Invisible Cake Society

Homesick

December 1, 2021April 11, 2023 jennadewitt

Homesickness is a funny kind of illness. It sort of hurts all over. In your throat when someone asks the wrong question at the wrong time. In your lungs when a reminder of what you’ve lost takes your breath away. In your core when there’s the gut-punch of knowing what you long for may never come to pass. There’s a desperation to it, when hope and grief intertwine into an ache.

Someday, we know, someday, as our seasonal songs tell us: “The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.” Another tells us, “Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother! And in his name all oppression shall cease!”

Luke 21:25-36 tells us to be on guard, for your redemption is drawing near. But we wait, we long for the time when all shall be made right, when there will be no more tears or death, no more oppression, or haves and have-nots, no more pandemics or natural disasters or injustice… when the upside-down Kingdom of God comes on earth as it is in heaven.

We wait. We hope. We long, with the deep groaning of the Spirit within us when words fail. It hurts, God. Life hurts so much.

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faith, Poetry

The Remodel

November 11, 2021November 11, 2021 jennadewitt

Deconstruction not as in Derrida

But baseboards pulled gently,

Carefully, finished by small hands

Decades long past

Cabinet doors stacked on the floor

You never know what you’ll reuse

Standing back, hands on hips

Deep in imagining

Burn the shoebox of him

and loss and the road not taken

Except the teddy bear

You place to the side.

Fill up the bags of clothes and sheets

Cry as you pull in to the shelter

Hand over the memories

Hoping it will help

a fresh start

To begin

That’s what we need

To tear it all down and click Refresh

Deconstruct every assumption

The sofa’s never been over there

What if we let some light in

Build a shelf for the keepsakes

Some porcelain smashed and an exhale

Some wrapped to store away

No longer on display

But part of you all the same

Grateful for what brought you here

But not caged by it

Hammers to demolish

and to drive the tiny nail

20-odd years and it’s time for change

Ideas and patterns

The fabric that holds you,

Shades in the colors of life

Each brick and paving stone

Handled one by one

Reconsidered and examined

To determine its place

What if, what could be

What has been here all this time

And you didn’t even know it

Growing resilient new life

Who would have thought

Destruction could be this

This beautiful, this curious,

This wonder-full

After, when you’re covered in sheetrock

And you’ve cried it out

And the tarps cover the floor

It begins. Hope.

Stand up from the bathroom floor

And you see it in the reflection

What if… What if that were there

Pieces fall into place

One day, home looks familiar again

Different, so much different

But more you, somehow,

More who you’ve always been.

You’ve become.

Now that it’s in motion, unraveled

It keeps going

Evolving

Deconstructing and reconstructing

Not as in podiums and dusty studied texts

But as a heart pumps blood,

As the soul beckons you home.

faith, queer, resources

A prayer for a misused name/pronoun

July 19, 2021 jennadewitt

By Rev Naomi Miller, Church of the Apostles, Guelph. Thank you, Rev. Miller, for letting me share this here!

Image description: As we celebrate Pride Month, it may be that someone you know and love has asked you to address them by a new name, or to speak about them using different pronouns. These changes in language can be difficult–especially because so much of our relational language is gendered. Mistakes happen. And trying (again) matters. God so often calls people by name. And throughout scripture, names have special significance. To call someone by the correct name is an act of love, as is using correct pronouns. When we get it wrong, advice from transgender advocates is: Don’t make it about you and how hard it is to change. Just apologize, correct, and carry on. Then practice, and get it right next time.

O God,

You know me by my name.

You know <name> by <pronoun> name.

Let the words I use when I speak to <name> and about <pronoun> show my love for <pronoun>.

essays, Mental health

You deserve the help you need

July 5, 2021July 7, 2025 jennadewitt

No amount of busyness or responsibility cures clinical depression, anxiety disorders, or neurodivergence. I believe people when they say they “just” needed (a kid, a partner, a job change, spirituality, a move) and now they feel better. But that’s not a cure for our disorders.

Sometimes in life, we do need a change. Whether it’s a weekly “me time” or a cross-country move or a new business, change can be good. But you cannot outrun your disorder. You can’t out-schedule it or out-perform it or out-laugh it. You can’t fill your life with enough people. You can only face it. Discover your values. Accept what you have been given and commit to living according to those values. Set your boundaries, and unravel your shame. Deconstruct and reconstruct and get help from people qualified and trustworthy to give it.

The only way is through. The only way is honesty with yourself and your past, present, and future. It takes lament and commitment, feeling the pain and not avoiding and learning to be whole while shattered. There is no easy out or clever trick or shortcut.

We take our meds and pay for the help we can afford and research, listen, and grow. We do what’s healthy for us emotionally, mentally, and physically. Knowing sometimes it will be a choice between one or the other. And we forgive ourselves and keep going when we hurt ourselves. We can’t outsmart it, but we find balance in the tumult. Slowly, over time. Like a raging river wearing on a rock.

We pray, “just enough for today, God.” That’s all we need. To keep breathing another day. and eventually, it is easier to breathe some days.

But we never graduate from this. We never achieve enough or get promoted out of a disorder. We can make it work and learn to live with it and do things to reduce it. But those are done in humility, with the step of facing it, saying I cannot hide in fake fine. If you are struggling this month, this year, this lifetime. It’s not too late and it’s not too early. You don’t have to wait until you hit the bottom. You don’t have a lack of will or spiritual weakness or identity of failure; you have a disability.

