The Divine Baseball Bat

I was at work yesterday when I suddenly realized it was the sixth anniversary of the death of Will Norton. Will, I'm sure I've mentioned before, was my first adult friend who had absolutely nothing to do with my parents. Six years ago yesterday he died from complications related to AIDS after having suffered from the disease for 19 years. I decided to tell my coworker Vicki this on a whim and after telling her who Will was to me she asked me a strange question: Have you always been accepting of gay people?

In a word, no. No, I was not accepting of gay people when I was a teenager. I had been raised to believe it was wrong because (always ambiguous) the Bible said so. I remember someone showing me the story of Sodom and Gomorrah to prove it, along with several other random places in scripture that seemed to make their case. I didn't think much of it. The only gay person I knew that I knew was gay was a pot smoking man whore who could barely read. Back then, if you're wondering, smoking pot made you a total dumbass in my book. I didn't think God was ready to wipe out out the plague of homosexuals from the earth or anything. I kind of ranked it in there with other naughty things you weren't supposed to do associated with sex. Which, honestly, kind of fall into the same category as smoking cigarettes and drinking booze in excess for me. (Not something I'm going gouge my eyes out if I see.)

I laughed several weeks ago when I heard my coworkers mocking Chaz Bono and told them that they'd better learn tolerance or God was going to teach it to them. I didn't tell them that I knew this from painful first hand experience. God, I'm fully convinced, has a Louisville Slugger baseball bat with my name on it. The minute I think I know something about what God likes or doesn't like, he takes it out from behind the seat of his pickup truck again and whacks me with it. I think God doesn't like gays? WHACK! I completely do not understand Lesbians? WHACK! I giggle at the idea of my bishop finding out one of his deacons is going to have gender reassignment surgery? WHACK!

The more I think I know about God the more I know I don't know anything. I'm so glad I don't know what I'm talking about. How horrible, boring, and scary would it be if God fit into that tiny ungracious box I tried to fit him in all those years ago?