Repost from 6/24/09: What does it cost to bridge the gap?

At the most recent GCN Conference, someone asked me to define what it means to be a "straight ally." I answered that it's mainly about being willing to pay the price for supporting LGBT people, and there usually is a price to be paid.

While the cost of dealing with persecution and social pressures may immediately come to mind, there is also the cost of dealing with your own heart issues. I talk more about that in this post from 2009:

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How can we as straight conservative Christians "bridge the gap" in our conversations and relationships with gay friends, family members and acquaintances on the topic of homosexuality? Most evangelicals are easily able to summarize what the Bible teaches about how to relate to our neighbors: Christians should be loving and kind, patient when wronged, respectful in the face of hostility, forgiving, humble, compassionate and truthful.

So the question isn't knowing how we ought conduct ourselves as Christians. What needs to be explored is why we so often fail to relate to gay people in the loving and winsome way that the Bible so clearly outlines.

I believe the answer is that straight Christians cannot bring down the walls between ourselves and the gay community until we have confronted the walls that exist in our own hearts--fear, pride, insecurity about our own faith. The biggest challenges are not "out there," rather they lie within. I remember the three biggest challenges I faced when, as a conservative Christian, I first began the process of building bridges with people in the gay community.

When I first became interested in trying to understand where gay and lesbian people were coming from, I had already been taught by many highly respected church leaders that "homosexuals" were particularly depraved individuals who had strayed so far from the will of God they actually chose to pervert themselves by living the gay lifestyle. A good Christian girl like me would have absolutely nothing in common with these sordid types, so I initially thought my big challenge would be knowing how to talk to them at all. Yet what I encountered in real life was completely different from what I had been told to expect. I met ordinary people, many of whom were professing Christians, who never wanted to be gay in the first place. Some had contemplated suicide in their teens, others had spent their young adult years in therapy trying to change. Many finally came to terms with their situation only later on in life and at last found the courage to make the best of it. I felt it would have been wrong to despise these people, and I even found myself relating on so many levels to the heart-breaking stories I heard.

I had been told to hate the sin of homosexuality. What I encountered were people who had fought a battle with self-hatred for so long, the last thing I wanted to do was dogpile on their pain. I had been told to enlighten these people with the gospel. What I encountered was only my own tremendous ignorance, my own need to be enlightened about what it was like to be in their shoes.

And so the first challenge I faced was whether to follow the righteous exhortations of godly Christian leaders I admired and trusted, or go with my own instincts in an entirely different direction, based on my own conclusions about gay people that--apparently--no other Christian in the world had ever come to except me. (Or so it seemed.)

Any serious Christian would much rather submit to the majority consensus of the church than run the risk of being wise in one's own eyes. I wasn't any different. What ultimately made me press forward was that I saw clear opportunities before me to love people instead of despise them, to understand instead of judge, to listen instead of command--and that path just seemed more in line with what the Bible taught. It was as simple as that. And yet even though I knew I had good reason to follow that path, I was sick with fear. Fear of being a maverick, fear of being unsubmissive, fear that I might appear rebellious, fear that my reputation in the church might be damaged. All that fear was a barrier that needed to be crossed.

This soon led to the second major challenge I had to confront, which was the difficulty of having to face people at church every Sunday, knowing that I was going against the standard wisdom that most of them embraced about gay people. The church had always been like family to me, from the time I first came to Christ as a teenager. My fellow Christians were people who worshipped with me, invited me over for dinner, prayed for me when I was in need, brought meals to my house when I was laid up, loaded boxes into my U-Haul when I had to move--and I did the same for them in return. To go against what these good people, my dearest friends, believed about homosexuality, and to side instead with what everyone called "the homosexual agenda," felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Like some bout with insanity that I just needed to snap out of.

The only way I could to deal with the nearly unbearable tension was to remember that as much as my church family meant to me, my first responsibility was to follow Jesus Christ. And I simply found it difficult to believe that Jesus would reach out to harlots, tax collectors, demoniacs, lepers and heretics but would disapprove of me reaching out to gays and lesbians, because it might upset some of my Christian friends. So in my heart I had to let go of my need for my friends' good opinion. Later on, when some of them found out my views and let go of me for good, I remembered Jesus once again, that by the time he'd made it to the cross at the end of his life he was alone. It meant that however painful loneliness might be, I could at least take comfort that there was no shame in it.

The third major challenge was probably the most serious. As I got deeper into the issue--talking with gay and lesbian people, reading books, having email exchanges--I began to realize that the conclusions I was coming to about the nature of homosexuality were presenting a challenge to my own Bible-believing faith. Because if people weren't choosing to be gay, why would God allow this to happen to them? Why would he allow something to befall them that would so alienate them from their families, their communities, their churches? Why would he allow their chance of enjoying a love that could be both personally fulfilling and socially acceptable to be permanently sabotaged? Is God cruel? Is the Bible mistaken?

