17 new followers!

I'd better post this before things get out of hand. Thank you to the BIGGEST group of followers that has joined this blog yet. Welcome aboard, everyone!

Toblerone
Perplicatus
Justin Johns
Matthew Oliver
Lincoln
Dan L. Lewis
Steph Garee
musicalguy
Sam Lufi
James Armstrong
Stymes, Mattster, Shaggy, etc...
Cassie
brian
Takeshi Takahashi
Kristine Allphin
Kelly Anderson
mtn

"99.9% of them have not experienced a change in their orientation" -- Alan Chambers

Oh, and in case you missed all the hoopla, as an unofficial side event at the GCN Conference Alan Chambers was interviewed by Justin Lee as a part of a panel discussion on ex-gay ministries. Chambers is the president of Exodus International, the largest ex-gay organization in the United States. The video of the discussion is long (I was there to hear most of it in person), but the most significant statement Chambers made that evening was this:

The majority of people that I have met--and I would say "the majority" meaning 99.9% of them--have not experienced a change in their orientation, or have gotten to a place where they could say they could never be tempted, or are not tempted in some way, or experience some level of same sex attraction.

Quoth the President of the Largest Ex-gay Ministry in America. If you're worried I ripped it out of context, go to 1:09:44-1:10:09 and hear it for yourself. Then go tell your friends.

What I've been looking for

When I was in college I went on a short-term missions trip to Japan, where I taught English for six weeks at a small village church in Hanakawa. The congregation at Hanakawa was small, barely thirty people on an average Sunday, because Japanese Christians are a persecuted bunch. They don't pay homage to their dead ancestors at the Buddhist temple, nor do they offer prayers at the Shinto shrines imploring the spirits for good health or success. Their families are ashamed to own them. Wives risk the wrath of their husbands for going to church; children risk being disowned by parents. But when they come together for worship at church, that little group of thirty could sing. They worshipped with full hearts every Sunday out of joy and sorrow and gratitude. Twenty-five years later I can still hear the sound of their voices, accompanied by the whine of that cheap church organ, singing "Jesus Paid It All" in Japanese.

Three weekends ago gay Christians arrived from all over the country, and even other parts of the world for the Gay Christian Network (GCN) Conference to worship, learn, fellowship and break bread. And when they sang, the outpouring of their hearts carried me back to those days on the missions field. These were Christians rejected by their families and friends, whose very existence is considered a shame to society--and in this case, their churches. They were gathering to take a brief, collective breath of heavenly air before having to return to the grind of an oppressive existence. Even those who had churches to go back to said that they couldn't worship there with nearly the same freedom as they found at the safe haven of the conference. "Soon as we get back home, we'll start counting pennies to save up for next year's GCN Conference," someone told me.

I have to admit I've spent a lot of years hankering after the spiritual giants of the Christian world. I wanted to witness true faith, which I associated with passion and zeal. Maybe I wanted some of that faith to rub off on me. I would hang out with missionaries, thinking these people who gave up a comfortable life in the States to preach Christ in a foreign country had to be the real deal. I looked up to my brilliant seminary profs, feeling that anyone who spent a lifetime studying the Bible or theology must have a deep love for Christ. I've tried to grab hold of that genuine Christianity for myself. I've joined movements, studied and read, evangelized and prayed, and sold myself out for Christ numerous times. Many disappointments later I learned that outward spiritual impressiveness isn't always what it's cracked up to be, and I can't rely on other people's faith to carry my own.

And just as I'm learning to let go of all that, I come to the GCN Conference and realize that it's here where I least expected it, that authenticity I've been looking for. There was such a spirit of unguardedness among everyone that conversation and fellowship flowed easily. The name of Jesus was precious in the mouths of those who spoke of him. I could talk about suffering and sin and get quiet, understanding nods in return.

But it wasn't flashy or outwardly attractive; the faith of these people was born out of pain and doubt, of wandering and loneliness. It was almost as if the secret to faith was having a messy life, not a together one. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted, some wise person in the Bible once said. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

This Sunday

In case anyone's interested, I'm going to be speaking this Sunday at the 10 a.m. service of Open Door Ministries in Long Beach. The church website provides directions to the William F. Prisk Elementary School where they meet. If you already went to the GCN Conference then you're not missing anything. I'll be telling pretty much the same story as I did on January 7. Not a sermon, but a testimony. Thanks to Pastor Dan Burchett for inviting me.

Welcome, GCN visitors!

I'm still enjoying the afterglow of the Gay Christian Network (GCN) Conference this past weekend. The best part was meeting many of you in person. I can see why people count pennies all year so they can afford the plane fare to this annual event. The fellowship in Christ across denominational lines, because of the suffering everyone has experienced in being marginalized by the institutional church, is incredibly moving.

