Looking for Love

Looking for Love

Portia Thompson, TFC Member

Upon reading the Greatest Love Commandment of all time, I was pressed. It says:

"Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?" He said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. ' This is the greatest and first commandment. Love God above all else. And the second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.

I was pressed because I think I had the first one down. However, part of the second commandment was a little tricky. “Love your neighbor as yourself”. I think I love people. I think. I try to. But loving yourself was non-existent in my life. 

I had experienced too much brainwashing into thinking that my heart and mind and soul were evil and born that way. That trauma had (and still has) me thinking that I am tainted. From the very beginning. And that Jesus is the only way to cleanse it all. And if I mess up and sin, I am back to my tainted self. Hellbound. 

So growing up was hard as hell. Pun intended. 

One thing I remember vividly growing up was the thought that no one loved me. Mind you I was surrounded by a loving family. Though stern and upright, there was much love in my family. 

Thus when bell hooks writes about how people that feel unloved are conditioned this way by outside forces, I knew that feeling unloved was a ball of mess that didn’t need to be sorted as to why the mess was there. It just needed to be cleaned up. 

Somewhere in my childhood, an idea that I was unlovable was seeded and rooted in me. And it grew to this despondent, tree of a woman that would mask her sadness and rejection behind a happy and pleasing smile. 

bell hooks writes in her book All About Love that “...the wounded heart learns self-love by first overcoming low self-esteem.” Shucks. That seems sorta hard to do, considering that I have low self-esteem and low self-worth. 

I don’t TOTALLY  blame the church for this but also my environment. You see, I was a poor black daughter of a single mother. A single mother eschewed relationships with others (men and women) and felt that a sort of “sanctification” would be necessary to raise her children. 

My mother tried her damned-ness to raise us into “saved” individuals. However, we (my brother, sister, and I) continued to be very flawed and naive individuals. So it makes perfect sense for me to do what bell hooks writes next. 

bell hooks writes that “...self-love cannot flourish in isolation”. She is right. It cannot. With this in mind, prior to reading her, I set out to meet like-minded individuals that were about love, affection, and positivity. 

It took a lot of trial and error but I have met my people in the Blerd community of groups that I participate in. I have also met my people in the Faith Community. Having people to affirm you and pour into you and surround you with LOVE, really helps with any self-love that you are trying to find.

I spent most of my life looking for love. Jimmy Lee sings:

I was looking for love in all the wrong places

Lookin’ for love in too many faces

Searchin’ their eyes

Lookin’ for traces of what I’m dreaming of…

Looking in all the wrong places. I also remember as a child praying for friends, praying for people to love me. Praying for people to love me. PRAYING FOR PEOPLE TO LOVE ME. It was such an earnest prayer. Right alongside my prayer for authenticity in my life (for another time). And honestly, I probably had love in my life but something was so missing. And it was loving myself. 

bell hooks writes about many things in All About Love that have helped me to realize how I needed to love myself. She writes “...the fear of being self-assertive usually surfaces in women who have been trained to be good girls or dutiful daughters”. 

When you have a line of single strong mothers that train their daughters to be good, godly women, self-assertion is thrown out the door. I see my mother daily not saying no. Not putting her foot down. And I am the same. 

I remember vividly telling my partner, who was my best friend at the time, about hanging out with a guy. And I quipped “I don’t really like him”. He challenged me. He said, “why are you hanging with him then? Is it only because he likes you? Because obviously, you don’t like him”. 

And I was stuck. I really didn’t like that guy but I felt obligated to spend time with him because he liked me. I was taught that from the cradle. And now looking back, I feel a sort of shame for wasting my time and energy on things that I didn’t like or was coerced into doing because I felt I couldn’t say no. As women, we are trained that no is being mean and hateful so saying anything other than that helps us to keep our femininity. 

Today, I am confronting all of this. As bell hooks writes, “If we succeed without confronting and changing shaky foundations of low self-esteem rooted in contempt and hatred, we will falter along the way.” 

I don’t want to falter. There are many times that I hold myself in contempt. I hate myself at times. And I am praying, affirming, asserting, being responsible, and just OUTRIGHT and OUTLOUD loving on myself. 

It helps that I have partners that love me dearly. And I love them. They check my self-deprecating remarks and see when I go to the dark place in my head. They pull me out. Community is so necessary for loving yourself. 

Thank God for this Faith Community. That challenges me with sacred texts like this to help me love myself more. And lastly, though my family is flawed, love still shines brightly in us. They love me so much and I so them. All these things are NECESSARY for loving oneself. And I am so glad I know now.

Embracing The Feminine

Embracing The Feminine

Tiffany Coleman, TFC Member

 So often we ascribe certain characteristics to “men” and other characteristics to “women.” Men are to be rough and ashy. They only bathe twice a week. They don’t cry, they don’t express what they’re really feeling. 

To paraphrase Steve Harvey from an old episode of his sitcom, “[Men] just hold it in til it manifests as a health condition, and die.” What?! 

On the other hand, women have a little more grace when it comes to emotions but at the same time we can’t go over the top. We can cry, yell and scream but not for long because we have to hold it together. 

We can eat the chocolate but not too much, we can drink the wine (even wear t-shirts with catchy phrases like, “Everything happens for a Riesling”) but we can’t drink too much (this is not to minimize alcoholism– it’s a real problem). We can let ourselves go for a bit but at the end of the day, we still have to reel it in. This feels maddening too. 

But the one thing women can be is loving. We’re almost required to be that way. As one who lived a lot of my early years trying to be everything but feminine (I had a complex, y’all) being loving was something I wasn’t always interested in. 

I wanted to be seen as strong and as a renegade. I even went as far as disavowing the color pink! In my own, crazy way, I was trying not to be the stereotype of what society said a woman was. As misguided as it may seem, this was rooted in a desire of individuality but my methods could’ve used some tweaking. 

As I reflect on that young girl I was at the time, I realize that these ideas were rooted in a lack of love. Not from the outside world but from within myself. 

So often, people told me, “you just need to love yourself”. I heard the words but had no idea, where to begin. 

As I’ve aged, I’ve discovered none of these “tactics” work; I have begun to see that love should be at the core of who we are and what we do. There’s no set prescription to it. A lot of it has to do with grace and acceptance. 

