I gave money to a campaign for a billboard in Charlotte, NC. The billboard is a message from my church here in San Diego – an apology for the actions of people who denied marriage rights to LGBT people by voting in favor of Amendment 1 to the state’s constitution. Especially the people who did so under the pretense of it being God’s will.
It’s not a message for the churches and the Christians in North Carolina. It’s a message for the LGBT people, and their allies, who feel the very real and frightening effects of a prejudice based on fear, ignorance, or hatred. It is a message of hope to people who feel that there is no place for them in the church – and, by extension, in the kingdom of God – to let them know that not all Christians want them rounded up and quarantined in electric fences left to die.
I gave money to this campaign because I know what it is to feel isolated and alone in the church because of my sexual orientation.
Throughout my adult life, I’ve been asked some form of the following question by people who don’t share my faith:
How can you continue to be devoted to a Church that doesn’t want anything to do with you?
Increasingly, I have found it harder and harder to answer that question.
Three different times in my life I’ve been compelled to leave a church because it didn’t want anything to do with me. Yet, in my entire 30 years of living, I have never gone more than a month without attending some church, somewhere. Most of that time I’ve not just attended, but have been involved in the “putting on” of church. I have donated vast amounts of my time, and small amounts of my money, to church causes. I’ve written songs, skits, and Christmas plays for the church. I’ve uprooted myself and moved across state lines to start new churches. I’ve taught and cared for children in the church, led worship behind a guitar for the church, designed websites and graphics and media for the church, and organized more church events than I can recall.
In a time when young people are leaving the Church in droves for a variety of reasons, I’ve simply been unable to do the same. Something in me keeps believing, keeps coming back, keeps hoping that Church will find a place for me. Even after it doesn’t, repeatedly. Even when every week a new video showcasing the church’s hypocrisy makes its way into my news feeds.
So the question is still… why?
Why do LGBT people stay in the church? Why do we spend years denying, ignoring, running from, or hiding our orientation or gender identity? Why do we subsequently spend even more years in reparative therapy, “ex-gay” groups, prayer circles, and healing centers, desperately trying to change this unchangeable part of who we are to help us fit in with the status quo? Why, even after reconciling our own faith & sexuality, do we hang on, remaining in our churches and trying to maintain relationships until it is utterly uncomfortable and impractical to do so? Why, after all of this, do we then even bother seeking out an affirming church where we are welcome just as we are?
Maybe we are just gluttons for punishment. Maybe we’re weak-minded people who lack the self-confidence to move through life without the support system of a faith community. Maybe we’ve just got a few loose screws.
But maybe not. Time and again, I meet lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Christians who are some of the most dedicated, committed believers I know. They love the church. They love Creator. And they believe, emphatically and without reservation, that Creator loves them and has a place for them in the kingdom. The fact is, LGBT Christians often do a better job at living out the way of Jesus than do the Christians who exclude them from their worship services.
Really, it would be so much easier to wave a big middle finger at the church and go about our lives. It really would.
I tend to believe that LGBT Christians, as a result of having spent so much of our lives feeling the brunt of Christian hypocrisy and hate, resonate on a deep level with one of the most profound truths of the Judeo-Christian story: Creator loves the outcast.
We are Rahab the prostitute, whose red rope is woven into the story and lineage of Jesus himself.
We are David the lowly shepherd, whose family and nation would have laughed him away, made into a king.
We are Gideon and his three hundred ill-equipped soldiers defeating a host of Midianite warriors.
We are Sarai, barren and past our prime, gifted with a son who would launch a nation.
We are Hagar, a slave and surrogate mother banished from her home, meeting God in the desert.
We are the leper, touched by the hand of a Healer.
We are the orphan and we are the widow, esteemed by Creator even if forgotten by our fellow man.
We are the fishermen and tax collectors and homemakers and heathens entrusted with a movement of grace.
We are the Canaanite woman with fervor and tenacity that enthrall the Rabbi and change his mind about the dogs who feed on crumbs that fall from the table.
We are Thomas who doubts, but who touches the hands of his redeemer.
We are the thief dying beside our Savior, listening in worship as he promises us a place in his kingdom.
Actually, it’s really not that hard to say why I devote myself to a Church that doesn’t seem to want me around. I do it because I get it. I get what Jesus was trying to do. I get it better than most, because I need it more than most. That might sound arrogant to you. That’s okay. For those of us who are gay and have come to trust Christ’s love despite experiencing a lifetime of hate from Christians, it’s just a hard-earned reality.
