This posts is one of the drafts I've mentioned in past entries. I've considered the concept of chosen family for years. It's a messy idea without a clear definition, at least in my case. Most of the time, I just know who's going to be added, sometimes within the first few weeks of meeting someone. Sometimes, I guess wrong, and that hurts. But usually, finding a kindred spirit (to steal from Anne of Green Gables) is a great joy and comfort.
Signs someone might be chosen family:
1. You can call when stuff is bad
These are people who are allowed to see you in your jammies, or when your house is an absolute mess, or when all you can do is sit on the floor and sob. No judgment. No hesitation. They just show up.
They may clear some dishes while you work up the gumption to tell them what happened. They might just sit on the floor with you.
2. You can call when stuff is good
When you have good news, you know they won't rain on your parade, downplay accomplishments, try to "one-up" you, or be a joy kill when you're basking.
3. They can keep a secret
These people know that the slip of a lip could sink a ship, and they'll honor requests for confidentiality.
4. You could talk for hours
You know that thing where you look up and realize it's been two hours and you thought ten minutes had gone by? That's super likely to happy with chosen family. Plan accordingly.
5. They see you
They know something is wrong or exciting or frightening whether or not you've actually said it. Half the time, they know what you're thinking about it before you've said anything. And then . . .
6. They speak truth to you
Whether is sassing you because you need to hear it or simply sharing a story about what they've learned from a similar experience, these are people who tell you like it is. No agenda, no cliches. Sometimes you don't want to hear it. Sometimes it might not be quite right. But it is true for them and it's honest and open.
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Freedom of Religion: Please Stop Saying I'm Discriminating Against Evangelicals
I've been hearing a lot of concern that churches will face repercussions if they continue to oppose marriage equality. A few people have been fear-mongering by suggesting that ministers will be forced to perform same sex marriages that violate their theology. I have heard it mentioned that churches may lose their tax exempt status or that religiously affiliated institutions such as hospitals and universities may lose government funding. I have heard that Christian businesses (a misnomer, since a business can't be religious, only the person owning it can) will be forced to close if they don't serve same sex couples.
I have seen these things a lot. There are really two options in terms of where they come from. One is an intentional effort to push the concept of Christian Persecution Complex (CPC), or the idea that Christians in the United States now are being persecuted and are in danger. For an article that addresses CPC, click here. The other option, and in many cases, I think the more likely one, is that many US citizens lack civic literacy to understand the implications of the Constitution. It is beyond me to remedy that fully.
I have ended up in discussions about this often, with different individuals. This blog post is an attempt to synthesize some of these issues, although I know that one blog post is hardly sufficient; that said, it's a lot closer to sufficient than a Facebook comment. For more info about why I keep writing this type of blog entry instead of answering individual questions or discussions, please see On Being a Unicorn, where I explain my theory behind the relatively active readership of this blog and an additional post on the emotional repercussions for me of being bombarded so frequently with requests to weigh in, entitled Your Questions: My Answers.
So where to start? I'm not sure, so at this point, I'm going to pick something, start there, and see what happens.
Let's address this anecdotally, since the availability of statistics outlining the likelihood of the LGBT community to experience homelessness, poverty, uninsured status, unemployment and underemployment, etc, as well as much higher threat of physical violence seem not to matter in this societal debate. It is not my job to educate you on these issues - Google them if you need to or check out Equality Michigan, Human Rights Campaign, Freedom to Marry, or any number of other sites dedicate to this issue. (Kat Blaque makes a much better argument on your responsibility to educate yourself on these issues, if you truly care about the LGBT community, than I ever could.)
I have been a committed Christian since I was five years old and a member of a Christian family my whole life. I attended camps on apologetics training (basically, how to share Christianity to get people to follow Jesus) more than once in high school and participated in Bible study and church throughout college and most of grad school. I still attend church regularly, and though I no longer identify as Evangelical with a capital E, I strongly believe in the teachings of Jesus and their power to transform.
I am also gay. And gay affirming. I believe that my marriage is a Biblical picture of the concept of a helpmate and also of a family teaming up to pursue the Great Commission put forth in the Gospel of Matthew (and throughout the New Testament). I know some readers disagree with me on that particular point, but I make it to lead you to another:
I have been worried about it. I have perhaps thought that I was. But I have never lost an opportunity because of my faith. In fact, I have gained many. I have never been unsafe for my religious views. No one with power over my life has made decisions that changed my outcomes for the negative because I was a Christian. And I attended public schools and universities for all twenty years I have been in formal education. I have never worked for a religious employer that I can currently recall; all my jobs have been in the secular world. I have not hidden my faith - most people know that I regularly attend church, and some even know that I am Protestant. And when it comes down to it, I don't think very many people in the United States have been persecuted for following Jesus. I think I'm the rule here, not the exception.