To be quite honest, I was not familiar with bell hooks’ work at all. I found a book of hers (I don’t remember the title) in college and read a few pages, but I was not in a place where I could identify with it nor could I understand it. Being in my early 20s, afraid to embrace my blackness or my femininity, and driven only by my dream of being on Broadway, bell hooks was not on my radar. 

But as my dreams have changed (as well as my life’s pace), I decided to live life on my own terms by embracing my own Black, feminine and artistic identity. In doing this, bell hooks and others like her have been a cool glass of water on a hot day. Her work sings the song my heart didn’t know it needed, has been a balm in Gilead and has spoken to my soul in deep and profound ways. 

In her book All About Love, she dares to do (in my opinion) the unthinkable:  define love. She uses a definition from Erich Fromm as a starting place, saying that love is “the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.” She goes on to talk about how love can be soft and affectionate. 

As a society, we allow women to be this way but men cannot for fear of being seen as weak. Brene Brown has said that the one thing men can’t be perceived as is being weak, or as she says, “Being a p****.” (Excuse me, but p****** birth children! [another conversation for another time]).

 “Signs of weakness” may be crying, being gentle, affectionate, being quiet, soft. In my opinion, all of these are acts of love. Having the courage to release those emotions is not only an act of love but it’s an act of grace, for yourself and for others. 

As crazy as this life can be, all of these are things that we all need more of. More releases, more love, more tenderness, more affection, more time spent caring, more listening, more hugging, more laughter, more tears, more breath. 

Let’s all agree to let go of our complexes, stereotypes and gender roles; and embrace who we really are at our core. May we all have enough courage to embrace our “feminine” side, be gentle with ourselves and with each other in hopes of building and creating a better, more loving, more positive world. 

To quote Smokey Robinson in Miracle in Motor City, “Let love lead the way.” My prayer is that we all have the courage to follow.

More than Special Programing

More than Special Programing

Tracey Anderson-Tellado, TFC Member

As a child who did not grow up in the Black Church and who inhabited primarily white spaces, Black History Month was reduced to mimeographed coloring sheets featuring Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver, and Martin Luther King Jr. 

We talked about slavery, the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and “I Have a Dream”. Then too, there were (and are) the Black History TV specials and sales. Faith and Black History did not coexist on any level. 

As an adult at the several “multicultural” (read white-centered) churches where my family worshiped, more attention was focused on the 4th of July, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and even Mother’s Day. Celebrating Black History was not ever a consideration. 

More recently I have been invited to Black churches during February, where there were special Sunday programs showcasing Black historical figures, and spotlighting Black excellence through music, poetry, drama, and dance. We celebrated with savory food and were resplendent in our traditional African garments. 

As I have grappled with all of the racially motivated violence and the sustained erosion of the hard fought, hard won rights secured in the last half century, and the refusal of many state governments to allow our public schools to teach even a fraction of the real truth of this country’s history, I have often felt like Black History month was fast becoming nothing more a symbolic gesture much like the declaration of Juneteenth as a federal holiday. Neither one seems to assuage the Baldwinian “state of rage” that is surely prevalent nowadays. 

Yet, cynicism aside, together with The Faith Community I am on a journey of decolonizing my faith, my theology, and my general way of being in the world. In addition I am more clearly than ever recognizing that the sheer greatness of my African people extends far beyond the borders of these “United” States and began long before this country was ever conceived. 

Greatest Commandment Theology hinges upon the love of God which we evidence by loving our neighbor as we love ourselves. 

In the Book of Genesis, Scripture says that Humanity was created in the Divine image. Psalm 8 tells us that “You [our Sovereign] have made us barely less than God and crowned us with glory and honor.” And in Psalm 139 we read about the wonder of ourselves and the wonder of Her works - works my soul knows well. For me, each of these Scriptures affirms the mandate to love oneself regardless. 

Through this theological lens I am reframing my thinking about Black History Month, to see it as an opportunity for those of us who are members of the African diaspora and our allies to reflect upon and celebrate the wonder of ourselves and the Divine within each of us. 

This paradigm shift is in no way negating the fact that Black History is American History and should be studied and celebrated every day all protestations to the contrary. And even though there are some who would denigrate Black people, folks who would claim that we have done nothing noteworthy, we know better. 

The African (not country) but Continent is where it all started. Our ancestors were in fact the progenitors of civilization. 

So, by faith I will honor Black History month by gratefully acknowledging the perseverance and accomplishments of my people thus far even as I anticipate a brilliant Black Future. 

The “Panini” and the Paddle Boat

The “Panini” and the Paddle Boat

Robert Arnáu, TFC Member

At the apex of the pandemic – somewhere in the time blur of 2020 – I was a hot mess! Work was shut down, people were shut inside their homes, and the once busy streets of NYC that were consistently adorned with the din of voices, traffic, and the occasional argument metamorphosed into a muzzled insect cocooned in a thick layer of uncertainty and fear. 

It wasn’t fun.

My already-present anxiety reached a new level and the boss level (for all my gamers out there who can appreciate the reference) was slowly approaching. 

What was waiting for me at the next bend?

What would be the end result?

What kind of person was I turning into?

Prior to this change in environment, I was in the middle of trekking through a spiritually barren land. Where I once was on the path to ordination, I was now navigating uncharted territory due to my separation with the process and the local church. I was already questioning my place in this world, especially my place when it came to my faith. My path, I felt, was already strewn with decaying dreams prior to the shutdown so the further involuntary separation from community caused by the “panini” catapulted me into isolation – disconnected from daily life; disconnected from the relationships I took for granted; separated from myself.

Daily morning runs to the supermarket for only the essentials were anxiety-fueled. 

Masks were the new Spring/Summer collection accessory.

Antibacterial anything acquired the title of “Society’s Elite.”

I felt lost and the stage was set for me to crumble; to gently deteriorate into the abyss of The Nothing.

Desperately searching for some relief from the constant echoes of a world I no longer recognized, I looked for community. I guess part of me was looking for answers to quell my thirst for connection. If I am honest, I guess I was looking for a rescue team to pluck me out of the torrential storm that was brewing.

Me: “The Faith Community? What the heck is this?”

To me, any group that called themselves a “faith community” gained immediate lifetime membership into the sus club, in my eyes. Maybe due to my “enjoyable” experience [insert sarcasm here] from other faith communities, I had my reservations. 

“Would this be another church claiming divine authority?”

