Unlearning the lies of closed doors, exclusive tables and limitations has been my life’s work.
Sifting what I was given;
Sorting the truth from the error.

All I’ve learnt so far is
We like to put God in a box;
But you can’t.

When I was 8
I read your bulletin.
It said anyone who was baptized and believed
Was welcome to come.

I wanted to come to the table.
You said
“You Can’t”.

I met all the rules,
But the rules weren’t true.

I had to unlearn that the table was closed – I had to discover a table fellowship with Jesus my friend, who sat with sinners and children and women and religious proper as well.
All are welcome here:
Just not in church.

When I was 15,
The first girl told me about the sexual assault from their male elder counterpart.
My parents had to teach me how to report.

Here started the long list of
Stories I have held and heard.
Of girls and women of any age and every stage, taken advantage of, sworn to secrecy, locked into their own bodies, out of their minds, fearful of touch, intimacy, sexual sensation.
I’ve had to unlearn that men cannot be trusted: that there will be some who aren’t looking to take advantage; there will come some men who will respect your body; your right to say yes or no.
I had to learn that a woman’s body
Was her own
And not for someone else’s taking.
Just not in the church.

I remember when he told me
Be careful;
You don’t want to get raped.
Like as if it was me who he needed to tell
And not his mates and his friends and his brothers in arms
And cahoots and closed doors
That he knew could not be trusted
To act out of honour
Or of respect to the law
Or their God.

Be careful he said.
You don’t want to get raped.

A warning for young girls
That you cannot trust the world
Or the laws or your mates
Or your God to protect you.

I had to unlearn that the rules the church taught about men as leaders with honour and respect.
They were just rubbish.
Jesus never demanded respect.
There is room to be cherished, protected and honoured
As a woman.
Just not in church.

When I was 17, my friend told me he was gay.
They wouldn’t let him come to the table either.
Those rules had put up a fence to someone else.
Not a child anymore, another sort of not enough.

I’ve had to learn that
Different isn’t UNHOLY.
I’ve had to learn that it isn’t Jesus who has a problem
With WELCOME and EMBRACE,
Grace and radical mercy.

You put on your white dress.
You don’t look like Jesus to me.
Something is wrong –
There is no freedom.
There is no welcome.

Just FEAR. And RULES. So many RULES.
And no courage to break them, or change them:
You made them up yourself, patched together with MALE PRIVILEGE, WHITE SUPREMACY and POWER POLITICS PROTECTING your POSITION.

The table set before me has a cup overflowing.
God is not in a box.
The shepherd holds space and makes safe,
Green pastures and quiet waters.
The fare at the feast is free and abundant
And seems to be out of the box as well…
In fact,
It feeds freely without a fence.

And I have UNLEARNT fixed positions,
Boundary lines,
In and out,
Things that make us feel safe.

A LOVE THIS RADICAL
Was never safe,
Or sure in a box:
It was broken and spilling out,
In a giant mess
Not contained
And running over
Drenching souls so dry and excluded they had nothing left to lose.

You restore my Soul.
Just not in a church.