"Broken" is a word that is often used, particularly by evangelical straight Christians, to describe the LGBT community. What do evangelical Christians mean when they call gays "broken"? How does the LGBT community feel about being called "broken"? And what does God say about this issue of brokenness?
It's been my experience that the word "broken" is used to describe the LGBT community for several reasons. Some might use the word "broken" because they believe there is something wrong with a person who experiences same-sex attraction. Many evangelical Christians believe that anyone who is LGBT must have experienced sexual abuse at some point in his/her life, or perhaps a distant relationship with one/both of his/her parents, or some other trauma that has occurred that has caused the same-sex attraction. Other people may use the word "broken" to describe the LGBT community because of the false belief that a person with same-sex attraction inevitably is characterized by alcohol, drug, and/or sex addictions, casual sex and promiscuity, and other illegal and unhealthy behaviors. And some just say it because they believe that same-sex attraction is a sin and a sign of separation from God. Along with this "brokenness" people say that LGBT individuals need "healing", insinuating that there is something inherently wrong or wounded about them. Unfortunately, this type of language goes a long way towards making those within the LGBT community feel shamed and demeaned.
There is nothing offensive to me about maintaining and asserting conviction on sexual morality/ethics - I think it extremely important to have a firm grasp on the topic. What troubles me however is that when I hear language like this, I sense an undertone of condescension paired with an undergirding belief that people who experience same-sex attraction are inferior. And truly, who wouldn't feel patronized by a perfect stranger telling you that you are "broken" and "need healing"?
With that said, I don't know that I can fairly respond to the accuracy of the stereotypes I've listed above because it demands some scholarly citation and unfortunately, I just don't have the time to do it justice at this point. But I will say that if you've done your research, and if you've talked with people who are part of the LGBT community, you will see that there are some individuals that reinforce the stereotypes, and there are others who don't. In fact, I think many evangelical Christians would be truly surprised by the number that do not. If you could meet the people I know, you would know that there are many good-hearted, moral, relationally-gifted people who experience same-sex attraction and who identify as part of the LGBT community. And some of them even love, follow, and serve Jesus daily. So in response to the stereotypes I will say this - yes, there are some people who are responsible for them, but it is only fair to note that there are also many "heterosexuals" who are characterized by alcohol, drug, and sex addictions, casual sex and promiscuity, and other illegal and unhealthy behaviors. A person's orientation does not indicate the extent of his/her morality or religious commitment.
But let's get back to the topic at hand - what can we make of this term - "broken"? As I said before, I find it harmful to call a person "broken" (really, it feels like name-calling to me), yet at the same time, I am struck by this term because it is the very word I so often use to describe myself. The truth is we are all hot messes! I think it would be best if we would all just own up to it and admit that we know what it feels like to experience pain that forever alters us. While I don't think it's helpful to call each other broken, I do think it's important to realize our own brokenness. At the core of our humanness, there is a profound longing to belong, to be loved, to be known, and to feel presence in our most desperate and ugly moments. We all have had moments where we've sat in unspeakable pain, hiding our shame, suffering quietly with our debilitating depression, feelings of failure, and crushing emptiness. We force our fingers down our throats so we will feel lovable and in control again, we cut ourselves because we feel we deserve the pain, we bury our pain and lonliness in an addiction – to a drug, to a bottle, to a relationship. We make our schedules full so we will feel important. We stifle our pain and we disguise it so everyone will see our perfect life, our perfect family, our perfect 5-year plan. Someone asks us how we are doing – we say “fine!” Someone asks us what is new – we say “not much really!”
What a mess we all are! Let’s face it – we are all broken! It is part of the human condition. If any of you are not "broken" you have not lived. We all want someone to break through all the JUNK for us, to rescue us and tell us to stop hurting ourselves, tell us we are worthwhile, tell us they won’t leave us like everyone else has. We all want someone to believe in us when we don’t believe in ourselves anymore, someone to reach to us when we feel completely lost and alone, someone who will chase after us even while we run away, someone to call our bluff when we pretend we’re fine, someone to break through the walls we keep constructing at the smallest inkling of a threat. We long for someone to pledge to us their presence, their unconditional love, their reckless pursuit of us.
Broken.
Broken.
Broken.
We are all broken.
The good news is that there is an answer. True communion with God and with each other will restore our hearts, our communities, our churches, and our world. It will be hard to achieve and it requires us to listen, respond, risk, and grow – but it’s worth it. It is in our communion with one another that we experience an incarnational form of love that God offers us. It is powerful, healing, restorative, and transformational. Instead of calling one another "broken" let's live with each other in our pain, realizing that none of us fully understand how to be like Him, or how to receive the belonging and fellowship that he has to offer us. And yet, somehow in community with one another, we experience glimpses of the perfect oneness that God wants us to have with him. This kind of communion is threatening, and challenging, and difficult, and terrifying. But it is the hope we hold to in the midst of our brokenness. It is the hope we land in when we come to the end of ourselves and when we see that there is no more we can do, no further effort we can make, no further clarity we can gain, no further strength we can muster. It happens when He sweeps in and reminds us that we don't need to try to fix things, because he already has. We can rest our brokenness in Him.