“Is this another group that will boast on how progressive they are as a strategy to lure me into their redemption proposition?”

“Atlanta?! The South?! Oh, no. Here comes the ‘hate the sin, not the sinner’ rhetoric.”

And even with these thoughts, I was still curious – curious as to what level of disrespect and devaluing I was going to encounter, maybe.

I watched a few sessions: “Ok. They seem cool but I’m waiting for the hate speech.” It never came. After interacting with this group a few times online – hesitantly – I was getting frustrated because I hadn’t heard anything yet that would prove me wrong. My mind was saying “Hurry up and hurt me with your dogma so I can lay y’all out and bounce!” 

Never came. 

And then WAP happened! The candid conversation surrounding that song and the message of body positivity that occurred with a group of leaders and members from this community – including the Lead Pastor – had (clap) me (clap) gagging! Could this group of folks actually be for real in their message of inclusivity? Could this group be genuine in their faith? I had to find out more.

And I did.

Fast forward to today: I am a member of TFC, served a brief stint in a leadership role, and have been honored for them to support my project of spiritual direction through creative writing by making it one of their connection groups. Greatest Commandment Theology drives my life and my thoughts – not in a “follow-this-dogma-or-you-will-not-be-chosen-to-frolic-in-the-Kingdom-of-God” type of way but in a “this-is-what-it-was-always-about” type of mentality where the Kin-dom of God is fragranced by love and compassion for yourself and community. GCT put words to what was already in my heart. 

The authenticity of TFC in not being afraid to challenge Biblical rhetoric, the bravery demonstrated through conversations that challenge mainstream theology that was created to harm the marginalized, the overwhelming support for the 2SLGBTQIA+ community in not only fighting for our rights but including folks in my community in their church leadership (there’s a difference between welcoming and affirming, mi gente), and the freedom to engage in conversation with them without fear of being ridiculed is what made all the difference to me in changing my thoughts about this small “Southern” church. 

TFC walked with me during a time when my mental health was fragile.

TFC helped me realize that it’s okay not to be okay – and that I was not alone.

TFC helped remind me that community can be found in the most unexpected places and that sometimes, it can help you come back to your heart.

So, I sit here writing this as an ordained spiritual community leader that leads a ministry of healing from toxic theology and religious trauma for the BIPOC and/or queer communities and I ponder of what could have been. Although I am not claiming that TFC is the sole reason I completed/achieved these things, what I am saying is that in the middle of the wilderness, in the middle of mental chaos, and in the middle of questioning my purpose, TFC helped me access my heart again. 

It helped me come back to a language I once knew.

It helped me realize that I could live in my authentic skin, lift my own voice, lead with compassion, and do all of this in community. 

I was waiting for a rescue team to pluck me out of the storm. What I got instead was a paddle boat and a map that helped me – and continues to help me – find my way to dry land.

#itsTFCforme!

Why #ItsTFCForMe: Honoring Boundaries

Why #ItsTFCForMe:  Honoring Boundaries

Haley Cawthon-Freels, TFC Member

Growing up, attending church anytime the doors were open was non-negotiable—the only exceptions were if we were traveling or too sick. Church monopolized my Sundays, Wednesday evenings, and many weeks in the summer (why send your kid to one VBS when they could go to five—and mostly always the same theme). Then there were the trips to church for random events or work at the church.

If folks didn’t come to church regularly there was judgment. I witnessed it and as a teenager—particularly one who was already hiding in the closet—I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by not showing up. 

Attending church was not the only requirement. It was also expected that I actively participate– and participate A LOT. From the choir, the nursery, the puppet stage, mission trips, VBS, and everything in between, I had done many of the activities that the church I attended with my family had to offer—except for preaching or being a deacon, because as a SBC congregation, they wouldn’t allow women to hold any such position and when women would speak it was a testimony, not a sermon (at least according to them).

At some point in college, I started not attending church regularly—using college as my excuse. At the time I was going through a bit of an existential crisis. The time that I spent away from church at that point allowed me the space to start the process of deconstruction of my theology that needed to happen in order for me to survive. 

Going to seminary, I continued down that path of deconstruction. I kept one foot in church, but I knew at what times I needed to step away. 

Since high school, I’ve struggled with institutional church on numerous aspects, including the demand of time and energy that has been directed at folks. My experience with that demand centered a lot in manipulation—for folks to show up and participate even when they needed a break or they couldn’t for a valid reason—and shame—for folks who didn’t attend regularly or who missed a Sunday or two, which in turn would lead to manipulation. 

That culture of manipulation and shame became a lot to carry (and that culture of manipulation and shame flowed into other things too). It became too much. 

The breaks that I took in college and in seminary helped. But I was also tired. While I was tired, I also wanted that connection that comes with a church community. I wanted a place where I could be me—my whole and authentic self—and where I could participate as much as I wanted, free from folks guilt-tripping me to do more. 

I’ve found that in a few places in the past decade and one place that I’ve found it in more recent years is TFC. 

As an introvert and someone who feels burnout from institutional church, TFC allows me the ability and space to participate as much or as little as I want at any given time.  

It allows me the space to be me. To set the boundaries that I need to set—whether that be respecting my physical boundaries in regards to physical touch (unlike my wife, I’m not a hugger) or recognizing that I’m going to sit back and observe without saying much.

TFC for me is a safe space that welcomes me for who I am without judgment, manipulation, or shame. Even more importantly, though, TFC doesn’t try to change who I am at my core. TFC welcomes my queer, introverted, non-hugging self in a way that makes me feel seen and valued. The fact that they respect my boundaries makes me love it all the more. 

We want to know why it’s TFC for you! DM us to share your #ItsTFCForMe stories as we celebrate our 4th birthday all month long.

Why #ItsTFCForMe: Authentic Relationship

Why #ItsTFCForMe:  Authentic Relationship

Tracey Anderson-Tellado, TFC Member

There are myriad relationship options on Facebook. For example, there is “engaged”, “married”, or “in a domestic partnership.” As IRL relationship statuses have become more visible, more social media options abound. But the status that has always given me pause is this one: “it’s complicated.” What on earth does that mean? Either one is in a relationship or not; it isn’t –or at least it shouldn’t be– complicated. But as time has passed, I have become more seasoned (I am not going to say older). The black and white binaries of my life are inexorably blurring and becoming dappled with muted shades of gray. I recognize that some relationships can only be described as complicated. 

