Author Archives: John Linscheid

About John Linscheid

John Linscheid learns a bit more each day from his gay old soulmate, friends, and life generally. A writer and activist, John has been an author, activist, editor, pastor, amateur artist, burger flipper and factory worker in the course of his 60 plus years. Over 30 have been spent with his gay old soulmate, with whom he has led workshops, made presentations, built a labyrinth, planted trees, and sought out the company of spirited queer folk--particularly men. They have become fixtures at Germantown Mennonite Church, the western hemisphere's oldest Mennontie congregation and now one of its most progressive. Experience places John in the mystical circles of both Queer and Christian spirituality. If he becomes a doddering old fool, he intends to do so with reckless, joyful abandon.

Empty Pillow

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pilloeAn introvert, I used to relish my Gay Old Soulmate’s trips away. Time alone. Quiet space lacking even the silent demand of an unspeaking partner, sitting at desks, back to back.  My introverted personality magnifies my vigilance. I sit, consciously and unconsciously aware of what I imagine the other wants or needs (while quite probably oblivious to his or her real need).  Time alone–a little gift from the circumstances to enjoy.

No longer.  I lie painfully aware of the emptiness beside me.  All the writing, computer work, and organizing I dreamed I would accomplish in his absence is not getting done. I want him in the other room.  Watching some annoying TV program.  I miss his presence upstairs.  I even push bed time back with distractions.  He will be home soon enough, and I’ll imagine I would get more done if he weren’t here.  But I am fooling myself.

I used to believe that I would never be one of those men who dies six months after his soulmate.  Now I’m not so sure.

Cardinal Directions

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Man hugging anotherWhere I grew up
roads ran strictly
north and south,
east and west.
Houses had cardinal directions.
I don’t live there anymore.
After twenty years
in this same house,
I walked out this morning
wondering why, here,
the sun rises in the northwest.

Where I grew up
boys dated girls
men married women.
Sex had cardinal directions.
I don’t live there anymore.
After sixty years
in this same flesh,
I walk into a man’s arms
still surprised that, here,
desire rises in the right direction.

Lazarus

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LazarusI have become an old man—despite it all.  My sisters have long since passed.  And sometimes the miracle seems like a curse.  How long must the “magic” last?  Will I ever enter the valley of the shadow again?  As long ago as it is, I remember those days.  Younger folk have learned, to their regret, that if they give me any excuse, I’ll retell the stories in excruciating detail.  Like that last Sunday before everything fell apart—or seemed to.

He didn’t say he was running from the law when he showed up.  But we knew. Even if I hadn’t owed him my life, we would have taken him in.  We had loved each other long before that. Continue reading →

Queer Brother to a Prodigal Son

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(compare Luke 15:11-32)

Lone tree with personGrowing up,
I was the good one:
choir, Torah study, youth group, prayers;
more confident in righteousness
than Paul in the flesh.

At home, too.
Chores:
did I ever complain?
Hated farming and dutifully trudged
to the south forty.

He skipped off to the creek;
thought Dad couldn’t smell
bottles buried under
camouflaging newspaper
in the trash.

Mostly, he was a real man;
Continue reading →

At Sixty

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Age 60“Then afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh;
your sons and daughters shall prophesy,
your elders shall dream dreams,
and your young people shall see visions.” —Joel 2:28

Now I am ready to dream.  To rise out of visions.  To move beyond prophesy.  To live a colorful new reality.

When I was young, inching toward a door I did not recognize as the inside of a closet, I had visions.  Visions of a young preacher going home to Kansas.  Urban ministry was the cutting edge, or overseas development.  I would minister to the rural forgotten.  It turned out another way.. Continue reading →

Sometimes

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Hands in prayerSometimes, when we pray in church
sitting
with hands neatly folded
in our laps,
I want to kneel.

Sometimes, I want to raise my hands
and sing off-the-wall praise songs
—maybe even with a band.

But mine is a generous faith
that knows God embraces Muslims
and Jews and Buddhists
(without converting)
and finds it perfectly reasonable for
atheists to join a community of believers
Continue reading →

Relentless Relenting of the Divine

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“… the vineyard owner said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ The gardener replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.'” —Luke 13:6-7

oldtreeThe appointed passage for this week (Luke 13:1-9).  Impending doom. I want to believe that I can organize life to shield me and those I love from disaster. Loving living. Wise investments. Exercise. Diet. Plenty of rest. I assume that the people of Galilee thought the same—with whatever the first century equivalent of organizing life was. Then Pilate fell on them, with the same deadly consequences as the tower of Siloam’s fall. I find it hard to come to grips with life’s absurd unpredictability. Managing outcomes is not entirely illusory– but it is largely so. Jesus suggests that some benefit may come from repenting. But would repentance have prevented Pilate from slaughtering worshipers or kept a tower from collapsing?

Like the vineyard owner, I would seize the notion of control. Cut down the unproductive tree and turn the soil to wiser use. Is not three seasons enough?

At 60, I have had more than three seasons. Some more fruitful than others.  Continue reading →

Old Hens in the Fox’s Jaw

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“He said to them, ‘Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.”‘” — from Luke 13:31-37

spiky stone cairnOh, the impetuous abandon of youth. Early thirties is hardly enough living to have gained the fullest measure of rational realism. One sermon in the home town (that didn’t go all that well) and he takes the show on the road. I can’t deny the magnetic quality of his unstoppable zeal. How can a petty king get in the way of this compelling business of casting out demons and performing cures.

But what can a thirty year old know? I know that, given life expectancies at the time, Jesus was well into the latter part of life for a man of Galilee or Judea. But is that not the problem? Think of a society of people so young. Run by people so young!  Continue reading →

Temptation

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“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness” – Luke 4:1

Walk in the desertWhen I was feverishly in love with God, full of vision, I ,too, sought the desert. I fasted, observed the hours, and even toyed (in my head) with taking vows.  I probably would have if Mennonites had Benedictine communities.  But our conceit was that all disciples are fervently faithful–we are, after all, a priesthood of all believers.

Infatuated, even the silliest visitations of Presence stimulated a rise in spirit.  Every word in a verse fed my lust for the One I ached to ravish me.  I might be hungry, but who had time to turn stones to bread, while He filled me with mysterious manna?  The wealth and power of nations paled in the brilliance of my Lover’s gaze.  Continue reading →

Lent for a Queer Religious Radical

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two gateway stonesWhat leads me to contemplate Lenten disciplines?  My religious heritage is Anabaptism—the radical left wing of the reformation about as far from high church as possible.  I didn’t grow up with it—indeed, my culture was suspicious of anything remotely Catholic.

My queer proclivities lean away from S&M—not that a cute guy in leather will turn me off.  It’s just that I’d prefer to take the leather off him and cuddle on the way to sensuous mutual play.

But my seminary training and syncretistic incursions of the liturgical year into my Mennonite tradition of late make me very aware that this is the time for ashes and spiritual discipline.  Continue reading →