I'm wary of the Bible. When you've been clobbered with something for most of your life, it's only natural to mistrust it. I've been able to revisit the
Bible, in part, by focusing on the major themes of love, justice, and the Kingdom of God. For example, I was always taught that Ephesians 6:12 was a verse
about spiritual warfare.
"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
One could perhaps interpret the last part of the verse as battling against spiritual forces, but what about the majority of the
verse? The more obvious interpretation is that those who follow Jesus are battling against the kingdoms of this world. These kingdoms are the systems that
exalt one group of people over another: patriarchy, racism, homophobia, etc. We don't battle against flesh and blood; we call out oppressive systems because
in the end, these systems oppress us all, even the ones that benefit from the hierarchy.
There is talk that the church is dying; perhaps the reason it is dying is because the church is concerned with inconsequential minutia instead of the
business of kingdom building (and oppression-smashing).
The author of Ephesians implores the chruch to put on the “full armor of God” in order to be able to wage this battle successfully. Besides the armor of God,
there are three other helpful Biblical metaphors regarding Kingdom building: the body of Christ, the gifts of the Spirit, and the fruits of
the Spirit.
When I think of the body of Christ, I think of the church doing the work of Christ here on earth. In order to do that, the church needs workers with a
variety of skills. And voilà, we are given these skills via Spirit gifts. But what gifts do we see being used? Here's what I've been seeing:
Activists
Speaking truth to power
Allies/Advocates
Walking alongside those who are oppressed
Educators
Bringing awareness and knowledge, both generalized and highly-specific
Healers/Helpers
Healing those who are oppressed; helping oppressors stop the cycle of oppression
Prophets
Speaking and demonstrating unpopular truths both inside and outside the church
Bridge Builders
Bringing other people along who are stuck in the cycle of oppression
Some of these gifts overlap. Many people have more than just one gift. Also, although these gifts are not in opposition to each other, they can often feel
that way. For example, someone who is a bridge builder may see an activist as being too forceful or strident. The activist may see the bridge builder as
compromising. That's really OK. They don't have to be best friends. However, both are missing an opportunity for growth and connection if they despise the
other (iron sharpens iron).
How can we tell, then, if someone's actions are "of the Spirit"? I believe one way we can tell by using the fruits of the Spirit metaphor: love, joy, peace,
patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Of course, the "fruits of the Spirit" concept has been used as severe behavior
modification by those in power and authority. For example, I always mistook kindness for niceness. Being kind doesn't always mean being nice.
I realize that my view of the body of Christ is probably more like a body part of Christ, like the elbow or the chin. My thinking of God and the body of
Christ tends to be too small. What other gifts do you see on display in the church? Also, how do you tell the difference between mere disagreement with a
fellow Jesus-follower and disagreement with a "false teacher" (see Matthew 7)?
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Monday, August 26, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Pushback Against Christian Homophobia
Yesterday's post (trigger warning: extreme homophobia) from The Gospel Coalition reminded me yet again of the importance of Christian LGBTQ allies. I had no desire and no energy to attempt to respond myself. However, two really positive things have occurred as a result of that post:
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- The Gospel Coalition and those who align with that organization demonstrated that their disgust for LGBTQ people goes beyond their own narrow Biblical interpretation.
- The pushback from the Christian LGBTQ community and Christian allies through blog posts and Twitter conversations with TGC has been amazing.
- The Importance of My Gag Reflex in Accepting Who God Made Me to Be
(Kimberly Knight / Coming Out Christian)
- Gagging on the Gospel Coalition: Why a Reflex Isn't a Measure of Sin
(David R. Henson / Edges of Faith)
- We Live in Tension
(Nathan Kennedy / Petrychor) guest posting on Krista Dalton's blog - Your Gagging Isn't Loving
(Alise Wright / Alise…Write!)
- What If Jesus Had a Gag Reflex
(Zack Hunt / The American Jesus)
- #GagReflex
(Zach J. Hoag / The Nuance)
- On Love and the Yuck Factor
(Richard Beck / Experimental Theology)
- The Connection Between Conscience and Disgust
(Aric Clark / Two Friars and a Fool)
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Sunday, August 18, 2013
Reflections on Blue
Blue is my color. I always find myself somewhere on its spectrum. That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m always sad. Let me explain what I mean by reflecting on three different shades of blue.
