There are so many bills moving through the Idaho State Legislature right now that it’s honestly hard to keep up. To date, there have been a total of 465 legislative bills and resolutions introduced this session. In just 7 weeks.

With a budget crisis, astronomical housing costs, and chronically low educational funding, you might expect the bulk of those bills to focus on the immense challenges we face.

You would be wrong.

Last night, there was a big football game on. Incredibly, this was the first year I was actually more excited for the game than I was for the commercials (though admittedly Usher's star-studded halftime show also piqued my interest). It's no secret that I'm not much of a sportsball fan, but all self-respecting Swifties were required to tune in to count how many times the cameras panned to her cheering in the Kelce family suite. It's in our contract. We are also required to enthusiastically join her in rooting for... I'm going to say... the red team?

Anyway, during the game I watched with a mixture of interest, inspiration, and gut-wrenching disgust a one minute advertisement from the "He Gets Us" campaign, featuring images of mismatched individuals -- children of God, all -- washing each other's feet. The concept is Christlike. The execution leaves something to be desired. The motives are more than worthy of questioning.

Being bisexual is a blessing in my life.

Actually, let me pause there for a moment. It’s not lost on me that even my ability to begin a blog post with those words is a profound blessing because, truthfully, it hasn’t always been the case. A few years ago, I likely would’ve named it as a “burden” instead; more on that in a bit. But now, in recognition of Bisexual Visibility Day in the year of our Lord 2023, I’m able to celebrate my bi identity for the blessing it is – personally, vocationally, and spiritually. 
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Every Wednesday at noon throughout the Idaho state legislative session, you can find me on the steps of the Capitol building, standing still and praying silently. The silence of my thoughts is interrupted only by the occasional sniffle, as my nose angrily protests the bitter cold I’ve subjected it to.

​I don’t stand alone, but rather alongside colleagues representing the Interfaith Equality Coalition – pastors, ministry leaders, and faithful members of a variety of faith traditions gathering to bear witness to the all-inclusive love and justice of God in the context of a state (and a world) that seems hellbent on ushering in hatred and injustice instead.

Greetings,

I am deeply disappointed by the decision of your corporation** to withdraw its support of this year's Boise Pride Festival, citing misinformation surrounding some of its events and programming.

When I began my ministry at Southminster, one of the things congregants and community members likely noticed was the ubiquitous presence of my pronouns. The church website, my email signature, and my staff nametag alike all have a simple (he/him) designation next to my name as one indication of my gender identity.
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The use of pronouns during verbal introductions and written communication has become more commonplace within progressive circles in recent years, but I suspect some folks may quietly wonder why – particularly for someone such as myself, who rarely encounters misgendering or being called by the wrong pronouns.

Picture it: Sicily. 1912.

...I mean… the mountains of Western North Carolina. September 2019.

​I was attending the final gathering of a two-year Newly Ordained track of the PC(USA)’s CREDO program – easily one of the most important and meaningful initiatives our denomination sponsors.

​Though I certainly couldn’t have known it back in 2017 when I first signed up to participate in the program, this particular gathering also fell just two weeks after moving to Florida to begin a brand new call. It seemed to me the possibilities would be endless. Amid the reds and oranges of the changing leaves, I found a sacred place set apart – the perfect place to reflect upon who God was calling me to be both as a pastor, and as a person.

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

It’s a question posed recently by the host of one of my favorite podcasts, while pondering the choices we make during life’s most challenging moments.

I remember thinking with a tinge of fear (ironic, no?) that I probably already knew the answer to the question. After all, by the time I was hearing this question asked of me I had spent years of personal growth, study, and therapy striving toward greater authenticity in daily living and vocation. My life experiences had all been leading me to a place of courageous vulnerability. And the truth is, I was already beginning to ask myself another important question: what if… I lived… openly?

Recently, my life’s journey brought me to an unexpected fork in the road, having to make a choice between telling my story widely, or having parts of my story told by others.

I didn’t set out to be a bisexual advocate / pastor. At least, not consciously. Yet by God’s many Graces, here I am — (re)claiming my voice.

Happy Pride Month, friends!  

Pride is a celebration of the dignity, personhood, and the beauty of diversity in the LGBTQ+ community. It's also a reminder of the importance of visibility, of advocacy, and of the work yet to be done in a pursuit of equality for all.

Last year for Pride, I shared some of my family's very favorite Pride-themed children's storybooks. [Click here for last year's post]. As I mentioned in that post, while I loved each of the storybooks, I couldn't help but notice that our storybook library was lacking in the voices and perspectives of BIPOC individuals overall (and in Pride-themed titles in particular). After publishing the post, I also noticed a similar pattern with a lack of transgender authors on our shelves. I committed to doing better, and the good news is - over the past twelve months, our library has become significantly more diverse!

So for Pride 2021 I've compiled another list of children's storybooks, all of which we have on our shelves at home. Each of the five books below are either (1) written by a BIPOC author and/or illustrator; (2) written by a transgender author and/or illustrator; and/or (3) depicting the perspectives of BIPOC family life in a particularly meaningful way.

To all my LGBTQ+ family: You are seen. You are valued. You are loved.