What I Wish I’d Known When I Was 19 And Had Sex Reassignment Surgery
Surgery unshackled me from my body’s urges, but the destruction of my gonads introduced a different type of bondage. From the day of my surgery, I became a medical patient and will remain one for the rest of my life. I must choose between the risks of taking exogenous estrogen, which include venous thromboembolism and stroke, or the risks of taking nothing, which includes degeneration of bone health. In either case, my risk of dementia is higher, a side effect of eschewing testosterone.
When I was 19, I had surgery for sex reassignment, or what is now called gender affirmation surgery. The callow young man who was obsessed with transitioning to womanhood could not have imagined reaching middle age. But now I’m closer to 50, keeping a watchful eye on my 401(k), and dieting and exercising in the hope that I’ll have a healthy retirement.
In terms of my priorities and interests today, that younger incarnation of myself might as well have been a different person — yet that was the person who committed me to a lifetime set apart from my peers.
There is much debate today about transgender treatment, especially for young people. Others might feel differently about their choices, but I know now that I wasn’t old enough to make that decision. Given the strong cultural forces today casting a benign light on these matters, I thought it might be helpful for young people, and their parents, to hear what I wish I had known.
I once believed that I would be more successful finding love as a woman than as a man, but in truth, few straight men are interested in having a physical relationship with a person who was born the same sex as them. In high school, when I experienced crushes on my male classmates, I believed that the only way those feelings could be requited was if I altered my body.
It turned out that several of those crushes were also gay. If I had confessed my interest, what might have developed? Alas, the rampant homophobia in my school during the AIDS crisis smothered any such notions. Today, I have resigned myself to never finding a partner. That’s tough to admit, but it’s the healthiest thing I can do.
As a teenager, I was repelled by the thought of having biological children, but in my vision of the adult future, I imagined marrying a man and adopting a child. It was easy to sacrifice my ability to reproduce in pursuit of fulfilling my dream. Years later, I was surprised by the pangs I felt as my friends and younger sister started families of their own.
The sacrifices I made seemed irrelevant to the teenager I was: someone with gender dysphoria, yes, but also anxiety and depression. The most severe cause of dread came from my own body. I was not prepared for puberty, nor for the strong sexual drive typical for my age and sex.
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Why Cities Are Important to the Church’s Mission
Written by Aaron M. Renn |
Friday, August 12, 2022
Churches in cities are exposed to cultural change early. For this reason, they often pioneer ways of responding to these changes. Even if urban churches fail to reach the culture (or capitulate in inappropriate ways) they can show the broader church what not to do. It may be easy to cast stones at urban church leaders from the comfort of a red-state suburb or small town. But it would be wiser to pay attention to the pressures they’re operating under, because those same forces will soon be everywhere.Cities are important for the church’s mission because, increasingly, that’s where the people are. Until very recently, humanity lived almost exclusively in villages or rural environments. As recently as 1910, only 10 percent of the world’s population lived in cities. Today it’s over 50 percent urban, and that number may rise to 75 percent by midcentury. Paul Romer describes this radical change as human beings going from living in packs like wolves to living more like ants or termites.
The shift is primarily happening in the developing world. Africa is now urbanizing faster than any other continent. According to the UN, half of global population growth by 2050, about 1.2 billion people, will be in Africa. By 2050, 21 percent of the world’s population will live in African cities. China and India have also been urbanizing. Over 1 billion people around the world now live in urban slums, more than the combined population of the United States and Europe. As missiologist Ray Bakke said, “It’s no longer a grass thatch roof from a jungle. [Cities are] the new mission field of the future on all six continents.”
The Great Commission pushes us to reach every people group and location on the planet, but the sheer weight of demographics argues for a more urban mission field today. For every 100 million new urban residents, we need to launch 10,000 new urban churches just to hit a ratio of one church for every 10,000 people. This means we’ll need to start tens of thousands of new urban churches in the coming decades.
But What About America?
Urbanization looks different when we’re studying the United States. If you follow the Census Bureau’s classification, our country has long been filled with city dwellers—reaching 50 percent urban in 1920 and sitting at around 80 percent urban today. But the “80 percent urban” figure is misleading as the bureau says that any place with 2,500 or more residents is urban. Someone living in John Mellencamp’s “small town” home of Seymour, Indiana, is now technically a city dweller.
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Murder Or Miracle In The Cathedral? Two Saint Augustines!
While enrapt in the progress of this mystery, I was suddenly jolted by a common misunderstanding of many relating to the need for conversion and what it means to be a Christian. St. Augustine of Canterbury may have been born an Anglican, but he could not be born a Christian. One may be born a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Presbyterian, a Baptist, a Roman Catholic, etc. However, Jesus Christ made very clear the necessity of a second birth when He said, “You must be born again” (John 3:7).