I have avoided coming out at work in certain schools because I feared that students would verbally attack me and/or have their parents call to complain. I have avoided applying for jobs at certain companies or in specific cities. I have avoided looking at rental housing in specific areas. I have been turned away at governmental institutions when applying for paperwork such as an accurate drivers license, resulting in concerns as outlined in my post "It Happened." I have been subjected to questions on highly personal issues of my sexuality, I have been hypersexualized and propositioned, I have been "teasingly" mocked. Rebecca skipped applying to certain hospitals for residency because they would not have recognized her marriage or given me insurance when it would be promised to heterosexual spouses. (Incidentally, whatever else I say about Henry Ford Health, their HR policies for LGBT families are great.) I fear that in an emergency I would be taken to one of the Detroit area Catholic hospitals that is closer than some Henry Ford facilities and that Rebecca and I would face discrimination, as a family we know did within the last year. Yes, a Catholic hospital. A Christian, supposedly pro-family institution discriminated against a family in crisis.
And you know, I count myself fortunate, because I have never been violently attacked and likely never will be, but I know LGBT people who have been or who have been close, just for being Gay/Trans. I have never been fired, but I know LGBT people who have been, just for not being Cis/Straight.
You cannot convince me that Christians in general, or even Evangelicals in particular, are being persecuted. You cannot convince me that the LGBT community is NOT being persecuted. I have seen the statistics, but I have also lived both. If anything, the LGBT community is being persecuted because of beliefs of a specific subset (and a very specific and shrinking one, at this point) that have been codified into law despite separation of church and state, despite laws against violence, murder, despite in some cases job requirements, legal requirements, etc.
I defend your right to believe whatever your interpretation of Scripture using your version of exegesis says. I defend your clergy's right to refuse to marry whomever he likes. I defend your church's right to gather and worship in the way they see fit, your right to parent as you see fit, even your right to teach your children that my family/marriage is "less than." But I will not agree that you are persecuted. It is not your right to maintain positive public opinion, nor is it Biblical.
I am not persecuted as a Christian. I am persecuted because of my same sex marriage.
I have seen these things a lot. There are really two options in terms of where they come from. One is an intentional effort to push the concept of Christian Persecution Complex (CPC), or the idea that Christians in the United States now are being persecuted and are in danger. For an article that addresses CPC, click here. The other option, and in many cases, I think the more likely one, is that many US citizens lack civic literacy to understand the implications of the Constitution. It is beyond me to remedy that fully.
I have ended up in discussions about this often, with different individuals. This blog post is an attempt to synthesize some of these issues, although I know that one blog post is hardly sufficient; that said, it's a lot closer to sufficient than a Facebook comment. For more info about why I keep writing this type of blog entry instead of answering individual questions or discussions, please see On Being a Unicorn, where I explain my theory behind the relatively active readership of this blog and an additional post on the emotional repercussions for me of being bombarded so frequently with requests to weigh in, entitled Your Questions: My Answers.
So where to start? I'm not sure, so at this point, I'm going to pick something, start there, and see what happens.
Christians are being persecuted for their beliefs. It's no longer safe to be a Christian in the United States. Christians are the real victims.
Let's address this anecdotally, since the availability of statistics outlining the likelihood of the LGBT community to experience homelessness, poverty, uninsured status, unemployment and underemployment, etc, as well as much higher threat of physical violence seem not to matter in this societal debate. It is not my job to educate you on these issues - Google them if you need to or check out Equality Michigan, Human Rights Campaign, Freedom to Marry, or any number of other sites dedicate to this issue. (Kat Blaque makes a much better argument on your responsibility to educate yourself on these issues, if you truly care about the LGBT community, than I ever could.)
I have been a committed Christian since I was five years old and a member of a Christian family my whole life. I attended camps on apologetics training (basically, how to share Christianity to get people to follow Jesus) more than once in high school and participated in Bible study and church throughout college and most of grad school. I still attend church regularly, and though I no longer identify as Evangelical with a capital E, I strongly believe in the teachings of Jesus and their power to transform.
I am also gay. And gay affirming. I believe that my marriage is a Biblical picture of the concept of a helpmate and also of a family teaming up to pursue the Great Commission put forth in the Gospel of Matthew (and throughout the New Testament). I know some readers disagree with me on that particular point, but I make it to lead you to another:
I have never been persecuted as a Christian, not really.
I have been worried about it. I have perhaps thought that I was. But I have never lost an opportunity because of my faith. In fact, I have gained many. I have never been unsafe for my religious views. No one with power over my life has made decisions that changed my outcomes for the negative because I was a Christian. And I attended public schools and universities for all twenty years I have been in formal education. I have never worked for a religious employer that I can currently recall; all my jobs have been in the secular world. I have not hidden my faith - most people know that I regularly attend church, and some even know that I am Protestant. And when it comes down to it, I don't think very many people in the United States have been persecuted for following Jesus. I think I'm the rule here, not the exception.
On the other hand, I have faced discrimination as a member of the LGBT community.
I have avoided coming out at work in certain schools because I feared that students would verbally attack me and/or have their parents call to complain. I have avoided applying for jobs at certain companies or in specific cities. I have avoided looking at rental housing in specific areas. I have been turned away at governmental institutions when applying for paperwork such as an accurate drivers license, resulting in concerns as outlined in my post "It Happened." I have been subjected to questions on highly personal issues of my sexuality, I have been hypersexualized and propositioned, I have been "teasingly" mocked. Rebecca skipped applying to certain hospitals for residency because they would not have recognized her marriage or given me insurance when it would be promised to heterosexual spouses. (Incidentally, whatever else I say about Henry Ford Health, their HR policies for LGBT families are great.) I fear that in an emergency I would be taken to one of the Detroit area Catholic hospitals that is closer than some Henry Ford facilities and that Rebecca and I would face discrimination, as a family we know did within the last year. Yes, a Catholic hospital. A Christian, supposedly pro-family institution discriminated against a family in crisis.