Now I get it– more than I really want to in fact. And not only do I find quagmires within the context of individual relationships, complications ensue in institutional ones as well. My relationship with the Church and with organized religion has assuredly been rife with challenges. Furthermore, the nature and scope of my struggles could be likened to the turning of a kaleidoscope in the ways they have shifted depending upon time and circumstances. In the most recent stretch of time, my principle dilemma has focused on my quest to separate the harmful theologies of White Christian Nationalism, empire oppression, and its hate filled agenda which masquerades as Christianity from the teachings of Jesus which speak of love, justice, and Beloved Community. If I could provide an illustration, it would be the manner in which one separates the yolk from the white in an egg when making meringue for a pie. And although the irony in this particular analogy is that the white part is necessary, what matters is retaining that which promotes flourishing for myself and others whilst refusing that which is harmful to my neighbor and myself. 

This is where The Faith Community comes in. I first became aware of TFC through the Holy Smokes podcast (which I also love, by the way). Never before had I encountered a podcast where the topics under discussion so closely mirrored my own questions and concerns. Nowhere had I encountered such an intelligent and diverse panel. I certainly have never run up on any theological discussion that is prefaced with the questions: “What are you smoking and what are you drinking?” I fell in love, and proceeded to binge listen to the back seasons and as I did I learned about TFC. So, I checked that out too. The Worship Experiences, Bible and Beyond, and the other connection groups as well.  Each time I was blown away. I also had an amazing conversation with  “Mama Toni”. Could there be a church so open, so accepting, so intellectually engaging, so musically gifted. How could this church be populated by folks so talented, and hilarious, and brilliant, and most of all, so wonderfully real. I have to admit, it seemed almost too good to be true - it kind of still does seem that way sometimes. 

But if I were ever to ascribe a status to my relationship with The Faith Community, “it’s complicated” would not be the one I would choose. Please understand that I don’t mean that we don’t grapple with complicated issues, I don’t mean that life is uncomplicated. I don’t mean that ministry is without issues. What I mean is that the plumbline that is Greatest Commandment Theology is, for me, the antithesis of complicated. One’s love for God is illustrated in how one displays love (care, concern, advocacy) for one’s neighbors (all of humanity). One’s love of neighbor is predicated on love of oneself. I can’t love my neighbor if I don’t love myself, and I can’t love God if I don’t love my neighbor. I still struggle with extricating the toxic doctrine, dogma, and thou-shalt-nots embedded within my spirit, but GCT has rendered it far less arduous and definitely strengthened my faith. And being welcomed into the disruptive, authentic, and inclusive ethos of The Faith Community has been a wonder I could never have imagined. I wish The Faith Community divine blessings, and a fantastic Church Anniversary. And I say thank you for allowing me to be a small part of this beautiful ministry. 

We want to know why it’s TFC for you! DM us to share your #ItsTFCForMe stories as we celebrate our 4th birthday all month long. 

Rest Like Jesus

Rest Like Jesus

Lauren Supplice, TFC Member

Rest. I haven’t been the best at resting. In fact, I hesitate to answer when someone asks me “How have you been taking care of yourself lately?” I hesitate because the answer is that I haven’t. 

I have not been resting the way that I am called to. If I’m not working or writing/studying for a class, I’m on my phone. I didn’t even realize it was this bad until my wife, Rachel, and our friend, Jada, pointed it out. I realize that I need to make a change in my life. I need to set boundaries. 

I’m reminded of the story of when Jesus was sleeping on the boat while everyone else was so worried about the storm. Throughout all the stress and chaos, Jesus rested. I need to have more Jesus energy. Yes, life is stressful. Yes, there’s always something. But in the midst of all of this, I need to learn to step away. 

One of the things that I am committing to is to take more time off at work. I love the team that I work with. They have treated me well and have gone above and beyond for me. For that, I will always be grateful. But ya girl has to have fun! I have all of this vacation time, I might as well use it. My wife deserves more of my time. Shoot, I deserve more of my time. I can go on vacation, catch up on some sleep, or maybe even just spend the day relaxing. Either way, it's a break from my usual routine. 

Another way that I am committing to more rest is by spending less time on my phone. I enjoy sharing memes on a daily basis. Sometimes I'll just repost a status that I connected with. But let me tell you, time flies and my eyes hurt when I spend so much time on my phone. As I mentioned before, it hadn’t hit me that I was that person who is always on their phone until my wife and friend pointed it out. I felt bad. How many conversations or connections have I missed due to me being so plugged into my phone? That is not okay. I have to do better.

These commitments are how I am going to be able to rest more. This is how I will lean more into the Greatest Commandment Theology. If I am not resting, I am not loving myself. How can I love my neighbors and God, if I’m not loving myself? 

I once heard this quote by Kurt Vonnegut that said “I am a human being. Not a human doing.” This rings so true. I don’t always have to be doing something. I know this journey to rest isn’t going to be easy, especially since its not something I’m used to. But I have to remember that God wants me to rest. My ancestors want me to rest. I NEED to rest. This is for me and I deserve it.

Want to see more disruptive faith-based content like this? Text “disruptive” to 888-901-1131or DM us on our social media to stay up to date on things TFC. 

Naps are Revolutionary

Naps are Revolutionary

Portia Bragg, TFC Member

I am my mother’s child. We are working people. 

I remember vividly my grandmother working. Third shift. Hospital. Surgical tech. And sleep her off days away. 

I remember vividly my mom working. Even as she worked to take care of my bed ridden grandmother. 

Even I worked. I got my first job at age 14. 

I used that money to buy school clothes, with just a little help from my mom.

I continued to do this for years. Even through my first pregnancy.

It wasn’t until my grandma had a stroke that I realized the importance of rest. My grandma had dementia and seizures on her brain, which resulted in her having a stroke. Mom took care of her. Did a wonderful job too– got her strong enough to leave the nursing home and back home. The whole time my mom worked her 3rd shift job at the hospital. 

Was it someone that said that caring for the sick makes you sick yourself? My mom had major knee problems. She decided to get knee replacements. 

It was botched. And because of this and the fact that she took care of my grandmother, my mom was fired. Unlawfully. 

My mother was a faithful woman:  to her job, her family, and her God. After she got fired, she rested.

She. Rested. 