Over time my faith survived these challenges, and has even grown stronger as a result. But I can also appreciate how much easier it is for us to burrow deep down into our churches and cling to simple, cut-and-dried explanations about homosexuality rather than expose the vulnerabilities of our faith to something much more complex. And yet if we are willing to admit this much, we should at least try to be honest with ourselves when it comes to befriending gay and lesbian people. How much of our inability to love them is rooted in our personal insecurity about our Christian faith? When we argue with them, aren't we sometimes just trying to protect our own beliefs? When we insist that they are unrighteous, might that be just another way of asserting our own righteousness, so that we can temporarily silence the doubts we have about ourselves as Christians?

I have been on this journey for nearly ten years, and although it may appear to others, and even to myself at times, that this has been about trying to break down walls and build bridges between myself and gay and lesbian people, I know that for me it is really about something far greater. Like many of the challenges that Jesus Christ calls me to, I realize that his ultimate purpose for me has not been the challenge itself, but to teach me more about himself, so that I might understand more deeply his life, his heart and his word. Simply put, I have had to trust him. For that reason, I could never regret any of it, whatever the journey has cost me along the way. I have become richer in Christ, and that has fully compensated me for whatever else I may have lost.

"What's Next for the Conservative Evangelical Church?"

For those of you who made the request, I am here providing the manuscript of my 2016 GCN conference talk, "What's Next for the Conservative Evangelical Church?"

The talk was also live streamed but sometimes the video skips, which I understand can be annoying.

I loved meeting all of you at the conference. Even though I sometimes have trouble remembering names and faces, if you told me your story I almost always remember that. When people tell me about their personal experience I can visualize and sometimes feel the emotions of it, and that leaves a strong impression. So if you told me your story, remind me of it if you'd like to drop me an email, and that will help me continue our conversation.

Ten Things I've Learned As a Straight Conservative Christian Blogging on Homosexuality

1. No straight person can fully appreciate how difficult it is to be gay in a largely heterosexual world.

2. As soon as someone equates "homosexuality" with "having gay sex," the rest of what they have to say on the subject will be pretty much useless.

3. When some Christians hear the word "love," all they think is "liberalism."

4. "Gay Christian"--until you can think of a better, more accurate term, it stays.

5. You can't understand someone else's sexual orientation unless you first understand your own.

6. Christians who are determined to be persecuted by gays can't be convinced otherwise.

7. How much you believe God loves and accepts others in Christ is a reflection of how much you believe he loves and accepts you.

8. Love begins with listening to what people have to say about themselves.

9. Conservative Christians should have no problem with celibate gay Christians, unless they have a problem with the gospel.

10. Don't assume God brought someone gay into your life so you can teach them. Chances are it is the other way around.

What will happen if I love?

"The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried." - G.K. Chesterton

There must be a reason Jesus told us that loving our neighbor is the greatest commandment next to loving God. He not only commanded us to love but he went out and did it himself without regard for his own reputation, safety, popularity. . . and ultimately his life. The rabbi who defended adulteresses and prostitutes. The holy man who touched lepers and other unclean types. The king who was abandoned to torture, mockery and a humiliating public death.

We speak of his suffering in reverent tones because that's how he atoned for our sins. That's the theological side of the story. But the human side of the story is that his sufferings came about as a direct result of loving all those despised, unwanted people. The hatred, the persecution and the outrage that led to his crucifixion came about because he healed a withered man's hand on the Sabbath and stood up for a prostitute who dumped a fortune in perfume on his feet and other such scandals. So when Jesus commands us to love as he loved--and also commands us to suffer as he suffered--he is speaking of two sides of the same coin. You cannot love the way he loved and not suffer the kinds of consequences he did.

Many Christians will fight you tooth and nail if you dare to bring up loving gay and lesbian people. The way they talk, you'd almost think there was a verse in the New Testament where Jesus answered and said to his disciples, "Know that you should love one another, as long as the conditions are right. Amen." That must be it, because all I ever hear is: I know we should love people, but I oppose the gay agenda. I know we should love people, but I'm not going to approve of their sin. I know we should love people, but they're indoctrinating my child at school. I know we should love people, but I'm not going to be manipulated by a bunch of sob stories.

What I'm actually hearing is this: Love sounds like a great idea, but I'm afraid if I love I something bad will happen. Yes, something bad will happen, but not what you think. Loving gay people probably won't lead you to approve of sexual sin, but it will most likely get you accused by fellow Christians of approving of it. It won't mean you'll support schools indoctrinating your children about homosexuality, but you will have to face the more real worry that the church is indoctrinating them to despise gay people. And you will definitely listen to people's sob stories, but instead of feeling manipulated you will never stop aching over the needless pain and injustice so many gays and lesbians suffer on a daily basis.

Simply put, loving gays and lesbians will mean many of your friends will forsake you, you will never be a part of the "in" crowd at church, your reputation will be tarnished, and you will carry the sorrows of others around in your heart until you feel like you're going to break. Downside: you will suffer. Upside: you will know the blessing of following in the path of a certain Someone who walked in those sufferings before you.

Never mind

Aaand within hours of my post supporting World Vision's very reasonable decision, they reverse themselves. Object lesson: don't underestimate the clout conservative evangelicals have on organizations that try to take even a conciliatory stance on gay issues. It explains why progress at evangelical leadership levels moves so slowly. The peer pressure, financial pressure, and threat of ostracization make it hard to think outside the box. Whether or not you agree with World Vision's original decision, surely you can see that this culture of conformity is just not healthy.