British mysteries have begun to have a strong attraction for me in recent years. Unlike many of our own mysteries, the British seem to rely on superb acting rather than splashy action to grip one’s attention. The authors of such mysteries, such as Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, P. D. James, and Colin Dexter, are becoming familiar names to me. Perhaps their tales absorb one because the writers themselves are true scholars, products of Oxford or Cambridge. Consequently, their writings not only delight an inquisitive “whodunit” mind, they also satisfy a thirst for knowledge, wisdom, culture, and history. Their stories are so well researched.
“Murder in the Cathedral” appeared as a recent episode on Public Television. Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse was investigating a series of murders which took place in a cathedral in Oxford. The first murder was committed while a ceremony to honor St. Augustine was taking place. Inspector Morse, whose main interests consist of classical music and a pint of beer, appeared ignorant of both doctrine and church history. His nickname while at the university was “Pagan” due to his distaste of all things religious. Because the ceremony itself offered a clue, he visited the Archdeacon of the Anglican Church to find out if there was a St. Augustine and who he was. The Archdeacon surprised him (and me) by responding, “Which St. Augustine?” He explained that there were two: St. Augustine of Hippo and St. Augustine of Canterbury. He further explained that St. Augustine of Hippo needed to be converted because of his sinful youth while St. Augustine of Canterbury did not need to be converted because he was “born” a Christian.
While enrapt in the progress of this mystery, I was suddenly jolted by a common misunderstanding of many relating to the need for conversion and what it means to be a Christian. St. Augustine of Canterbury may have been born an Anglican, but he could not be born a Christian. One may be born a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Presbyterian, a Baptist, a Roman Catholic, etc. However, Jesus Christ made very clear the necessity of a second birth when He said, “You must be born again” (John 3:7).
It is true that someone, such as Augustine of Canterbury, may be born into a covenant relationship to God by virtue of being born into a Christian family; but that child must one day make his or her own personal decision to trust Christ’s atonement for sin. There must be an active commitment to follow Christ and to give Him first place in one’s life. To “be born again” is to be born of the Spirit. To be born of the Spirit is to recognize one’s sinful nature and inability to cleanse oneself. There is a new recognition that only the blood of Christ shed on the cross of Calvary can make one clean and whole, forgive (as if one had never sinned), and put one in a right standing before God. This is part of “the mystery of godliness” mentioned in Paul’s first epistle to Timoth:
By common confession, great is the mystery of godliness:He who was revealed in the flesh,Was vindicated in the Spirit,Seen by angels,Proclaimed among the nations,Believed on in the world,Taken up in glory. (I Timothy 3:16)
It is hoped that the Archdeacon might merely have forgotten a very important event in the life of St. Augustine of Canterbury.
Inspector Morse went on to solve the mystery of “Murder in the Cathedral.” However, I fear he did not solve for himself personally, “the mystery of godliness” or change the status of his university days’ nickname.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the sequel to “Murder in the Cathedral” could be written entitled “Miracle in the Cathedral?” In the sequel, the inspector would solve this personal mystery as have so many down through the ages and universally in the world. Those of us who have come to understand this mystery in life have both the privilege and the responsibility to share with others the solution to “the mystery of godliness.” Whenever anyone is “born again” or “born from above,” a miracle takes place, whether in a cathedral, a church, or anywhere else!
Helen Louise Herndon is a member of Central Presbyterian Church (EPC) in St. Louis, Missouri. She is freelance writer and served as a missionary to the Arab/Muslim world in France and North Africa. Originally published April 1989—The Centralian.
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My Recent Trip To ‘Anxious Isle’
By the time we reached the shore, taxied to our cottage, and unpacked our bags, I was in a full-blown state of great anxiety; and though I was wishing hard for it to leave me, I knew it was going nowhere anytime soon. This was not the first time I had ever felt this way. It had been some years since it was this bad, and I was thankful for that; but right now, all I could think of was how to get rid of it. Before I came on the trip, life was good; now, on the trip, I wanted life to be good. But it wasn’t.
An Unexpected Journey
My wife and I had just returned from a most relaxing vacation when our Friend came by and engaged me in a conversation. You need to understand that He’s not your average friend. He’s the most special Friend we have ever had, and we have learned to trust Him completely, even when we have doubts about some of the things He says to us.
“Pete, we’re going on a trip.” He said.
“Okay,” I said, “whatever you say; let us get our things packed and we’ll be ready to go.”
“Your wife isn’t going,” He replied; “it’s just going to be me and you.”
