I preach occasionally at The Village Church, a wonderful post-evangelical congregation in Atlanta. My friend Ray Waters is the pastor. Ray and I have similar interests and backgrounds. We both worked as radio station announcers back in the day, and we sang and maintain a love for Southern Gospel music. Get us into a conversation about The Stamps, the Oak Ridge Boys during their Southern Gospel days, or any iteration of the Imperials, and we will talk until the cows come home.

I spoke at The Village Church earlier this month. When I got into town Ray said, “Ernie Haase and Signature Sound are in Gainesville tomorrow night, doing their Christmas show at a Baptist Church. Interested?”

When it comes to traditional Southern Gospel, they are one of my favorite groups. Since it was their Christmas show, I knew they’d be singing What Child Is This, so I figured, “I’m in.” Then it occurred to me, I’d be at a Southern Baptist Church in Gainesville, Georgia, not exactly the most welcoming environment for a transgender woman.

Unless people know of my circumstances before we meet, around 99.9 percent of the time I am identified by others as female. I am very rarely misgendered. But about nine million people have seen one of my TED Talks. I’ve been on Good Morning America, NBC, CBS and a host of other media likely viewed by Southern Baptists. I thought, “What if I am recognized?“

Ray was good with whatever I decided. He understood the problem. I decided to go. We got to the church just as the concert was beginning and sat safely toward the back. I had to use the restroom as soon as I got there, which was a little surreal – using a women’s restroom at a Southern Baptist church in Georgia. Not something I do every day.

The vast majority of the people were very white and very old. Come to think of it, I am very white and very old. It’s been ten years and three months since I was in an evangelical church. The last one was a megachurch and I was preaching.

It felt unsettling to be in a place in which, had they known who I was, I most certainly would have been asked to leave. It felt especially ironic to know that all of that would likely happen even though I am still a Christian and still a pastor.

As it turned out, no one knew who I was, and all was well. As I expected, the concert was excellent. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and yes, they did sing What Child Is This. I waited around afterwards as people quickly filed out. Not many CDs were being sold. Turns out even old people download their music nowadays.

Ray knows Ernie Haase, so I waited until they had a chance to talk. I took a picture of Ray, his wife and mother-in-law standing with Ernie. He wanted me to join them, but that didn’t feel right. We went to Cracker Barrel afterwards, because, well, we had just attended a Southern Gospel concert, and that’s where you go to eat after a Southern Gospel concert.

Evangelicalism is very removed from my current existence. It has been a long time since I’ve been in a big traditional Southern Baptist church building with very Southern Baptist people. I grew up on Southern Gospel music. I started my own group when I was 17. I joined another at 18, and started yet another at 21. We made five albums and managed to earn a living singing for the better part of a decade.

I do not read music well, but I do hear parts. I did vocal arrangements for all of the bands of which I was a part. I could have sung pretty much every part at the concert that night, though the tenor and bass lines might have been a stretch every now and again. I would love to sing that kind of music again, but since pretty much everyone singing it is a fundamentalist Christian, I’m thinking my chances are pretty slim.

When I transitioned I lost a lot. At the concert I was reminded I have lost the ability to feel comfortable in a church building where I once would have been very much at home. I would not be allowed through the door of any of the churches I attended as a child, or those I served before my transition.

Sometimes I wonder why I keep writing about this stuff. Maybe I’m gonna be working through these losses until the cows come home.

And there it is. I managed to work in the line, “until the cows come home” twice in a single post. I mean, I spent a good bit of my growing up years in the rural south. Those metaphors stay with you.

And so it goes.

About a year ago we changed the name of the church I served from Left Hand Church to Envision Community Church. A few members drove the change, with the support of the majority of our leadership. I did not oppose the name change. My thoughts were not sufficiently formed at the time. But since then I have carefully studied the subject, and now that the church is closed, I do have some thoughts about whether or not changing the name was necessary.

We changed the church’s name because of concerns about cultural appropriation. Why did we name it Left Hand Church in the first place? Left Hand is a canyon and creek between Boulder and Lyons in Boulder County. The creek runs through Longmont and eventually makes its way to the South Platte River. Left Hand is a name people identify with the entire county, not just one city within the county. As a church for the entire region, we wanted a name that reflected that reality. Left Hand felt like the right choice. We were not alone. There are 34 entities using the Left Hand name, including a well-known brewing company.

Left Hand Canyon and Creek are named for Chief Niwot, a chief of the Southern Arapaho people who was tragically assassinated in the Sand Creek Massacre in 1864. (A massacre led by a US colonel who was also a Methodist pastor, I might add. Oh, the things we do in the name of religion.)