I know some of you are visiting this blog for the first time because you heard me speak on Saturday. Welcome! No doubt I'll have more to say about the GCN Conference as I let my thoughts percolate over the next few weeks. But in the meantime, for those of you who had further questions about my talk, here are some links that will take you into greater depth:

* A more complete story about my gay neighbors: "Gregg and Joel"

* Walter Olson's article on theonomy: "An Invitation to a Stoning"

* The article that started the controversy: "A Conservative Christian Case for Civil Same-Sex Marriage"

* Chronology of the OPC controversy

* A brief article on sovereign (or more specifically, irresistible) grace.

Done!

Aaandd I'm done writing my talk for the upcoming GCN Conference. I can't believe I managed it with all the holiday chaos going on. Merry Christmas, everyone, and hope to see many of you in Orlando in 2012.

One hundred!

Oh yeah! Thanks for helping us to hit the 100 mark on the followers list.

John Alsdorf
Jordan Haynes
William Lenz
David
Allen
D.J.
katybraden
The Fried Doctor
Julia Paterson

I'm grateful to all of you, both the official and unofficial followers of this blog, for teaching me, encouraging me and supporting me through this journey.

A dose of reality

Wow. This captures why I think civil rights in society and freedom of conscience in the church must be respected when it comes to this issue. Every Christian with conservative views on homosexuality has to allow him- or herself to be tempered by the reality of what gay relationships are all about.

Side B, with qualifications

I get labels. I understand them, I embrace them. Sometimes people just want to cut to the chase and know what you're all about. Who are you? Where do you stand? What's your deal? I'm straight. I'm an evangelical. I'm Reformed. I'm a homeschooler. Only later on you'll find out that I'm a straight person with a lot of gay friends. I'm an evangelical who is uncomfortable with evangelical culture. I'm a Reformed Christian that most Reformed Christians reject. And I'm a homeschooler with two kids in public school.

Ah, nuances. How they upset one's neatly labelled world.

I'm also "Side B." What does that mean? Well, within the realm of those who call themselves gay Christians there are generally two camps, labelled Side A and Side B. Side A gay Christians believe that God blesses same-sex marriages. Side B gay Christians believe that God calls them to lifelong celibacy.

These terms can be stretched a bit. For instance because I'm involved in the dialogue between the two groups, people often ask me which Side I hold to. Since I'm straight they are not asking about what choice I'm making for my own life, but are inquiring about my theological view. Which do I think is biblical?

Biblical. When I hear people use that term, I know I'm heading for trouble. Since I'm straight the only way I can deal with the Side A/Side B question is to imagine what it would be like if I were gay. What choice would I make? What would I understand the Bible to be telling me? Notice that this is an extremely theoretical question, having to do with me living a life that I've never actually lived, and asking myself what I would do in a situation that I've never actually dealt with. What do I think would be biblical for my own personal life that isn't actually my personal life but only exists in theory?

Yet I do try to give an answer because I don't want to chicken out, get defensive, or press my hands together in a steeple and start philosophizing about how life is full of complex questions. I feel that people deserve an honest response. I look at the Bible, I look at myself, I talk to lots of gays and lesbians and try to imagine myself in their situation. I know I hold to the traditional creation-fall-redemption-consummation view of the Bible. And I know that I'm the type of person that tends to make the hard, conservative choices for myself in my own personal life, whether in the area of marriage, women's roles, or parenting--even though I don't ask other people to make the same choices for themselves. In other words, I know that I fit the profile of someone who would choose gay celibacy.

I think if I were lesbian probably the most difficult situation for me to face would be if I met someone who was also lesbian and Christian, we got along splendidly, we were completely spiritually compatible, there was potential for happiness and spiritual health and excitement about a future for myself and for her--and yet I have this theological hang-up that gay relationships aren't biblical. I imagine I would be sorely tempted to shelve the theological conviction and move forward with the wedding bells. I might even plead with God for leniency on this point; yes, it isn't ideal but look at the spiritual good that has come out of it, that will come out of it, if we got married. And since there are a lot of good Side A arguments out there, it's possible that I might be able to put my conscience shakily to rest about it.

The point is, even when I try to picture my non-existent, best-case-scenario married life with a lesbian partner, I imagine that I would have a far greater struggle of conscience trying to live as Side A than Side B. That's why when people ask me point-blank, cut-and-dried, to put a label on myself, I spit out: "Side B."

This has caused me some problems. I have discovered that labeling myself Side B conveys the idea that I think Side A gay Christians aren't really saved, that all gay Christians should be celibate otherwise they're living in sin, and that my agenda should be to befriend Side A people for the purpose of converting them to Side B. And I have to wonder, what ever happened to respecting the consciences of others? I believe I can manage that as a Side B person. And nothing about what I believe concerning my imaginary choice as an imaginary gay person in an imaginary scenario blinds me from the reality of seeing true Christian faith in the many, many Side A gay Christians I meet all the time.

From what I've experienced I don't think the Side A/Side B divide is nearly as great as the divide between those who do and do not recognize that there are some cases where taking a "biblical" side is more about a personal choice than a cosmic mandate. I side with those who believe in strict moral convictions for themselves but much leniency and charity for others. I wish there were a label for that group.