Post-Chick-fil-A reflections

Now that everyone's done eating their Chick-fil-A sandwiches . . .

I remember election day in November 1994. All of us Republicans were convinced that Bill and Hillary Clinton had been driving our country into the moral sewer for the last two years, so we showed up at the voting booths in droves. I came home from work, grabbed my coat and went out in the rain to the local polling place where I blindly punched every chad next to every Republican name I saw. The result was that Republicans won control of both houses of Congress that year. At the time it felt good, it felt empowering, like we had a voice and made ourselves heard. So there!

At the moment it also felt very "Christian," as if I and others were standing up for God's righteousness against the Clintons' liberal agenda. But now, in retrospect, I don't view that moment as being a proud highlight of my Christian life at all. I didn't grow from it, I didn't become more Christ-like from it, I didn't benefit spiritually from it. Rather I look back and wonder at my anger and impulsiveness, that I would rush out and vote for candidates about whom I knew absolutely nothing. And what was the long-term outcome of our collective impulsive action in 1994? Newt Gingrich.

Ten, twenty years from now, many of the people who stood in line at their local Chick-fil-A restaurant last Wednesday will feel a similar emptiness about it. It will be a forgotten or forgettable moment.

Why? Because there is nothing particularly Christian about turning out in droves to make a statement of self-interest about a piece of civil legislation. Any group can do it, and just about every group does. Sure, you can argue that these sorts of demonstrations aren't necessarily wrong in themselves. But in the case of Chick-fil-A--even if we could convince ourselves that the whole circus wasn't hurtful to the gay and lesbian community, damaging to the gospel message, and embarrassing for Christians in general--neither was there anything wonderfully Christ-like about it either. There was no revelation of the Jesus who ate with tax collectors and sinners, who stood next to the adulterous woman and dared anyone to cast the first stone, who hung parched and suffocating on a cross while praying for God to forgive his enemies.

But, you say, we are perfectly justified in opposing the gay agenda. They're the ones who are always organizing and protesting. They're the ones pushing for their legislation and their rights. And what about those liberal politicians trying to ban Chick-fil-A restaurants from their cities?

The call to follow Christ is not about meeting the status quo with the status quo: "They're pushing their agenda so we're pushing ours." "I have a right to support my cause." "When Christians speak up we always get slapped down. Well, I've had enough!" This is exactly the sort of mediocre thinking that ensures there will always be so many Christians who make so little difference.

The apostle Paul asks, "Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be defrauded?" Jesus says, "If you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax-gatherers to the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?" Peter says, "When [Jesus] was reviled he did not revile in return, when he suffered he did not threaten but committed himself to him who judges righteously." John says, "By this we know love, because he laid down his life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren."

Our sins have been wiped away. Glory will someday be ours. We have riches beyond measure in the heavenly places. We are heirs of the world to come. God is our Father, Christ is our brother, the Holy Spirit is our Comforter. Surely we can afford to let go of some of our rights and privileges in this passing world. Surely we can afford to let some of the love and grace we have received overflow in our lives to others. Surely we can afford to be more generous and less petty, more confident and less victimized, more humble and less resentful.

Talk to someone who's gay. They were right outside the restaurant picketing while you were standing in line at Chick-fil-A. You could have skipped the chicken sandwich and taken someone to lunch on neutral ground at Burger King. But don't just talk, listen and learn. Because when it comes down to it being gay is not a political agenda or a religious doctrine, it is a human experience. And once you find the courage to connect with another human being on that basic level, you will know that God loves them, because you will feel his love for them in your own heart.

The call for stories continues

In a previous post I put out a call on behalf of Huffington Post blogger John Shore who is compiling a collection of stories by gay Christians for a book (whether an e-book or a traditionally published book remains to be seen) aimed at enlightening a general evangelical readership on what it means to be gay and Christian. I talked to Shore recently and learned that he needed only about a dozen more submissions before he'd have enough stories to move forward with this project. (But of course, ideally, it would nice if he had about five dozen more submissions, because the more the merrier.)

So once again, here are the details about the project in his own words:

I’m exhausted with the absurd notion that gays can’t be just as Christian as any pastor in any pulpit in any church in the country. And I have found that nothing can more trenchantly drive that point home than gay Christians simply telling their own stories.

And if gays can be Christian, then … well, then we’ve necessarily got ourselves a whole new dialogue about Christianity and homosexuality.

So let’s do it. Let’s make that dialogue happen. Let’s force the change. Let’s present what will be impossible to ignore.

If you’re an LGBT Christian who would like evangelical Christians to hear your story, here’s your chance. Write your story in the first person. Try to keep it under 2000 words. (But basically just use however many words you need; we can later adjust the length if necessary.) Don’t worry about grammar, spelling, or any of that sort of thing; I can edit it for you. (And I’ll certainly get your okay on all edits before publishing your testimony.) I don’t care how well “written” your story is; I just want your raw, true, and heartfelt words.

The stories in the collection will presented anonymously. Identity-wise, all I need from you is two initials, and whatever city you (want to say you) live in — same as in the bylines for What Non-Christians Want Christians to Hear.