Note: When speaking of color, there is always a danger of casually equating White with Good and Black with Evil. It is problematic because white and black are also used to describe race. When I speak of “black” or “darkness” in this post, I am not speaking of a color in the sense that we normally understand the word. True darkness is the absence of all light and therefore of all color; for example, scientists use the term “black holes” to describe phenomena with gravities that are so strong that not even light can escape.
Tragically, so many lives are devoid of even midnight blue. Driven to despair and utter hopelessness, they see suicide as preferable to living in pain. Some of those who are driven to such a desperate option are young people who are told they are sexually broken; this turns my midnight blue heart to FIERY RED. Just like the emotions associated with sky blue, these emotions compel me to act.
A friend once told me that he thought the verse “Blessed are they that mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matt 5:4) referred to those who are able to bring outside that which is inside. Meaning, those that mourn are those that can authentically express their emotions and live life more fully human. This verse came to mind as I meditated on the color blue, and what that color has come to represent linguistically. Feeling “blue” has come to mean feeling sad. But similar to how my friend saw “mourning,” I have found new meaning to being blue. Blue is a reminder of the realities and complexities of life, it represents hope in the darkest of times, and it aspires to transparency and authenticity. It means more to me than just being sad.
What about you? Do you also resonate with the color blue? Do you have a different "life color”? What do you think about my friend’s interpretation of “mourning”?
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Note: When speaking of color, there is always a danger of casually equating White with Good and Black with Evil. It is problematic because white and black are also used to describe race. When I speak of “black” or “darkness” in this post, I am not speaking of a color in the sense that we normally understand the word. True darkness is the absence of all light and therefore of all color; for example, scientists use the term “black holes” to describe phenomena with gravities that are so strong that not even light can escape.
Sky Blue
Think of a cloudless summer sky in the early afternoon. The sun is almost white, and the sky itself is so bright that you can only see a faint hue of color. For me, that color is the color of happiness, energy, and joy. But despite the brightness, that touch of blue still remains; reminding me—even in moments of pure joy—of the gravity of life. Even if every relationship is fulfilling and synergistic, if every project goes smoothly and successfully, and if every destination is reached; even then, it doesn’t change the reality of ongoing injustice and oppression in the world. Like gravity, this realization pulls me down hard; but it also has a grounding effect. I find meaning (and even beauty) in it. Instead of removing joy, it gives it a splash of color. It gives me a reason to move forward.Midnight Blue
Think of a blue sock or shoe that is so dark that you mistake it for black. Midnight blue is almost as dark as charcoal, but still has a tiny hint of color. It’s the shade of blue that looks and feels like utter hopelessness. When I feel that hopelessness, I visualize it as an inky dark sludge coursing through my body—even reaching my fingers and toes. It is physically heavy. For me, this “sludge” is midnight blue rather than black. The touch of color represents the spark of life that fights against being extinguished. I still feel that spark of life in the seemingly complete darkness.Tragically, so many lives are devoid of even midnight blue. Driven to despair and utter hopelessness, they see suicide as preferable to living in pain. Some of those who are driven to such a desperate option are young people who are told they are sexually broken; this turns my midnight blue heart to FIERY RED. Just like the emotions associated with sky blue, these emotions compel me to act.
Ocean Blue
Think of a tropical location with white sand and clear blue water. The sun’s reflection sparkles on the ocean, and the transparency of the water allows you to see deep below the surface. Ocean blue is the color I strive to be. I want to be transparent—without masks, without hidden motives—in order for others to see me, not someone I pretend to be. Transparency makes true love and connection possible. It makes life risky, difficult, refreshing, and meaningful. Sort of like the ocean.A friend once told me that he thought the verse “Blessed are they that mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matt 5:4) referred to those who are able to bring outside that which is inside. Meaning, those that mourn are those that can authentically express their emotions and live life more fully human. This verse came to mind as I meditated on the color blue, and what that color has come to represent linguistically. Feeling “blue” has come to mean feeling sad. But similar to how my friend saw “mourning,” I have found new meaning to being blue. Blue is a reminder of the realities and complexities of life, it represents hope in the darkest of times, and it aspires to transparency and authenticity. It means more to me than just being sad.
