Have your Cakery and protest it too…and 3 other C’s for Lent


What a difference 24 hours makes…

My week’s plan did not include picketing a cake shop on Friday afternoon. But, this 3 month sabbatical is hopefully about staying open to the moment, living into it fully and seeing what becomes of it. So, some 20 years after my first picketing experience with Dr. Ted and Lois Jungkuntz of the Word of God Community, I found myself compelled for very different reasons to take a personal stand.

This is my story.

And, I’ve already been reminded there are three versions to every story…yours (or in this case, his), mine…and the truth. While this doesn’t (necessarily) mean someone has lied – it does mean that we all see a moment through the lens of our experience, which shapes what’s important to us.

111Cakery - Welcome to our Gay-Borhood.
My story…which did NOT fail to rise in my book. This is one man’s personal Lenten, spiritual journey for 2014…nothing more, nothing less.

So let me first say, for the record, I had no expectations for the day.  I was not “disappointed” to be on my three corners alone. This was one man’s personal call, during Lent, for his own reasons, his own past, his own demons…to stand up and be counted. I had no delusions of grandeur, no agenda, no outcome…other than to be heard.  And in being heard, I think I also did some listening.

So, to Will – the reporter whose version of the story made it sound like I tried to organize a Facebook crowd of protest, which “failed to rise” – as I shared with you, that was NOT my agenda or goal.

This was about my personal spiritual journey as a gay Christian man, to shine light on my own internalized shame and find a little more freedom from bondage during this Lenten season.

But, I understand that doesn’t sell newspapers, so if you needed me as a pawn to rally the troops to action, fine – I’ll let that be your story (or problem, as they say…)

But for this individual, today was about connecting with other human beings, having conversations about difficult topics in a meaningful way, and showing compassion — to myself first, then to others.

In the words of (my friend) Stuart Huff: critical thinking, curiosity and compassion. Thank you for those 3 C’s of comedy and of life. And thank you to my friend Mike Mather for helping me walk today and to continue to learn how to be human.  And to Terry Woods, for having lunch with me an listening.

So, what have I learned?

When my Pastor Mike heard how my Thursday night and Friday morning evolved into a call to action, his singular recommendation was – “go talk with them (the owners) before you show up.”  And I did.  Conversation.

I met two fellow human beings, and had a short conversation where honestly, I listened…and was listened to. We talked about their spiritual journey and beliefs, which through a briefly thought out “policy” landed them in a “social media firestorm.” I shared how, though their intentions may not have been to “judge or reject,” for me, as a gay man, if someone were to refuse to provide a service to me – it would feel like rejection, like judgement.  As I see that “false feeling,” I realize that I’d feel sadness, and anger, and pain.  And, at least for me, I saw in their eyes pain, confusion, anger and sadness over the events of the prior 24 hours.  So, we shared that moment, and as I reflect on it now, I feel (and felt) Compassion.

I honestly believe they listened to me, without an agenda – because they asked me several open ended questions about how I thought things could be handled differently.  And, at the risk of doing that conversation injustice, let me simply say, I saw two people who were curious to learn and understand where I was coming from, as I was likewise curious to listen and learn.  Curiosity.

My moments I treasure…

On the street corners where I spent my 3 hours, as I will for each Friday in Lent this year, I also saw and experienced many moments that I hold onto:

  • …A group of high school students, presumably from Heron High School, who walked past me and read my sign…and when they walked past me again, thanked me “for getting the word out,” as they were going to buy cupcakes that afternoon.  But didn’t.
  • …at least two individuals who rolled down their window, asked me what happened…then nodded their head, and respectfully disagreed with me, and felt like the owners’ were completely within their rights.  And, I thanked them for the conversation, the dialogue – because we could agree to disagree, and still be human.  And they both nodded in agreement – and drove off when the light changed.
  • …at least 3 individuals who flipped the bird at me, and 1 who “thumbed me down” as they drove past.  With one of the individuals, stopped at the light, I simply yelled, “can’t we have a conversation about what’s going on?”  For him, that amounted to his middle finger.
  • …at least two dozen people who honked at me in support, and six to ten who grabbed their smart phones and took pictures of me on my corners at 16th and Delaware, 16th and Pennsylvania, or 16th and Meridian during those 3 hours.  Oh, one woman who works at the ACLU rolled down her window and said something encouraging.  And at the end of my tiring three hours, two women (one white, one black) and one of their granddaughters stopped me and we talked about why I was there, and what I was experiencing.  So, to the neighbor from 16th and Delaware, and from the woman and her granddaughter who live across the way from Mike, one of the “original men” in this story…thank you for your time.
  • …as I walked back to my car at the end of my “shift,” I waived through the glass window at Randy and Trish, smiled and continued walking…for Randy to step out for another brief five minutes of humanity…and we shook hands, and I said “see you next week, God Bless.”
  • …a conversation that evening with my sister Lisa, telling her about how even though 20+ years later, I couldn’t do much about Pop-pop’s decision to write me out of his will, just for today – I was taking a stand for social justice in a peaceful, lawful way that was making a difference…for me.  Because I ended my day spiritually challenged and open, emotionally engaged and spent, and physically exercised and tired.
  • …lots of “social media” chatter on Facebook when the first online version of Will’s story came out. I reconnected with Lilly and Fairbanks friends; made new friends (of Chad and Marc’s!); met a new friends who is a Buddhist gay man, who reminded me that while I call myself a “gay Christian” to match the debate, I’m more spiritual than religious – and probably choose words like “the Universe” and “my Higher Power” more than I do “Jesus Christ” or “Mother Mary.” I finally shut off the chatter after one final lengthy Facebook message of support from a neighbor (around Old Northside) who thanked me for taking a stand…  that was my good night of Peace.