And you know, I count myself fortunate, because I have never been violently attacked and likely never will be, but I know LGBT people who have been or who have been close, just for being Gay/Trans. I have never been fired, but I know LGBT people who have been, just for not being Cis/Straight.
You cannot convince me that Christians in general, or even Evangelicals in particular, are being persecuted. You cannot convince me that the LGBT community is NOT being persecuted. I have seen the statistics, but I have also lived both. If anything, the LGBT community is being persecuted because of beliefs of a specific subset (and a very specific and shrinking one, at this point) that have been codified into law despite separation of church and state, despite laws against violence, murder, despite in some cases job requirements, legal requirements, etc.
I defend your right to believe whatever your interpretation of Scripture using your version of exegesis says. I defend your clergy's right to refuse to marry whomever he likes. I defend your church's right to gather and worship in the way they see fit, your right to parent as you see fit, even your right to teach your children that my family/marriage is "less than." But I will not agree that you are persecuted. It is not your right to maintain positive public opinion, nor is it Biblical.
I am not persecuted as a Christian. I am persecuted because of my same sex marriage.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Christmas Post: Joseph Chose Love
The sermon at our church on Sunday was about Joseph, and I watched The Nativity Story last weekend. Both have me in a state of mind to consider the narrative behind Jesus' birth and the people involved - not as saints in a story that's been retold over and over, but as real people in a narrative that at the time didn't seem to have a happy ending.
Joseph chose love. He didn't understand; of course, the logical interpretation of Mary's pregnancy was that she had cheated. He could have publicly denounced her, clearing his own name of any perceived wrongdoing, and had her stoned to death.
This action would have killed the mother of our Savior; I'm unclear whether they would have waited until after she gave birth (I'm guessing they would have based on some Old Testament law). This could have drastically changed the narrative of grace and salvation, and it would have been a decision based on distrust of the assertions of his intended.
Instead of choosing punishment, his response was to divorce her quietly - to spare her life - and continue to listen to God. When he heard God speak, he didn't dismiss the message. He acted in love and grace in accordance with God's direction, even though I would posit that he did not feel his bewilderment completely lifted.
He chose grace and obedience to God. He chose to believe that Mary had kept her vow, been chosen by God for a great work, and that he had judged her correctly when Joseph chose her (likely for the same virtue for which God chose her) to be his wife. Joseph chose to raise Jesus, the savior of the world, as his own, and in so doing, take a more powerful place in history than he ever could have imagined.
I will not claim to be carrying the Christ child. In fact, it is difficult, given the Sunday school version of the Christmas story I'd been inculcated with, to see any parallels between Mary and my life. However, I have been accused of sexual wrongdoing, and some would argue that I should be publicly disgraced. In some parts of the world, I could be imprisoned or killed. And yet, although I no longer claim to have any idea what God has planned for me, other than to live a life of love and service, I know without a doubt that Rebecca is my helpmate in it. I know that the privilege that God has conferred upon me - the admittedly unmerited favor of intelligence, education, health, home, beauty, and so on - is for something.
I hope that some with the instinct to accuse me without understanding will recognize that I am still the woman of virtue they knew before I came out. I hope that they will consider that they may not know the full story. That what appears to them to be sin, based on custom and a shallow reading, may actual be a higher calling than anything I could have imagined. I hope that they will choose love and grace over punishment and disgrace, as Joseph did. Part of me wonders if some people always looked sideways at Mary and Jesus. I know that some people will probably always look sideways at me, even if my marriage is formalized nationwide, even if I'm an upstanding citizen, even if my hypothetical children grow up to be upstanding citizens too.
But I hope my legacy will be more than sideways glances or worrying what people think of me. I hope it will be one of obedience to the commandment to love God and love others, to sacrifice myself for my friends, to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. I hope I choose love.
Joseph chose love. He didn't understand; of course, the logical interpretation of Mary's pregnancy was that she had cheated. He could have publicly denounced her, clearing his own name of any perceived wrongdoing, and had her stoned to death.
This action would have killed the mother of our Savior; I'm unclear whether they would have waited until after she gave birth (I'm guessing they would have based on some Old Testament law). This could have drastically changed the narrative of grace and salvation, and it would have been a decision based on distrust of the assertions of his intended.
Instead of choosing punishment, his response was to divorce her quietly - to spare her life - and continue to listen to God. When he heard God speak, he didn't dismiss the message. He acted in love and grace in accordance with God's direction, even though I would posit that he did not feel his bewilderment completely lifted.
He chose grace and obedience to God. He chose to believe that Mary had kept her vow, been chosen by God for a great work, and that he had judged her correctly when Joseph chose her (likely for the same virtue for which God chose her) to be his wife. Joseph chose to raise Jesus, the savior of the world, as his own, and in so doing, take a more powerful place in history than he ever could have imagined.