What about you? Do you also resonate with the color blue? Do you have a different "life color”? What do you think about my friend’s interpretation of “mourning”?
Tweet
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Doubt, Love, and Connection
Doubt is my constant companion. I used to think I had doubt, but that doubt was more inwardly focused: Am I really a Christian? Does God love me? Will God reject me if I give in to my same-sex attraction? That type of doubt assumed that the existence of God, the inerrancy of the Bible, and the evangelical doctrines of Jesus’ death and resurrection were beyond question.
Today, for me, nothing is beyond question.
A few months ago I started reading through the book of Matthew in an attempt to blog through the Gospels. I ran out of steam, primarily because of doubts about the Bible. I decided to pause that project in order to read other books. Books that dealt with my questions and fears. Books from people who also wrestle with these doubts.
One book I read was Amy Hollingworth’s Letters from the Closet, which I reviewed in detail on Amazon. The book is not a "how-to" manual on relationships or a story about how Jesus arrived to magically save the day. It's a book about authentic love and connection. It's a book where ongoing doubt is a necessary part of the story.
Three other books I've read recently further explore these themes of love and connection which transcend doubt:
I first started reading M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled in the mid-1990s. I couldn’t finish it because I don’t think I was ready for it at the time. I picked it up again a few months ago, and this time I was hungry for Peck’s message. This book provided the best argument for the existence of “God” I’ve ever read. The primary focus of the book is not an apologetic for God’s existence, but on the healing power of Love. To very briefly summarize: despite the law of entropy, the universe keeps striving for something better. Human beings also strive for improvement despite a desire to remain constant. Peck identifies this higher force for good as Love. Love is the power of the unknowable God—is the unknowable God.
For me, the leap of faith comes in choosing to understand this unknowable God through Jesus. But what is the best way to know and understand Jesus? The most accessible tool we have is the Bible. Yet the history of how the Bible was written and canonized is fraught with plagiarism and political corruption. Furthermore, after Constantine declared Christianity as the official religion of Rome, Christianity transformed into just another kingdom of the world; it has rarely looked like the Kingdom of God (as described in the Bible!). And what about the mystery of the Holy Spirit?
An author who has helped me sort through (and sit with) these questions and doubts is Marcus Borg. Borg is a respected scholar and Jesus historian. I put a lot of stock in what he has to say because his knowledge about what is known about Jesus the man goes way beyond what the Bible reveals. In The Heart of Christianity, Borg describes two paradigms of Christianity: the existing paradigm and the emerging paradigm.
Note: The emerging paradigm described by Borg shouldn’t be confused with the Emergent Church movement, although there are some ideas that overlap.
Borg argues that while the existing paradigm for Christianity (i.e., a traditional understanding of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the Bible) has “worked” for many people in the past, it has less and less relevance for fewer and fewer people. He is careful not to disparage the existing paradigm, but instead describes the practice of an emerging paradigm of Christianity with topics such as Biblical interpretation, religious pluralism, Kingdom of God ideals, and the emphasis on (and the different definitions of) belief.
The book profoundly resonated with me. It helped me understand that even amidst a thick fog of doubt, one can still practice Christianity and find meaning and purpose. I cannot say it better than how the publisher describes it: “…the Christian life is essentially about opening one's heart to God and to others.”
Connection with others is a major theme of the latest book I read: Faitheist by Chris Stedman. Stedman is young gay man who identified as an evangelical Christian for a time, but now identifies as an atheist. His passion for social justice, however, has been a constant. Today he works as a Humanist Chaplain and an advocate for interfaith organizations.
I loved this book so much. Stedman is incredibly generous to engage with those of us who enjoy "religious privilege" in the U.S. His message of love, connection with others, listening well, and solving social ills together is so desperately needed. He’s gotten some forceful pushback from anti-theists and some atheists—those who believe religion is a primary reason for the world’s problems. But in risking criticism, Stedman reaches out in an effort to understand those with whom he disagrees in order to find connection and to work side-by-side overcoming oppression and injustice in the world.
