranged her schedule, at a financial cost to her, to come a day earlier, so I was only basically on my own for one day.)  I tried a number of avenues, but another person could not be found who was willing and available to help.  More on my experience in a later post.

I left Bala Cynwyd with two scrips: one for a heavy-duty painkiller that could only be filled in PA.  I held onto that rather than carry around the painkillers for three weeks.  I would fill it the day before the surgery.  The other scrip was for medical tests: blood work, urinalysis and an EKG.

At this point, I was doing my best to balance my preparations for my GRS, my teeth issues and the needs of my clients.  Looking (unsuccessfully) for someone to cover the first two days after the hospital and the pre-op tests added two more items to my plate.

Model with glasses

Knowing that I was losing Medicaid soon, I also had my first eye exam in nearly three years and got new glasses.  I was following up to find out what happened to my school tax credit (STAR program).  I needed to sign up for a Medicare supplement program.  I was searching for an oral surgeon who had appointments available before I lost my dental insurance.  And I needed to keep track of the schedule of weaning myself off of various medications and supplements prior to GRS.

I went in for the blood and urine testing on September 21 (no appointment required) and scheduled the EKG for the following day.  It was almost too late.

The testing brought me back in contact with one of my favorite people at the local hospital a quarter mile from where I live.  In the past, I have had major problems with giving blood.  The first time was in April 1981 when New York required a blood test to get a marriage license.  It was not a big deal to me.  My dad gave blood regularly at work and it was a matter of fact thing and satisfying thing for him to help others in this way.

I went into the lab that day with my fiancé, had the blood taken, had the juice and the cookie, and then went outside with my fiancé.  We were talking about the rest of our day.  The next thing I knew, I was back inside, sitting down and feeling very woozy.  Without warning, I had crumpled onto the sidewalk, leaving my fiancé perplexed as to what to do next: run inside of help and leave me there or try to drag me inside.

So I knew I had a history of passing out by the time I had a blood test a few years ago when Dr. Carolyn Wolf-Gould became my primary physician.  Now blood work was a big deal to me.  Then I met the lab technician at the hospital.  On her office door, she had a child’s drawing of a vampire.  A woman who I would guess to be in her late 40’s or early 50’s (warning: I’m not very good at estimating ages), her hair was dyed blue, green and black.  It was so different that it helped put me at ease.  When I saw her pulling out one vial after another, I joked with her, asking if she was going to leave me with any blood.  She joked back, “A little.”  Still I warned her about my past problems and she took the blood with me lying down on a gurney.

That was the last time I needed the gurney.  Maybe my metabolism is slowing down.  Maybe it’s the effect of the estrogen.  (I was quite chagrined when I learned that young males are far more likely than women to pass out after giving blood.)  Maybe this technician has gotten me so relaxed that I no longer have a problem, even when she isn’t the one taking the blood.

So it was time for blood work again.  But first, my body was telling me to give the urine sample.  It was primed and ready, locked and loaded.  I went into the privacy of the bathroom and faced a decision.  Although I didn’t have to, ever since I knew it was likely that I would transition, I have sat down to urinate.  (The only exception was when I was still wearing men’s clothes and no stalls were available at the Penn Station men’s room.)  I knew it would be much more difficult to give the urine sample sitting down.  So (presumably) one final time in my life, I peed standing up.

It is also worth mentioning that in my head and heart, I knew that GRS was the right thing for me.  But was it God’s will for me?  Even if God does not have a problem with this surgery in general, that doesn’t necessarily mean it was right for me.  With these tests coming up and the surgery less than a month away, I went to the Lord and prayed that if I had been dull of hearing and ignored the Lord telling me not to go forward with the surgery, that He would intervene and do something to stop it.  And for a while, it looked like that might be the case.

My EKG – September 2017

The UA and blood work results came back and there was nothing in them to prevent the surgery.  The EKG was another matter.  I had never had or felt any problems with my heart.  No one in my immediate family has had heart problems.  I had one uncle on my mother’s side who suffered a heart attack, but no one else among my grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins that I knew of.  But the EKG came back with some irregular readings.  I would need an echocardiogram and a stress test before I could be cleared for surgery.

This created a new problem.  Time was growing short and we were also running into the Jewish holidays.  A stress test must be administered by a cardiologist and I didn’t have one.  And many of the doctors in my area are Jewish.  I couldn’t get the stress test done at my local hospital without first establishing a relationship with a cardiologist on staff or with residency privileges there.

Instead, I had to drive two and three quarter hours each way to the hospital upstate with which Dr. Carolyn is affiliated.  At 7 AM on a cold October 2 morning, watching the news coverage of the Las Vegas shooting, I waited to have my tests.  I drove up the afternoon before, not wanting to leave at 4 AM (or worse, oversleep and miss my appointment).  Fortunately I had some rewards points to lower the cost of the motel room.  Between the alarm and a wakeup call, I got up in plenty of time.  Instead of 165 minutes, it was a five minute drive.

I learned that I need to go back to the gym.  I was breathing heavy after the stress test, but that was in part because I couldn’t really get the hang of a treadmill. I never have.  But my recovery time was a lot faster than two men I had seen take the test before me.  I learned that I have some minor valve problems, yet nothing serious enough to prevent the surgery.  I took this as an indication that God had answered yes.  This was above and beyond the promises He makes to His people.  Even so, every good gift and every perfect gift comes from Him. (James 1:17)  But the extra tests and travel took one more day away from me as I finished up one more client’s tax return and tried to get final planning and packing done for the two weeks I would be away in Bala Cynwyd.

Finally, October 4 arrived.  It was time to do my last minute list checking and packing.  Mid-afternoon, I called Dr. Leis’s office to let them know I was just about to leave.  A short while later, I brought the last items to my car and began to drive to Bala Cynwyd for the third time.  After years of waiting, wondering and almost losing hope, surgery was T minus 17 hours and counting.  This was it.  This was really it.

For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us. – 2^nd Corinthians 1:20

God bless,

Lois