The State of the Church - An Oracle of Judgment
Woe to you, progressive church,
complacent and self-satisfied.
Shame on all you who espouse welcome,
As though the word was worth anything
at all
on its own.
You, who congratulate yourselves,
Open-minded, open-doored,
And so unwilling to open yourself
To destabilize your binary god.
God is calling you out
But you won’t hear her
Because God is a black trans woman,
And she has never set foot to your church.
Much less found herself in it.
And even if she did and she does,
Would she be celebrated
Assuming she made it past that one greeter who is still fucking up her pronouns
Eight years later
I came to your worship and I met your Father God
And he was not so different from the Father who disowned me
Even though his house was on a different block
He was still a white man
Whose KINGdom reigns
He still sat on his throne in every one of your songs
And You in the pews
Brothers and Sisters in his son
still had no place for my genderqueer siblings
Who struggle to love God and themselves in spite of you
And the way you misgender them
An average of six times a day.
And God does not have time for that,
God is with the widow and the orphan
And the homeless queer youth
God has called you to love
Fearful at the social services office,
after being kicked out of the shelter last night
Because God does not have proper government ID
God has abandoned you, oh Pride march allies,
And left you to chanting your platitude
That love is love is love
So you turn instead to the Other
For approval, for assurance,
And you have come to expect their emotional labor
For the sake of your own understanding
OF the Other, not of yourself.
We thought we were the perpetual wound in the body of Christ
But it turns out you are.
Therefore we are commanded to leave you
And to take the rainbow with us
God’s name will be sung in trans tenor and femme bass,
While the genderfuckers vogue before the Lord
Without fear of appropriation.
Jesus told me she’s done with straight lines, spears, and crosses now.
She loves her new body, in its expansive queer reforming self
And she has plenty of room for us there.
© G.Bridgeman 2018
