I will not claim to be carrying the Christ child. In fact, it is difficult, given the Sunday school version of the Christmas story I'd been inculcated with, to see any parallels between Mary and my life. However, I have been accused of sexual wrongdoing, and some would argue that I should be publicly disgraced. In some parts of the world, I could be imprisoned or killed. And yet, although I no longer claim to have any idea what God has planned for me, other than to live a life of love and service, I know without a doubt that Rebecca is my helpmate in it. I know that the privilege that God has conferred upon me - the admittedly unmerited favor of intelligence, education, health, home, beauty, and so on - is for something.
I hope that some with the instinct to accuse me without understanding will recognize that I am still the woman of virtue they knew before I came out. I hope that they will consider that they may not know the full story. That what appears to them to be sin, based on custom and a shallow reading, may actual be a higher calling than anything I could have imagined. I hope that they will choose love and grace over punishment and disgrace, as Joseph did. Part of me wonders if some people always looked sideways at Mary and Jesus. I know that some people will probably always look sideways at me, even if my marriage is formalized nationwide, even if I'm an upstanding citizen, even if my hypothetical children grow up to be upstanding citizens too.
But I hope my legacy will be more than sideways glances or worrying what people think of me. I hope it will be one of obedience to the commandment to love God and love others, to sacrifice myself for my friends, to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. I hope I choose love.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Speaking the Truth in Love
As many of you know, I have tried to choose the loving path. I have tried to see other points of view and acknowledge that for many, it is a journey to become gay affirming. I have extended as much grace as I can muster for those in that situation, partially because I used to be there.
Here's the thing, though. When I was in apologetics training (a fancy term for learning how to convert people to Christianity), they told us that while living a good life and building authentic relationships were very important, no one would come to Christ if we didn't actually articulate the truth of the Gospel - that we are all sinners in need of the grace that Jesus brought when he came to Earth, died for us, and rose again. The way that I have that conversation has changed significantly in the last fifteen years, but that statement remains true.
And I have been trying to be respectable and wholesome. I have tried loving others, feeding them, offering them support and comfort, being flexible and understanding. None of those are bad things to do. In fact, I assert that I will never regret making the loving choice. However, if I want people's beliefs and choices to remain the same, I also need to tell them the truth.
So here is the truth. Many people have been telling me that they are not homophobes or bigots. This often stems from a mistaken definition of homophobia and a deep belief that it's not possible for "nice" people to be bigoted. I am not saying that it is impossible for relatively nice people to discriminate, or be prejudiced, or be homophobic, or be bigoted. I constantly notice and have to check myself for subtle reactions of racism - I don't want to believe that I'm racist. I am working to dedicate my life to breaking social reproduction cycles. I have attempted to put myself in integrated contexts. Hence, I have tried to steamroll the fact that some of my thoughts may be prejudiced. Does it make me a terrible person that I have these thoughts or feelings sometimes? I don't believe so. What would make me a terrible person were if I dwelled on them, or tried to support them with data that isn't there, or tried to teach them to others or enforce discriminatory policies based on them. It would make me a terrible person if I chose not to pursue the truth.
The following list is not exhaustive, but these are examples of things that people have said to me in the last few years that are actually indicative of homophobia/bigotry.
1. "I don't have a problem with 'these ladies' being married, but it upsets me that the pastor thinks that's okay."
This is possibly the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said directly about me in a church context. The elderly woman espousing this view clearly knew that what she was about to say sounded bigoted, so she tried to cover it up by purporting to approve of my marriage. She didn't know me at all - it wasn't that she approved of my marriage as an exception. She just didn't want to sound offensive at a public hearing when there were gay people in the room.
Lesson: If you do not believe that the pastor at your church should perform my marriage, you do have a problem with my marriage. And you have a problem with gay people. That is your right, given that freedom of speech and religion exist in the U.S., but don't try to tell me that you are not a homophobe or a bigot.
2. "Gay people all use drugs and sleep around. You're wholesome/respectable, but you're an exception, and we can't grant rights just to exceptions."
Any time you are choosing to extend a blanket statement to a group of people, particularly a negative one, you are treading on very thin ice. I don't make blanket statements about straight people. Some sleep around. Some use drugs. Some are bigots. Some are allies.
Lesson: If you think that all gay people are alike, you haven't bothered to get to know very many of us. You are choosing to "other" us so that you don't have to consider that we might be just like you. And if you feel that granting rights is based on people earning them through behavior you believe is respectable, we need to have a serious talk about the terms "rights" and also "grace."
3. "Gays/homosexuals are trying to push their agenda and change everything. We've voted to keep things the way they are. Why won't they just accept that?"
Because we've been "othered" for so long, it's been easy for people to attribute to us a complex agenda (that may or may not exist - if you would like a humorous take on this, click the "MI gay day" label at the top of this page), just as it is often easy for people from White backgrounds to believe that only minorities have cultures. However, the agenda that you're pushing - and trust me, you're pushing one - is to maintain the status quo. Unfortunately for your argument, just because something is the status quo doesn't make it the most just, the most loving, the most appropriate, or the most correct anything. It just means that it's what is right now. Unfortunately for me, the fact that you are the majority and hold a position of power means that whether or not you get your way ultimately, prolonging this debate gives you what you want - for me not to have rights.