I’m sure I’ll remember other moments tomorrow, and will add another blog post as I do.  But for now, you’ve suffered this fool gladly enough…thank you for listening.

I’ll be there next Friday, from 3pm-6pm – for my own personal “yeast” that will rise again, because this is about me, my journey and my Lenten call…nothing more, nothing less.  Just for today.

My graphic voice

Since I’ve been asked, here are the four posters I used throughout the 3 hours – at 16th and Delaware, Pennsylvania and Meridian, Indianapolis, Indiana.

Honk 2 boycott 111Cakery
Honk 2 boycott 111Cakery
Welome 2 our Gay-borhood, 111Cakery.
Welome 2 our Gay-borhood, 111Cakery.
111Cakery - Pink Money, spent elsewhere.
111Cakery – Pink Money, spent elsewhere.
111Cakery: Have your cake, don't preach it too!
111Cakery: Have your cake, don’t preach it too!

Breaking down shame and guilt for Lent


Once again, Broadway breaks from tradition this Lenten season. Instead of the usual giving up of chocolate or alcohol, we’ve asked people to face the shame or guilt in their lives that holds us back from being our full selves. We’ve decorated the church with barbed wire as a solemn reminder of our journey together — wrapped around the pulpit, the ends of the pews, the Communion Table. Wow. Barbed wire! (Hiding Out from God)

To make this more than just a gimmick, we had a powerful First Sunday of Lent. The ministers started off the service asking us to take a blank piece of paper, and think about shame or guilt in our lives that is holding us back…is plaguing our self-image. We wrote or drew that on the piece of paper during a prayerful silence, and then walked to the front of the church and placed it in a box. I call it the God box. Our collective shame and guilt points stay there throughout our Lenten journey, and at the end, the box will be destroyed. Setting aside any overtly Christian symbolism, it’s a pretty powerful exercise to face, accept and walk through things that may still hold me down. And the Spirit moved me to bring forward a clear and present danger…but before I go there, let me tell you how the service went from there.

We had a gospel choir from Grand Rapids, MI visiting – for Calvin College. As people started to walk up the silence transitioned into song. “I Am.” I heard this song the night before at their concert. And as I sat there Sunday morning, having faced the shame still hanging over my life – having been brought to the surface through recent events, including the Christian concert the night before – I started crying…ok, sobbing.

I thought I had dealt with these demons from my past before, and their hold on me had been shattered. But I realized that even today, at 45, with all the self-awareness I muster, there are still some dark clouds over my soul that need work. I was crying partly because of the pain and shame I felt, but also because of the joy I had knowing that the first step is realizing I have a problem…and through awareness comes acceptance, and the chance to overcome the bondage a little more with each step along life’s journey. The joy of freedom, fullness, and life commingled with the pain of past hurts and rejection. Bittersweet.

And that moment gave me hope for this Lenten season like you can’t imagine. So before we go any further, listen to this song. Thank you to Dr. Sawyer and her band of angels, in their blue gospel robes, singing out proudly and loudly. Hmmmm…love me some gospel music.

I’ve taken some liberties to remove some of the overtly Christian parts of his lyrics that don’t fully resonate with me. But his larger message brings me hope and healing. I hope others may find similar comfort by listening beyond the Christian dressing, because of a similar source of our shame as GLBT men and women, rejected by hardcore bible thumping Christians who lack the necessary compassion and acceptance that I’ve found at Broadway. I can’t honestly say I believe the whole doctrine as gospel, but see it as another way of telling the story of our common humanity, our connectedness and our need to find community and connection. So for me, this is a song about those friends around me who have stood by me, seen my wholeness and possibility even when I couldn’t; who held my hand, who listened to my pain, and showed me truth and beauty and possibility.