Submit your story to me either via my “Contact Me” page, or by email to: john [AT] johnshore [DOT] com. Sending me your story implies granting me obligation-free permission to include it in the (as-yet-unnamed) collection. You won’t be compensated for your story; just knowing evangelicals will read it has to be motivation enough for you to write it. (I could no sooner track and deal with ongoing payments to fifty different people than I could win a Flamenco dancing contest.) I don’t yet know if I’ll publish this book as an e-book, or with a traditional book publisher.

If you believe in this project and would like to see it happen, please spread this post to wherever you know gay Christians gather online. The more stories I get in for it the better.

Shore's full post is here, where you can also get updates on how the project is going. As far as I know, no deadline has been set yet. So if you have a story to tell, I hope you won't pass up this opportunity to tell it.

Calling all gay Christians

If you're a gay Christian, here's a project you may want to consider participating in. Straight Christian writer/blogger John Shore is planning to publish a collection of personal stories by gay Christians that communicate what they wish straight evangelicals knew about them. It is similar to the idea behind Shore's earlier book, What Non-Christians Want Christians to Hear*, except it will be what gay Christians want straight Christians to hear. Shore explains all the details in his post. Here's an excerpt:

If you’re an LGBT Christian who would like evangelical Christians to hear your story, here’s your chance. Write your story in the first person. Try to keep it under 1500 words. (Eight hundred words is about ideal. But basically just use however many words you need; we can later adjust the length if necessary.) Don’t worry about grammar, spelling, or any of that sort of thing; I can edit it for you. (And I’ll certainly get your okay on all edits before publishing your testimony.) I don’t care how well “written” your story is; I just want your raw, true, and heartfelt. 

The stories in the collection will presented anonymously. Identity-wise, all I need from you is two initials, and whatever city you (want to say you)  live in — same as in the bylines for What Non-Christians Want Christians to Hear.  

Submit your story to me either via my “Contact Me” page, or by email to: john [AT] johnshore [DOT] com. Sending me your story implies granting me obligation-free permission to include it in the (as-yet-unnamed) collection. You won’t be compensated for your story; just knowing evangelicals will read it has to be motivation enough for you to write it. (I could no sooner track and deal with ongoing payments to fifty different people than I could win a Flamenco dancing contest.) I don’t yet know if I’ll publish this book as an e-book, or with a traditional book publisher. 

If you believe in this project and would like to see it happen, please spread this post to wherever you know gay Christains gather online. The more stories I get in for it the better.

*6/23/11: Correction: the name of John Shore's earlier book is, I'm OK--You're Not: The Message We're Sending Non-Believers and Why We Should Stop. (I love that title.)

Talking with today's young gay teens

Since my daughter will be attending high school this coming Fall, I took her to a welcoming event on the campus for prospective ninth grade students. Outdoor booths were set up featuring the swim and dive team, the ASB Club, cross country and track, varsity baseball--basically clubs and sports teams trying to recruit the incoming freshmen. As we were walking around I spotted the booth for the Gay-Straight Alliance Club and told my daughter to go on ahead. I wanted to stop and talk with these guys.

I figured the best way to scope out the bullying situation at a high school is to talk to the gay kids. They would be the most obvious target of bullying, and what they had to say would be a good litmus test whether a school is serious about the "no tolerance" policy they are supposed to enforce. We are in the Los Angeles Unified School District, famous for its inefficiency, bureaucracy and misuse of funds. But this was a charter high school and came highly recommended to us. I was curious to know what the Gay-Straight Alliance Club had to say about their school.

I had never talked face-to-face with gay kids so young, just teenagers. There were five girls manning the booth, which didn't surprise me. I've come to expect that such a club would either be male-dominated or female-dominated. I've noticed that even gay groups that intend to be co-ed get quickly lopsided either in the male or female direction.

The first girl who responded to my question about bullying had short cropped hair with green highlights. She said that the kids on campus were friendly and generally cool, and if there were any negative incidents they involved isolated individuals. She said one time in class a fellow student asked her point blank if she was gay. Everyone stopped and turned in their direction, and when she answered "yes" the onlookers said, "ooooooh." A giddy sort of response but that was about it.

An African-American girl wearing a rainbow headband then spoke up and told me just that day she had been harassed by another student for having two dads, to the point where she was reduced to tears. The hostile student was quickly dealt with by the school administration. Everyone in the booth agreed that having the administration's support was key to their sense of well being on campus. They felt that the administration had their backs and took seriously any bullying incidents that involved targeting kids because of sexual orientation issues. When they participated last year in the Day of Silence, they told me, even some of the teachers voluntarily talked to their classes about what the day meant and explained about the problem of bullying LGBT students. These teachers were able to give a voice to the participants who, because of their vow of silence, could not do any explaining.

