As I am no longer a part of church leadership, I now feel I can say this candidly: sometimes I’m terrified to read the Bible. It makes me love with a love that is so rich and thick and pure and wonderful that I cannot help but give it away freely.
Today, I read from 2 Kings, when the kings of Israel, Judah, and Edom marched together to attack Moab. They all gathered their forces together, but while they were on their way, they realized they didn’t have access to any water. The three kings went to Elisha, the prophet at the time, and asked him for his help. Even though he didn’t want to help the king of Israel, he gave them a prophecy out of respect for the king of Judah.
He said they would receive water out of thin air, and they would destroy Moab in battle.
I know these words are prophetic, even though I don’t understand them. When I read them, they hit my heart and made it heavy with Jesus’ presence. I know this because it made me want to lavish all the love I have been given upon someone else.
The way I go about lavishing my love is sometimes unhealthy. In the initial stages of my relationships, I go to extraordinary lengths to show people my love for them.
Once, one of my friends asked me for the names of articles we were supposed to read for class. I sent her all 75 names, including the names of the authors. I continued to do things like this for her, because I wanted her to notice me. Months went by, and before I became aware of it, she was taking advantage of my kindness and expecting me to break my back for her, even though it was already bent from taking a constant position of servitude.
With some guidance, I finally stopped doing everything in my power to make people happy. I stopped acting on my deep-seated ache to be noticed, loved, and accepted, and I waited to see what happened. While I will not venture into details, I can say that it has not been positive.
Maybe for me, this scripture–the one about dry land becoming rich with water–is about the new way I am learning to love. Maybe this scripture hits me so heavily because I am thirsty, and I need to drink from pools that God will provide for me.
I need rich friendships that will give me the strength to conquer Moab.
I need people that affirm and celebrate every part of me–including the bisexual part AND the Jesus-follower part.
I need people that want to work for a world which is teeming with hope.
I need people who see the scars that have been branded in the lobes of my brain and have no other reaction except righteous indignation.
For now, I am searching. I am waiting. I am truly between worlds, now–between Christianity and non-normativity.