"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.

Another Republican ally

To me the most significant part of this story is not just that Ken Mehlman is the most powerful Republican in history to come out as gay, but he is doing so because he wants to become an advocate for gay marriage. It's a good sign that his family, friends and colleagues have been supportive. A well-positioned Republican can do a lot of good for the cause of gay rights, as Ted Olson has already shown. More power to him.

Having faith

I have to admit I was discouraged about missing the TEN (The Evangelical Network) conference a few weeks ago. People were flying in from out of state to attend and I am only a 90 minute drive from Irvine, yet it was impossible for me to go since I had to watch the kids while my husband was away for the weekend. It's not so much about missing that particular conference, but more about missing events like that in general. I rarely get out of the house except to attend church and the occasional mid-week fellowship meeting. That's just how it is when you have three relatively young kids and a husband who gets home late every night after a ninety-minute commute. The equation adds up to: not much of a life.

Meanwhile the landscape of gay Christian ministry has changed. It used to be that most gay Christians were disconnected and half-closeted and were only linked to one another through the Internet. Now those connections are being solidified into real communities through conferences like TEN and GCN and probably a few more cropping up that I'm not even aware of. As a result the issue of how gays and lesbians fit into the church is more visible than ever before. I heard that Urbana invited Andrew Marin to speak at one of their seminars. Urbana. I was blown away when I heard that. The presence of gay Christians in the church and the need for the church to be a credible witness to the secular gay community are actually creeping onto the radar screen of evangelical consciousness.

I'd like to be more involved with all that, but right now I have to accept the limitations that God has placed in my life. Christians like to use the metaphor of a "closed door." It means accepting that God has closed off one possible path and now you need to look for an "open door" to another opportunity. I guess I tend to view "closed doors" more as an opportunity to look around the room I feel stuck in and figure out what can be done within the confines of these four walls.

And maybe I am exactly where I need to be. The way I see it, two things need to change: 1) The church needs to become a compassionate, caring witness to the secular gay community. 2) Straight Christians need to stop marginalizing the gay Christians in their own churches and instead learn how to properly understand and minister to them. But the only path to making real progress in those two areas can be nothing short of a complete spiritual transformation at the very heart of the most conservative evangelical churches in our nation. The Bible-believing churches, the Republican hang-outs, the homeschooling hubs--yeah, those places.

In spite of the dysfunction, the screwed-up-ness, and the insufferable arrogance that often springs up from those circles, I have to admit that I still hold out a lot of hope for conservative, church-going people. In fact I'll admit even more. I think many of them are good people, maybe even some of the best people in our society. But with regard to this particular issue I think they abide under a dark shadow and have temporarily lost their way.

And I'm one of them--at least I fit more closely with this group than with any other I know. For one thing I'm obsessed with my Bible. Some people say I even teach the Bible well, but I'll never seek the pastorate because I don't believe in women's ordination (for myself, that is. If you want to get ordained as a woman, I'm not standing in your way). I'm still a registered Republican. I don't feel comfortable with the party anymore but I know I could never fit in with the Democrats, so I remain a nominal Republican and hope someday the party comes back to its senses. I homeschool. I'm not against public schools--in fact our oldest child has been attending a public school for the past two years. Yet at the same time I feel enough of that sense of being a "marginalized conservative" that I don't mind doing something risky like taking my children's education into my own hands.

I think, perhaps, I'm at this place in my life because that's where I'm supposed to be. Most of my conservative friends know I support gay rights and have gay friends and maintain a blog where I talk about "those things." Yet I'm sure they are relieved to see that I haven't--for example--pierced my nose. Or cut my hair short and dyed it purple. I don't send out mass emails inviting them to the local candlelight vigil. I don't suggest that we set up a panel discussion in our church to debate social issues. There's nothing wrong with those things if they're done in the right social context, but conservatives aren't comfortable with any of that stuff. Mention "candlelight vigils" and "panel discussions" to a conservative and they expect that next you'll be burning incense and talking about Mother God.

Conservative Christians "focus on their families" I guess. They work hard at their jobs, set up businesses, raise their kids, coach Little League, volunteer at the school, attend prayer meetings, go Christmas caroling. They will discuss the merits of breast-feeding versus formula. They will give advice on how to seed your lawn. They get excited about the classical education private school that's starting up in their neighborhood.