LGBT Christians have a profound understanding of Judeo-Christian story of faith. We believe in the mission of Jesus, in making a way for the outcast. We get it. We understand that that no one – not the lesbian, nor the Pharisee who excludes her – is beyond the reach of grace.
And, of course – despite the provocative title of this blog post – it’s not just gay Christians. It’s all of the marginalized and sidelined, the people who don’t see the world in the same stark shades of black and white that the American church prescribes. It’s everyone who tires of the hypocrisy and discrimination and selfish warring done in the name of Jesus and says, “This is our faith too, and we won’t stand by while it is hijacked. We won’t allow voices of hate to speak for us.”
Our faith is tested, refined by fire. It is real and actual – not illusory – and we live by it every day. We are going to rescue the Church from the power-hungry, the self-appointed gatekeepers, the ones who exclude and hold the gospel hostage and simply don’t get it.
And, by the grace of God, we will do it with mercy, and meekness, and peacemaking, and humility, and sometimes just a little bit of table-turning anger – just the way Jesus did.
I’m not trying to decide what’s right or wrong
I don’t think that job is up to me
But they’re selling passports to the gates of kingdom come
Like they’re the ones who hold the key
And they’re not
-Jill Phillips, “You Don’t Belong Here”
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This post is both moving and indicting. It reminds me of Andrew Marin’s “I’m Sorry” campaign, where churches go to gay pride marches and apologize for how the church has treated GLBT people. You put a very personal face on what so many people see as an issue, and you very clearly illustrate just how much the church will lose if we continue to push away people of different sexuality. Thank you for sharing this. I pray that somehow we in this generation can all find a way to treat each other with love before all else.
Thank you for your words. I could not agree more that the church itself is the biggest loser in the culture war. There is so much the LGBT community can bring to the table – literally, the table of communion – when churches welcome us as we are. “Love before all else” is a great motto.
My dear fellow believer and friend,
I see the point the you are trying to make…but unfortunately you are not doing a very good job of making it. I hate to be blunt, but this is a stretch…more of a rant of self justification and “feel sorry for us” antics.
Yes…the “church” has done a poor job at being Christ-like to the marginalized…I get it. In fact, you might as well replace the word “church” with “Baptists” or some other people group of “believers” who have publicly rebuked you. The generalizations made in this about the church are way too broad and unfair. But to say that you and your “kind” are going to save the “church” because of:
Dear “Friend of Gays,”
You are, of course, well within your right to believe what you do about homosexuality being a sin, and to base your beliefs on the Bible. My own belief is that any church environment that is prohibitive in terms of who it allows to participate in the life of its community does itself and the greater kingdom a significant disservice. While I am indeed sorry for the LGBT people who grow up in a church where they are not wanted (condemned, as you put it), I am equally sorry for their brothers & sisters who have missed the point of Jesus’ message, of the Christian story itself. It really is their loss.
For your reference, I have already addressed the Scriptural authority issue you bring up elsewhere on this blog – you can see that post here: http://matthewblakewilliams.com/coming-out-all-over-again/. In short, I’m very clear about my belief that the Bible is not – and is not intended to be – the final authority on every moral issue we face in life. (This should answer your question as to why I do not feel compelled to support my every statement with a Bible verse.) It is also my firm belief that same sex relationships are not sinful. Others have addressed this topic on a deeper level than I – Justin Lee of GCN, for instance, has a strong essay, much of which aligns with my own views on the issue. You can check it out here: http://www.gaychristian.net/justins_view.php.
I’m glad my “antics” got your attention, and while I appreciate what appears to be a sincere response, I continue to insist that I am proud to surround myself with “like-minded sinners” who are living the way of Jesus, and proud of the “flavor of Christianity” to which I subscribe – one in which all are welcome to participate. Creator has indeed healed the wounds I’ve encountered in the past (largely through the good sinners he’s brought into my life, nonetheless), and enables me to make the strong stand that I make, and will continue to make, today.
(And lastly, I make no apology for what appears to you to be arrogance. It is how I voice my conviction, and, as I said, it is a hard-earned part of my journey. I celebrate the diversity within the kingdom of God because I believe God celebrates all of his creation, and that is the message I want to relay to LGBT people who feel they have no worth or value or home in Christendom. There is a place for you in God’s house.)
Good thoughts. It makes me sad and sometimes angry to see how many of our faith have lost focus, lost touch with the gospel. The tide is turning to some extent, and I sense that a movement is underway, but I don’t know if it will be overwhelmingly obvious. Then again, that’s how the kingdom works. It’s small. Underground. It will sprout, eventually, but until then all we can do is work the fields.