Mom told me that was the best rest she ever had. 

It didn't sink in for me though. I worked and worked. 

In 2020, everyone went on lockdown. Lockdown forced me to rest. It was then that I stumbled upon the Nap Ministry. 

It was there I learned that rest is resistance. 

It was the whole teaching during a pandemic that all my hardworking goals and aspirations were laid to rest. I came to an epiphany that it was too much for me to be a principal or a teacher or a leader with all her shit together. I was TIRED. EXHAUSTED. STRESSED TO DEATH. In my rest, I reflected on what I really wanted. And I revised my dreams. 

I resisted the urge to run my body to the ground. I spoke kindly to myself and gave myself grace. This was difficult. I was stuck on self deprecation for so long. 

Yes, I was fat. Yes, I was depressed. But did I deserve rest? 

Yes.

Daily I told myself to REST. GO LAY DOWN. NOW. Just a nap. One to refresh my soul. To sharpen my eyes. To make my mind keen. 

And when it got to be TOO MUCH, I would take off work. And SLEEP. 

I stop taking work home and every evening, my kids would jump on the couch or in the bed with me and we all would REST. There were cuddles, kisses, and hugs. 

Through this resistance, my children understood that napping was KEY. To this day, they asked me if I napped. 

Yes, love I have. 

And they don't have any qualms about resting themselves. 

Resting in a capitalistic society is revolutionary. May the world be changed one nap at a time. 

Check out the Nap Ministry on Facebook. 

https://www.facebook.com/Thenapministry/

Want to see more disruptive faith-based content like this? Text “disruptive” to 888-901-1131 or DM us on our social media to stay up to date on things TFC.

A Guide to Embodied Rest

A Guide to Embodied Rest

Kali Cawthon-Freels, Pastor of Congregational Care

During this month of Radical Rest at The Faith Community, it’s important for us to talk about not just why rest is important, but how to do it. For this week, there’s no heady-theology, no deep critical thought. Just an opportunity for you to practice rest in your body.

When we get caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, it’s easy to forget to pay attention to our bodies. Sometimes rest is more than taking a bubble bath; it’s about taking a moment to intentionally “check in” with our bodies to see where we are keeping the tension. A body scan is a great way to focus your attention on each part of your body, take a breath, and release the tension. 

Here’s a quick guide for how to do a body scan if you want to do one yourself. 

• Get in a quiet space and either sit in a chair or lie flat on your back.

• Take two deep breaths. Breathe in for two counts, hold for two counts, and exhale for four counts.

• Then, imagine scanning your body, starting with your head (I like to imagine a ball of light gently touching my head with its warmth). 

• Imagine the scan rotating around your head and notice where you may be holding tension. If your brow is furrowed, un-furrow it. If your jaw is tight, let it relax. Essentially, the goal is to focus your attention on your body so that you can see if any tension is hiding in your body. Some folks find it helpful to literally think the word “release,” giving it to that part of your body as an invitation.

• Once you’ve scanned your head, move to your neck. Then to your shoulders, down your arms, etc. 

• Repeat the process with each part of your body until you get all the way down to your toes. 

Once you’ve finished, take a moment to thank your body for the ways it’s supported you. Thank your body for carrying you through the day, for helping you accomplish the things you’ve done today. Sit or lie there as long as you feel comfortable.

And that’s it! A body scan is a great way to reconnect with your body after high periods of stress. It’s also a great way to have a nice body-positive moment with yourself. After all, you are fearfully and wonderfully made– and that includes your body.

Rest well, beloveds. 

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Rest is Resistance

Rest is Resistance

Autem Clay, TFC Communications Specialist

Rest. It is the command to lay down. Cue the viral TikTok by NaJe. Rest. To calm your body. To still your mind. To embrace peace. In reverencing rest, I went on a journey to unveil what rest meant to me and left with a deeper understanding of this four letter word of dreams. 

My main remembrance of rest was the use of this word in the creation story. All my life in church pews, I remembered pastors shouting about rest because God rested on the seventh day. After all the work and toil of world creation, God decided to lay down, rest, and revel in their creation. 

I declared that I would live every day like it is summer vacation and embraced sabbath as my ritual. Saturday became my day for adventure, joy, and rest. It became a way for me to reset and restore, but I wanted more. 

As a Black woman in America, anxiety often runs amok as I wonder if I am safe in a specific location or as I strive to ensure my face - as well as my legs and hips and body -  aren’t giving off any symbols or signs that would cause disruption or put me in any life-altering danger. There was no rest in real life.

I came face to face with facts and learned about the weathering hypothesis, which says that the accumulation of racial stress over black women’s lives contributes to lowered life expectancy (Geronimus, 2006). What is rest to the black body? I pondered this question just as Frederick Douglass asked “what, to the slave, is the fourth of July?” Seeing statistics on the mortality rate of black folks disturbed me. Seeing friends and family members struggling with mental and physical health scared me. But, I chose and continue to choose to prioritize rest, radical rest. 

I read about the disruptive framework of the #NapMinistry’s Bishop Tricia Hersey and found myself excited to declare that rest is resistance. It was great to say but has required deliberate, consistent steps to make it my practice. I have reflected on what has saved me in dark and divine times and realized it was this: centering rest as a ritual in my life as my resistance. I learned to see rest as a means of resistance and an act of remembrance done unto ancestors who were robbed of their dreams.

Rest is righteous. Rest is required. Rest is restorative. Every day we experience the cacophony and chaos of oppression and power. They are loud and unrelenting but will never defeat us. As a human being embodying several intersectional identities that are constantly and currently under siege, I choose rest and am better for it. I choose rest as a way to love myself. It is the greatest commandment in action and peak self-luvery. Radical rest as ritual heals me and I encourage you to embrace it for you. Rest like your life depends on it. Because honesty, it does!

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Pastoral Response to Roe v Wade

Pastoral Response to Roe v Wade

Kali Cawthon-Freels, Pastor of Congregational Care

It has been a hell of a few days. I’ve sat with people who are too angry to speak. I’ve listened to folks shed tears. I’ve read comments of friends, chosen family, and loved ones expressing the fear they have in the coming days. The questions that have stuck with me, though, are the ones to which I have no easy answer:

“Where is God in all of this?”

It is heavy.

