An Open Letter to the Christian Right From a Follower of Christ

By Ryk McIntyre

May God forgive what you’ve done to Jesus.
You’ve taken the hand he taught you to reach out with,
turned it into a fist, and use it to feed your children intolerance.

You’re lost souls standing by the only road they know,
putting up signs that read “Only Way.”
Name-dropping Jesus like you’re praying hard
to get into the after-party. But once inside
you’d be the first to slam the door on the rest,
singing “Praise the Lord and Pass the Limited Access!”
Your songs describe a Prince of Peace on the attack--

I want my Jesus back.

I’m sick in my soul with all you Onward Soldiers
carrying Jesus around in a cross-draw holster,
unaware of all the damage that you do:
when most people think of Christians, they picture you
arming a religion Jesus never would have blessed.
putting words in Jesus’ mouth that would never pass his lips.
Blind to the world, eyes fixed on the day Jesus returns.
What makes you think he left?
Maybe he’ll walk into your church today, dressed like a health inspector
asking, “What garbage are you serving in my Father’s House?
Your hands are red, and you’ve got weapons in your mouth?”

You use the Cross to rally anti-immigrant laws, until
all but one finger on Liberty’s right hand’s been sawn off, so
all foreigners see is an iron lady saying “Fuck You” with a torch.
But when did Jesus say close the doors?
or ‘Blessed are the locked-down borders’?
What he said was "In my Name, do charitable acts."

Give me my Jesus back.

Stop claiming the Sermon Mount as sniper vantage
for the weapons you keep in your mouth.
Stop whoring for dollars like God’s overdrawn his bank account.
Stop spreading a gospel of bondage and sin.
You’re not listening, so here’s an example:
whether you argue abortion’s not a right but murder?
It doesn’t matter. Either way, Jesus still loves her.
It’s time to stop judging and start looking for real results.
If you hate abortion that much, open free daycares or shut up.

And Jesus doesn’t hate gays, never did. That’s St. Paul and Leviticus,
and they were simply wrong because "Hate" isn’t what a Loving God does.
The only thing Jesus cares about gay marriage is that they're happy.
In a world of war and starvation, Jerry Falwell takes on the Teletubbies?
Those weapons in your mouth make your every word perverse.
Fred Phelps and your Westboro Baptist Church?
I could do a whole poem on you. But you’re not worth it.

I'm calling out the Patriarchs of Christian America: get right
with Jesus: Stop hating other religions, try a slice of humble, see the light
as it falls across a world where’s there’s so much real suffering endured
Instead of bibles, try giving away food to the hungry and poor
Your false Jesus is a Warlord, fraudulently caucasian.
I'm taking my Jesus back. Keep your pale imitation.

You’ve taken the hand
Jesus taught you to reach out with, and balled it into a fist.
Your sin is thinking there could be anything Holy in this.

What to Do When Your Wife Comes Out As Gay

By Ryk McIntyre

The first thing you do is...  get out of the way, 
this isn’t about you. Don’t stop loving her, but
let go of the shape of marriage. It won’t be easy.
That’s the reason hard songs say "love hurts...
it’s a wide river, a high mountain made of hope
and looking like sunrise." And this is
every bit a new day for her. You love her.
Of course you do. That won’t change,

everything else will. If you’re angry, OK.
In a way, you were lied to all these years
when she late wept, “I don’t know
what's wrong." Was she lying? Maybe.
Forgive her anyway, think how hard it was,
living in a world that told her,
“You can have your dream of a daughter...
just marry a man and don’t be you.”
Imagine feeling like the loneliest girl in the world.

You were family before this, be family still. Cuddle up
on the couch to watch movies. You left hands will adapt
to the strange weight of missing rings. Remember
the day you swore “For better or worse”? I bet
you didn’t imagine this, but welcome to Life,
with all its color shifts. Rainbows
don’t make sense, either, but there they are.

Oh, and you live with a lesbian now...
... Get used to rainbows...

Unlock your arms and practice the skill of letting go.
Love is energy, Love matters. Like all energy & matter,
change is the only thing that stays. This can’t be easy
for you either. Yet – you’re still here, helping
her break cocoon even if only by standing on the side
of love while it changes shape. For better or worse,
you will always love her. So love her differently.
Share girlfriend stories. Hold each other, like family should.
Now your daughter has two beds she can crawl into
when she gets scared at night. She feels safe
in her world because she sees her parents changing
but still loving each other.  For better or worse,
you loved this woman as your wife,
before she needed to butterfly.

Why would you stop loving her now?

Crazy Leap of Faith

By Ryk McIntyre

You know the sound a strait-jacket makes
when the safety-straps slip?
That was our first kiss.
We knew it'd be crazy, knew the risk -

to get involved like this,
we'd have to disagree to agree
with the voices in our heads
that sentence us to solitary,
and do something really crazy,
like...not listen to them!
Set ourselves loose enough
to measure the space
it takes to live happy,
with one last leap of faith.

Fortunately, you've got good strong legs
for jumping, and I'm pretty sure
my brain is a helicopter.

Too many people zone themselves off
for their own protection.
Building lives according to blueprints for misery,
becoming monuments to Alone,
when they don't have to be.
There is always somewhere beyond
our tenuously held borders,
where rooftops reach out, like
the same promise the sky gives to fledglings:

"You can go anywhere you want,
all you have to do is trust
in something you can't see our touch,
and jump. It only sounds difficult
if you get weighed down
in whether it's possible."

We've both had some bad falls;
there's no shame there.
So even after I take the leap, you're scared,
still stuck back there
on your rooftop, saying,
"I love you, but I don't dare.
I can't get hurt again.
You better go on without me..."
And I say, "Baby!
I'd be crazy to leave you. And
I'm crazy now. If I go,
two crazies will cancel each other out,
I would be sane, and
If I end up sane?
I'll! - Go! - Crazy!
I've got a better idea -
I've got a flashlight in my pocket,
a joke I stole from a Batman comic,
I studied physics
by watching Bugs Bunny cartoons -
This can work:

I'm going to turn the flashlight on,
and place it at the roof's edge,
don't you see?
...you can just walk across on the light beam!

And you say,
"Whoa!!! I may be crazy,
but I'm not stupid!
...you'll just turn the flashlight off
when I'm halfway there..."

No. Baby,
I may be crazy,
but it's not bad-crazy, and
the healthiest diagnosis I ever got
was I have you.
Love isn't a cure in itself,
but it can be our invisible friend -
it's got soft walls to bounce off,
it's out best medicine.
With love you can jump buildings.

Today, standing here, maybe we are
twenty-five cents short of a dime,
but we are fully invested in this

crazy leap of faith called "us."
Haven't our dreams fallen short long enough?
I understand - you need to hear
the word "promise."

I promise. .

If the jump scares you,
because the distance wears you down,
like the meds,
borrow my whirly-bird brain and fly across,
that way you'll know I'm fully committed, too.
Give up if you have to,
I won't give up on you.
I won't let you fall,
not when a whole new city is possible for us.
And if the bad-crazy is coming to town,
fuck it - get on the bus.

Trust me. Jump.

I'll catch you - why do you think
straitjackets have such long sleeves?
You won't believe the view,
once you get over your fear.
I swear...

you can see our house from here.


Previously published in Open Mic Review, Volume 3: 2007