I don’t know that I’m there yet to be proud of my disabilities, but this #DisabilityPrideMonth, please don’t let anyone tell you that you just haven’t tried hard enough or are not busy enough or have too much time on your hands. You deserve the help you need.

asexuality, essays, faith, queer

Side A. Celibate. Asexual. Queer.

June 5, 2021November 4, 2022 jennadewitt

Asexuality is not the same as celibacy. Lots of asexual people do have sex. Asexuality is about attraction, not behavior.

I am also celibate. I consider this a calling in the sense that God made me sex-averse intentionally and for a reason.

Not all asexual people are sex-averse.

My understanding of this vocation is different from those who typically get the microphone in regards to celibacy, talking about a traditional understanding of what gay people must do with their sexuality to be “orthodox.”

I’m Side A. How does this work?

Celibacy should be for those who are personally called to it. It should not be in any way related to your orientation. Straight, bi, pan, queer, ace, gay, whatever… you can be called to celibacy.

Important: This also has nothing to do with anyone else. It’s you and only you.

Side A theology doesn’t reserve any specific restrictions on any orientation. We are all one in Christ Jesus and each individual part of Christ’s body has its own calling. This is why I’m all over the podcast land as a celibate ace telling you to create your own sexual ethic.

Can you be Side A and celibate? YES. There is no sexual liberation without the choice not to have it. Side A doesn’t mean you personally feel called to have sex. It means the Bible is fully affirming of queer relationships and identities including the choice to have sex. Or not!

If anyone tells you you have to be Side B if you’re called to celibacy, here is your sign that that’s a lie. It’s about belief and biblical interpretation. Not behavior.

Stuff like this is why the church needs asexual leadership. We have the vocabulary for this. We need more Christian aces affirmed and heard. We need the church to understand the difference between attraction, behavior, desire, and vocation. Aces can lead. We’re worthy and called.

Remember: We aren’t new. Just erased. Just today I ran across a blog on a queer Christian website acknowledging asexuality as a queer orientation. It was written 21 years ago. We’ve been here. You just haven’t been listening or haven’t had the opportunity because of gatekeeping.

We’re in your churches. We may not know the label (though that’s changing as awareness grows), but we’re there. We might be partnered. But some of us are happily single, and we might be celibate and/or sex-averse. And we have words to describe that array of sexuality and desire.

Give aces a voice and you’ll discover so many keys to this beautiful diversity of God’s kingdom. We can help those called to celibacy and unite in our common goals. We can support singles who need help accepting their vocation to singleness.

We also face queerphobia, often recycled arguments used against bi or pan or gay and lesbian people are used against us, right here on this website every damn day and in churches and elsewhere.

Asexuality is so difficult to see because it is not only against traditional understandings of sexuality (heteronormativity) but also against the assumptions that we can sub in different genders into that traditional understanding (all have sexual attraction = allonormativity).

Asexuality is compatible with the Bible (and so is celibacy) but runs counter to “traditional Christian teaching” that emphasizes being created for heterosexual marriage, aka a lifelong sexual relationship, implying that God gives everyone attraction. So while asexuality and celibacy aren’t the same, we do have shared history.

Theology that only says same-sex marriage is ok without seeing vocational singleness and/or celibacy as holy too is missing it just as much as those who demand celibacy is the only “orthodox” answer for queerness. Both are missing the parallel diversity the ace community provides.

(Meaning that for centuries, asexuality has had to work out whether it is only for those not interested in the acts of sex, behavior, or for anyone without attraction, regardless of behavior. We landed on the latter in recent years. More on this elsewhere.)

So do I need Side A theology for my “pet sins”? Am I just capitulating to the culture to sleep with whoever I want? Am I Side A because celibacy is too hard? Am I going along with sexual trends of “the world”? Nope. I’m ace, single, and celibate. But I’m Side A because I’ve seen the good fruit when everyone is allowed to live out their own unique, God-given identities and vocations and behavior. Asexuality is a form of queerness that reveals anything is possible when we discard the narrow roles normativity would place on us.

So don’t devalue my calling by claiming it’s tied to orientation. Don’t perpetuate myths about asexuals by claiming it’s just “not having sex” or the same as celibacy. That’s not it. But aces and celibate people do have a lot of overlap and goals in common. It’s time to work together, fully affirming each other’s callings.

More on asexuality here.

faith, queer, resources

Queer theology and the Bible

June 5, 2021February 11, 2026 jennadewitt

Usually, when someone becomes affirming, it is because they have seen the bad fruit of non-affirming theology. They know you can judge a tree by its fruit, and the fruit of the Spirit are useful tools for discernment. They usually know someone who is queer or know of them in some circle of proximity. They want to love their neighbors, and see that God is love, and can no longer support the theology of fear, hate, exclusion, suffering, and death they have previously been told is correct. They have usually had some sort of awareness (whether through gender or abuse or promises that never panned out or science or a thousand other things) that what is “traditional” in the church is not always what is faithful, best, or loving. At some point, they have to ask, “Is this really what the Bible says about LGBTQIA+ people? Is this really what God wants for his people and his church? If this is orthodoxy, what does that say about the gospel? Can I keep my faith and love my neighbor?”

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