I ventured to inquire specifically about their encounters with the religious clubs on campus. Did they feel any hostility from them? One girl spoke up, whose more confident demeanor made me think she was a senior. She said she was a part of the Jewish Club on campus and never experienced any problems from them. "But what about the Christian Club?" I pressed. "See, we're Christians and my daughter is interested in joining the Christian Club. But I won't let her if they're giving you a hard time." "Oh, the Christian Club is really laid back," the senior girl said. "I actually know some of them and they're really nice. They've never given us a hard time." I expressed my surprise. Really? "Yeah," she said. "But even if they wanted to give us a hard time, they wouldn't be able to. We're protected from harassment by law, and the school administration is good about enforcing it."

I came away from that conversation with the feeling that perhaps times are a-changing. Gay kids saying that the Christian Club kids are "nice" and "laid back." (If there was a Christian Club booth around--and there wasn't--I might've gone over and high-fived them on the spot.) A school administration in a conservative Hispanic/white/Asian suburb of L.A. taking a hard-line stance against sexual orientation discrimination. Young lesbian teens and children of gay parents who were out to their teachers and classmates, who still had to deal with the occasional obnoxious kid but understood their legal rights ("It's called AB 537 in the California Education Code," they informed me. "You can find it on the GSA Network website.") I was impressed. Yeah, I'll let my daughter go to this school. I felt sure of it, even though I didn't stop by any more booths that day. I'd already found out all that I needed to know.

"Why I regret voting yes on Prop 8"

I found this blog post by a conservative Christian to be most encouraging: "Why I regret voting yes on Prop 8"

Another straight evangelical who knows what it's like

She's more Side A than me, but other than that . . . yep.

Now we're talking

I don't hear Christians saying "homosexuality is a lifestyle choice" as often as I used to. Instead the catch phrase that's been floating around for some time goes like this. A gay person will say, "Homosexuality isn't a choice." Then the Christian will respond, "But it is a choice whether you act upon it or not."

In my opinion this retort has a "So there. Nyah!" sound to it. It's just a comeback to parry an argument from the gay side. It's also a way of reducing someone's entire life's struggle over self-acceptance, social rejection, questions of faith and moral introspection down to a simplistic choice of "acting upon it or not." And making them feel judged for it.

Let's break down this exchange and see if we can put some thought into what ought to be the Christian's response. First off, when a gay or lesbian person says, "Homosexuality isn't a choice" or "I didn't choose to be gay," they are referring to a charge that Christians have been leveling at them for a long time, namely, that they do choose their homosexuality. So this person is really airing a grievance, and you should be thankful that he or she is willing to put it that nicely, considering that they are really trying to say that the church has been perpetuating lies about them

Here is a translation of what that gay person might actually mean: "I have been told by my church, or by Christians, that I don't really have involuntary same-sex attractions that I can't help. That I don't really fall in love with people of the same sex or am capable of experiencing real feelings of caring and spiritual bonding. Instead I've been told that I am actually a heterosexual who has perverted myself, or been perverted by molestation, so that I am now such a screwed up human being that I no longer know how to love naturally, but have become a morally and sexually warped person who lusts after unnatural things.

"I have looked at myself and asked myself whether this is true. For a long time I was afraid to introspect for fear of what I might find. Some people have killed themselves because they could not sort out the truth from the lies they have been told about themselves. But I've made it through all that and I know that this story about my so-called 'choice' doesn't ring true with the narrative of my life. Nevertheless, because this lie still hangs around conservative Christian circles, my family and friends think horrible things about me and this has damaged my relationship with them beyond repair.

"So now I am sharing this with you to disabuse you of hurting someone in your life who may be gay or lesbian: I did not choose to be gay. I should know since I'm the one who's experiencing it. Will you take what I have to say seriously?"

Now this is the part where you, as a Christian, might miss the entire context from which this gay person is coming. Instead you will be tempted to fight back with your zinger of a response so that you can go back and tell everyone in your church small group that you "witnessed" to a homosexual this week.

Don't do that. You must resist temptation. Primarily because you are probably slapping down a wounded soul, which is very un-Jesus-like. And secondly, when you answer the protest "Homosexuality isn't a choice!" with "But you can choose whether to act upon it or not!" you are actually conceding their point. You have shifted your ground without acknowledging that you have done so. You have redefined "choice" from "choosing to be homosexual" to "choosing whether to act upon one's [unchosen] homosexuality." By making this sleight-of-hand switch, you acknowledge that this homosexuality--which someone can choose to act upon or not--is in fact an unchosen condition.

A better approach would be to drop the superiority act. Instead clothe yourself with humility and try to come up with some honest words to say. Here's an example: "You know, I have to admit that for a long time I thought people simply chose to be homosexual, but now I'm not so sure it's as simple as that. I once knew someone who was ex-gay. Sometimes it seemed like she was making progress in overcoming her same-sex attractions and sometimes she was very discouraged. It got me thinking about whether it's realistic to expect people to completely overcome their sinful conditions. Okay, I know that you don't agree that homosexuality is sinful, but as a Christian that's the perspective I'm coming from, and I hope I'm not offending you by sharing where I'm at with this whole issue.

"Anyhow, back to my ex-gay friend, I remember that she used to say that even if she couldn't choose away her homosexuality, she could at least choose not to act upon it. You might not agree with her, but speaking for myself I had nothing but respect for her. As you were just saying, she probably didn't choose to be homosexual, but I admired the choice that she did struggle to make for herself every day."