And I guess that's the sort of thing I've been busy with too. That and blogging. And thinking about bisexuality. And plotting how I might make the next GCN conference. But the point is, talking to conservative Christians about gay issues means first showing that you don't need to drive your faith or your values off a cliff in order to be open to these things. Maybe that's why I'm here in this "room" behind these walls and closed doors. Because the people I'm with are the ones I'm forming my closest relationships with. And I suppose it's no accident that I also love them, and believe in them.

What change?

Friends will sometimes send me links to articles that quote from the latest evangelical leader--a seminary prof, a radio show host, some megachurch pastor--who demonstrates an ability to speak about homosexuality in calm, moderate tones while even daring to suggest that we should work toward peace and understanding in the church. Nothing earth-shattering enough to post on this blog, but I see bits of progress here and there that tell me a quiet trend of questioning and self-examination is afoot in some pockets of the evangelical church. I expect that it will grow over time. In the meantime it's interesting to check out what people have to say, and observe how the gears are turning in people's minds as these more moderate evangelicals contemplate the issue of homosexuality.

But I've noticed one little catch phrase that keeps popping up. You know how evangelicals love using catch phrases, and once the usage of a certain phrase reaches a critical mass you hear everyone saying it left and right? Here is the one I keep hearing:

"While we know that change is possible for some [gay and lesbian] people, we need to consider that maybe it isn't possible for everyone."

Then the evangelical leader goes on to plead for Christian compassion and understanding for these leftover gay people, these stragglers who evidently couldn't get their act together enough to make the full conversion from gay to straight like all the other success stories out there.

My question is, What are all these success stories of "change" that they're talking about? Who has ever successfully and completely changed from gay to straight? Anyone I know? Anyone you know? I'm not saying that such change doesn't exist on the face of the earth, but I am saying that I have never encountered any of these changed people, and I've been researching and writing on the topic of homosexuality for the last ten years.

I realize that this catch phrase is thrown out there as a way to reach those evangelicals who cling with white-knuckled fervor to the idea that gays are an ultra-depraved sub-species of the human race who don't deserve anyone's compassion--not even Jesus's. The word to them is, "Oh, but they do deserve compassion, if you would just realize that while some people can change [satisfying the evangelical belief that most gays do choose to be homosexual at some subconscious level], you also have to understand that not all people can succeed at changing, you see."

These days I find myself categorized within this small crowd of straight evangelicals who are trying to talk to other straight evangelicals about being more understanding toward the gay community. I'm thankful that the category even exists, and I'm thankful the talk is happening. But am I supposed to go out there and say, "While we know that some people can change, blah blah blah . . ." even though I have never--in all my hundreds of contacts via email exchanges and coffee dates and phone calls and dinners and conferences and small groups--crossed paths with anyone who has told me a credible story of converting from being completely homosexual to being completely heterosexual? It is a problem of honesty.

I know you should "never say never," which is why I continue to be open to the possibility that somewhere out there, someone has successfully made the gay-to-straight conversion. But the silence is strange to me, because most people who have had a positive, unique, life-changing experience that might possibly help millions of other people tend to go public about it and make their fortune publishing how-to books and traveling the country holding conferences and seminars. I know the ex-gay movement is trying to pretend that that's what they're all about--but I'm talking about the real thing, and I'm still waiting.

In the meantime I can't bring myself to feed my Christian friends the line about all the supposed change that's going on out there, regardless of what they may want to hear. Instead I say, "It's possible someone has really gone through a genuine orientation change and I just haven't heard about it yet. So if you know of anybody, please tell that person to contact me. I'd love to meet them and ask how they did it."

Doing them justice

For the very first time since I started studying this issue eight years ago, I will have an opportunity to teach a class on homosexuality at my church. The fact that I've been overthinking my lesson plans and generally stressing about it shows that I'm more than a little nervous.

How often do we talk openly about these issues in the conservative church? Whenever it does spring up, it's usually because someone within the church is suddenly discovered to be homosexual, and so the discussion arises in an atmosphere of shock, gossip and scandal. The person in question is under a cloud from the start. There is no opportunity to discuss what it means to be homosexual in a calm and rational environment.

I feel I need to speak for that person, to explain to my fellow Christians what homosexuality is from the perspective of those who experience it. There is so much to say, and it is difficult to know where to begin.

