I am waaaaaay over glorifying poverty. This is not that post. At all.

But I just wanted to share some thoughts on my experiences recently.

First, I don’t have a hometown. The longest I ever lived in one house was four years. Otherwise I’ve constantly been on the go for over forty years. Never in the same place. No real roots on this Earth. Nowhere I can go back to. In the figurative and literal senses.

The only “home” I have is God. No matter where I have been and where I go, God is my only go-to. I don’t mean that in any trite way.

But the last five years have been on another level. I have not had my own place that whole time. The longest I was ever in one place was off and on for a year in Austin. But even then it wasn’t my stuff and I was still packing up and moving off and on during that time when I was managing the short-term rental properties.

And believe me, it was not my choice AT ALL. Up until maybe only this month, I have been fighting EVERY SINGLE DAY to get out of this mode. Up until this month, almost not a day has gone by the past five years where I haven’t been seeking full-time employment and a place of my own.

And I could tell you countless stories of all the disastrous attempts I’ve had trying to get my own way. That’s why I stopped recently. After five years. Because I know my God. He gives me what I want, so specifically, in so many other circumstances. I mean tailor-made just for me. Down to the tiniest details. So I finally surrendered on this home and job obsession. Because the past five years have been an abhorrent comedy of errors. And I’ve finally been run around the pen enough. The fear in me has been finally almost quieted. Almost extinguished. At least in this.

And although I’ve despised the shame, I’m thankful for the invaluable lessons. So many. Mainly around trust. Finding out how Loved I am.

And in that, I feel like I know exactly what Paul was doing those three years after his conversion. I think he was separated for his protection. Completely rebuilt. Stripped of everything, down to the foundation, and then rebuilt. Protected during that incubation period. And then set loose. To live a completely different life than the one before. And hopefully that will also happen eventually for me. Maybe at some point I’ll get to get off the bench. In some ways that I’m not already.

And just to remind you, we prayed and pray for these things. God answers our prayers. Just maybe routinely not the way we expect or prefer. No, this stuff is LIVED. Intellectual comprehension is not enough. The journey we walk gets so far down into our bones that it becomes almost as second-nature as DNA. So that when you are given the opportunity to stand in front of someone who needs the real God, they’ll be able to hear your genuineness and your authenticity. People can try, but deep down they’re not able to win against “once I was blind, but now I see”.

That’s really what I think the appeal is. Of the performances in clubs being prefered over the performances in churches. Each one is a show. Each one a cult of personality. At least in most evangelical situations I’ve been exposed to.

Very disappointing to see the religious so radio silent when it comes to fighting to support the healing of those raped by figureheads of their own community. But yet so self-righteous in their quest to rid the world of drag performers that most likely have no effect on their lives. Or wouldn’t if there was any Life in the whitewashed tombs they preach in each Sunday.

I used to be that way, but I learned that people deserve a lot more credit. Kids know. Their gut instinct isn’t yet socialized out of them. They aren’t wrong when they see more Life and Love in a drag performance than on stage from the pulpit. They don’t need words to explain that to you. The resonation in their soul doesn’t require your approval.

Drag or not, it’s really sad to me that the one place people should be able to go to for hope, for The Good News, is more of a trap. Is desecrated by the masquerading of a money grab as the good news. You’ve completely lost their trust. From the pulpit to your home. They see right through you. Keep huffing and puffing all you want, but you’re just wasting valuable time. The only people who are buying what you are trying to sell are people you don’t even respect. And deep down you know this.

The people that matter already know. They are waiting on you. They’ve been ready. You think you’ll lose everything by telling the truth. Look around! Look at all that is already gone! There isn’t much worth saving left. Except you! And your relationship with the ones that you absolutely refuse to believe could really love the real you. You don’t give them enough credit.

But I digress. Back to homes…

I’ve been staying in some very expensive homes for the past few months. And me, the one who always dreamed of owning a home, has been discovering some really interesting things.

For one, these homes seem like golden handcuffs. These people work so hard just to be able to afford to take off and for a brief time live my life. Ironically. I get to travel every day. I go wherever I like. I pick up and move whenever I want. Neighbors bothering me? I don’t have to live with it. I can stop dealing with them the next day. Feel like the coast today? No problem; get up and go.

So that’s one thing. But another I’ve noticed is that even the most expensive houses can be dirty. And I’d go so far as to say most of the houses I stay in are not up to my standards. Granted, I have really high standards. But I mean cobwebs, dust buildup, things that need to be vacuumed, mopped, or replaced. Broken this, dinged up that.

Again, I have so little that I am free to do so much. But these houses again the golden handcuffs. You could spend a solid forty hours a week just cleaning and maintaining a modest three bedroom house. Especially coupled with yard maintenance. And it never ends. I doubt most people can afford the true cost of home ownership as it probably should best be. Like, do you own the house or does the house own you? Do you own the stuff or does the stuff own you?

And mind you, I am not a hater. I’ve always wanted my own place. But after managing so many properties, I’m starting to have second thoughts. I’m really appreciating the place God’s given me despite me fighting Them ALL the way on it.

Funny to look back and remember that I used to dream and pray to be able to live the lifestyle I have been doing for the past five years. I used to think it would be so cool to just live out of hotels for the rest of my life. Makes you wonder. Which came first, the “chicken” or the “egg”? How much of this is God? Versus how much of this is because of me?

Either way, an amazing adventure. Incredibly interesting. It might not be my preference forever or as often now, but I’m truly thankful.