I want to shoot straight with you: this blog isn’t about hope. I find giving people false hope in times of trouble is pastoral malpractice. It doesn’t do a damn thing to help the folks you’re trying to comfort; it just makes you feel better because you think you’ve done something. You will not find fluffy platitudes here today.

But I’m also not one to dwell on hopelessness. If we make the mistake of assuming that there is no hope, then we lose the resolve to act. We grow apathetic. We stop caring, stop loving, stop thriving. We stop looking for ways to build a better world, and so we allow the pestilence in the world to continue to fester. We may not be the ones who brought the corruption, but our apathy gives it permission to spread.

To paraphrase a line from the musical Hadestown, we can’t stop dreaming about the way the world could be–even in spite of the way that it is. 

This isn’t the first time a society of folks that the ruling Empire shoved mercilessly to the margins received a major blow from that same Empire. Our ancestors of the faith know this well. Jesus himself did his ministry in the midst of Roman occupation, in the midst of an unjust Empire oppressing others for its own political gain. He worked on the margins, including people who had been routinely excluded. 

That said, thinking of my male ancestors in the faith isn’t really doing it for me right now.

Today, I think of my female and genderqueer ancestors of the faith who were in the margins of those same societies:  of Naomi, Ruth, Tamar, Mary, the Ethiopian Eunuch. I think of how they were minoritized to the point of poverty. I think of the female disciples who followed Jesus and did ministry alongside him, but remained nameless by the authors of the Gospels. All of those women and genderqueer folks faced challenge after challenge in a world that did not view them as people. They strove to carve out space in this world– striving, wrestling to live fruitful lives. They kept working until they and their families had some level of security and sanctuary.

They didn’t stop wrestling with God until they received their blessing.

Folks, the days to come are going to be filled with wrestling. Wrestling with our fear. With or for our families. Wrestling is hard, exhausting work. When it feels like the very world we inhabit is pinning our arms and legs to the ground, it’s easy to believe that we don’t have the strength to wrestle. 

But you do not wrestle alone.

You are surrounded by a fierce community who’s feeling what you feel right now, who is committed to supporting you however you need it. We may be far apart geographically, but we are bound together tight by Spirit. When one of us is pinned down, our siblings come to pry our hands free.

Don’t lay on the ground in despair. 

Be like the Syro Phoenician woman, refusing to leave Jesus’ presence until he blessed her (a Gentile) like he blessed his kin. 

Be like the woman with the issue of blood, refusing to let go until she received Jesus’ healing. 

Be like the Ethiopian eunuch, refusing to believe God didn’t care, searching until they found God’s love.

Be like Mary Magdalene, refusing to leave the tomb. Refusing to believe that love is dead.

Do not stop wrestling until you receive your blessing. 

We’ve got your back. We know you have ours. 

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Wide Awake

Wide Awake

Rev.Tracey L. Anderson-Tellado, TFC Member

“Woke”: Aware of and actively attentive to important facts and issues (especially issues of racial and social justice) (Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary)

“Woke”:  "Following an intolerant and moralizing ideology." as used by American conservatives in the pejorative sense.  

You may be wondering why I opted to begin this writing by defining what has become a very divisive term. To be honest, I can understand why talking about being woke can seem cliched. But as we celebrate Power and Pride month, I can’t think of a better word to describe the journey that has taken me from the gatekeeping, white, heteronormative, assimilationist version of Christianity where I began, to the understanding that the Divine image in each of us frees us to love and honor all humanity exactly as they are. 

I left home and joined the Air Force at seventeen. And when I did, I left the Catholic faith I’d grown up with behind too. Primarily because I always had more questions than anyone was prepared to answer or even to entertain for that matter. When I first returned to organized religion, it was with the understanding that I was going to check my questions at the door and shut down the aspects of myself that didn’t line up with accepted Christian doctrine. 

For over a decade I was successful. When I was told I needed to be rebaptized because the first one “didn’t count” I got rebaptized. When the music minister explained that in order to sing on the Praise Team I had to wear panty hose, closed toed shoes, and long skirts to avoid being a “distraction” to the male congregants, I acquiesced. At the conservative Baptist seminary, where I was the only Black woman in the Master of Divinity program and the professors were old white men teaching me about the theology of dead white men, I did the work and got the A’s. 

But by then I was emerging from REM sleep and coming into more of a twilight sleep. As a consequence, when the congregation that called me to my first church claimed a desire to become “more diverse” and to hear “different perspectives.” I was quite dubious. My suspicions proved correct when it turned out that what they really expected was for me to be black enough to make my all-white church members think they were practicing diversity, but not so black as to cause them discomfort. And so, I sent my representative to church every Sunday. 

Eventually I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend that listening to white church people talk about how every Black person who died as a result of police brutality was somehow responsible for their own death didn’t make me furious. I couldn’t understand the cognitive dissonance displayed by white Christians who told me they loved me even while supporting the horrific agenda espoused by the former president. 

Most importantly, I could no longer justify subsuming my identity as a Black woman to satisfy the demands of White Supremacist Patriarchal Christianity. 

I finally woke up to the realization that my Blackness and my Christian faith were inextricably bound together; all protestations to the contrary. 

“Nobody’s Free until Everybody’s Free” - Fannie Lou Hamer 

Yet, even as I began to engage more deliberately with racial equity and Black theology, I didn’t consider the struggles of the LGBTQIA+ (Q+) community. I recall having some rather heated discussions with people who attempted to convince me that gay rights were just as important as civil rights. I believed that because the color of one’s skin was more obvious than one’s sexual orientation, Q+ people could not possibly have to deal with the same level of oppression that Black people did. Nevermind that one can be a Person of Color (Black or Brown) and part of the Q+ community; those intersections didn’t even register with me. In retrospect, I thought my right to fully inhabit my humanity was paramount. Even after I started to deconstruct my faith, I continued trying to figure out how to make “hate the sin and love the sinner'' make sense. 

You know the saying, “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear?” Well, I began to meet Q+ individuals who loved Jesus and loved others without judgment or conditions. I saw that just the way I had been expected to check my Blackness, Q+ people were expected to deny their sexuality. So here’s the thing: I had been attempting to make sense out of nonsense. Being gay is not a sin, and there is nothing to separate. Once again, I woke up. I couldn’t love my Black self and my Black people unconditionally but refuse to love my Q+ siblings the same way. 