Now if at this point you still get attacked by that gay person, fine. Take it on the chin. At least you can have a clear conscience that you've "witnessed" with kindness and courtesy. But my bet is that you will have succeeded in avoiding a fruitless argument and will find yourself involved in a much more meaningful conversation.

What would Jesus do about gay weddings?

A Christian has the fear of God put in him and hastens to attend his gay friends' weddings:

I think I better go to the weddings of my gay friends. I'm almost scared not to. In some of his parables Jesus wasn't exactly fortune-cookie clear, but he didn't even almost waffle about his "Love your neighbor as yourself." He very explicitly declared that the "first and greatest commandment."

If there's any wiggle room there, I just don't see it.

Synchroblog Day: Bridging the gap and breaking down walls

Today I am participating in the "Bridging the Gap Synchroblog," which means that I and about sixty other bloggers will be addressing the same issue of how to bridge the gap in our conversations with people about faith and sexuality. Be sure to check out the links to the other participating bloggers at the Bridging the Gap website. (For the occasion I have also taken the unprecedented step of enabling my comments section. Please comment appropriately and be considerate and respectful of others.)

How can we as conservative Christians "bridge the gap" in our conversations and relationships with gay friends, family members and acquaintances on the topic of homosexuality? Most evangelicals are easily able to summarize what the Bible teaches about how to relate to our neighbors: Christians should be loving and kind, patient when wronged, respectful in the face of hostility, forgiving, humble, compassionate and truthful.

So the question isn't knowing how we ought conduct ourselves as Christians. What needs to be explored is why we so often fail to relate to gay people in the loving and winsome way that the Bible so clearly outlines.

I believe the answer is that Christians cannot bring down the walls between ourselves and the gay community until we have confronted the walls that exist in our own hearts--fear, pride, insecurity about our own faith. The biggest challenges are not "out there," rather they lie within. I remember the three biggest challenges I faced when, as a conservative Christian, I first began the process of "building bridges" with people in the gay community.

When I first became interested in trying to understand where gay and lesbian people were coming from, I had already been taught by many highly respected church leaders that homosexuals were particularly depraved individuals who had strayed so far from the will of God they actually chose to pervert themselves by living the gay lifestyle. A good Christian girl like me would have absolutely nothing in common with these sordid types, so I initially thought my big challenge would be knowing how to talk to them at all. Yet what I encountered in real life was completely different from what I had been told to expect. I met ordinary people, many of whom were professing Christians, who never wanted to be gay in the first place. Some had contemplated suicide in their teens, others had spent their young adult years in therapy trying to change. Many finally came to terms with their situation only later on in life and at last found the courage to make the best of it. I felt it would have been wrong to despise these people, and I even found myself relating on so many levels to the heart-breaking stories I heard.

I had been told to hate the sin of homosexuality. What I encountered were people who had fought a battle with self-hatred for so long, the last thing I wanted to do was dogpile on their pain. I had been told to enlighten these people with the gospel. What I encountered was only my own tremendous ignorance, my own need to be enlightened about what it was like to be in their shoes.

And so the first challenge I faced was whether to follow the righteous exhortations of godly Christian leaders I admired and trusted, or go with my own instincts in an entirely different direction, based on my own conclusions about gay people that--apparently--no other Christian in the world had ever come to except me. (Or so it seemed.)

Any serious Christian would much rather submit to the majority consensus of the church than run the risk of being wise in one's own eyes. I wasn't any different. What ultimately made me press forward was that I saw clear opportunities before me to love people instead of despise them, to understand instead of judge, to listen instead of command--and that path just seemed more in line with what the Bible taught. It was as simple as that. And yet even though I knew I had good reason to follow that path, I was sick with fear. Fear of being a maverick, fear of being unsubmissive, fear that I might appear rebellious, fear that my reputation in the church might be damaged. All that fear was a barrier that needed to be crossed.

This soon led to the second major challenge I had to confront, which was the difficulty of having to face people at church every Sunday, knowing that I was going against the standard wisdom that most of them embraced about homosexual people. The church had always been like family to me, from the time I first came to Christ as a teenager. My fellow Christians were people who worshipped with me, invited me over for dinner, prayed for me when I was in need, brought meals to my house when I was laid up, loaded boxes into my U-Haul when I had to move--and I did the same for them in return. To go against what these good people, my dearest friends, believed about homosexuality, and to side instead with what everyone called "the homosexual agenda," felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Like some bout with insanity that I just needed to snap out of.

The only way I could to deal with the nearly unbearable tension was to remember that as much as my church family meant to me, my first responsibility was to follow Jesus Christ. And I simply found it difficult to believe that Jesus would reach out to harlots, tax collectors, demoniacs, lepers and heretics but would disapprove of me reaching out to homosexuals, because it might upset some of my Christian friends. So in my heart I had to let go of my need for my friends' good opinion. Later on, when some of them found out my views and let go of me for good, I remembered Jesus once again, that by the time he'd made it to the cross at the end of his life he was alone. It meant that however painful loneliness might be, I could at least take comfort that there was no shame in it.