It all seemed a little mysterious to me, but over the years I had learned to trust my Friend, and I knew He always had my best interests at heart; and my wife said that this was fine with her; she was happy for me and our Friend to have some alone time together.
“We’re going to an island,” He said; “I will pick you up late tomorrow afternoon. There’s an overnight ferry boat we will catch, and we’ll try to get what sleep we can on it, before we get there in the morning.”
An island, I thought; maybe it’s like one of those private islands the cruise lines own in the Bahamas. Sounds like fun. Swimming, fishing, lying out in the sun and soaking up all that good vitamin D. I was ready to roll.
Sleep wasn’t the greatest on our trip over to the island, but I eventually fell asleep around 2 am and woke up just as we were approaching the island at daybreak.
“What’s this island called?” I asked my Friend.
“This is Anxious Isle,” He replied.
The island was covered with a dark cloud that seemed to smother the place and showed no sign of lifting anytime soon. There was no hint of a breeze to blow it away.
“Boy, it sure looks depressing,” I said.
The truth was, it didn’t just look that way; it was starting to feel that way. As we got nearer to the shore, my feeling of depression only increased, and I could feel my blood pressure rising, as my anxiety seemed to explode within me in a matter of minutes.
By the time we reached the shore, taxied to our cottage, and unpacked our bags, I was in a full-blown state of great anxiety; and though I was wishing hard for it to leave me, I knew it was going nowhere anytime soon.
This was not the first time I had ever felt this way. It had been some years since it was this bad, and I was thankful for that; but right now, all I could think of was how to get rid of it. Before I came on the trip, life was good; now, on the trip, I wanted life to be good. But it wasn’t.
Another similarity between the anxiety I was having now with what I had experienced on previous occasions was that the anxiety was tied to some current crisis going on in my life, or else fear of something that might happen to me in the future, or even had happened in the past. It could concern my health, a legal matter, a financial concern, an employment issue, a regret for something I had done in the past, or something else. But here’s the weird part–looking over the past times when I had been overcome, the fear of what might happen relating to various things which brought on the anxiety– these things never materialized; or, at least, when there were unpleasant consequences, my mindset had been reprogrammed to overcome the anxiety, so I accepted any consequences with contentment.
My Friend and I sat in the living room staring at one another.
“We’ve been here before,” I said.
“We sure have,” He said.
“I guess there’s no chance we could go back home right now, is there?” I asked.
“Not a chance,” He responded.
“Okay,” I said. “I know the drill; I guess I’d best get started.”
The Book
The cottage was adequately furnished, so we were very comfortable. In my bedroom, the living room and the enclosed porch there was a copy of the Book. The Book was a collection of some of the things my Friend had said about all kinds of subjects. The Book informed about everything from the creation of the world to how to address personal problems in one’s life. Right now, it was the latter I needed; I had the personal problem of overwhelming anxiety, and the Book would be most important to get me straightened out, just like it had been so instrumental in the past.
The first two days, I studied everything the Book had to say about anxiety. There were commands about not worrying, and, while I could agree that was a good thing, the problem was, I couldn’t quit. There were directives to let my Friend have my anxieties, and direct instructions not to be anxious, because my Friend was going to be with me in all the messes of life, and therefore I should not be anxious. I agreed all this was good, but it just wasn’t getting through to me. I needed help.
So during the first couple of days, I approached my Friend and asked for help. If He was in the living room, I’d ask for help there. If it was in the middle of the night and the anxiety was keeping me awake, I would go where He was and ask for help. He was always available to me, and He always heard what I was saying; and He even had a compassionate expression when I begged for His help; but for those first two days, He had very little to say except to encourage me to keep studying the Book for what help I could get.
Besides directives about anxiety, the Book also gave me examples of other people who had gone through this before, and how they had not only survived, but came out much better people on the other side. I realized my experiences of overcoming anxiety episodes in the past were just like many of these I read about. And I knew that all the promises of help and the love of my Friend for me were true as well, but the problem remained; the anxiety wasn’t going away. I would have times of relief, and then something would trigger another anxiety attack, and the downward spiral was set in motion.
Beginning Breakthrough
By the third and fourth day, it seemed like I might be starting to make a little progress, but it did not come as I had expected. My friend was ready to talk to me now, but the way He explained it was that now I was ready to listen. Two days of anxiety agony, night and day, had humbled me to where I was ready to listen and learn.
My Friend began, “You’ve been moving along in life like you have the world by the tail and now all of a sudden you realize you don’t.”
“Yes,” I timidly responded.
He continued, “There’s a story in the Book about a King David who grew overconfident in himself as well, and had to be brought down a notch or two.”
“I know,” I said; “I was reading that this morning, and I’m ready to receive whatever you have to say to correct me.”