Lesson: If you believe that discriminating against people based on their presence in any minority group is okay, particularly if you believe that solely because you cannot imagine the world otherwise, you are a bigot.
The Takeaway
If you have said/meant/thought these things, you are guilty of homophobia/bigotry. That doesn't mean you are a terrible person. You are not damned. I am not saying that I no longer love you. But the honest thing to do here is for you to acknowledge that your position is prejudiced. The honest reaction is that you prefer to be prejudiced and accept the label of bigot/homophobe because your values dictate that you must. I find it much easier to tolerate people who will be honest about their views - whether or not they are trying to change them - than to continue having discussions with those who insist that their view is not doing me active harm, that they are not holding a position of privilege, or that I am being unreasonable in calling out this smoke screen or asking for equality.
"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." ~ Jesus
Here's the thing, though. When I was in apologetics training (a fancy term for learning how to convert people to Christianity), they told us that while living a good life and building authentic relationships were very important, no one would come to Christ if we didn't actually articulate the truth of the Gospel - that we are all sinners in need of the grace that Jesus brought when he came to Earth, died for us, and rose again. The way that I have that conversation has changed significantly in the last fifteen years, but that statement remains true.
And I have been trying to be respectable and wholesome. I have tried loving others, feeding them, offering them support and comfort, being flexible and understanding. None of those are bad things to do. In fact, I assert that I will never regret making the loving choice. However, if I want people's beliefs and choices to remain the same, I also need to tell them the truth.
So here is the truth. Many people have been telling me that they are not homophobes or bigots. This often stems from a mistaken definition of homophobia and a deep belief that it's not possible for "nice" people to be bigoted. I am not saying that it is impossible for relatively nice people to discriminate, or be prejudiced, or be homophobic, or be bigoted. I constantly notice and have to check myself for subtle reactions of racism - I don't want to believe that I'm racist. I am working to dedicate my life to breaking social reproduction cycles. I have attempted to put myself in integrated contexts. Hence, I have tried to steamroll the fact that some of my thoughts may be prejudiced. Does it make me a terrible person that I have these thoughts or feelings sometimes? I don't believe so. What would make me a terrible person were if I dwelled on them, or tried to support them with data that isn't there, or tried to teach them to others or enforce discriminatory policies based on them. It would make me a terrible person if I chose not to pursue the truth.
The following list is not exhaustive, but these are examples of things that people have said to me in the last few years that are actually indicative of homophobia/bigotry.
1. "I don't have a problem with 'these ladies' being married, but it upsets me that the pastor thinks that's okay."
This is possibly the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said directly about me in a church context. The elderly woman espousing this view clearly knew that what she was about to say sounded bigoted, so she tried to cover it up by purporting to approve of my marriage. She didn't know me at all - it wasn't that she approved of my marriage as an exception. She just didn't want to sound offensive at a public hearing when there were gay people in the room.
Lesson: If you do not believe that the pastor at your church should perform my marriage, you do have a problem with my marriage. And you have a problem with gay people. That is your right, given that freedom of speech and religion exist in the U.S., but don't try to tell me that you are not a homophobe or a bigot.
2. "Gay people all use drugs and sleep around. You're wholesome/respectable, but you're an exception, and we can't grant rights just to exceptions."
Any time you are choosing to extend a blanket statement to a group of people, particularly a negative one, you are treading on very thin ice. I don't make blanket statements about straight people. Some sleep around. Some use drugs. Some are bigots. Some are allies.
Lesson: If you think that all gay people are alike, you haven't bothered to get to know very many of us. You are choosing to "other" us so that you don't have to consider that we might be just like you. And if you feel that granting rights is based on people earning them through behavior you believe is respectable, we need to have a serious talk about the terms "rights" and also "grace."
3. "Gays/homosexuals are trying to push their agenda and change everything. We've voted to keep things the way they are. Why won't they just accept that?"
Because we've been "othered" for so long, it's been easy for people to attribute to us a complex agenda (that may or may not exist - if you would like a humorous take on this, click the "MI gay day" label at the top of this page), just as it is often easy for people from White backgrounds to believe that only minorities have cultures. However, the agenda that you're pushing - and trust me, you're pushing one - is to maintain the status quo. Unfortunately for your argument, just because something is the status quo doesn't make it the most just, the most loving, the most appropriate, or the most correct anything. It just means that it's what is right now. Unfortunately for me, the fact that you are the majority and hold a position of power means that whether or not you get your way ultimately, prolonging this debate gives you what you want - for me not to have rights.
Lesson: If you believe that discriminating against people based on their presence in any minority group is okay, particularly if you believe that solely because you cannot imagine the world otherwise, you are a bigot.
