Gay Pride: Christian Sinners and Bigotry (Love Your Neighbor)

Gay Pride: Christian Sinners and Bigotry (Jesus Says Love Your Neighbor)

My spoken word poem, "Log Blindness," cuts to the heart of Christian hypocrisy. So-called believers relentlessly bash gay people and the whole LGBQ+ community while abusing God and all He taught, including the words of Jesus.

Quiet the outrage. Take civility lessons. Do heart checks. Discover the joy of empathy.

God loves everyone and wants to spend eternity with all of us in heaven. What would He say about your attitude to those who are different?

Matthew 7:3 Bible verse: “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?”

Log Blindness

By Michael M. Murray


Goodness lies in your heart – ready to burst at any moment.
She needs help with the door. You open it.
Their fridge is empty. You fill it.
Clothes are tattered. You replace them.
No job means no paycheck. You line one up.

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You keep looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each new victory.

Neighborly love is the remedy.

You drive your truck to church.

Familiar faces surround you. Maybe you will revere God.
Word spreads fast like the best computer processor.
In the foyer, you hear the news.
He punched her –  again – two nights ago.

Bigger bruises this time.

You’re not surprised.


The “did you hear” stories take root.
They’re ripe for the telling.

The audience is quick to hear while stiff-arming God.
Sin. Spares. No one.


“She cheated on him.”

“I’ll bet he lied to get that promotion.”
“They say he’s a gambling addict.”

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You’re looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each victory.

Neighborly love is the remedy.

You take your seat – the padding suits you.
You look for someone to notice you.
The guy packing an extra 75 pounds stops over.
He loves food as much as you.
You talk about sports, home remodeling, and your riding lawn mower.
One of you throws in, “And how are the kids?”
God waits in the wings. The first worship song started 52 seconds ago.

Your wife walks in two minutes later.

Her news basket overflows.
It’s packed with true and alternative facts.

She takes your hand. Bliss.
Worship words appear on every screen.
No one else sings nearby so you don’t either.

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You’re looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each victory.

Neighborly love is the remedy.

On the way home, she shares from her aging news bounty.
She clutched it for the remaining 2.5 songs and 32-minute sermon.
The pastor taught from Matthew 25 and Mark 12
Always love your neighbor and the marginalized – no exceptions.
You gleefully absorb her words over 14 minutes.
You’re on a roll. You both boast, curse, and complain.
Yes, you’re relentless, broken.
You reveal bitterness, fear, greed, self-centeredness, bigotry, and stinginess.

“I’ve had enough of those gay people,” you tell her.

Your blood pressure soars.
“These sinners – they’re going to rot in hell. Now they want to have a festival!!”
Now you’re home. Your sweet oasis.

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You’re looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each victory.

Neighborly love is the remedy.

In the evening, you gaze at your favorite pornography websites.
Later, you call one of your best friends.

He’s the same man who keeps clobbering his wife.

He was always there for you during your cancer battle.
But he can’t be your longtime companion.

“They don’t share our values,” you tell him. “I’ve had enough of them.”

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You’re looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each victory.

Neighborly love is the remedy.

The next day, the next week, the next year, you open another door.
You lend another hand.
You brush shoulders with strangers on airplanes, elevators and stadiums.
You also feed the swelling darkness in your heart.

God finds others to give water to the gay children and adults.
He sends someone a hug.
He assures a transgender teen that they matter.
They flush the pills and throw the rope far away.

 

He’s there when straight and LGBTQ+ people dance together.

Sometimes they embrace for what seems like forever and laugh till their stomachs hurt.
God’s love weaves like the wind in and out and up and down with weightless energy and no end in sight.

 

You often have log blindness.

Now you can’t see well.
You’re looking for specs in others’ eyes.
The light inside you dims.
Darkness delights and cackles with each victory. Neighborly love is the remedy.

 

Christian bigotry and sinners: Jesus says love your neighbors (stop bashing gay people).