Good lives on

This Good Friday, I remember all the queer humans across history who were crucified on crosses, in electric chairs, in gas chambers, by nooses, by the bullet, and so many horrifying other ways. They lived their lives brightly in the face of a world that clings to its fearful ways in false hope of grasping something of importance. It is only because of them that I wear a cross around my neck. I remember their lives because I see myself in them. I find no satisfaction in any fearful talk of "substitutionary atonement". Rather, it is because I know the Good in them lives on that I can face tomorrow.