Listening to the sermon today at the Unitarian Universalist church, the conflict of the Ukraine and what it’s doing to the peoples spirit was the focus.

As I compare the war torn country and it’s problems to the United States, I fear the similarities are too close. We are missing the bombs and missiles for now… but I have no doubt that our “free” country will succumb to the same fate within my lifetime. Not only that but in the next decade or two.

I live in a country that terrorizes it’s neighbor and civil war lurks in the shadows. The guest speaker goes on about how the Ukrainian people are trying to retain their humanity in a setting that lacks just about everything in that capacity. They are dumping funding into therapists and humanitarians to heal the wounded from the inside out- not something you see everyday. As any person of faith knows, we have nothing if we have no hope.

I feel selfish comparing my troubles to those in a war torn country but I can’t help but see the similarities. In my highly sensitive and empathetic nature, I mourn for them. I see myself in them. I try not to lose my own hope as I have more reasons to be thankful today than those 5 million who are refugees in their own country. Not counting, of course, the 6 million that have already fled.

In three months, I have to have found a place to live. With very little money and no one willing to lend me a room in their home, I cry for my own displacement. I’m ashamed that I have lost my trust that God will provide. Embarrassed that my fear wins the day more often than it should.

Being taught in all these different denominations has not sent mixed messages. They all preach hope and love; security in trusting God. Although what that means to each group of people may look different, it’s not different for me. So why can’t I have faith as small as a mustard seed at the time I need it the most?

The guest speaker goes on about PTSD and Anxiety Disorder; both of which I have acquired over the span of my short 40 years. The baptists would say it’s the devil talking to you and he’s a liar. Which in some respects is true. These conditions born of trauma and darkness that I’ve experienced want me to believe I’m always in danger. And while it could be a helpful tool in keeping me safe for the future, it’s inadequate for day to day living.

While my heart aches for those across the world, it never ceases to ache for my own plight. It can be so overwhelming to feel all your own feelings, those of your friends and loved ones and then those of whom you don’t even know… but I do. Often I wish I could separate myself from the intensities of feeling so much at once but more than that, I fear I would lose my own humanity.

I watch our pastor as the speaker explains in detail, the people he’s met in Ukraine and what’s happened to them. Her usual brightened eyes and wide smile are long gone and a temporary solemn sadness rests in its place. It’s so uncommon to see her this way, it makes the material that much heavier. I imagine she is moving through the same struggles I have- feeling deeply for those she’s never met.

This congregation is one of action. They preach “deeds not creeds” and they mean it. They put into action their love of humanity and practice exactly what they preach. I wonder to myself… how can I possibly manage to be a pastor in this way? The amount of feelings I struggle to manage on a day to day is heavy enough. When you lead a congregation, they become your flock; your children. They come to you in peril, in question, in despair. I know I have. The love that pastors have for their congregation is immeasurable. They grieve and mourn together, not only each other’s pain but that of their community and of course, the world. How do they hold all those emotions and still function? How does my pastor stand up every week, presenting a smile full of sunshine, when so many things are so much heavier around her? And more importantly, can I learn to do this too? Surely I cannot be void of feeling, should I choose to shepherd my own flock. My fear of failing them or being consumed by their troubles, keeps my path of ministry quiet and simple for now. These are such important questions to ask and revisit as I walk this road.

What a beautiful thing the Ukrainians are doing for each other. Doubling down on mental support. Finally, people acknowledging that food and water only get us so far. If our spirit dies out and we become inhumane, what is left of our soul?

One thing I have struggled with in particular lately is finding out that I am no longer seen as human to someone whom I called family for years. I felt led by the spirit to reach out to her and try to reconcile our differences. She is a Christian Nationalist and I couldn’t be farther from those views. I tried to meet in the middle with something we both loved; Jesus. When she said she would respond but never did, I realized that she can only see me through the lense she uses in her own life. Her religion is based on recruitment and persuasion. It finally hit me that she, most likely, believed that I was going to try and lead her astray from her own beliefs. There’s a reason they don’t promote learning about anyone or anything different than them. They think everyone (or the devil) is trying to persuade you to do wrong. All it does is promote misunderstanding and dehumanizes people. I truly believe, being away from her and her people for the last few years has solidified my stance as an “outsider”.

To a Christian Nationalist an outsider is not really a human. Of course they would never say that but as I watch women lose their rights to their bodies, they are dying along with their children, they have no face to her people. Trans and gay people that they protest against using bathrooms are not people but perverts to them. They give the same narratives from the same people and it’s buttoned up nicely along side scripture that is taken out of context and half of them don’t understand.

I’m sad that she looks at me like I’m nothing more than another problem in the world, trying to trick her people into going to hell when all I wanted was to find common ground.

Evangelical Christian Nationalists are doing real damage to humanity. I have spoken in public about this and therefore they think I’m just attacking their religion. “Why do I have to bring others down when I am upset?” She would ask. To which I say, “speaking about my experience is speaking truth, it’s not my fault if it doesn’t look good.”

I was hurt in that space by people who refused to look across the aisle and see true suffering in their brothers and sisters. They root for a president that takes the humanity out of pretty much every human that’s not a straight, white, cis male. They openly support true evil. True evil.

So now I am among the “others” in their eyes. I’m sure they believe any hardship that happens to me is Gods will and my own fault for sinning. My sin? Inclusion, of course. Jesus’ sin was inclusion too. The same people preaching that they know the will of God, put Gods son on the cross. They wiped and tore the humanity right out of his flesh and left him to die… all while acting righteous. They don’t even realize that they are the ones who would do it again

But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’

Matthew 9:13

I’m not a pervert because I’m gay. I’m not lying because my experience makes you look bad. I’m not shut out of Gods kingdom because you say so. I’m not less of a person because I don’t share your denomination of faith. I know, in the deepest and truest part of me, that Jesus Christ WILL meet me at heavens door when my body can no longer withstand this hypocritical, cold and traumatic world. Until then, I will weep for those who have suffered under the ones who fail to see the soul in us and I will try my damnedest to hold on to my own humanity so that I do not slip into the evil that is indifference.

To remain human is to never stop working to keep the lights from going out in our neighbors hearts. To remain human is to help.