“In the pain is a plan… How do you do? I am human; now I believe, not who I was, but still not what I shall be. (A friend) found me and gave me a name, things I’ve desired have changed. But inside you’ll see, it’s still broken pieces…deep in me reaches for you (my friend)…though I may fall, you stand by my side. You speak (truth and comfort) and gone is the weight of my mistakes. I am so far from perfect, I thought life is worthless, until you showed me who I am.  Not here by mistake…”

I Am, by Kirk Franklin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIUCiERkmog

So my shame, even today, is about being gay.

Though I know there is nothing to be ashamed of, growing up in a heterosexist world that too often tells me the opposite story, I’ve managed to internalize some of that homophobia.  Four years at college at the hands of an ultra-right wing Christian cult didn’t help: they tried to make me straight. I went thru ex-gay ministries (which don’t work!), and even attended Homosexuals Anonymous – a 12+2 step program to help people overcome their homosexuality, as if it’s on the same level as an addiction to crack cocaine or pornography.  And when I finally “found myself” again at 22, and came out of the closet a second time…I lost all of those “deep Christian friendships” from school, because they couldn’t associate with me anymore.  I even got a handwritten letter from my pastor and friend Ted Jungkuntz, telling me how he “had no other choice” but to turn his back on our friendship, because he couldn’t “hang with me” anymore as a gay man.  I lived with this man, his wife and his family for a year…sang songs after dinner while washing dishes…shared deep, dark secrets…and in the blink of a judging eye, it was all gone.  Phil Armbruster, gone.  John Graves, gone.  Dozens of men I shared community with, and summer households with…vanished.  Paul Dull, the one who probably did the most damage to my psyche as a young, influential college-aged man…turned his back on me.

So, like many gay men, it was YEARS before I could think about entering a house of worship again.  I now know the difference between religion and spirituality – and find wholeness in the latter, because I know in my heart I’m a physical, emotional, intellectual AND spiritual being.  But the pain and shame and brokenness from the former still hangs over my head.  I realized last weekend, as I listened to the stories of faith from the Calvin Gospel Choir, that the dark cloud of shame came over me, expecting the same level of rejection and judgement from this group of “strong, faithful Christians” that I experienced from the Word of God Community and University Christian Outreach.

I realize, of course, that this has now become my own internal prejudice about “Christians,” which I have to be careful of less I lump all people of faith into the same boat as Ted and Phil and Paul.  And even with these men, I realize that until I’m able to forgive them, I let their power hang over me even today.  Damn.  More work to do this Lent.

And, as I’ve already written, some 20 years later, the hatred and rejection of my grandfather still tugs at my heart with sadness.  But again, that’s on him – his weakness and narrow-mindedness.  It doesn’t mean I’m the one who has something to be ashamed of, as a gay man, any more than women or blacks have to feel shame for past civil injustices, supported by the same bible fundamentalism that judges gay and lesbian people today.  In this, we share a common humanity, a common pain…and ultimately, a common victory.

So, since this weekend of revelation when I wrote down “Word of God,” “UCO,” and the pink triangle on my piece of paper…I’ve listened over and over to the song “I am…” as well as one more song from my past, both of which do bring comfort and relief…reminding me that there is freedom from this bondage, as soon as I’m ready to let go.

Thank you to my friend Matt McCoy who introduced me to this song of Blessing…for the first time in a long time, I found a new truth I could believe in about myself, about who I love…and how it’s exactly what God has planned for me.

“Who I love is exactly what God has planned.  Just try to remember, I’m still your baby, your blood, have your eyes, have your smile.  I’m sorry this hurts you, I’m sorry this numbs you.   But I’m not ashamed of this fire I’ve inflamed; I was given this gift to love from heaven’s hands.  Don’t abandon me now for loving another man.  All I ask is in time, you’ll give me your Blessing.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv0xEXgJeQU

My grandfather is dead, so it will be hard to ever hear his love, but must choose to forgive him for his actions.  But gladly before my mom died, I felt the fullness of her love.  She went from telling me in the 90s that AIDS was God’s judgment on homosexuals, to writing me a handwritten note after I was diagnosed with HIV+ in 2012, letting me know that she loved me just as I am.   I can cling to this truth, this blessing…and in doing so, loosen the bondage and shame that clearly still has a bit of a hold on my soul.  May I find deeper forgiveness for Pop-Pop, Ted, Phil and others during this Lenten season, because it’s only in letting go that I will find the freedom I know I deserve.

Poetry in Motion – The Wild Iris


One that my friend Mike shared with me…which inspired a series of photographs from a walk around my neighborhood of irises.  Once again, thank you Mike for your words of comfort.  In particular, I like the part about finding my voice…  It goes hand in hand with some of Mark Nepo’s work, how we are alone, yet knitted together in a great mass of humanness.

The Wild Iris

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.

You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:

from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.

Louise Gluck