The third major challenge was probably the most serious. As I got deeper into the issue--talking with gay and lesbian people, reading books, having email exchanges--I began to realize that the conclusions I was coming to about the nature of homosexuality were presenting a challenge to my own Bible-believing faith. Because if people weren't choosing to be homosexual, why would God allow this to happen to them? Why would he allow something to befall them that would so alienate them from their families, their communities, their churches? Why would he allow a person's sexuality, that sacred part of a human being, to be messed with, so that their chance of enjoying a love that could be both personally fulfilling and socially acceptable is permanently sabotaged? Is God cruel? Is the Bible mistaken?

Over time my faith survived these challenges, and has even grown stronger as a result. But I can also appreciate how much easier it is for us to burrow deep down into our churches and cling to simple, cut-and-dried explanations about homosexuality rather than expose the vulnerabilities of our faith to something much more complex. And yet if we are willing to admit this much, we should at least try to be honest with ourselves when it comes to befriending gay and lesbian people. How much of our inability to love them is rooted in our personal insecurity about our Christian faith? When we argue with them, aren't we sometimes just trying to protect our own beliefs? When we insist that they are unrighteous, might that be just another way of asserting our own righteousness, so that we can temporarily silence the doubts we have about ourselves as Christians?

I have been on this journey for nearly ten years, and although it may appear to others, and even to myself at times, that this has been about trying to break down walls and build bridges between myself and gay and lesbian people, I know that for me it is really about something far greater. Like many of the challenges that Jesus Christ calls me to, I realize that his ultimate purpose for me has not been the challenge itself, but to teach me more about himself, so that I might understand more deeply his life, his heart and his word. Simply put, I have had to trust him. For that reason, I could never regret any of it, whatever the journey has cost me along the way. I have become richer in Christ, and that has fully compensated me for whatever else I may have lost.

Synchroblogging on June 24

I've been invited by Wendy Gritter of New Direction Ministries to participate in a "synchroblog" on June 24. A bunch of us will be blogging on the same topic, namely, how to break down the dividing walls between the Christian and the gay communities, particularly in conversations about faith and sexuality. I'm not sure how the logistics is going to work out, but I'm assuming my only job is to post my piece on this blog and see what happens.

I understand that June 24th was chosen because it falls in the middle Pride Week for many cities, when animosity between Christians and gays comes to a head. And so the purpose of our synchroblogging is to provide an antidote to the usual hostility, a peaceful and constructive conversation about a normally divisive subject.

Some of the bloggers will be reviewing the new DVD put out by New Direction Ministries called "Bridging the Gap: Conversations on Befriending Our Gay Neighbours." (The ministry is located in Canada--hence, "neighbours" with a "u.") I've only seen the trailer:



I don't know when I'll get to watch the entire DVD, but I'm more than glad to see other Christians trying to address the topic of homosexuality in a winsome and intelligent way.

"Homosexual Christian"

I've been puzzling over the latest bandwagon evangelicals have been jumping on in criticizing the term "homosexual Christian." The phenomenon has been around for some years, but it seems to have picked up steam lately, especially in the more conservative evangelical crowds. "I don't call myself a Proud Christian or a Lustful Christian. Why should you call yourself a "Homosexual Christian"? they will say to fellow Christians who disclose their struggles with homosexuality.

My question in return is, "So, what should they call themselves?" I'm sure they would be happy to call themselves regular old "Christians" with no qualifications attached. The problem is when they remain silent on the "qualification" part, no one suspects they are homosexual, right? Then when they finally take the chance of revealing to their Christian friends that they have actually been dealing with homosexual feelings and attractions all along, everyone wigs out. There is no end to the accusations about how this person "lied" and "deceived" everyone, or to the hand-wringing about how "betrayed" everyone feels for thinking all along that this person was just like everyone else. That they were just a "Christian" with no qualifications attached.

Well, guess what? Homosexual people have feelings, and they also have a conscience. They don't want to be accused of lying and deceiving people. They don't want to feel like they've betrayed friends and family members. They've heard all the complaints. That's why more people are trying to be upfront about what they are dealing with. Calling oneself a "homosexual Christian" is a good, honest way to signal to everyone that no lying, deception or betrayal is intended on their part. But instead of receiving an appreciative, "Thanks for letting me know. I know it must have been hard for you to tell me this," they get shot down with, "Why would you call yourself that?" "Why would you label yourself according to your sin?"

I can only think of two reasons why anyone would make that objection. 1) You don't really want to know that a fellow Christian is dealing with homosexuality. 2) You want people who are dealing with homosexuality to say that, really, they are just heterosexuals who have somehow messed themselves up, but now they're on it, and if we would just give them a few more years in the local ex-gay program they can come back to us with all the yuckiness cleaned up--in which case they should never have bothered to take on the label "homosexual Christian" in the first place.

If your reason is the first one, then you're saying that you'd rather be lied to and deceived. So be honest about that and spare us all the lamenting about how "betrayed" you feel when someone does manage to deceive you for years on end, but was ultimately too honest to be able to keep it up forever.

