If There's a Hope For Healing

Lately I had a revelation, It's not really profound or anything but I just think I finally get why there are so many people hating gays. Life in itself is boring and people have to find something to attach meaning to it. That's probably why most homophobes and racists live in States where nothing much happens, that and coastal states have more exposures to gays and other cultures.

Even though they hate us, they are still dedicating their lives to homos. I should well be honored but then I do feel sorry for these people. (Is this Stockholm Syndrome?) How boring would their lives be if it weren't for us? What other causes could they be fighting for and what good could it produce?

During Gay Pride activities in Chicago, there was a Christian group that showed up with protest signs but they weren't there to condemn. Instead they wore T-shirts saying "I'm Sorry", apologizing for other Christian Groups who uses Jesus' name to judge others. I guess not all Christians are child molesters and assholes, let the healing begin.

I hugged a man in his underwear. I think Jesus would have too.

I spent the day at Chicago’s Pride Parade. Some friends and I, with The Marin Foundation, wore shirts with “I’m Sorry” written on it. We had signs that said, “I’m sorry that Christians judge you,” “I’m sorry the way churches have treated you,” “I used to be a bible-banging homophobe, sorry.” We wanted to be an alternative Christian voice from the protestors that were there speaking hate into megaphones.

What I loved most about the day is when people “got it.” I loved watching people’s faces as they saw our shirts, read the signs, and looked back at us. Responses were incredible. Some people blew us kisses, some hugged us, some screamed thank you. A couple ladies walked up and said we were the best thing they had seen all day. I wish I had counted how many people hugged me. One guy in particular softly said, “Well, I forgive you.”

Watching people recognize our apology brought me to tears many times. It was reconciliation personified.

My favorite though was a gentleman who was dancing on a float. He was dressed solely in white underwear and had a pack of abs like no one else. As he was dancing on the float, he noticed us and jokingly yelled, “What are you sorry for? It’s pride!” I pointed to our signs and watched him read them.

Then it clicked.

Then he got it.

He stopped dancing. He looked at all of us standing there. A look of utter seriousness came across his face. And as the float passed us he jumped off of it and ran towards us. In all his sweaty beautiful abs of steal, he hugged me and whispered, “thank you.”

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