The Takeaway
If you have said/meant/thought these things, you are guilty of homophobia/bigotry. That doesn't mean you are a terrible person. You are not damned. I am not saying that I no longer love you. But the honest thing to do here is for you to acknowledge that your position is prejudiced. The honest reaction is that you prefer to be prejudiced and accept the label of bigot/homophobe because your values dictate that you must. I find it much easier to tolerate people who will be honest about their views - whether or not they are trying to change them - than to continue having discussions with those who insist that their view is not doing me active harm, that they are not holding a position of privilege, or that I am being unreasonable in calling out this smoke screen or asking for equality.
"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." ~ Jesus
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Uneasy Like Sunday Morning
Sunday mornings are supposed to be easy, at least according to Motown. Easy has been popping up in my shuffle quite a bit lately, and I've been reflecting on some of the lyrics.
Easy
The Commodores
Know it sounds funny
But I just can't stand the pain
Girl I'm leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl
You know I've done all I can
You see I begged, stole
And I borrowed
Chorus:
But I just can't stand the pain
Girl I'm leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl
You know I've done all I can
You see I begged, stole
And I borrowed
Chorus:
Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
Why in the world
Would anyboddy put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everbody wants me to be
What they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it!
No!
Chorus
I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free
Just me, babe!
Chorus
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
Why in the world
Would anyboddy put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everbody wants me to be
What they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it!
No!
Chorus
I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free
Just me, babe!
Chorus
Except as a member of the LGBT community attending a reasonably conservative church, Sunday morning is not easy. Every time I meet someone new, every time I introduce Rebecca as my wife, I worry. I worry that the person to whom I speak will judge me and/or the church I attend solely by this fact. I worry that I cannot be open about my shortcomings because I am already maxed out on the allowable number of failings.
Being a unicorn is exhausting. Defending my marriage all the time, being a representative of the LGBT community as a full-time job is exhausting. Defending the church to nonbelievers or other members of the LGBT community is exhausting. I've done all I can, and yet the last two churches I've attended regularly have still not been willing to affirm my marriage or even truly defend me against members who felt that they should get an opinion on my marital status without even getting to know me.
Perhaps I should go church hunting again. Except I've done that. I'm tired. I wonder now if I was deceiving myself to ever believe that there was room for me - a woman, an intellectual, a lesbian, an activist, a writer, and a tender heart - in the church. Perhaps many will comment that I should not give up, that I should try one more church. I don't know if I can handle the pain. Recommending a church based on the fact that they are gay affirming reduces me to only one element of my identity, and, for that matter, hypersexualizes my marriage. Maybe I will reach a point where I am not too exhausted to continue fighting. But church should not be a fight. Worship is not supposed to be a battle. Fellowship should not be fraught with pitfalls and worries.
So no, I'm not easy like Sunday morning.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Why Becoming Gay Affirming is not a Panacea for the Evangelical Church
Recently, I read an article, probably on Think Progress, about a group that is pushing for evangelical churches to become gay affirming, or at least Third Way (basically agreeing to disagree and putting love first). Both of these things are good things, and I do hope more churches will do them.
However, there was an implication in the article that this would fix all that is wrong with the evangelical church. I contend that it will not cause millenials to come pouring back in, convince everyone to behave in line with every moral teaching of the church, or otherwise heal the gaping wound in US society. Neither will glossy flyers, snappy logos, slick slogans, or flashy PowerPoint.
Why?
The answers are complicated, but I will do my best to explain succinctly.
The ways gays are treated is symptomatic of a larger problem. On the continuum of mercy and justice (or grace and punishment), the church has swung very far in favor of justice in many cases. In the case of same sex marriage, this has led to a dogmatic insistence that gays cannot be married by their ministers. Many people refuse to even consider the situation or truly learn about the relationship before passing judgment.
But this is not the case only for gays. I have heard similar reactions for people getting divorced. For that matter, the attitude about sex outside of marriage generally seems to be an all or nothing proposition. Either people (especially girls) wait until marriage, or they are shamed and judged, told that they are dirty and ruined.
Let me be clear. I am not saying that it is the church's job to look the other way or condone all sin. But, as Relient K once so aptly said, the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair. Or if you want even more authority, look to Jesus' instruction that he who is perfect should cast the first stone. This is followed - followed - by an admonition to the woman to go and sin no more. No shame. Just love, and direction to move forward in grace humbly striving to be more like him the next time.
I could list many more factors that I've seen in churches, but I think issues of honesty and authentic community stem from having a balance of mercy and justice. When people know that others will try to understand and support better choices, they open up. They feel that they belong. When we follow the greatest commandment (to love the Lord and to love our neighbors), we tolerate different viewpoints (particularly those on tertiary doctrine) and are willing to examine what our religious text and church history actually mean, rather than repeating interpretations that haven't changed significantly since childhood Sunday school, because we value others and want to grow.
I have had to examine my beliefs and consider whether the way I was treating the gay community was consistent with the life of Jesus. When I found that it was not, I also realized that there were a bunch of other people I wasn't loving very well either (as discussed in previous posts, I will never claim to be perfect now).
What happened when I moved away from justice toward mercy? People opened up to me. I believe that this is because many of them want someone who will not throw stones, but who believes that there is grace to go and sin no more.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Let [the LGBT community] come unto me
The sermon this Sunday at Genesis the Church in Royal Oak was about prayer, and the Scripture reading was on Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. This launched me on thoughts of Jesus' last days and hours.