“Good,” He said; “I’ve got a list here. We might as well get started on it.”
“First, I’ve given you some success in some areas of your life, and I think you could do a much better job of giving credit to where credit is due.”
“I agree, and I’m sorry; please forgive me. I want to definitely work on that.”
“Second, the root cause of your anxiety is your concern for yourself. You are concerned that nothing bad come of the situation you’re in right now, for your sake. There’s nothing wrong with trying to protect yourself, but you’ve blown it up to where you are what everything is about, and that’s no good.”
“I agree. I’m not thinking of You or others, and I am much too preoccupied with myself. Please forgive me and help me with this.”
“Third, you know the Book talks about particular sins in each of our lives to which we individually are more susceptible. Well, even though you have made a lot of progress, you aren’t working to overcome yours like you should. You need to get more brutal with these, because they are ugly and they horribly offend Me. Plus, I’ve got some stuff for you to do in the future, stuff that may bring far greater anxiety than you are experiencing now; so you can’t be carrying around this garbage with you; it has to go.”
“Done,” I said. “You know in my heart I agree, and by Your help I know I can put these particular sins to death. Thank You for confronting me. And I also know that once we get some progress in one area, another will arise. I’m in for every battle going forward, because I know You will be with me.”
“Guess you didn’t think you were in for a long list like this,” He continued, “but, fourth, unbelief. In some things it’s like you couldn’t have stronger faith, and in other things, you are so weak and wavering. You need to fully believe every promise of the Book, because the One who gives them can be believed totally. And that brings up another thing: sometimes, God blesses you in a spectacular way, and you don’t welcome and receive it. You can thank Him for things other people thank Him for, but then He gives you something that blows your socks off; and instead of being thankful, you start looking for something that will go wrong in what He has given. You need to get a grip. You need to understand that He loves you, and accept His gifts, whether they be small or big.”
“I could not agree more. Often I pray for help with my unbelief, and just being in the Book more these last few days has helped a lot with that. And You’re right about the big blessings too; it is so small of me not to see how big and generous God is, and how much I am loved.”
I accepted everything my Friend told me and spent time praying, reading the Book, and meditating on all I knew that was true, and trying to apply it to my situation.
By now, my time on Anxious Isle was getting a little better, or at least the anxiety episodes were farther apart by the fifth and sixth days. There were special parts of the Book that I would go to often; I spent a lot of time talking with my Friend and working through things and counseling myself with what I was reading and hearing.
The Sun Shines Brightly
The day finally arrived for us to leave Anxious Isle. But before we could leave, it was mandatory for My Friend and me to have a very important conversation. We sat in the living room, as we had on the first day of our trip. Running through my head were all the things I needed to hear and learn and be reminded of. I was genuinely thankful, and I was also more sensitive to others who find themselves on Anxious Isle and how I might help them.
My Friend looked at me and said, “You know, you have been really anxious about messing up something. You have been worried about consequences for yourself, about embarrassing Me and others. You need to realize that God loves you. He has given you all you have; in reality, you own nothing, and you are a steward, sort of an administrator over all He has given. This applies to your house, any possessions you have, and even your gifts and talents, your physical body, everything. Everything is His; you manage it for Him. Now, hear His truth to you: He says, “I love you; I have given you all you have, and all you have is mine. I want you to use what I have given you the best you can. Invest, take risks, use your intellect, your talents, whatever. If something doesn’t turn out okay, that’s fine. If you get in hot water, I will be right there with you. If something succeeds, great. Nothing will change My love for you. You don’t need to get yourself all tied up in anxious knots because you may screw up. Everything will be fine with Me. I love you.’”
I just sat there, silent. I was so overcome with God’s love to me that I just wanted to enjoy the sunshine as it poured into my soul.
The next day, we left Anxious Isle, and I was glad we took the day ferry. I stood on the side of the ship, enjoyed the breeze, and stared at the island we were leaving behind. I realized I’d probably have to come back another day; I hoped it would be later rather than sooner. However, because of the good it had been for me to visit, I could not argue with my Friend’s wisdom for taking me there. Truly, He loves me and has my best interest in mind. Because I’m not on the island doesn’t mean I never have anxious thoughts or episodes now and again; but they are not 24/7 like what I had gone through that week.
Yes, it was an unexpected journey, but it was a necessary journey and good one, and I’m glad My Friend took me on it.
If you find yourself on Anxious Isle, I trust you will seek the help of my Friend and His Book. My Friend is Jesus Christ and the Book is the Bible. God bless you.
Pete Hurst is a retired Minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and associate broker in real estate. He and his wife live in Yorktown, Virginia. He sometimes blogs at GodsFool.com.
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