If your reason is the second, then you're saying that homosexual people who claim that they have tried to change but couldn't are either liars or they are self-deceived. They should be able to overcome their sin, but they are somehow holding back and are only pretending that they've been putting out a monumental effort. But really, they like to call themselves "homosexual," especially in front of their Christian friends, because it's just so cool to come to church and have everyone glare at them and whisk their kids out of the very path they walk. And it's just so cool to know that even the "brave" people who do come up to shake their hand probably rush to the restroom afterwards and wash. Yeah, that must be the real reason why someone would want to call themselves "homosexual" at church. There are just so many perks.

Your brother whom you have seen

Denis Haack, founder and director of Ransom Fellowship, responds to the recent controversy in the conservative Christian blogosphere over Wesley Hill's article ("'A Few Like You': Will the Church be the Church for Homosexual Christians?") that appeared in RF's magazine.

Haack writes,

What Wes achieves in his piece is to explain how faithful Christians whose homosexuality is not transformed by regeneration face a life of deep loneliness. And he asks—properly—whether the church will be the church for these believers. This is hardly a radical position, nor should Wes’ piece be unsettling to those who take the Scriptures seriously. He is not asking for compromise; on the contrary Wes submits to God’s Word, even at personal cost. He is not asking that we dumb down our understanding of the faith; on the contrary Wes champions Christian orthodoxy . . .

All these tangents, all these red herrings [brought forward in the controversy over his article], sadly, answer the good question that Wes has raised. Sadly, much of the church will not be the church. It is too committed to the reigning political ideologies of our secular age. At least have the integrity to say so, instead of trying to confuse the issue with all sorts of side issues.

I have to say that I agree with Denis Haack. From what I've seen, the overall response to Wesley's article has been pretty disappointing.

To my fellow conservative Christians: The fact that many of you are so quick to attack a fellow Christian who is making a commitment to lifelong celibacy--who is making the ultimate sacrifice in order to take a stand with you in condemnation of "the homosexual lifestyle"--all because he admits he has been unable to change his homosexual orientation, shows that there is something really wrong with you. Really, really wrong.

1 John 5:20: "If someone says, 'I love God' and hates his brother, he is a liar. For the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen."

"Through My Eyes" trailer

I've found a way to post the trailer for "Through My Eyes," the new documentary by Gay Christian Network:

I also recommend that you read Fiesty Charlie's review of this film. Her excellent summary takes the words right out of my mouth.

"Through My Eyes"

Eight and a half years I've been writing and blogging on "Christianity, homosexuality and the Bible," yet I haven't come across a single resource I could recommend that strikes the exact chord of my concern about this issue until now.

This morning I watched a 46 minute documentary called "Through My Eyes," directed by Justin Lee and distributed by The Gay Christian Network. The film consists of a series of interviews with young Christians in their teens and twenties reflecting on what it is like for them to deal with their homosexuality as Christians. The film was created by Christians for a Christian audience. There is no inappropriate language or content. There isn't any music or narration to manipulate the direction of your emotions. In fact the whole presentation of these interviews is fairly raw and direct. I could easily see this film being shown to a Sunday school class or a campus youth group as a springboard for discussion.

I'm glad I've already watched it once through so I could get my crying done and out of the way before I share it with anyone else. Since I've met and corresponded with so many people over the years who have expressed the exact same sentiments as the subjects of this film, I know that what they're talking about is real.

So, for the first time in the all the years I've been writing on this subject, I'm going to really, REALLY recommend a resource to you, which is this documentary.

The trailer for "Through My Eyes" is here.

You can buy the DVD through Amazon here.

They are the warriors

I'm impressed that Dr. David Powlison, adjunct professor of Westminster Theological Seminary (Philadelphia) and faculty member at Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation (CCEF), has responded with compassion and openness to Wesley Hill's article on being a celibate homosexual Christian. Justin Taylor's interview of Dr. Powlison today demonstrates that in Reformed Christian circles people are willing to discuss this issue thoughtfully in light of the truths of the gospel.

The only point I would add to Dr. Powlison's comments is that I think his approach to Wesley Hill's situation doesn't need to be so complicated. Dr. Powlison talks about the challenge of being both "fierce" in our "advocacy of a Christian sexual ethic" and yet showing "tenderness toward strugglers." "Can we be tenderly fierce and fiercely tender?" he asks. He uses the analogy of "the trumpet" and "the cello," one a call to righteousness and the other a call to sorrow and sympathy. And so the challenge, according to Dr. Powlison, is in trying to bring these seemingly opposing forces together into a harmonious balance when dealing with this issue.

And I agree that we must have both, which is why I wholeheartedly support my brother Wesley every step of the way in his struggle to remain celibate. By supporting him I am being fierce in my stand against homosexual sin, because I am supporting Wesley's fierce struggle against his homosexual sin. Is there anyone who is taking a more fierce stand against sin than Wesley and others like him? Is there anyone whose life trumpets the call to righteousness more loudly than Wesley's life, when he struggles and struggles each day to bear his cross amidst scoffers both within the church and without?

Supporting our celibate homosexual brothers and sisters with tenderness and compassion is the fierce stand we take for righteousness, because they are the warriors. There is no dichotomy. Pour your ministry into them and they will become fiercer still. Play your cello with passion and their trumpets will sound more clearly.