Jesus was betrayed and denied by his followers, and yet he did not cry out. He was beaten so fiercely that others have died from the pain and violence, and yet he endured. They crucified him and cast lots for his clothes, and yet he said, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
The most painful, unbearable moment came when Jesus took the sins of the world upon himself and God had to withdraw His presence. At this point, Jesus does cry out, saying, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"
This is the greatest pain we can know. This is the pain of separation from God, from feeling distanced from His love. If we as Christians believe that we were created first and foremost to know God, then being separated from Him removes us from our true purpose and calling. This is the worst place we can be. This fact has been the impetus for many Christians to share their faith. They know what it is to be separated from God and what it is to be with Him, and they want others to know that joy, too.
I believe that the worst sin, the only sin that can keep us from God, is choosing to reject Him. For anything else, there is forgiveness. For anything else, we can seek grace. Only rejecting grace can damn us.
While I do not believe that there is a hierarchy of sins after that in terms of adultery being better or worse than gossip or lying being better or worse than jealousy, arguably not sharing our faith with those who don't know or making choices that actively push people to reject God is a terribly serious miss of the mark.
And yet, churches continue to take positions that push the LGBT community away from the Gospel. Of course, this seems to be the intention of churches like Westboro Baptist. Many churches, however, believe that they can continue to use rhetoric condemning gays to Hell or claiming that they are sinners while believing that these populations will hear the message, attend the church, and be "fixed," redeemed, or saved. Here's the thing: whether or not you believe that the LGBT community is sinning (I don't believe that same-sex marriage is a sin, but I know many sincere Christians who do), you do not ask other sinners to clean up before they get in the shower. Very few churches refuse membership or the fullness of pastoral care to people they perceive to have habitual sins: use of addictive substances, gossip, lying, overeating, etc. I rarely see people in the process of getting a divorce, or in some cases co-habiting with a person of the opposite sex, warned that they may/should feel uncomfortable during passages interpreted by the warner to judge them, but this has happened to me. The position of many churches, that homosexuality is the worst of the sexual sins, and sexual sins are worst of all, hypersexualizes the LGBT community until only what happens between the sheets matters to their soul. While many churches are more accepting of the LGBT community than people would expect, even some of these seem not to know how to handle members of this community who visit their church. They may say things like, "It's not our place to judge" (implying that someone should be judging), that "it's not a worse sin than any other sin" (but their examples are usually murder, adultery, or alcoholism - never sins they themselves commit), or that they "love the sinner, but hate the sin" ( a statement I have never heard applied to anything other than LGBT issues). They mean well, but these are cliches that continue to judge the LGBT community and create an "us" versus "them." They otherize people who are already taking a huge step to show up at an institution that has historically discriminated against them.
I will leave you with Jesus' attitude when people push others away from Him.
I do not believe this refers specifically to people under a certain age. Jesus wants all to come to Him. He wants His church to create an atmosphere where all can feel safe as they draw close to Him. He rejects the attitude that people must be "good enough" before they come to Him or that we should withhold privileges from people we deem sinners or unclean or inconvenient.
Put another way, let the LGBT community come unto Me, and forbid them not.
Jesus was betrayed and denied by his followers, and yet he did not cry out. He was beaten so fiercely that others have died from the pain and violence, and yet he endured. They crucified him and cast lots for his clothes, and yet he said, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
The most painful, unbearable moment came when Jesus took the sins of the world upon himself and God had to withdraw His presence. At this point, Jesus does cry out, saying, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"
This is the greatest pain we can know. This is the pain of separation from God, from feeling distanced from His love. If we as Christians believe that we were created first and foremost to know God, then being separated from Him removes us from our true purpose and calling. This is the worst place we can be. This fact has been the impetus for many Christians to share their faith. They know what it is to be separated from God and what it is to be with Him, and they want others to know that joy, too.
I believe that the worst sin, the only sin that can keep us from God, is choosing to reject Him. For anything else, there is forgiveness. For anything else, we can seek grace. Only rejecting grace can damn us.
While I do not believe that there is a hierarchy of sins after that in terms of adultery being better or worse than gossip or lying being better or worse than jealousy, arguably not sharing our faith with those who don't know or making choices that actively push people to reject God is a terribly serious miss of the mark.
And yet, churches continue to take positions that push the LGBT community away from the Gospel. Of course, this seems to be the intention of churches like Westboro Baptist. Many churches, however, believe that they can continue to use rhetoric condemning gays to Hell or claiming that they are sinners while believing that these populations will hear the message, attend the church, and be "fixed," redeemed, or saved. Here's the thing: whether or not you believe that the LGBT community is sinning (I don't believe that same-sex marriage is a sin, but I know many sincere Christians who do), you do not ask other sinners to clean up before they get in the shower. Very few churches refuse membership or the fullness of pastoral care to people they perceive to have habitual sins: use of addictive substances, gossip, lying, overeating, etc. I rarely see people in the process of getting a divorce, or in some cases co-habiting with a person of the opposite sex, warned that they may/should feel uncomfortable during passages interpreted by the warner to judge them, but this has happened to me. The position of many churches, that homosexuality is the worst of the sexual sins, and sexual sins are worst of all, hypersexualizes the LGBT community until only what happens between the sheets matters to their soul. While many churches are more accepting of the LGBT community than people would expect, even some of these seem not to know how to handle members of this community who visit their church. They may say things like, "It's not our place to judge" (implying that someone should be judging), that "it's not a worse sin than any other sin" (but their examples are usually murder, adultery, or alcoholism - never sins they themselves commit), or that they "love the sinner, but hate the sin" ( a statement I have never heard applied to anything other than LGBT issues). They mean well, but these are cliches that continue to judge the LGBT community and create an "us" versus "them." They otherize people who are already taking a huge step to show up at an institution that has historically discriminated against them.