Niwot was translated Left Hand in English. Apparently, Chief Niwot was among the ten percent of humans who are left-handed. He was also a generous soul who wanted to welcome European settlers, which makes his assassination even more heinous. It was with respect that his name was chosen for the creek and canyon and church.

What does this have to do with cultural appropriation, you might ask? Cultural appropriation is one of five markers of what Yasha Mounk in his book, The Identity Trap calls the identity synthesis, markers he believes do more to separate us than bring us together. It is the notion that we should be identified primarily by the smallest common denominator of our identity. That identity is ours and only ours to experience and know. For anyone else to borrow elements of that identity is an unacceptable appropriation.

But what if I do not want to be known by my lowest common denominator? What if I do not want to be seen primarily as a white transgender woman? I prefer to focus on my commonality with other humans, not what separates me from them. I believe this new form of extreme segregation in the name of one’s unique identity is more divisive than unitive.

I do not want to be misunderstood. I do know that European settlers destroyed Native Americans and their culture as they marched across the country with their destructive  notion of Manifest Destiny. The arrogance is astonishing. I know majority cultures have been destroying minority cultures since the beginning of the species. But is the only way to rectify that sin to separate even further, to draw lines between us that destroy any hope of the traditional liberal humanism that emphasizes our commonalities, not our differences? I cannot see where today’s extreme identity synthesis has any hope of bringing about true reconciliation. I see it only dividing us further.

There is not a culture on earth that is purely itself, uncontaminated by other cultures. All are an amalgamation of many cultures. The group with the least cohesive identity in the unfolding of the United States was the Scots-Irish. Originally clans from Scotland, they had been forced to move to Ireland in the 1600s to stop the Spanish from bringing Roman Catholicism to the Emerald Isle. The Scots-Irish never wanted to be in Ireland and came in droves to the Colonies between 1715 and 1760, heading to the western frontier, where they intermarried with pretty much any group they found, creating an entirely new identity in the process.

The result was Appalachian culture, which birthed bluegrass and country music, among many other rich cultural traditions. It created American evangelicalism, turning the Great Revival into a national phenomenon. Elements of the culture are Irish, Scottish, Native American, English, and a plethora of other cultures and nationalities. What is their lowest common denominator? No one knows.

I am talking about my own roots. I am English, Scottish, Irish, and Welsh. Each its own distinct culture, but in the Ohio Valley where I was raised, we were identified as Scots-Irish. The Scots-Irish have died in disproportionate numbers in every war ever fought by our nation. We were not respected in the northlands, where they referred to us as hillbillies. Our identity was honed in the heart of Appalachia. (That middle “a” is a short one in case you don’t know how to pronounce it.)

There are no pure cultures. In my own family we have Indian, West Indian, German, and Scots-Irish identities. Jubi, whio is Indian, fixes amazing fried chicken. Cathy does too. She’s German. So does Jael, also Indian, and Jana, German and Scots-Irish. I’m pretty sure fried chicken is not a staple of any of those specific cultures. Is it wrong for Cathy, Jubi, Jael, and Jana to fry a chicken in the manner of my Grandma Stone? Should Jubi only be allowed to fix Indian food, and Cathy German food? I do not believe Cathy, Jubi, Jael, or Jana are appropriating Appalachian culture. They are frying chicken, something for which I am extremely grateful. (I doubt the chickens share my sentiment.)

In my opinion, using the name “Left Hand” was not culturally inappropriate. We are a part of the stew pot that is America. America never was a melting pot. Cultures do not disappear, they take on flavors of other cultures over long periods of time. That is a universal truth of our species.

Should we be appalled by prejudice and oppression? Absolutely. Should do everything we can to bring about equality and equity? Yes. Should we preserve our cultures? Of course. But I do not think any of that precludes celebrating our common humanity more than we celebrate our specific uniqueness. We are all on this fragile planet together.

I believe it was all right to honor Chief Left Hand and his people by using his name for our church. I believe the identity synthesis now sweeping our nation is not helpful. Many of you will disagree. That’s okay. And by the way, disagreements are usually not microaggressions. Most of the time, they are just discourse.

This is an important subject that needs to be discussed. Unfortunately, in today’s world everyone cowers in the shadows for fear of offending someone unknowingly. We’re frightened of being identified as culturally insensitive or guilty of microagressions. What this extreme perspective has wrought is not dialog, but fear. If we only focus on that which separates us, and not on that which we share in common, I am afraid today’s cultural divide only gets worse.

