Living Into the Tension (Part 2) - LGBTQ Journeys

My last Musing spoke of learning to lean into the tension that life naturally brings, learning to be okay with, "I don't know." If you haven't read it, it may help to stop here and go back and read it first (here). The Church's teaching on LGBTQ issues was one area that I would not allow even the smallest space for doubt, for questions or differing or shifting opinion. I had firm answers on all the LGBTQ issues that came up. Repent. That's it. Be kind, but still, a call to repent. Simple, right?

Then I moved in closer. I met and loved LGBTQ people. LGBTQ Christians. This journey has been a long one for me, from completely on the "it's all sin and cannot coexist in relationship with God," to... whatever it is now. I hesitate to label anything anymore, but here in all the messy unknowns, is where I find myself.

I've spilled a lot of both real and virtual ink privately over the years trying to process my thoughts, beliefs, questions and prayers on this particular subject. Because the pushback can be so harsh from all sides around this issue and because I still lived in a space of feeling like I had to have every single answer before I could speak at all, I have failed to speak out when I witnessed what I knew was bringing pain to others. Out of fear of rejection, I have been silent for much longer than is fair to those LGBTQ folks that I love. I'm becoming more comfortable with every single doctrine not needing to be buttoned up tight before speaking up or engaging on hard subjects. I also know that, because I have been so quiet, there are many of my people that will have lots of questions. What you are reading now is my feeble attempt to document my journey, so thank you for being patient with me as a stumble through.

I know people that have been driven from their church because they are gay and are now left unsure what a faith forced from the Church looks like. I have friends that are gay, yet are not Christians. They are made in the image and likeness of God and my life is better for their friendship. I know LGBTQ Christians that live in and demonstrate more deeply the fruits of the Spirit in their lives than a whole lot of straight Christians I know. I have worshiped with, taken communion with, laughed with and learned from wise, thoughtful, Spirit-filled believers that are gay. In the midst of this tension, instead of shutting down the possibility that there might be more to this, instead of shutting these people out of my life, I listened. I read. I studied. I prayed. And I witnessed God at work in the midst of this tension.

If you are reading this from a non-affirming position, you are likely readying yourself to give me all the scripture, reasoning and Church history that tell me I am wrong. I know all of them, believe me. There are just a handful of verses in scripture that have allowed us to develop volumes worth of words on this subject throughout the centuries. I know most all of it - I've said it, believed it, taught it. Then I spent time listening to and reading credible, intelligent, faithful, Christian teachers translate/interpret those few verses differently. I am intentionally not going into a great deal of detail on the hermeneutics here. If you're truly interested in listening to a variety of voices and studying it for yourself, I can get you a list of good places to start. That is not the point of this post. It's taken me years to get here and you don't have to agree with where I've landed. Here's my point: there are people that still hold to a "high view of scripture," that love and follow Jesus, that take their faith seriously, and do not believe that a person being sexually attracted to someone of the same sex, or even acting on that within the bounds of a covenant relationship, is a sin.

There is still much I do not understand. What I do understand is that there is enough, both in our growing understanding of science and biology as well as credible differences of opinion in translations and interpretations of scripture, that I will land on the side of grace and love. For me, it boils down to this: Do I believe Jesus reflects a God that, for reasons completely out of their control, for the way they were created, would require someone to choose between never having a spouse and never having children or eternal judgment? I do not. For all of us, our sexual orientation is about much more than "the act," yet we've boiled it down to almost exclusively that for these folks. The prophets of scripture, the apostles, Jesus Himself, had much more to say about a whole host of sins that the Church has no problem looking mighty lightly on (i.e., divorce, gluttony, lying, greed, anger, failing to protect the oppressed, neglecting the poor, caring for the immigrant, etc.) yet we sling the few verses we've got at folks both within and outside of our communities when it comes to the LGBTQ community as if there could be no more heinous sin than this. We do not question people at the door, excluding them from full participation, on any of these other actions. We often look the other way entirely (or give full-throated support) when even some of our leaders proudly bear these sins as markers of their character. While I can personally no longer say being gay is a sin, I do not understand how even among those that do, why this is the litmus test of the faithful? While others characterized by sins spoken of more often and with much greater detail on how much God hates those particular sins, are given grace, given respected space in our churches and ministries and families.

We reject these folks from our Churches or refuse to allow them full participation. We relegate them to a pew where they can sit and listen and give us their money, but that's about it. Should we then be surprised when they reject the God that we say rejects them? Should we be surprised when, being rejected, cast out and shamed, they abandon faith and pursue what we consider to be "godless" lifestyles? (I am honestly stunned at the number of LGBTQ Christians that continue to hold on to their faith and continue to follow Jesus in the midst of the treatment we've historically given them - this alone is a huge marker of true faith for me.) The statistics of LGTBQ kids and adults that are pushed out of the church, disowned by Christian parents, not supported and loved, forced into "conversion" therapy, are unspeakably sad - the chances they will attempt suicide, escape into drugs or alcohol, or become runaways (leading to a whole host of other unspeakable pain) are astronomical.

