Lead Us Into Temptation: Transfiguration as Liberation
Luke 9:28-36

In this sermon, I continue the journey I began with my article in the Presbyterian Outlook, "Breaking my silence: A pastor's journey with HIV," and my blog post, "Why I'm Disclosing My HIV Status Now." This Transfiguration Sunday message marks my first time standing before my congregation since publicly disclosing my HIV status after eight years of silence.

As Interim Pastor, my work among this congregation is to help them discover and affirm their true identity, just as I have worked to claim my own. This past week has been an epiphany—revealing the true nature of this congregation through their remarkable embrace of my full humanity. This soul work of identity exploration is central to my interim ministry, helping congregations navigate threshold moments and transitions with both careful tending and courageous vision.

I explore a radical reinterpretation of the Lord's Prayer—"Lead us into temptation, and do not deliver us from evil"—taught to me by Salvadoran peace activist Marta Benavides, who worked alongside Archbishop Óscar Romero. This reimagining challenges us to consider how what society labels as "temptation" and "evil" might actually be God's invitation to become more fully ourselves.

Drawing from my personal experience, I share how growing up in apartheid South Africa taught me that my attraction to men was "temptation" and being gay was "evil"—a tension that became toxic and eventually contributed to my HIV infection in 2016. Like Jesus hearing "This is my beloved Son" on the mountain, I needed to recognize myself as God's beloved child—exactly as I am.

I address urgent political realities, including devastating cuts to PEPFAR (Presidential Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) and the removal of LGBTQ+ and HIV resources from government websites. As someone who has experienced both the apartheid regime in South Africa and discrimination in the United States, I offer perspective on how systems of oppression operate through enforced silence and erasure.

The congregation's remarkable embrace after my disclosure stands in stark contrast to the enforced silence I've known too well—silence enforced by a culture rooted in white supremacy, nationalism, heteronormativity, and powered by settler colonialism. As I state in the sermon, "When we refuse to be ashamed of our authentic selves and instead direct our moral outrage toward unjust systems, we participate in the same transfiguring work Jesus modeled."

This sermon reflects my conviction that soul work—the deep exploration of our authentic identities—is both personal and communal. In my role as Interim Pastor, I remind this congregation of their identity just as I have worked to discover my own. Their response has shown me that a church can truly be a place where people are seen, affirmed, and loved for who they are, embodying their calling as a sanctuary of love and liberation.

My sermon concludes with a communion liturgy where all are welcomed exactly as they are—where no one is erased, no one is invisible, and all are beloved. In breaking bread together, we remember how love transforms us into the Body of Christ—living witnesses to God's liberating presence in the world.