So, let’s start talking. I believe the health of all cultures hangs in the balance.

For six years I preached at Left Hand Church, which changed its name to Envision Community Church in its last days. Kristie Vernon and I were the co-pastors who remained when the church closed its doors on November 12. Our decision was agonizingly difficult, but we knew it was time. We both preached for the last service. I chose to speak from the same passage as my first sermon at Left Hand – Matthew 22.

I refer to the final story of that chapter as the Last Press Conference because it was the last time Jesus met with the crowds at large. After that day he retreated to work with his disciples. Until the time of his arrest, this was the last time religious authorities had access to him. In this final press conference, three questions were asked. Jesus’s answer to the final question was the culmination of one era and the beginning of another.

The first question was about paying taxes to Caesar. One religious group thought it appropriate. a competing group thought not. Jesus asked for a coin and noted that Caesar’s image was on the coin. If the people were using his monetary system, were they not gaining benefits of the Roman Empire? “Pay Caesar’s what’s Caesar’s and God what’s God’s.”

With the first question quickly dispatched, a Sadducee asked about multiple marriages and the resurrection. “Say a guy marries and dies before his wife has kids. The brother marries the wife and then he dies before they have kids. Then the next brother dies, and so on until they’ve run out of brothers.” He was referring to the Leverite Law, which was focused on nation building and encouraged exactly what the man was suggesting. But that had nothing to do with why he was asking the question. The reason for the question was to challenge the notion of a heavenly afterlife. The Sadducee asked, “After all the dead husbands, she dies. So Jesus, which guy is she married to in heaven?”

I see Jesus rolling his eyes, knowing that answering that question is like trying to explain the meaning of life to a snow crab. No matter what he says, this guy ain’t gonna get it. Jesus dismisses the question with a quick, “There is no marriage in heaven.” To which half of the audience was upset and the other half was thinking, “Hmmm, there is an end to this. Okay then…”

Then came the final question of the last press conference, asked by an honest guy looking for answers. This student of the law asked, “Which of the 613 laws is the greatest?” Jesus did not hesitate. He said the greatest were to love God with all of your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as you love your own self.

There was no real surprise in his answer. They began all of their religious services quoting those laws. It was what he said next that threw the whole crowd into a frenzy. Jesus said “On these are all the law and prophets based.” Matthew tells us there was dead silence. This is a press conference, with enough questioners and questions to last a week, and there was dead silence. Matthew goes on, “From that day on, no one dared to ask him any more questions.” So, it really was that simple. Good religion was not 613 laws; it was three things – to love God, neighbor, and self. Profoundly simple, but never easy.

At Left Hand Church I always talked about these three things with exactly the same language. Regarding God, I said, “We are to love the God who burst on the scene 14 billion years ago in all of God’s mystery, complexity, and ever expansiveness, rooted in relationship, and grounded in love.”

The first part of that explanation of God is the Big Bang, which took place around 14 billion years ago, with the universe ever expanding since that moment, mysterious and complex. Rooted in relationship is a nod to the discoveries of Quantum Physics, which determined that the ultimate building blocks of the universe are not made of matter, but of a pattern of relationships between non-material entities. The core building blocks of the universe are therefore relationships. If the core building blocks of the universe are relationships, then it is not much of a stretch to say love, the greatest of relationships, is the most powerful force in the universe.

Regarding neighbor, I said, “To love your neighbor is to love anyone with whom you come in contact. The best way to bridge the divide between humans is always through proximity and narrative – to come in contact with one another and hear each other’s stories.”

I always finished with these words, “And you cannot love God or neighbor if you cannot love yourself. As my friend Mara says, we are neurobiologically wired for deep human connection. Yet our core wound is that there is something about us that makes us unworthy of deep human connection. That is the wound we all spend a lifetime trying to heal.”

Our epic journey, or quest, is to travel from the place of supposed unworthiness, through the land of the lost to the land of peace, where we find we are loved by God and worthy of deep human connection just as we are – no questions asked – no changes demanded. Only then can we love our neighbors, and the God who crafted us all.

I have always loved preaching the simplicity of that story, a simplicity on the far side of complexity. A simplicity fought for and profound, as if Jesus was saying in answer to that final question, “Everything that came before comes down to this, and everything that springs forth is born of this.” These words are the rising of a new day, the green flash of light as the sun first appears over the water’s horizon. Following Jesus means loving God, neighbor, and self.

I loved telling that story time and again. I wanted it seared on the consciousness of the folks who called Left Hand home. If we can keep our focus on those three truths, then there is hope for our species and the planet we inhabit.