The Word Became Flesh, and the Flesh Was Queer

In the beginning was the Word.

And the Word was not safe.
Not polite.
Not palatable.
The Word was not binary.
The Word was not beholden to straight lines or narrow minds.

The Word was fluid…
like water, like spirit,

And the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.

The Word was wild.

Untamed.
Overflowing.

The Word was a whisper, a rumour, a thunderclap.
The Word was a body.
The Word was breath.

And the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.

And what does that mean, Beloveds,
but that God is more than we were ever told?

That the divine does not just tolerate the queer body,
the queer mind,
the queer soul,
but radiates with queerness.
Creates through it.
Incarnates it.

In the beginning…
was something so expansive
no doctrine could cage it.
No creed could contain it.
No pulpit could pin it down.

Before you were formed in the womb,
before your pronouns were politicized,
before your body was called “a lifestyle,”
God knew you.

God. Knew. You.

Not in spite of who you are,
but because of it.
You are not God’s footnote.
You are God’s exclamation.

Think of the prophets…

Some of them wore robes with flair.
Some of them changed their names and changed them again.
Some of them named truths too dangerous for scrolls.

God says, “Do not be afraid.”
But let’s not pretend that this is easy.

Do not be afraid when the church
that baptized you
tries to burn you?

Do not be afraid when your own kin
call your holiness heresy?

Do not be afraid when you walk into a sanctuary
and feel the air change?

You’re not imagining it.

But know this :
the sanctuary is yours.
The table is yours.
The altar is yours.
The Body of Christ is not whole without your body.

You, Beloved, are the Imago Dei.

The image of God
is not limited to those who fit cleanly on census forms.

The image of God
has stretch marks and scars,
binders and breastplates,
glitter and grief.

The image of God
walks in Pride parades
and holds protest signs
and passes the cup with chipped black nail polish
saying, “This is my body, broken for you.”

What if Jesus was never meant to be the exception?
What if Jesus was the prototype?
What if divinity has always looked like
queer love surviving anyway?

What if the body of Christ
includes drag queens and asexual mystics,
leather dykes and questioning seminarians,
trans teenagers who hear God clearer than any bishop?

What if the Word made flesh
still walks among us,
but this time in Doc Martens and dysphoria,
still full of grace and truth?

In the beginning was the Word.
And the Word said,
“You are my beloved.”

Not in theory.
Not once you conform.

But as you are.

Right now.

Beautiful.
Holy.
Necessary.

And the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.

So let the church be transformed
by those it tried to crucify.
Let the steeples shake with the sound of your laughter.
Let the stained glass reflect your light.
Let the pews bear witness
to a love too wild for liturgy,
too fierce for fear,
too sacred for shame.

God is queer.
And if that sentence makes some folks squirm,
maybe they should.

God is queer
because God is always breaking binaries and boundaries
between divine and human,
death and life,
flesh and Word.

God is queer
because God is always expanding
what we thought was possible.

God is queer
because God is love.
And love, when it is real,
is never tame.

So hear this, you radiant reflection of the Divine:

You are not just welcome here.
Here is shaped by you.

You are called.

To speak.
To sing.
To preach.
To rage.
To kiss.
To dance.
To heal.
To build.
To resurrect.

Do not be afraid.
You were born for this.
You were born from this.
You were born of the Word.

And the Word…
was
always
queer. 🦢