Relating to Lepers

I find myself pondering on the stories of lepers in the scriptures. Men and women who were cast out of their societies--left to feel like the only way they could survive or even feel another’s compassion was from a dollop of charity from strangers. Men and women who probably longed to feel normal and well. People who missed living amongst their brethren without fear of a disgusted side eye lingering in their direction. People who suffered daily without hope for a better tomorrow. People outcast for something they could not control because they were deemed dangerous. I imagine they felt invisible in their suffering and yet painfully obvious in their perceived uncleanliness. I imagine they struggled with their sense of self worth as they felt limited in their ability to contribute to society or be accepted by society. I imagine they mourned the loss of their skills and talents being accepted and utilized to serve others or provide for their families. I imagine they longed to reach out to people but felt no longer worthy to do so. I imagine they longed for human touch, but felt painfully aware of the potential consequences should they get that wish; and painfully aware of the potential recoil from the recipient. I imagine they prayed to God daily uncertain he was listening, or if they would even get response.  I suspect some of them wished they had been able to keep their condition secret even just a little while longer. I’m sure they often wished they could be cured, and I suspect sometimes they wished that they could just die. I'm sure sometimes they longed for feeling in the parts of themselves they had lost. Maybe sometimes the pain they felt seemed unbearable. And maybe sometimes that pain was the only thing reminding them that they were still alive. Perhaps sometimes they wanted to hurt themselves, because of those feelings. The pain of being constantly rejected, avoided, despised and pre-judged whether it be directly or indirectly.

This is often how being publicly gay makes me feel, especially lately. There have been bright wonderful moments from being out. There have. And there are people who love me. There are people who view me as being no different than before I was out. I think. People who judge me on my character and not some twisted version of what they deem me capable of simply because they are aware of my sexuality. There are people who see me for what they have seen me do, and not for what someone else says I've done. There are people who would defend me when I’m not in the room.

But there has also been the opposite. And it’s unfortunately easy to let the bad overwhelm the good. And admittedly, I am tired. I am tired of feeling like a leper. 

And the only healing those lepers found was in Jesus. I guess that’s something to remember. Healing won’t be found in anyone else, no matter how much I can hope for changed behavior or changed attitudes. And since Jesus isn’t walking around today, I think I have a greater obligation to seek Him, and seek healing in the right places. Perhaps easier said than done. Someone was telling me the other day about their scripture study in the "war chapters." I can't remember the exact chapter or I would reference it. But they mentioned that a comment was made that despite being in war, those were some of the happiest years of their lives. And I thought to myself... "I feel like I'm in a war chapter." And then I thought to myself "is it possible to make this the happiest year of my life?" And that sounds pretty hard, but also, I think immersing myself in Jesus and friends and family who focus on Jesus would make for a pretty good start. 

My husband said something yesterday about our trials being blessings offered to us by our Heavenly Father, because those trials pull us closer to Him. It is in the moments of our trials that we feel most inclined to pray and draw ourselves to Him. Sitting in a space last night intended to be a safe place for members of my church who identify as LGTBQ+ and their loved ones... I guess I was thinking, that I wasn't totally sure I'd ever sit in a space like that with my husband. And how grateful I am to be in that space with him, and other people willing to sit there with me. And my trials have brought me to that place. My trials have let me be vulnerable with people in ways I'm not sure I otherwise could. And those moments have let me feel more loved than I think I otherwise could. Someone at that meeting last night made the comment that we are afraid of intimacy. And we're not talking physical intimacy here, we're talking mental and emotional and spiritual connections that go beyond the static protected versions of ourselves we often portray. And I felt that. I've been afraid of intimacy with certain people. But finding that intimacy with the right people, often through our trials, can be a very faith affirming thing. A relationship affirming thing. A soul affirming thing. And when it happens, and you relax into that feeling, it feels far safer than any portrait of yourself that you normally portray. Those that make me feel like a leper will never know that intimate version of myself. But those that see past the depiction that would make me feel like a leper help me feel loved... in the way that I imagine Jesus loves me. And maybe a little less like a leper. I imagine with enough time in that space, maybe like a leper who has been healed by Jesus, who turns back around to cry aloud their gratitude to God. May we all find that place eventually.