The Monday after the Sunday after nothing happens - again

I come with a brief post tonight, because circumstances are such that it is time for me to write something for the Idaho Statesman.  I do not write often - one's voice can be easily ignored if frequently heard.  But as a Pastor, and a human being, I cannot let the events of this past week go without comment.

In Idaho, those who identify themselves as LGBT have no protection against discrimination in employment or housing - or a host of other categories.  Year after year the Idaho Legislature refuses to even give the matter a hearing.  Period.  And the Sunday after nothing happens (again), I get to watch members of my congregation come to church with hopes dashed and no closer to having basic civil rights protection than they were the year before.  During worship we stand in silent reflection to acknowledge the pain and injustice, and I stand there, listening to quiet sobs as the pain overflows into the safety of the sanctuary.  My heart breaks for my congregation, and I feel angry that they are once again denied protection under the law.  I can't even begin to imagine what God feels...

If my invitation to the Legislature is published, it will be in the Idaho Statesman sometime this week.

I leave you with a poem by Ranier Maria Rilke that was very important to me during my recent course at SFTS.  May it touch your heart, and invite you into a place of hope and courage.

I Believe in All That Has Never Yet Been Spoken - by Ranier Maria Rilke

I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for

may for once spring clear
without my contriving.

If this is arrogant, God, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.

Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing to you as no one ever has,

streaming through widening channels
into the open sea.

*****

With love, sorrow, and hope,
Kim