Inevitably, people started criticizing me for being a minister who declined to condemn the “gay lifestyle”. My response has been that at the end of the day I don’t believe God is gonna be mad at me for loving all of God’s people exactly as God created them.  

Greatest Commandment Theology affirms for me that the exclusionary tactics, and the “thou shalt nots” version of Christianity is antithetical to the love Jesus came to show us. I had the privilege of being in a ZOOM meeting with the renowned theologian Dr. Willie Jennings. His book After Whiteness had recently been released and he graciously agreed to have a discussion with my doctoral cohort. While he dropped so much wisdom, for me what stood out the most was when he spoke about the need to expand our “circle of affection and attention.” I’ll say that again:expand our circle of affection and attention; expand it, as in make it larger. What is so remarkable about Greatest Commandment Theology is that when we love ourselves, our neighbors, and our Creator, our circle will naturally expand. And just like the last line of the hokey-pokey, that’s what it’s all about! 

Want to see more disruptive faith-based content like this? Text “disruptive” to 888-901-1131 or DM us on our social media to stay up to date on things TFC.

God Loves Pride

God Loves Pride 

Kali Cawthon-Freels, Pastor of Congregational Care

During June 2019, my wife and I took a drive up to the rural parts of northeast Georgia. Southern women at heart, we always cherish an opportunity to get close to the Smokies and to the woods. As we drove, we passed several small churches with painfully corny church signs. One, though, wasn’t painfully corny, just painful:  “God has nothing to say about pride.” 

Strangely, though, the Bible has a lot to say about pride. The Old Testament contains story after story of rulers facing defeat or the nation of Israel facing destruction because their pride became too great (2 Chronicles, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel are full of those narratives). There are countless Psalms and Proverbs that decry the practice of pride:  “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Psalm 16:8. “When pride comes, then comes disgrace; but wisdom is with the humble.” Proverbs 11:12. I could go on and on. Apparently, that church hasn’t cracked open a Bible in a while.

Regardless, I know the point they were trying to make:  “God has nothing to say about the kind of pride gay people flaunt.” An obvious homophobic slight against the LGBTQ+ community during the month of Pride.

But here is where the English language fails us. The pride that LGBTQ+ people celebrate is not a pride of arrogance. It’s a pride of love. It’s a pride of self-acceptance and of accepting our peers. It’s a pride that hugs friends and family tight, a pride that lets those in the LGBTQ+ community that they belong and are loved.

God celebrates this kind of pride-- we have biblical proof of it.

In the story of the baptism of Jesus, God shows this kind of pride:  “And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:16-17). In the other versions of this story recounted in Mark and Luke, God tells Jesus directly “You are my son, the beloved, and with you I’m well pleased.” If we paraphrased God’s pronouncement into modern-day English, it would sound something like, “That’s my kid, and I’m proud of him,” or, “Jesus, I’m proud of you.”

This is the pride that LGBTQ+ people celebrate, a pride that is supposed to come from the ones who are supposed to love us. The pride that a father gives his child, an older sibling gives a younger one, a coach gives a player. Time and time again, family members, friends, mentors, pastors, teachers deny LGBTQ+ people this pride because they are disgusted by who we are. They say things like, “I’d rather have a dead son than a trans daughter,” or “if you’re going to live like that, you aren’t welcome in this church” or “it’s just a phase” or “you disgust me.” Instead of looking at us with pride, they look at us with shame.

We celebrate pride because pride is the antithesis of shame.

So, we take that pride and claim it for ourselves and for our community, picking up the slack of those who have failed us. We look in the mirror and say “I’m proud of you” to make up for all the times our parents didn’t say it. We look at one another and say “I’m proud of you” to make up for all the pastors, teachers, coaches, etc, who didn’t say it. We take this virtue and redeem it as a sacred act of love and community. We use it as a sacred balm to heal the wounds done to us and to others. And that kind of love is a love that builds a community that is strong, compassionate, and proud of everyone in it.

To my fellow LGBTQ+ siblings, I am proud of you. To those coming out this month, God is proud of you. To those not ready to come out, God is proud of you. To those who can’t come out without losing your job, God is proud of you. To those coming into your own more and more each day, God is proud of you. God is proud of you for living into the identity that God created you to embrace. You are beautiful and worthy of love. Don’t let those arrogant through their own righteousness take that love away from you. You are God’s child, and with you, God is well pleased.

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Crying to Club Music

Crying to Club Music

Kali Cawthon-Freels, Pastor of Congregational Care

I tear up every time I hear Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” 

Random, I know. Let me provide some context.

In the summer of 2019, my wife and I had the opportunity to attend the Wild Goose Festival for the first time. To those who are unfamiliar with the festival, Wild Goose is basically Woodstock, summer camp, and Bible study for progressive people of faith mashed together in a half-week-long festival. There’s lots of great music, fantastic food, beer aplenty (you have to have beer for the nightly Beer and Hymns singalongs), and tons of nature to explore. The main-stage hosts speakers like Rev. William Barber II, Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, Rev. Otis Moss III, Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, Pete Enns, and others, while the smaller venues host panels, meditations, workshops, yoga sessions and whatnot. Those smaller sessions are lit–  any of our Bible and Beyond gatherings would easily fit into one of those sessions and be passionately welcomed. 

So basically… Wild Goose Festival is TFC, if everyone was down with camping in the woods in the humid South in mid-July.

I don’t remember who the speakers on the main stage were the first day, but I will never forget the music that first night. A group of musicians took the stage (some folks well known in CCM spaces, others not so much) and played one of the most profound sets I’ve ever heard in an explicitly spiritual space. I’ve included the songs in the hyperlinks below if you want to give them a listen yourself, but I’ll walk you through what that set was like from my eyes.

They started with “Woman” by Dani Rocca (a member of the CCM group Avalon. She was part of the group singing that night). That song is about the resiliency of women –particularly Black women– in the face of a world that continually tries to put women “in their place.” It ends with affirmations of “I am good enough. I am worth love. I know I measure up. And I will rise.” It was a song she’d recently written and was excited to teach it to us, giving different parts of the crowd stomping and clapping responsibilities. Her excitement about the song was infectious. We smiled as we sang along and attempted to keep the rhythm. 