I still hold a lot of tension here. I hold a pretty conservative sexual ethic. I deeply believe sex is a sacred gift for us to be able to share an intimate love with someone we've made a covenant to spend our life with. It matters and I believe much pain has come from trivializing our sexuality (I also believe we've created much pain by over emphasizing sexual sin at the exclusion of so much more and creating a purity culture that leaves people, especially women, living with unwarranted shame, but that's for another time perhaps). I also know that being gay or straight is about much more than sex. We are expecting those who are gay to do what people who are straight would never be willing to do, or require of any other straight person: to be celibate, alone and single for their entire life, simply for being who they are. (Or to ask them to deny completely how they've been created and marry someone of the opposite sex anyway. The pain that is caused to both partners in these marriages is very often a burden we should be ashamed for asking anyone to bear.) Yes, there are straight people that choose to remain single and celibate for their entire lives, but it's not because they're straight and it's not because they've been told that they have to. It's not because they've been told there is something innately wrong with them that would force their singleness. It is a choice for the straight person -- as I believe it should be for our gay brothers and sisters.

The truth is, the vast majority of us truly believe we are right - when we no longer believe it, most of us change. My desire is that we not cast out, judge, and alienate someone for strongly held beliefs. Just as we desire to hold our beliefs and receive the respect we deserve, we must be willing to give the same - even if and when we strongly disagree. Two thousand years of church history stand mostly on the side of the non-affirming crowd. I'm wrestling with much of the Church's teachings on this issue, but I get the resistance. Most of us resist letting go of anything we've always been taught is truth, much less overnight. Many in the affirming crowd used to hold these same beliefs and yet have no tolerance whatsoever for others that still do. It appears easy to forget where we came from, and the journey (often a long one) that took us to a different place. I am not talking about tolerating hate, exclusion or violence in any form. But there must be space for those who are holding to what they believe to be a faithful understanding of the biblical text, while still treating all people with love and respect.

I'd also ask this same level of respect from the non-affirming crowd - begging you not to alienate, not to label as unfaithful, those with a different understanding of scripture. Above all, do not try to force someone to change who they are - the results are disastrous, life-shattering and do. not. work. 

I do not know all the answers and likely never will until Jesus one day gives them to us face-to-face. I'm sure at that point, we'll all be astounded at the things we've gotten very wrong. What I have decided is that in the midst of the tension, while I don't have all the answers, I'm going to choose grace. I'm going to choose friendship and community. I'm not going to determine someone's standing with God based on this one issue. A person's standing with God is between them and God. I'm going to choose family. I have friends that stand firmly all over this spectrum. Some believe deeply that a person cannot be both gay and Christian and that to preach anything less is not truly love. Somewhere in the middle, are those that believe it is a sin, that it is a result of the Fall and while they should be loved and accepted, it is not God's ideal. At the other end, some believe that this should not even be open for discussion, any belief other than full-throated inclusion is labeled as hate. I don't have all the answers, but what I'm not going to do is cast someone away over an issue that has valid, thoughtful, educated believers on both sides saying opposite things. God can sort this one out.

What I will no longer accept is that including LGBTQ Christians into every aspect of the Church is the equivalent of abandoning scripture. Advocating for their full inclusion and all the rights that entails into our workplaces and communities is not somehow unfaithful to God. Rejoicing with them in their joy and weeping with them in their pain is not somehow condoning sin. 

A story of moving in closer: 

One of my more difficult memories from many years back: sitting knee-to-knee with my precious friend, tears in her eyes, as she laid her soul bare in front of me, and bravely asked (when I know she likely knew the painful answer), "If I one day marry a woman, will you come to my wedding?" In that moment and at that phase of my life, I could not look her in the eye as I told her I did not know the answer to that. I did not know if I could stand with her on the happiest day of her life. I will never forget the years that I tried to change her (always gently, always with "kindness,") or the many times I prayed for God to take it away from her. I will also never forget that I loved her deeply, even in what I now believe to be my flawed place. I did not hate her, as some would have me believe. And I totally get that it can feel like hate to an LGBTQ person. I do not fault them for feeling that way, they deserve to be loved and accepted for the way God created them - right now. I just need you to know, as someone who has been there, it's not always homophobia or hatred that causes words and behavior that can bring others pain.

I now believe that it is wrong to do the things that I did, to say the things that I said, but I. loved. her. throughout all of it. I know that I hurt her. I know that people like me are probably part of the reason that, while she loves Jesus, she does not go to church. I believe it was a flawed love, but it was love -- I was doing the best I knew to do in the only space I'd ever lived, with the only information I'd ever had. 

