Yes, I am Side B. No, I do not advocate celibacy for all gay Christians.

Apparently, in spite of my recent and very public 2016 GCN Conference talk, there is still some misunderstanding about my Side B position. A recent article written by Stephen Parelli, who was present at the conference, called "Celibacy at Gay Christian Network: What's that all about?" characterizes me as advocating celibacy for all gay Christians.

I never advocated such a position in my keynote, and I never have advocated that position on this blog or in any past writings. The entire point of my GCN keynote was this: "Yes, I am Side B. But I believe Side A gay Christians should be accepted in the church in an 'agree to disagree' fashion according to the principles of Romans 14. Now, allow me to explain why I think the conservative church has been too blind in the past to see this truth, and how being obedient to Scripture can lead us out of this mess."

Over four years ago on this blog I wrote a piece called "Side B with Qualifications" that might be helpful to anyone wanting to understand further why I call myself Side B. Here is how I conclude my post (italics added):

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.

"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.

"Spiritual Friendship"

Check out Spiritual Friendship, a blog founded by Ron Belgau and Wesley Hill, where a solid line-up of Side B gay Christian writers reflect on celibacy as a positive calling and vocation, attempting to get away from the largely negative message of the evangelical church that celibacy is all about "don't do this" and "don't do that."

In this recent interview by Martyn Jones, Wes Hill explains:

Jesus had some very counter-cultural things to say about family, and he ended up relativizing its importance (Matthew 12:46-50). What ultimately mattered to him was no longer marriage and the begetting of children; he required absolute loyalty to himself, and for some people this meant renouncing marriage and childbearing for the sake of the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 19:12). Because we’ve downplayed those themes in evangelicalism, we haven’t really been motivated to think hard about how to support the celibate vocation and how its witness could enrich—or, to switch the metaphor, be folded into and knit together with—the vocation to marriage.

. . . I’d like to see all kinds of things change in our churches: I’d like more teaching from our pulpits and classrooms about the why and how of celibacy (lots of biblical material to draw from here, especially 1 Corinthians 7). I’d like to see single people integrated into all levels of ministry, from committees and task forces to pastoral teams and vestries and Sunday School teachers. I’d like to see every after-church meal (whether in the fellowship hall or in members’ homes) include an odd number of chairs. I’d love to see singles feeling free to invite married people over for lunch or dinner without being afraid of getting head-patting comments about how nice it is that a single person knows how to cook!

I would add, if I may, that I'd like to see more gay celibate men ordained to the gospel ministry. As long as straight conservative Christians like to advocate celibacy as a solution for gay Christians, then such churches should be willing to ordain many of them as those who have a calling similar to the apostle Paul's.

He who is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord--how he may please the Lord. But he who is married cares about the things of the world--how he may please his wife. -- 1 Corinthians 7:32-33

For other counter-cultural musings that ruffle feathers all around--whether in the conservative church, the liberal church or the secular world--please check out Spiritual Friendship.

The growing crisis at Christian colleges

This latest news about the existence of the "Biola Queer Underground" falls in line with other stories I've heard about recently. Faculty and administration of Christian colleges all over the country are learning that LGBT students exist on campus, and it is getting increasingly difficult to ignore these students or expect them to stay silent and invisible. The students of BQU are not demanding that Biola University change its policy against same-sex sexual intimacy. They are asking to be open about their identities without fear of repercussions. They want to talk about homosexuality beyond the let-me-show-you-how-it's-a-sin routine. And they want the school to invite speakers who can present different perspectives on homosexuality than what Biola's policy statement represents. It is an academic institution, after all.

Last year One Wheaton, a group of LGBT Wheaton students and graduates, expressed similar concerns about Wheaton College, about the fear and hiding and hurt they've experienced as students there. This year GCN (Gay Christian Network) executive director Justin Lee has been travelling and speaking at Christian colleges around the country in an effort to open up friendly and thoughtful dialogue over these topics. It is certainly needed.

What's happening at Christian colleges shouldn't come as a surprise. Over the last ten years I've noticed an interesting trend. An increasing number of high school students were tuning into gay issues not primarily because of the rhetoric they heard at church, nor because of the so-called "liberal media," but because they themselves had close friends who were gay or lesbian. Conversations were taking place, feelings were being shared, support was being given, and barriers were falling, quite often within the safety of a public school environment where anti-bullying policies were enforced or a Gay-Straight Alliance Club was present on campus.

The public charter high school my daughter attends is a good example. If anti-gay slurs or bullying takes place among the students, the administration is on it, fast. When students participated in the annual Day of Silence in protest of anti-LGBT behavior, some of the teachers took the initiative to explain the meaning of the day to their classes. There is a feeling of safety, openness, acceptance, and faculty and administration support on campus. These high school kids then graduate, expecting to move on to bigger and better things.

