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why my family will never “tolerate” homosexuality


I remember the last time I was tolerated.  It was a family-ish function and there was no question I was simply being “tolerated”.  It’s a cold, isolating, sterile feeling.  I’d rather have someone just say “gosh, I’d rather chew on a handful of rusty nails than sit here with you” than to be endured.  It’s uncomfortable and it’s degrading.

This week we are being bombarded with news of nation-wide discrimination, inundated by acts of hate, and it has left me hurting all the way down in my gut.  How can our country even THINK of entertaining a bill that would deny another human being service? Prevent an athlete from playing his game?  It all seems so primitive and cruel and it’s scary that we “the land of the FREE” are back in this place. 

I hear rumblings of tolerance quite often as if to say we are making progress.  I don’t want to tolerate anyone anymore than I want to be tolerated.  We don’t get it all right in this family (a lot, actually). But let it be said of us that we LOVED!  Let it be known that anyone, from any walk of life was welcome in our home.  May our legacy be that we loved scandalously when others turned away, that we embraced and formed relationships with anyone who was willing and had a full life of abundant grace.  We don’t stand for tolerance here… we believe in ferocious love!

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