I've asked her forgiveness for the pain I know I caused her. Years after that conversation, I did go to her wedding when she married the love of her life (a woman, if that's not clear at this point). I celebrated with her - and I meant it. I will also never forget how she loved me in both those spaces, even when I know I caused her pain and feelings of rejection - she loved me. Her unconditional love, her patience with my views, was a large part of what helped me see a different way. I don't blame people that are unwilling or unable to do what she did - those that can't give space for others to believe differently or can't give time for change. I can't imagine the kind of pain and rejection you're often dealing with, and holding us straight folk up while we figure it out is not yours to bear - but I'll be forever thankful for one that could, that did - she helped change me.

I still occasionally struggle with the voices of my past telling me I'm in sin as much as LGBTQ folks are for changing my beliefs, whispering that I no longer believe the Bible. But honestly, not as much as I used to. I know my own heart. I know my love of Christian scripture. I'm learning to find rest in the unknown, in the new. You do not have to agree with me. You also do not have to tell me all the ways I am wrong and in sin - I know all those things. Remember? I've taught them. Instead I pray that we will all remain open to new information, to the ways God may be bigger than we ever imagined Him to be and that we'll be open when He shows us those bigger ways. I pray we will all be open to the fact that there are likely things that have always just been the "clear, plain truth of scripture" that we are wrong about - and that we will be open to learning new things. The sun revolving around the earth, the earth being flat, the decimation of indigenous people groups and their cultures, "Manifest Destiny," the enslavement of black people being "God's plan," the subjugation of women, segregation and Jim Crow being the natural, God-given order: all of these were once the "clear, plain truth of scripture" in the eyes of the majority of the Church. And in many of these cases, it was scientists, activists and theologians who were faithful followers of Jesus, leading those charges for change, often while labeled as heretics. We see the apostles wrestle with new issues that they never imagined there would be a new way to consider (see Acts 15). The seismic shift this forced them to face is something we do not give fair consideration to when reading from our modern perspectives. But it was huge, all brand new, unthinkable (even unbiblical in the minds of the most devout among them). They were forced to look into the faces of other Christ-followers and face a perspective they'd never imagined. We don't always know what we don't know. We don't know what new perspectives God may introduce. Let's remain humble in that truth.

In the mean time, I will not be silent when literal lives are torn apart by silence and rejection. I will continue to pursue love. I will love and celebrate with my LGBTQ brothers and sisters and friends and teachers. I will make sure they know they are loved and welcomed and wanted. I'll learn to hold the tension. I do not have to have all the answers.

Living in the Tension - Part 1?

Sitting in tension is difficult for most of us. We want definitive answers. We feel much more comfortable with black and white. Good and evil. Wrong and right. Do this, don't do that. We sometimes strain at the confines of clearly defined answers, but overall, for most of us it feels better than not knowing. It is better than the constant pull to think about all. the. things. This manifests in every single area of life right now.

Should I watch this show?

Can I shop at this business?

Is it okay to eat food here?

Can I listen to this teacher?

Can I "like" what this person says?

What about this church/denomination?

Who are we mad at this week?

Who/what are we boycotting this week?

In my experience, most of these questions were easily answered by the higher ups in my churches or denominations. If we're being completely honest, this is true for most of us - religious or not, there have always been "higher ups" willing to tell us what to think. The common man didn't need to give it much thought - someone else was always happy to tell us what we should think or do about a myriad of different situations. No matter where you fall on the spiritual, political continuums, there is no lack of people and institutions willing to tell us how we should think about almost every single decision that could come up in a person's daily life. And just to keep things spicy, it feels like it changes on the daily. Who could keep up?

Just a few of the things I've been told were true and at one time have been absolutely certain about:

I had a very clear picture of what to do with any and all law breakers: throw the book at 'em -- until I knew and loved some people that broke the law. While their choices were still super bad, I now know the horrific life circumstances that made choosing better options difficult (and perhaps in their mind, even impossible). I've watched them receive unreasonable sentences, watched how they are treated in prison, watched ridiculous requirements, fines and restrictions placed on them once they are released. Learning that in truth "paying your debt to society" means nothing - it is a myth. That debt is never truly paid within our current system. So now I hold this in tension. The law was broken - the law often is in place for a reason, yet there are deep flaws in our judicial and prison systems - flaws that make society worse rather than better, that harm rather than heal, that punish rather than rehabilitate, that punish the innocent and free the guilty, that punish some while looking the other way for others.

