From the Desk of Luke T. Bitzkie

This week, I finished my tenure as a supply minister in an Oklahoman church. This was a wonderful experience, and the church was filled with the love of Jesus. Oh, how wonderful it was. And, in leaving them, I wanted to leave them with a word that reassured and pushed them in their current direction—a movement towards creating a place where all can belong in their church. I felt that I did as such; they thought so also. I believe it brought a tear to more than one eye. It brought tears to my eyes as well, but I cried not for them... I cried for my siblings who don't believe that all belong in the community of God. I cried for my siblings who say God's community is limited to the straight, cisgender person. I cried for those who believe that queer and trans people must forego their identities to belong in this beloved community that we call the Church. And when I gave communion, my heart broke. While I saw in front of me a congregation of queer and straight people eating and dri...

On this July 4th, I am disillusioned, like so many others in this country. I am disillusioned by the abductions that are happening all around us and right before our eyes. I am disillusioned by the unwillingness of those in power to fight back against such evil, and moreover, I am disillusioned by those who advocate for this evil. I've tried to think of something to write amidst this, perhaps related to this holiday or the faith that I hold so dear. But, nothing I can write today would compare to the Schoenberg's cantata, "A Survivor from Warsaw." So, in this post, I give you the lyrics of his powerful piece. I encourage you to read them along as you listen to it, and I pray that you and I may fully hear him. - I cannot remember everything. I must have been unconscious most of the time. I remember only the grandiose moment when they all started to sing, as if prearranged, the old prayer they had neglected for so many years - the forgotten creed! But I have no recollec...

Ride on, ride on in majesty, in lowly pomp ride on to die. Last week, Jesus the Christ rode into Jerusalem—triumphant and humble, riding on a donkey. This was the Prophesied Redeemer, riding into Jerusalem to reclaim it from the hands of the oppressive Romans. But, Jesus did not rid the Romans by militant force or supernatural eviction. Instead, Jesus died. Today, Jesus is dead. He is dead, bled out on a cross with his life gone from behind his eyes. He has stiffened up, excremented, and begun to smell of rot. The mythologized loincloth does nothing to hide the  extent of his injuries, and the spear plunged into his side only confirms. Our Jesus has been murdered at the hands of the state, completely and utterly dead. Today, you may hear a preacher proclaim that "Christ is not dead forever!" But, beloved, do not be fooled. This proclamation is but a falsity. Our Jesus died on the cross. What foolishness it is to have hope when our Jesus has died. Today is a day of sorrow, not...

This month, I had the opportunity to meet and interview Evangelist Patsy Barnes – a native of McGregor, Texas, and a Christian minister who is no stranger to giving a powerful word. But, in this conversation, Mrs. Barnes did not preach from a pulpit or a stage. Instead, she spoke from her living room couch, recounting her childhood memories of McGregor's school integration in 1965. We talked for nearly two hours. I hung on every word, yet by the time we neared the two-hour mark, it felt as if only thirty minutes had passed. Mrs. Barnes shared stories of her upbringing in McGregor, her experiences with segregation, life in her church, her pastor, and the profound influence of Christianity and the biblical texts on her life. She offered no shortage of wisdom, and I – her interviewer – was deeply grateful for every word she shared. I conducted this interview with two primary goals. First, I sought to uncover McGregor's history concerning segregation from the perspective of East Mc...

To my fellow young ministers, In leading the German people towards a perpetration of genocide, Adolf Hitler execrably stated that "the personification of the Devil, as the symbol of all evil, assumes the living appearance of the Jew." Written a decade-and-a-half before the Shoah, these words (and many like them) sparked an ideological mobilization among the German people that led to the systematic murder of over six million Jewish people. This was the birth of a genocide - not the killing of the first beloved child, but the authoring of these hateful words by an ideological leader. Today, more than ever since, words like these are promulgated by such leaders. In our context, these words are spewed by a despot not unlike the leader of the Third Reich, whose words of hate have reached all parts of the popular American consciousness. Just as the speeches of Adolf Hitler rang across the German nation, so too have his speeches of hate slashed at the consciouses of all Americans. B...

 Recently, I was reminded of the story of Hatuey, a chief of the indigenous Taíno people in the 1500s. Struck by its power, I wanted to share his story with you. I will offer no commentary or evaluation, but rather, I will allow you to reflect upon this story yourself. I hope it impacts you as profoundly as it’s beginning to with me. -- "Taíno chief Hatuey... was from the island that later became Hispaniola. After actively opposing the Spanish colonizer’s cruelty against the Indigenous inhabitants, Hatuey organized 400 men who traveled by canoe to Cuba[. They aimed] to warn the inhabitants there and urge their resistance to the Spaniard colonizers’ genocidal cruelty. After fighting guerrilla-style against the Spaniards, Hatuey was captured on February 2, 1512 and burned at the stake." [1] The historian Bartolomé de las Casas wrote this account of Chief Hatuey's execution: "[A] Franciscan monk, a holy man, who was there, spoke as much as he could to [Chief Hatuey], in...

No music touches me quite like Gospel music.  When I sit down at my piano in the dark hours of the night, I can't help but play the opening notes of Brother Wilbur's favorite gospel tune. Upon hearing the B-flat drop a tone, I am transported to a praise service with all the saints of South Oak Cliff. I hear the heavenly declarations of Sister Saundra's beautiful voice, the artful licks of Brother Anthony's alto sax, and perfectly timed hits as Dee plays the drums. I hear all of this while enveloped in the heavenly choir that is the community around us - the grandparents long-weathered in church tradition, the adults praising for the first time, and the stray children playing with their friends in the back. I smell the freshly cooked meal that sits still-upon the serving tables, and I watch as folks continue to pour in from the open porch outside. Though it may seem to the onlooker that I am alone at my piano, I am surrounded by a memory of ecclesial community and the pr...