The other day I was walking downtown (where I work) in order to grab some lunch. The concepts of love and connection were running through my mind. As I passed a woman on the sidewalk, it occurred to me that I’m connected to her. I am part of her. She is part of me. I immediately felt great compassion for her. This all happened so quickly and the compassion I felt was so acute that it’s difficult to describe accurately. However, it was a glimpse into something very true. If we truly love someone, we feel a connection that binds us to that person. That connection is what could allow us to have an empathy that goes beyond just “feeling bad” and compels us to action. Not guilt, not duty, not gratitude. Love.
Love and connection is the common theme in these four books. Love and connection could heal the world. No matter what details I believe about it, if Christianity can’t help me love and connect with others, it’s worthless.
Tweet
Today, for me, nothing is beyond question.
A few months ago I started reading through the book of Matthew in an attempt to blog through the Gospels. I ran out of steam, primarily because of doubts about the Bible. I decided to pause that project in order to read other books. Books that dealt with my questions and fears. Books from people who also wrestle with these doubts.
One book I read was Amy Hollingworth’s Letters from the Closet, which I reviewed in detail on Amazon. The book is not a "how-to" manual on relationships or a story about how Jesus arrived to magically save the day. It's a book about authentic love and connection. It's a book where ongoing doubt is a necessary part of the story.
Three other books I've read recently further explore these themes of love and connection which transcend doubt:
The Road Less Traveled (M. Scott Peck)
I first started reading M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled in the mid-1990s. I couldn’t finish it because I don’t think I was ready for it at the time. I picked it up again a few months ago, and this time I was hungry for Peck’s message. This book provided the best argument for the existence of “God” I’ve ever read. The primary focus of the book is not an apologetic for God’s existence, but on the healing power of Love. To very briefly summarize: despite the law of entropy, the universe keeps striving for something better. Human beings also strive for improvement despite a desire to remain constant. Peck identifies this higher force for good as Love. Love is the power of the unknowable God—is the unknowable God.
For me, the leap of faith comes in choosing to understand this unknowable God through Jesus. But what is the best way to know and understand Jesus? The most accessible tool we have is the Bible. Yet the history of how the Bible was written and canonized is fraught with plagiarism and political corruption. Furthermore, after Constantine declared Christianity as the official religion of Rome, Christianity transformed into just another kingdom of the world; it has rarely looked like the Kingdom of God (as described in the Bible!). And what about the mystery of the Holy Spirit?
The Heart of Christianity (Marcus Borg)
An author who has helped me sort through (and sit with) these questions and doubts is Marcus Borg. Borg is a respected scholar and Jesus historian. I put a lot of stock in what he has to say because his knowledge about what is known about Jesus the man goes way beyond what the Bible reveals. In The Heart of Christianity, Borg describes two paradigms of Christianity: the existing paradigm and the emerging paradigm.
Note: The emerging paradigm described by Borg shouldn’t be confused with the Emergent Church movement, although there are some ideas that overlap.
Borg argues that while the existing paradigm for Christianity (i.e., a traditional understanding of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the Bible) has “worked” for many people in the past, it has less and less relevance for fewer and fewer people. He is careful not to disparage the existing paradigm, but instead describes the practice of an emerging paradigm of Christianity with topics such as Biblical interpretation, religious pluralism, Kingdom of God ideals, and the emphasis on (and the different definitions of) belief.
The book profoundly resonated with me. It helped me understand that even amidst a thick fog of doubt, one can still practice Christianity and find meaning and purpose. I cannot say it better than how the publisher describes it: “…the Christian life is essentially about opening one's heart to God and to others.”
Faitheist (Chris Stedman)
Connection with others is a major theme of the latest book I read: Faitheist by Chris Stedman. Stedman is young gay man who identified as an evangelical Christian for a time, but now identifies as an atheist. His passion for social justice, however, has been a constant. Today he works as a Humanist Chaplain and an advocate for interfaith organizations.
I loved this book so much. Stedman is incredibly generous to engage with those of us who enjoy "religious privilege" in the U.S. His message of love, connection with others, listening well, and solving social ills together is so desperately needed. He’s gotten some forceful pushback from anti-theists and some atheists—those who believe religion is a primary reason for the world’s problems. But in risking criticism, Stedman reaches out in an effort to understand those with whom he disagrees in order to find connection and to work side-by-side overcoming oppression and injustice in the world.