I have been reading through old emails that readers have sent me over the years. I'm amazed at how open people have been with me, how articulately they have expressed themselves. It's overwhelming, really. Now I want to do them justice, and I'm afraid of failing them.

What we talked about

Our discussion last night went better than I expected.

In my last two posts I called it a "community discussion" and apparently left the impression that this was a discussion open to the community. My bad. What I meant (and expected) was that community representatives who were concerned about reaching conservative religious communities with gay and lesbian issues were invited to share experiences and discuss strategies. So I was basically invited to a brainstorming committee.

I expected to come and find that I was the most conservative person there. That turned out to be true. (The moderator of the meeting jotted down "ultra-conservative" on the white board when it came to representing my concerns.) I was afraid I might come and find that I was the only conservative there. That turned out not to be true. There was one other person, an American Baptist minister, who thankfully said most of the things I wanted to say. All I had to do was agree with him and share some supporting anecdotes from my personal experience. We didn't talk about celibacy, but it was just as well since that idea would have been too advanced for this group.

Two people from CA Faith Equality moderated the meeting, my friend Kerry who is lesbian and Jewish, and her colleague who (I think) is transgendered and was raised Hindu. The pastor of the UCC church that hosted the meeting attended along with a number of Japanese American congregation members who were parents or friends of someone gay. There was also a long time gay activist from the Chinese community, a representative from a GLBT legal organization, a Buddhist parent of a gay child, and a Washington D.C. activist who had recently relocated to L.A.

As I said, I was on board with just about everything the American Baptist minister shared. He emphasized that in order to talk to conservatives about gay or gay-related issues, it doesn't work to set up panel discussions and bring in outsiders who have credentials that people would consider questionable. A graduate of "So-and-So School of Religion" isn't going to cut it. It had better be Dallas Theological Seminary or some place people have heard of and respect. He joked that had enough trouble getting respect for being a graduate of Fuller Seminary, and I was the only one in the room who laughed. That in itself said something about where the divide in the group lay.

He talked about the importance of understanding people's fears, being able to name them and openly discuss them. Are these fears rational? If our country is in moral decline, would supporting gay civil marriage hurt or help the situation? Are homosexuals dragging marriage down the tubes . . . or have heterosexuals been doing that on their own? He also talked about how these discussions often don't mean much to people until they are facing a crisis moment, such as when a son or daughter comes out as gay. That's when people come back ready to revisit the issues with you, now that they themselves are feeling like outsiders in the church.

Somehow we got onto the topic of theology. One of the UCC members asked me why I couldn't just tell the members of my church that God created people to be gay. I had to explain that our denomination held to a theological tradition that included an Augustinian view of original sin and the fall. Since the fall affected all of humanity, the burden of proof would lie with whoever wanted to demonstrate that homosexuality is not a part of that fallen condition. I also explained that according to this view, unchosen conditions such as sickness or suffering (such as the pains of childbirth) are manifestations of our fallen condition. It seemed to me homosexuality could be presented as falling into a related category.

The UCC people responded as if they had never before heard of the doctrine of the fall. That puzzled me, because I wouldn't know how to understand the joy and wonder of the gospel without it. But of course I didn't pursue it with them. This meeting was on their turf, not mine.

The group concluded--perhaps after hearing enough of the bizarre, conservative, insider lingo from the American Baptist minister and me--that it was probably best to allow the people who are already within conservative circles to carry on these discussions with their own. I couldn't agree more. Still, they want to meet again to talk about actions we could take. I'm not sure what actions those would be, except for me to sit around waiting for the people who already know me to approach me in their own time with their own questions about these things. But sure, I'll go to the next meeting if I can.

Thoughts on reaching conservatives

With Ann Coulter going around saying offensive things like "America would be better off if everyone were Christian," I wonder whether anyone in the gay community would care to "reach conservatives" at all about a better understanding gay issues. The tension (and discouragement) mounts as I look forward to attending the community discussion this Wednesday, co-sponsered by API (Asian/Pacific Islander) Equality and CA Faith for Equality.

I have no idea what strategies we're going to talk about. But one thought I'd like to bring to the table is this: as with liberals, conservatives tend to trust only their own. Particularly conservatives in the Christian community. Unless you're willing to open up your Bible and cite chapter and verse, and are willing to work with a theological framework built upon the key points of creation, fall, redemption and consummation, you are not speaking their language. Your arguments simply won't make sense to them. If you start talking about "inclusion" or "love" apart from the ideas of divine mercy, forgiveness and atonement, then as far as they are concerned you are just babbling some liberal, idealistic, world-peace, hippie language that is out of touch with reality as they understand it.