I will leave you with Jesus' attitude when people push others away from Him.
Luke 18:15-17
New American Standard Bible (NASB)
15 And they were bringing even their babies to Him so that He would touch them, but when the disciples saw it, they began rebuking them. 16 But Jesus called for them, saying, “Permit the children to come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.I do not believe this refers specifically to people under a certain age. Jesus wants all to come to Him. He wants His church to create an atmosphere where all can feel safe as they draw close to Him. He rejects the attitude that people must be "good enough" before they come to Him or that we should withhold privileges from people we deem sinners or unclean or inconvenient.
Put another way, let the LGBT community come unto Me, and forbid them not.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Letter to a Friend
On Sunday, my church, Mount Hope United Methodist Church (UMC), announced that the pastor of about a decade will be transferred in July. A church leader then requested that the congregation send input to help match Mount Hope with a new minister. This is an e-mail I wrote to him.
Hi Mark,
On Sunday, you asked for input as to what the next Mount Hope pastor should be like. I want to share a brief story that might highlight one characteristic of a good match.
After we moved back to Lansing for graduate school, Rebecca and I tried churches for about a year before we settled at Mount Hope. We weren't looking for a UMC specifically - to be honest, the list we worked off was of gay affirming churches. I had grown up in a church that blamed LGBT people for many of the problems of American society and considered the gay agenda to be one of destruction and hedonism. Rebecca didn't grow up in the church, and we had both gone to Riverview as undergrads, which was much less political than the church I attended as a young adult. However, Riverview was very big and I never felt as though I had become part of a community there, even after four years, so we wanted a change.
We visited many churches that welcomed LGBT individuals, but didn't seem to joyfully greet Jesus himself. We were seeking a place where we could fellowship with other believers whose faith and worship were vibrant. We noticed on the list of gay affirming churches that there were some UMCs, so we decided to try the Oasis service. After our first visit, we couldn't tell whether we would be ostracized or judged for being lesbians.
Confronting this head-on, I sent Pastor Bill an e-mail asking what the church's position was. He explained that the official stance is that homosexuality isn't compatible with a Christian lifestyle, but "that my longing and hope would be that you would indeed find within our local church community of Mt Hope and Oasis a church family that will accept you without asking you to change. I would understand if our official position is more than you want to deal with, but I would be honored if you would offer us the grace to welcome you and continue our journey in Christ together."
This kind of sensitivity to us as a group of people who often feel that the church, and by extension, God, does not love us is one reason that we have continued attending Mount Hope. While I know that the new pastor must respect the official position, I hope that he or she will be willing to extend open arms to all families who come in the church doors.
Blessings,
Erin
Hi Mark,
On Sunday, you asked for input as to what the next Mount Hope pastor should be like. I want to share a brief story that might highlight one characteristic of a good match.
After we moved back to Lansing for graduate school, Rebecca and I tried churches for about a year before we settled at Mount Hope. We weren't looking for a UMC specifically - to be honest, the list we worked off was of gay affirming churches. I had grown up in a church that blamed LGBT people for many of the problems of American society and considered the gay agenda to be one of destruction and hedonism. Rebecca didn't grow up in the church, and we had both gone to Riverview as undergrads, which was much less political than the church I attended as a young adult. However, Riverview was very big and I never felt as though I had become part of a community there, even after four years, so we wanted a change.
We visited many churches that welcomed LGBT individuals, but didn't seem to joyfully greet Jesus himself. We were seeking a place where we could fellowship with other believers whose faith and worship were vibrant. We noticed on the list of gay affirming churches that there were some UMCs, so we decided to try the Oasis service. After our first visit, we couldn't tell whether we would be ostracized or judged for being lesbians.
Confronting this head-on, I sent Pastor Bill an e-mail asking what the church's position was. He explained that the official stance is that homosexuality isn't compatible with a Christian lifestyle, but "that my longing and hope would be that you would indeed find within our local church community of Mt Hope and Oasis a church family that will accept you without asking you to change. I would understand if our official position is more than you want to deal with, but I would be honored if you would offer us the grace to welcome you and continue our journey in Christ together."
This kind of sensitivity to us as a group of people who often feel that the church, and by extension, God, does not love us is one reason that we have continued attending Mount Hope. While I know that the new pastor must respect the official position, I hope that he or she will be willing to extend open arms to all families who come in the church doors.
Blessings,
Erin
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