Being burden lifters to wounded faith Giants…reblogging a post by Dave Barnhart.
I managed to make it through college, seminary, and grad school with most of my prejudices intact. I won’t overstate my bigotry: “I had gay friends,” but I was the kind of person who would use that phrase when defending my prejudices.
What changed me was being a pastor. I was entrusted with the spiritual care of real live human beings. My first appointment was to a small church in rural, red-state, Bible-belt Alabama, which was the last place, in my naiveté, I would have expected to face questions of gender identity and sexuality. (Now, I realize I should have known better—but I should have known better about a lot of things.)
Nor did I expect that God was going to do heart surgery on me through the people God introduced to me. Within the span of a few months I met several persons who walked into my office and…
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