Enter the Christian college. Suppose my daughter were to make the transition from her present high school to one of the more typical conservative Christian colleges. She would be going from an atmosphere where the presence of gay students was accepted to a place where they were invisible and largely in hiding. She would be going from a secular campus where teachers and administrators understood sexual orientation issues and advocated for the dignity of every student, to a supposedly "Christian" campus where she would largely hear homosexuality talked about as sin, sin, and more sin. And by the way, in case you didn't know, it's sin. In short, she would feel like she had gone backward, not forward.

Wait, isn't this supposed to be a Christian college and therefore a place of greater love, understanding and grace than anything the secular world has to offer? At the very least, it's supposed to be a college, that is, an academic environment that is more intellectually sophisticated than high school, where advanced knowledge is explored and ideas are exchanged and debated.

Hence, the current crisis.

Christian colleges are also supposed to be a place where the future leadership of the church is trained up. In another ten years these college kids are going to be our pastors, elders, deacons, missionaries, counselors, and Sunday school teachers. They are the generation that is going to have to deal most seriously with the question, "Is same-sex sexual intimacy a sin?" because nothing short of their own cherished relationships with gay and lesbian family, friends, and fellow church members will be at stake.

It might be a good idea for Christian colleges to set up debate panels and invite speakers from the opposing side so that students can hear all the arguments. It might be a good idea to get your Ph.D.-laden faculty out there to model for students how to engage the opposing side with intelligence, fair-mindedness, and a spirit of brotherly affection. It might not be a good idea to hide behind a policy statement and trot out the same, tired, unchallenged rhetoric every time the subject comes up.

Because that doesn't fly when you find yourself confronted with actual arguments from actual Bible texts from actual Christians who think differently than you. And one day these college students most certainly will be confronted, except as leaders of the church when so much more is at stake. As they reflect upon these issues, someday, when they aren't forced to go to chapel or write that twenty-page paper, when their concerns revolve more around people and relationships and lives, they will probably gravitate toward the side that showed itself to be the most credible, most informed, most sound, and most loving.

I think we have our work cut out for us.

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.

The Side A/Side B debate

As many of you know, there is a debate among gay Christians about what the Bible teaches regarding same-sex sexual relationships. "Side A" believes that God approves of same-sex sexual relationships and that living a chaste life means abstaining from sex prior to entering into same-sex marriage. "Side B" believes that God does not approve of same-sex sexual relationships and that living a chaste life means living celibate (or, in some cases, being married to an opposite-sex partner, where both partners know it is a "mixed orientation" marriage). In my writings I have sometimes referred to Side A as the "affirming" position and Side B as the "traditional" position. I just like the idea of using terms that aren't judgmental or inflammatory when engaging in this debate.

Yet even though I take the Side B position, more than half of my gay Christian friends are Side A and we get along just fine. Why is that? I first began to realize that there were Side A evangelical Christians out there when I began meeting them at gay churches and gay Christian Bible studies. I'd worship with them, discuss the Scriptures, share testmonies and prayer requests. A group of Side A Christians prayed for me and supported me during the entire controversy I went through with my old denomination. When you experience that kind of close fellowship with one another, you can't deny the presence of the Holy Spirit is among you.

I also came to understand that many Side A evangelicals have scripturally-based reasons for believing as they do. Some arguments are very sound while others I can't agree with. But I agree with them on all the important things: the central doctrines of the gospel and the saving work of Jesus Christ. I just don't agree with their understanding of what the Bible teaches about the specific issue of whether homosexual sexual relations is sinful.

So this is how I've come to think of our differences. Suppose I were asked to write out a list of sins for which I think Jesus died on the cross. This list would represent my interpretation of what Scripture teaches to be sin. I might put down a thousand things on that list, one of which would be homosexual sexual relations. Then I'd leave a large section at the bottom of the paper blank for all the sins I might have left out, perhaps out of ignorance or self-deception or whatever. A Side A Christian might do the exact same thing, except he or she excludes homosexual sexual relations from their list and instead includes the sin of thinking homosexual sexual relations is a sin. So we have both included something on our list that the other person has excluded, and excluded something that the other has included. And we both acknowledge that our own lists are probably very flawed.

Now when we both come before Jesus to ask for forgiveness of our sins, we know that he pays for everything regardless of whether we have included them on our "list" or not. We both come with humility of mind, trusting that his blood will cover not just the sins we've acknowledged but also the ones we've failed to acknowledge because of ignorance, prejudice, hardness of heart, or whatever. So in the end does it really matter if a Side A Christian and a Side B Christian don't agree with each other's "lists"?

The main thing is that we both come before Christ knowing that he can remove all our transgressions, whether we fully understand what those transgressions are or not. In Christ there are no more lists. Our lists have been wiped clean, both what was on it and what we failed to put on them. And since we both come away from the throne of grace so thoroughly cleansed and perfected in Christ's righteousness, can't we forgive each other those disagreements that the blood of Christ has ultimately made irrelevant?