A Thought on my Making

Over a year ago I was involved in a protest, which brought on further protests from some far-right religious groups. One group was on our right, speaking with a megaphone while thumping on their Bible. Another group was across the street on the left singing hymns and doing a little preaching until the police told them their loud speakers broke the city noise ordinance.

I tried to actively engage the group on the right with Bible verses of my own and questioning their understanding of the ones they were spouting. When I mentioned Romans 14 (nothing is unclean in itself), the guy looked at me and said, "What has food got to do with it?" At that point, I knew his understanding was not taken from the Bible, but from the person in the pulpit. I stopped trying to argue with him.

A short time later, another member of his group came over and told me that Satan had reached into my mother's womb and made me this way. I then dismissed the "pray away the gay" attitude as short-sighted and not truly Christian. But at least he was gentle about it, as Paul recommends.

Recently, that thought has revisited my mind. I wish I had thought of this then. Clearly, he was referring to my brain being out of whack with his reality. But I should have asked him how he knew that Satan had messed with my brain rather than my body. Given his thinking, that could have been an equally likely possibility. But it would have left him with a bigger quandary on which to ponder.