The other day I was walking downtown (where I work) in order to grab some lunch. The concepts of love and connection were running through my mind. As I passed a woman on the sidewalk, it occurred to me that I’m connected to her. I am part of her. She is part of me. I immediately felt great compassion for her. This all happened so quickly and the compassion I felt was so acute that it’s difficult to describe accurately. However, it was a glimpse into something very true. If we truly love someone, we feel a connection that binds us to that person. That connection is what could allow us to have an empathy that goes beyond just “feeling bad” and compels us to action. Not guilt, not duty, not gratitude. Love.
Love and connection is the common theme in these four books. Love and connection could heal the world. No matter what details I believe about it, if Christianity can’t help me love and connect with others, it’s worthless.
Tweet
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Coping
I have to admit that I’ve been pretty sad lately. Actually I’ve been sad, angry, and confused. It’s a thick, dark sludge of pain that has been heating up and is starting to bubble up to the surface.
To explain, it might help to briefly summarize my own history. I am someone who grew up with a loving family, but whose family was (and is) surrounded by Christian fundamentalism. Notwithstanding the love of my family--which made it bearable--I can describe living in this environment using three words: fear, shame, and coping.
I was/am afraid of:
I felt/feel shame about:
I have coped/cope with this pain by:
In January of this year, I started writing about this history and my continuing journey. After a period of church detox and therapy, I needed to reconnect somehow with God and spirituality. Writing about it and sharing it has been very healing for me. I’ve met other sojourners who have helped me understand myself and the world better through their writing and their friendships. The whole blogging experience has shown me the potential for a more meaningful life by loving well.
However, I still see these patterns of fear, shame, and coping in my own life. They keep cycling back in different forms, in different situations. When I look back, I can see growth; I know I have been more honest and authentic with myself and with others than at any other time. But the same coping mechanisms are still present and easily accessible. Using these old ways prevents further growth. When I use them—and it is so easy to do so—another cycle of shame and coping begins.
My guess is that I haven’t fully grasped how fear and shame tore my humanity to shreds. I also believe I haven’t fully mourned the loss of the god of my youth. That god was also a coping mechanism. He (my god was definitely a “he”) was anyone I wanted to be on that particular day: comforter, savior, santa, father, or king. Maybe this is one reason I still so readily rely on those old ways of coping: I’m trying to hold on to youth itself.
As I look back over the list of coping techniques, I think I can see a way forward. If I can somehow be aware of when I’m using these techniques...even just being aware of when they occur could be valuable…
Regarding the loss of my own image of God (and using this image as another coping mechanism), I’d like to quote Morgan Guyton, an amazing writer who is also a pastor, who provided an astoundingly brief but accurate summary of the philosophy of Slavoj Zizek:
“…Zizek makes the provocative, paradoxical claim in his recently published behemoth of a book Less Than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism that the most faithful way to be a Christian is actually to be an atheist. In his reading of the New Testament in the light of 'death of God' theology, the cross represents the death of the idea of a transcendent god. Subsequent to the cross, for Zizek, the Holy Spirit becomes the collective 'spirit' of the faithful community rather than a transcendent being outside of that community.”
This really speaks to me. It's close to where I stand at this particular moment in time. For now, I am abiding in the mystery of the unknowable God and learning how to truly mourn.
Tweet
To explain, it might help to briefly summarize my own history. I am someone who grew up with a loving family, but whose family was (and is) surrounded by Christian fundamentalism. Notwithstanding the love of my family--which made it bearable--I can describe living in this environment using three words: fear, shame, and coping.
I was/am afraid of:
- a god that would send human beings to hell (eternal conscious torment)
- hell
- cruelty and the capacity for cruelty in human beings
- meaninglessness
- other people’s anger and pain
I felt/feel shame about:
- being gay
- sexuality in general
- laziness
- cowardice
- physical appearance
I have coped/cope with this pain by:
- pleasing others to win approval/affirmation
- behavior modification
- constant diet and exercise planning
- turning off/numbing painful feelings (withdrawing)
- losing myself in books, TV, games
In January of this year, I started writing about this history and my continuing journey. After a period of church detox and therapy, I needed to reconnect somehow with God and spirituality. Writing about it and sharing it has been very healing for me. I’ve met other sojourners who have helped me understand myself and the world better through their writing and their friendships. The whole blogging experience has shown me the potential for a more meaningful life by loving well.