Amen sir. Amen. That is all I can say. I have nothing to add, you’ve said it all. Amen.
I like this a lot: “…it’s not just gay Christians. It’s all of the marginalized and sidelined, the people who don’t see the world in the same stark shades of black and white that the American church prescribes.”
I heard a sermon a few years ago that challenged the listeners to recognize other believers who might have non-traditional or simply different interpretations of the Gospel as “new wineskins.” This teaching of Jesus is recounted in (I think) at least three of the gospels…when the religious tradition-keepers saw the behavior of the disciples as sin, Jesus explained that since he was with the disciples, the whole traditional understanding of sin was redefined in his presence. In one of the accounts of this teaching (in Luke, I believe), Jesus goes on to say that those who have grown accustomed to the “old wine” find themselves incapable of understanding the appeal of the “new wine.” I think that this might be scriptural support for your claim – though some traditionalists might not ever be capable of accepting it, the gay church community may be a “new wineskin” into which God desires to pour understanding of His love and redemption.
Thanks SO much for the “new wineskin” metaphor. I’m going to think on this for awhile!
Thanks for your post Matthew. While I don’t usually respond to these sorts of posts because it doesn’t seem to be the most helpful way to discuss this subject, I wanted to let you know that there are other Christians out there (like me) who struggle with their sexuality and decide that living into the GLBT lifestyle is not what they want to do. You may suppose it is out of believing a lie propagated by the church, fear, or just plain cowardice that we make this choice (and some days it may be just that), but on our best days it is because we believe Jesus has asked us not to embrace or live into our same-sex desires. We may have heard Jesus wrongly or we may have heard Him rightly, but either way we must equally follow our conviction to the same degree that you follow yours. I hope that you’ll make a place for us in an American church that has begun to (and will ever more rapidly) see things your way. We are set to become the truly marginalized . . . the “traitors” who have same-sex attractions, but have chosen a different way.
Hi AJ,
Your reminder is incredibly humbling. Thank you for being a voice for people with same-sex attractions who choose to live in celibacy (“side B,” if you’re familiar with the Gay Christian Network terminology).
Until 2010, I had lived my life under those same terms. With two exceptions when I attempted to forge romantic relationships with women, I was single my entire life until 2010. There was even a five year period during which my beliefs had shifted to be in favor of gay relationships/marriage, but I still felt God was calling me personally to remain single for other reasons, which I did. So I know very well what it is to be the even smaller minority who feel convicted about wanting to remain single & celibate while still living openly and honestly about the struggle with same-sex attraction.
I want to advocate for a Church in which truly everyone is welcome and valued. Thank you for reminding me to ever-broaden the scope and reach of my efforts to be inclusive.
Thank you Matthew for your thoughtful response. I appreciate the journey you have been on and suspect our paths have been very much the same. While we may have come to separate conclusions when it comes to Christianity and homosexuality, it means a lot that we can have a civil conversation about the subject without name calling or belittling each other. I was just musing with a friend tonight that we in America have a hard time finding a middle ground between squishy relativism and religious dogmatism. While we always want to be open to the possibility that we may be wrong about something, this doesn’t mean that we water down our beliefs to lay claim to an “intolerance” label. I believe we humans are capable of generally caring about someone (dare I say “loving” someone) and at the same time not agreeing completely with that person’s beliefs. Just because I don’t believe the gay lifestyle is the best course for your life doesn’t mean that you are inherently flawed, unlovable, or any other nonsense like that. In the same token, just because I don’t embrace the gay lifestyle doesn’t make me a cretin, a bigot, a hater, homophobic, or the like. How refreshing it is to listen and respect others no matter their creed and then close the debate and head to the local brew pub for discourse about film, art, sports, fine foods or the like. By Jove, we can be civil and still enjoy each others’ company!
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Matthew -
Thank you for such a moving post.
I am, personally, not a member of the lbgt community (except perhaps on an honorary basis).
I am, however, a part of the human race and, I hope, a part of the body of Christ. As a member of both of those groups, I was deeply touched by your post – particularly the ‘we hare’s poem.
Did you write that, or is it a quote? Either way, it is a magnificent sentiment.
Thanks, Timothy. I did write the “we are” poem, though I wasn’t even sure what it would be when I started writing it. My pastor recently used it to open a communion moment at our church. Had no idea others would find it so helpful, but I’m really thankful God is using it among others. Peace to you!