I knew all the answers on immigration: We have immigration laws here. They are here to protect us. Break those laws, go to jail or go back - that's the end of that. Then I met people. I read stories. There are people that come into our country illegally, to do harmful, illegal things. They should be stopped. There are also people that try for decades, spending thousands of dollars, to be here legally, in near constant fear of being sent back to a country they barely know or do not know at all. There are people fleeing incomprehensible pain and suffering, desperate to save themselves and their children. There are people coming, just as many of our ancestors did, simply for a better life, to pursue dreams that will never be attainable in their countries of origin. But because of fear and hatred and prejudice, they will not have the opportunities many our ancestors did. All of these things are true - at the same time. There must be compassion. We must not allow the few that do reprehensible things to destroy our love and compassion for the majority that fall into the other categories. So now, I have to hold a tension between the rule of law, the sometimes good reasons for those laws yet also knowing there must be grace in the fact that our system is desperately broken and compassion has been forgotten.

I used to have firm, unwavering answers about drinking, divorce,  the LGBTQ community, public schooling, women working, women pastoring, scripture, politics, the death penalty. The list is longer, but I'll stop here. I could talk you under the table as to why my opinion was the right opinion. Not so much anymore. Some of these I no longer hold much tension about, finding a space of peace in where I've settled. Some I still hold a bit loosely. I'll gradually speak to some of these at more length. As I said, it's been a process, is still a process - but I'm ready to find my voice in the midst of the process. I'm ready to not be afraid to be a work in progress, to be okay with not being utterly certain about everything.

A while back, I heard a teacher I listen to regularly, via a podcast, talking about this topic. He talked about how most of us have been raised with answers. There are hundreds of things every single day that we don't have to think about - we just do them, hundreds of decisions we don't really have to give much thought to, we just do what we have always done, think what we have always thought. This current culture's shake up, the advances in communication and science that can turn what we knew completely upside down, the easy access to knowledge we would never have had even a generation ago, has us second guessing and rethinking so. many. things. To some degree every generation does this, as we learn and grow, as the next generation begins the natural process of questioning and making things their own, rather than their parents, but it feels harder, somehow more, now. Sometimes it can feel like what it might be like to have to think about every breath we take or every beat of our heart. Exhausting, right? Because of that exhaustion of having to rethink and reevaluate so many things that we used to do, say, think or perform thoughtlessly, we tend to either close our eyes, cover our ears and stay put right where we are or we are easily led into new but still very firm, settled answers. Most of us gravitate toward people that tell us how to think because it's easier than thinking for ourselves, it's easier than searching and studying and listening and investing. In the midst of this shake up, what we're finding is fundamentalists to the right of us, yes - I'm familiar with them. But also, fundamentalists to the left of us. There are an abundance of people making the rules, casting out the dissenters, judging those who don't fall in line quickly enough - everywhere we turn. 

Refusing to be forced into these thought camps requires us to hold a lot of tension and holding tension is hard. We've arrived at a place in our culture where holding tension is not allowed. There is little to no space for questioning or transition or change. There is no space for questioning and then even perhaps determining your original beliefs are still your beliefs. You are all in or all out - no matter which place you land. If you stand in a place of tension, asking questions, you are often judged from both sides of the issue. Those that have asked the questions and landed in new places have often forgotten what that in-between space is like. People walk away from church simply because they're not allowed to think or ask questions - and I see this everywhere. The far right does not hold the award here. This fundamentalist mentality is in most every camp. We allow fear to force each other either into the "right" camp or out into the wilderness to fend for themselves.

I have spent years being afraid to even say some of these things out loud. And I do mean years - some of these things I remember questioning in my heart as young as junior high, but I never, ever voiced the questions. Our culture, and especially church culture, worships certitude.  Because I didn't have firm answers, because I was not certain and because simply not being sure of the final answer was seen to be hostile - as bad as actually changing your convictions, I allowed myself to retreat into silence on so many issues. I believed that I should not speak until I KNEW the answer one way or the other. Four and half decades into my life, I was finally allowing myself to ask questions, but I still expected certainty at the end of my journey. 

We all ache to belong. Being in the wilderness of both wandering and wondering can be lonely. We are often willing to abandon any questions, any independent thought, squelch any doubt, in order to continue to feel like we belong somewhere. But here I am, a wonderer and a wanderer. None of this has moved me away from Jesus. If anything, it has drawn me closer to Him. I realize some, in this process, have left faith altogether, but that is not where I am. I am firmly committed to Jesus and His ways.

I've found a few others that feel lost in the in-between as well and it's not quite as lonely now. My prayer is that the church, as well as the larger culture, will learn to hold space for differences. (And let me be perfectly clear - I am not talking about differences that involve any form of abuse, oppression, deceit - let's leave no space whatsoever for that.) I pray we would learn to walk in unity without necessarily uniformity. I pray we would allow safety and acceptance for those in process. But lonely or no, I'm moving forward. Like me or don't. Judge me or don't. Label me conservative or liberal, Christian or not. I'm okay. I'll continue to ask my questions, I'll hold the tension. I'll follow Jesus.