However, I still see these patterns of fear, shame, and coping in my own life. They keep cycling back in different forms, in different situations. When I look back, I can see growth; I know I have been more honest and authentic with myself and with others than at any other time. But the same coping mechanisms are still present and easily accessible. Using these old ways prevents further growth. When I use them—and it is so easy to do so—another cycle of shame and coping begins.
My guess is that I haven’t fully grasped how fear and shame tore my humanity to shreds. I also believe I haven’t fully mourned the loss of the god of my youth. That god was also a coping mechanism. He (my god was definitely a “he”) was anyone I wanted to be on that particular day: comforter, savior, santa, father, or king. Maybe this is one reason I still so readily rely on those old ways of coping: I’m trying to hold on to youth itself.
As I look back over the list of coping techniques, I think I can see a way forward. If I can somehow be aware of when I’m using these techniques...even just being aware of when they occur could be valuable…
Regarding the loss of my own image of God (and using this image as another coping mechanism), I’d like to quote Morgan Guyton, an amazing writer who is also a pastor, who provided an astoundingly brief but accurate summary of the philosophy of Slavoj Zizek:
“…Zizek makes the provocative, paradoxical claim in his recently published behemoth of a book Less Than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism that the most faithful way to be a Christian is actually to be an atheist. In his reading of the New Testament in the light of 'death of God' theology, the cross represents the death of the idea of a transcendent god. Subsequent to the cross, for Zizek, the Holy Spirit becomes the collective 'spirit' of the faithful community rather than a transcendent being outside of that community.”
This really speaks to me. It's close to where I stand at this particular moment in time. For now, I am abiding in the mystery of the unknowable God and learning how to truly mourn.
Tweet
Monday, July 29, 2013
Overrated and Underrated: A Meditation
A few months ago I was reflecting on the difference between niceness and kindness, in the context of human conversation and interaction. To me, being nice means using certain words or tone in an attempt to smooth over differences. It means saying things that you think another person wants to hear.
Being kind, on the other hand, means remaining true to yourself while holding empathy for the other person. It means not only speaking, but active listening. It means bringing your whole self to a conversation, including your anger. Niceness doesn't require relationship--in fact it discourages it. Kindness seeks relationship and understanding. Niceness isn't that difficult; in fact it can be a cover for manipulative or passive-aggressive behavior. Kindness is costly because it requires authenticity, vulnerability, and true connection with others. It risks rejection.
Niceness is overrated in our culture, while kindness is (scandalously) underrated. I started thinking about other words and concepts that American and/or Christian culture--especially those of us who are privileged--either value highly or undervalue. The list below is a result of meditating on these concepts.
Keep in mind that I do not believe that everything I list as "overrated" is necessarily bad or unhealthy; some are merely over-valued in comparison with what I list as underrated.
* With apologies to Amy Hollingsworth!
What do YOU think? Do these comparisons resonate with you? Are there any with which you disagree? What would you add or remove from this list? Thanks for reading!
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Being kind, on the other hand, means remaining true to yourself while holding empathy for the other person. It means not only speaking, but active listening. It means bringing your whole self to a conversation, including your anger. Niceness doesn't require relationship--in fact it discourages it. Kindness seeks relationship and understanding. Niceness isn't that difficult; in fact it can be a cover for manipulative or passive-aggressive behavior. Kindness is costly because it requires authenticity, vulnerability, and true connection with others. It risks rejection.
Niceness is overrated in our culture, while kindness is (scandalously) underrated. I started thinking about other words and concepts that American and/or Christian culture--especially those of us who are privileged--either value highly or undervalue. The list below is a result of meditating on these concepts.