After Dani finished singing, the tempo slowed and the mood shifted to one that I believe most would call worshipful. One of the guys starting singing “The Village” by Wrabel, which follows the experience many LGBTQ+ folks have of being shunned by their family, churches, and “friends” upon coming out. The music video follows the story of a young trans man as his entire “village” shuns him for embracing his authentic self, but finally gets truly seen by a classmate (you should definitely grab some tissues before clicking the link above). Lines like “One page of the Bible isn’t worth a life” and “There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s true. There’s something wrong with the village” prompted us to nod our heads in agreement, swaying to the melody. It evoked strong feelings of empathy in those who hadn’t experienced that pain and feelings of community for those who had. 

As the band played, you could feel the atmosphere change. Suddenly, we weren’t simply strangers enjoying a musical set in a vaguely worship-like setting. We were a community coming together, a safe-haven for all those whose villages had shunned them. There were tears. There were hugs. Some people stood with hands raised, either in worship or in freedom. Haley and I gripped one another’s hands, listening in reverent silence.

The music carried on for a bit after the lyrics stopped, following the mood of the crowd in that sanctuary under the stars. Neighbors talked with one another, making introductions and offering solidarity. As the newly-formed community settled, the music started to morph. Slowly, it became imbued with life and joy, lifting our spirits. The tempo picked up and people started to cheer when they recognized the melody. Then, Dani led us in the most powerful –yes, powerful– rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” I’ve ever heard. But I don’t think it was the quality of the vocalist or the talent of the instrumentalist that made this rendition so powerful (as amazing as all the musicians were!). After communally singing songs about the challenges that women of color and LGBTQ+ folks face day after day, there was something holy about this newly-minted community shouting the chorus so loudly that we completely drowned out the vocalists:

“I'm beautiful in my way

'Cause God makes no mistakes

I'm on the right track, baby

I was born this way

Don't hide yourself in regret

Just love yourself, and you're set

I'm on the right track, baby

I was born this way”

Y’all, Lady Gaga was preaching Greatest Commandment Theology well before it got preached in church.

In the midst of such blatant welcome and fierce resiliency, I couldn’t help but let the tears fall from my eyes. Where so many of us had been shunned from other Christian spaces, here we were at a Christian conference in our full selves experiencing genuine joy. After publicly sharing common challenges we’ve all faced, we partook in the public celebration of our authentic selves– God’s beautiful, wonderfully-made creation.

That moment is one that I’ve often looked back on in my deconstruction journey. It’s a reminder that, while our social media feeds would try to convince us otherwise, we are not alone on our journey away from rule-keeping theology and toward Jesus. That there are others who share our challenges and our triumphs. That those outside of the church walls often know more about Jesus than the folks inside those walls do. Jesus is out in the world, celebrating alongside God’s children. 

So whenever that song comes on the radio, I can’t sing along– I get choked up because I’m reminded that we’re not alone as we continue to fill the world with more love. 

As we get further into Power and Pride month here at TFC, I want to invite you to make that chorus your anthem for the month. Take comfort not only in the truth of the words, but in the community they represent. That justice is at the intersection of our community and we will continue to hold each other up. You’re on the right track, and we’ve got your back.

Want to see more disruptive faith-based content like this? Text “disruptive” to 888-901-1131 or DM us on our social media to stay up to date on things TFC.

Sexual Ethics: Teachable at Every Age

Sexual Ethics:  Teachable at Every Age

Harrison Litzell, Pastor of Emerging Generations

How do we talk about sex in the children’s and youth ministries?

Just this question alone would send whole congregations, whole denominations even, into a frenzy! The panic that surrounds conversations of sex, sexuality, gender, and bodies is overwhelming, distorted, and continuing to do harm.

A lot of this panic is a deliberate misrepresentation of what it sexual education looks like for children. Those opposed to the full humanity of LGBTQ+ community and afraid of any mention of sex distort this conversation to be exposure of sexually explicit information to children. That is not the case.

Sexual education for children often involves the information that different families look different. Some families have one mom and one dad. Or two moms or two dads. Other families have one parent, or are blended families. 

Representation is a key aspect of who we are at TFC. And, better yet, the representation at TFC is not to meet a minimum diversity quota to perform a set of values. Instead, it is a natural growth of our keys. When you empower everyone, and especially those who have historically and largely oppressed and marginalized, your ministry will be more fully representative. TFC is a product of intentional decolonization of our shared faith, not merely a diversity initiative.

The other major piece for children is bodily autonomy and consent. Children deserve to not be touched if they do not want to be. Children can learn that they should ask before offering a hug to a friend. 

The principle of bodily autonomy and consent should be central to our ministry and how we interact with children.

Church should be a safe place for everyone, no matter their age. Children should not be anxious about church because they aren’t comfortable with the people there. They should be able to maintain their bodily autonomy in sacred spaces.

This sounds like it should be a given, but it is a challenge in many spaces. People reach out and touch, hug, tickle children without asking all the time. They mean it as a way to show kindness to a child, but they do so without consent and therefore violate a child’s autonomy.

As a community, we can make a commitment together to hold bodily autonomy as a value. 

With all people in the congregation, ask before you touch. Especially with children.

If you are working with our Emerging Generations, or children anywhere, make sure you are on a level to be eye-to-eye and then explicitly ask, “can I give you a hug? Or “can we hold hands while we walk to class?”

And then, and here is the important part, respect their choice. If the answer is yes, then only engage in what was agreed upon. If the child says no, then respect their no. 

If a child is too young to answer, you can always ask their caretaker. If there is a baby in a stroller, as the caretaker if you can play with them. If the caretaker says no, respect their no.

Giving children this agency empowers them to maintain their boundaries and choose how they engage with the community. By equipping them with agency, we are not only respecting their humanity now, but we are also setting them up for future success.

Bodily autonomy is not a gift that we choose to bestow, but a right that we must respect for people of all ages. 

Respecting a child teaches them that they are worthy of that respect. Asking for permission and empowering them to choose their level of comfort shows that their body and their person is under their control.

These lessons nurture worth and care for the self and the body. If a child believes they have control over their own body, then they can understand that others have control over theirs. And if a person has control over their own body, then we can show care and respect by asking consent.

Care for self. Care for others. Gratitude to the one who created us all. 

This is how we follow Christ in the Greatest Commandment Theology.

Want to see more disruptive faith-based content like this? Text “disruptive” to 888-901-1131 or DM us on our social media to stay up to date on things TFC.