I know. Jesus loved people. Jesus included people. But if you read the Gospel accounts, his love and inclusiveness embraced those people who looked to him in faith for the forgiveness of their sins. You simply can't get around that, especially if you read the account of Jesus' last supper with his disciples, where he plainly says that his imminent death is to be accomplished "for the many for forgiveness of sins" (Matthew 26:26-28). He laid down his life not merely because he loves us--though that is true--and not merely because he wants to include people of every tongue, tribe and nation in his kingdom--though that is also true. But the basis for his love and inclusiveness is his own atoning sacrifice on behalf of sinners. It is not merely that we must believe ourselves to be sinners. It is that we must believe that Jesus views us as sinners, and that he came to us for no other reason than to save us from the condemnation we have brought upon ourselves.

That is the conservative Christian view of things. Which means that when it comes to discussing homosexuality with them, there is little value in taking them to task on their position that homosexuality is a part of humanity's fallen and sinful condition. At best, you might try to convince people that while humanity certainly is corrupted by sin, homosexuality is not one of those sins for which Jesus died. But even I have not been convinced by such arguments.

Instead, I would suggest approaching conservative Christian leaders with a challenge to be open to the policy of celibacy for their homosexual church members. While that may seem like a big concession for more liberal-minded gays and lesbians to make, it is a much bigger concession for church leaders to accept, because it would be admitting that homosexuality might be a permanent condition that ex-gay ministries can't fix. And yet if leaders put up resistance to a celibacy policy, this is where we can challenge them: How can the church not tolerate celibate gay members? If people aren't acting upon their orientation, what sin have they committed in the church's eyes that would justify putting them out of the fold?

If celibate homosexuals are allowed to exist and be supported within the church, a natural education process would take place as people get to know what a gay or lesbian person is really like, apart from the media stereotypes and right-wing propaganda. Caring personal relationships are what change people's minds, not outreach programs or advertisement campaigns.

In my opinion, this is the blueprint for reaching conservatives within the faith community. But will I have the guts to share it?

Reaching conservatives

I've been invited by CA Faith for Equality to join a discussion this month on how to open up dialogue within Asian/Pacific Islander religious communities about gay and lesbian issues. In other words, they are looking for input on how to reach the most conservative communities among us with the message of tolerance for gay and lesbian people.

I'm encouraged that some people are concerned about this. I'm still not sure how much of my opinion I'll feel comfortable sharing, but I can say here that the outreach strategies that most pro-gay groups normally employ wouldn't make the slightest dent in conservative circles. My conservative friends wouldn't be interested in attending a candlelight vigil, a gay and lesbian film festival, or any event that involves meditating while holding hands in a circle. They generally distrust the media, which in their eyes has discredited itself by failing to represent their views even-handedly. Case in point is today's headline in the news section of my NetZero page:

"Anti-gay 'quacks' to descend on Dallas"

It turns out this story is about a NARTH conference to be held in
Dallas-Fort Worth for reparative therapists the weekend of October 26-28. The headline does not call them "reparative therapists" but "'quacks'" which is a quote from the mouth of Wayne Bessen, founder of Truth Wins Out, whose group plans to protest the event. Why put his words in the headline of the article? Is this objective reporting? And why use the word "descend"? All they are doing is meeting for their own conference. They are not planning to march, harass the gay community of Dallas, or hold a public protest against gay marriage while they are there.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you know how I feel about reparative therapy, what a lot of hogwash I think it is. But how does a story like this, which reports on a NARTH conference for what appears to be no good reason except to stir up bile against NARTH members, do any good for the gay and lesbian cause? Those who already agree that reparative therapy is quack science get to jeer, and those who have more conservative leanings on social issues will view this as more evidence that the news media has been hijacked by liberals. As a result, I fear that many of the informative human interest stories that the media sometimes runs on the lives of gay and lesbian people are dismissed by conservatives as more liberal propaganda. It is all of a piece with: "Anti-gay 'quacks' to descend on Dallas."

How honest can I be about my concerns at this upcoming community discussion? Realistically, I doubt I'll feel free to be entirely frank about what I think needs to be done to "reach conservatives." It's next Wednesday, the 17th. I'll let you know how it goes.