Keep in mind that I do not believe that everything I list as "overrated" is necessarily bad or unhealthy; some are merely over-valued in comparison with what I list as underrated.
| Overrated | Underrated |
| Niceness | Kindness |
| Certainty | Mystery |
| Expertise | Intellectual Humility |
| Arrogance | Pride |
| Relevance | Authenticity |
| Criminal Justice | Social Justice |
| Explaining | Listening |
| Conventional Wisdom | Instinct |
| Atheism/Theism | Humanism |
| Shame | Guilt |
| Having Good Intentions | Assuming Good Intentions |
| Modesty Rules | Healthy Sexuality |
| Freud* | Jung |
| Playing the Martyr | Practicing Meekness |
| Fixing | Empathizing |
| Destination | Journey |
| Notoriety | Obscurity |
| Stability | Change |
| The Bible | The Holy Spirit |
| Truth | Love |
* With apologies to Amy Hollingsworth!
What do YOU think? Do these comparisons resonate with you? Are there any with which you disagree? What would you add or remove from this list? Thanks for reading!
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Friday, July 26, 2013
Known By Our Hate
“So, I’m coming out to my parents tomorrow!”
Her announcement on Twitter spread quickly in our small group of online friends. My heart went out to her, because I remember how incredibly difficult it was for me to come out, and how difficult it remains for all of us in my family to process.
I recalled another woman I had met recently, married with children, who somehow found the courage to come out. Her husband was incredibly supportive; however, when she told her parents…there was only grief and the refrain: “how could you DO this to us?”
I thought of a friend in nearby Washington, who got engaged to his partner of over 10 years after the State legalized gay marriage. He sent invitations to his family, and got a letter back from his sister—using the RSVP envelope from the invitation—that told him how wrong and immoral it was that he was getting married to his partner.
I remembered another friend, a recent college grad in his mid-20s, who wrote a long heart-felt letter to his father, explaining the journey he’s taken: praying, trying to change, and finally understanding that God loves him as he is. His father wrote back: “it would be fine with me if I never saw you again.”
I’ve heard countless other stories from the LGBTQ alumni group of the Christian university I attended, where some or all family members continue to scorn, ignore, or outright reject their loved one.
Update: Please see the heartbreaking true story at Christian Nightmares Too called What hiding the truth from church members cost one Christian man.
So when my friend announced her impending coming-out, I worried for her. A few months back, I had shared with her the story of my formerly-married-friend-with-the-supportive-husband-but-unsupportive-parents. Graciously, she asked about her and her well-being. “Doing well,” I said, “but it’s still a struggle. I’m hoping your parents are much more empathetic. It’s hard when you are taught your whole life that homosexuality is a sin.” Since she is a self-identifying Christian, I just assumed that her parents were too. But she said, “Oh, my parents aren’t religious, so I don’t have that hurdle.”
The first thing I felt was relief. Oh, GOOD! That makes it so much easier!
I also shared this news with my formerly-married friend, and she had the same reaction: one of immense relief.
Then it hit me.
THAT IS FUCKED UP.
LGBTQ people are afraid of religious people; they are afraid of Christians. And can you fucking blame them? Like it or not, Christians have made a name for themselves. As Rachel Held Evans pointed out in her post last year, How to Win A Culture War and Lose a Generation:
"When asked by The Barna Group what words or phrases best describe Christianity, the top response among Americans ages 16-29 was 'antihomosexual.' For a staggering 91 percent of non-Christians, this was the first word that came to their mind when asked about the Christian faith."
As Christians, we’re known for our hate.
THIS MUST CHANGE. It’s not an option. Following Jesus is not holding on to “literal” views of the Bible in order to feel better about your own shortcomings. Following Jesus isn’t defending what you call “truth.” Following Jesus is not being hyper-defensive and playing your martyr card when someone calls you out on your bullshit. Following Jesus is not word-policing or tone-policing or behavior modification.
Following Jesus means loving people where they are; being a champion for justice and mercy; acknowledging your own advantages and humbling engaging with those who are less advantaged than you are--listening to them; calling out abuse and injustice and those who perpetrate it.
I’m the first to admit: I’ve got problems and issues. I don’t love people well. Too often I’m blinded to my own fortune, participating willingly in a world where white men are seen as superior.
On the other side of the coin, I don’t know HOW to love people who are stubbornly abusive, unjust, and ignorant. I feel I’m learning how to love those people who are caught UNDER that trap of being unknowingly abusive and unjust, because I know I’ve done it and continue to do it. I’ve been forgiven MUCH by God and by others. But I'm not there yet. And I still don’t know how to love the perpetrators of it. Perhaps in time and with maturity I will understand how this can be done. (See Rachel's post today for some wise words about this conundrum).
In the meantime, I’m just angry. I want to see a community of people who live out Kingdom of God ideals; instead I see marginalized people relieved when they don’t have to deal with Christians.
As for the woman who came out to her non-religious parents? It went really well. “I have GREAT parents!” she said.
I celebrate with her.
I also mourn for us.
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Her announcement on Twitter spread quickly in our small group of online friends. My heart went out to her, because I remember how incredibly difficult it was for me to come out, and how difficult it remains for all of us in my family to process.
I recalled another woman I had met recently, married with children, who somehow found the courage to come out. Her husband was incredibly supportive; however, when she told her parents…there was only grief and the refrain: “how could you DO this to us?”
I thought of a friend in nearby Washington, who got engaged to his partner of over 10 years after the State legalized gay marriage. He sent invitations to his family, and got a letter back from his sister—using the RSVP envelope from the invitation—that told him how wrong and immoral it was that he was getting married to his partner.
I remembered another friend, a recent college grad in his mid-20s, who wrote a long heart-felt letter to his father, explaining the journey he’s taken: praying, trying to change, and finally understanding that God loves him as he is. His father wrote back: “it would be fine with me if I never saw you again.”
I’ve heard countless other stories from the LGBTQ alumni group of the Christian university I attended, where some or all family members continue to scorn, ignore, or outright reject their loved one.
Update: Please see the heartbreaking true story at Christian Nightmares Too called What hiding the truth from church members cost one Christian man.
So when my friend announced her impending coming-out, I worried for her. A few months back, I had shared with her the story of my formerly-married-friend-with-the-supportive-husband-but-unsupportive-parents. Graciously, she asked about her and her well-being. “Doing well,” I said, “but it’s still a struggle. I’m hoping your parents are much more empathetic. It’s hard when you are taught your whole life that homosexuality is a sin.” Since she is a self-identifying Christian, I just assumed that her parents were too. But she said, “Oh, my parents aren’t religious, so I don’t have that hurdle.”
The first thing I felt was relief. Oh, GOOD! That makes it so much easier!
I also shared this news with my formerly-married friend, and she had the same reaction: one of immense relief.
Then it hit me.
THAT IS FUCKED UP.
LGBTQ people are afraid of religious people; they are afraid of Christians. And can you fucking blame them? Like it or not, Christians have made a name for themselves. As Rachel Held Evans pointed out in her post last year, How to Win A Culture War and Lose a Generation:
"When asked by The Barna Group what words or phrases best describe Christianity, the top response among Americans ages 16-29 was 'antihomosexual.' For a staggering 91 percent of non-Christians, this was the first word that came to their mind when asked about the Christian faith."
As Christians, we’re known for our hate.
THIS MUST CHANGE. It’s not an option. Following Jesus is not holding on to “literal” views of the Bible in order to feel better about your own shortcomings. Following Jesus isn’t defending what you call “truth.” Following Jesus is not being hyper-defensive and playing your martyr card when someone calls you out on your bullshit. Following Jesus is not word-policing or tone-policing or behavior modification.
Following Jesus means loving people where they are; being a champion for justice and mercy; acknowledging your own advantages and humbling engaging with those who are less advantaged than you are--listening to them; calling out abuse and injustice and those who perpetrate it.
I’m the first to admit: I’ve got problems and issues. I don’t love people well. Too often I’m blinded to my own fortune, participating willingly in a world where white men are seen as superior.
On the other side of the coin, I don’t know HOW to love people who are stubbornly abusive, unjust, and ignorant. I feel I’m learning how to love those people who are caught UNDER that trap of being unknowingly abusive and unjust, because I know I’ve done it and continue to do it. I’ve been forgiven MUCH by God and by others. But I'm not there yet. And I still don’t know how to love the perpetrators of it. Perhaps in time and with maturity I will understand how this can be done. (See Rachel's post today for some wise words about this conundrum).
In the meantime, I’m just angry. I want to see a community of people who live out Kingdom of God ideals; instead I see marginalized people relieved when they don’t have to deal with Christians.
As for the woman who came out to her non-religious parents? It went really well. “I have GREAT parents!” she said.
I celebrate with her.
I also mourn for us.
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