For some, the process of reconciling faith and same-sex attraction is one of those dark hidden places, a process laced with deep confusion, paralyzing fear, heart-breaking rejection, overwhelming conflicting voices, and severe pain. When we see a person going through a time like this, we ought to remember the pains we have experienced, and the need we have had for the presence and strength of God, and of others, to pull us through. May we never waste a pain! May our brokenness allow us to comfort one another with new depth and sincerity. And may we find our strength in Him when we realize there is none left in ourselves. If we can remember these things, we will seize the opportunity to become incarnational to one another in the midst of our great pain, as God calls us to.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.
I'd like to close by living up to the challenge I have just issued to you. I have been in a lot of pain over the past several years, and God has at times felt completely distant. He is faithful though, and he is the only one who can bring me the healing I need. Over the past two weeks, I have been meditating on a passage that Brother Lawrence, a great Father of our faith, wrote in his "The Practice of the Presence of God" It speaks to the brokenness in me, and I pray that it will speak to your area of brokenness as well. He says:
"I imagine myself as the most wretched of all, full of sores and sins, and one who has committed all sorts of crimes against his king. Feeling a deep sorrow, I confess to him all of my sins, I ask his forgiveness, and I abandon myself into his hands so that he may do with me what he pleases. This king, full of mercy and goodness, very far from chastening me, embraces me with love, invites me to feast at his table, serves me with his own hands, and gives me the key to his treasures. He converses with me, and takes delight in me, and treats me as if I were his favorite."
Remember today, that this King is full of mercy and goodness, and very far from chastening you, he delights in you, as if you were his favorite.
Much love.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
GCN Conference - My Final Thoughts
I haven't done the GCN Conference justice yet so I hope to remedy that tonight. I have struggled to write this post because, frankly, I don't know where to begin. It was so beautiful, so touching, so encouraging and inspiring in so many ways. I will just break it down into some focused (hopefully) general topics:
An overall analysis
The general sessions
The workshops
The relationships
A summary of everything
An Overall Analysis
This was the first year I've attended the GCN Conference and I have vowed to never miss it again. My attendance there was one of the most spiritually and personally significant experiences of my life. I was a little hesitant going into the weekend, not sure what to expect or what I would experience. I wasn't sure how welcome I would be as a straight ally, if I would be able to build friendships easily, etc. In reality, I was probably pretty concerned that people would demand to know my beliefs and stances on everything - conversations I don't like to engage at a first point of meeting. Another thing I was unsure about was whether the conference would be about indoctrinating everyone to think or believe one particular thing about homosexuality. I don't find those types of experiences to be particularly helpful personally, or for bringing reconciliation between the church and the LGBT community, so I was a bit hesitant, but very curious nonetheless.
To be brutally honest, I went into the weekend with a lot of prejudices. It doesn't matter that I've spent years hanging out in the LGBT community. All of the reading and research in the world still sometimes leaves you with pockets of ridiculous unfounded beliefs and fears that hide in dark corners and wait for the right moment to slither out. I laugh at myself now. Oh my own bigotry! I think there was a part of me that somehow expected that wild "gay agenda" to be a part of the weekend. I expected people to try to change me, argue with me, tell me what to believe and why, and become offended when I would refuse to share my personal beliefs and convictions. (Trust me, sometimes it is so darn TEMPTING to share my opinions. It would make it so much easier that way, but easy doesn't make it wise.) So, in summary, I guess I was bracing myself for the possibility that people may 1) be offended by me 2) try to influence me to adopt their perspectives 3) reject me personally 4) be insincere in their desire to follow the Lord.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong! I have never in my life been so wrong! Instead of all of those things, I was encouraged, blessed, challenged, and embraced. I was truly struck by the sincerity of sacrificial worship in our times together, the depth of relationships that developed (in just a short 48 hours), and the honesty, and wholeness, and holiness that marked the paths of those I came in contact with.
One of the things I hadn't anticipated was that I'd be mistaken for a lesbian. I'm pretty sure I should have expected that. It seems logical right? I'm at a gay conference - why wouldn't people think I'm a lesbian? It didn't bother me at all - actually, it weirdly made me feel honored because people automatically assumed I "belonged" in a sense. Throughout the weekend though, I'd refer to my husband naturally in conversation without even thinking about it, and then I'd realize that people were looking at me in utter confusion. The conversation would go something like this...
"Wait...did you say your husband?"
"Yes, I'm straight."
"Oh. (pause) Are you here with someone?"
"Nope."
"So...why are you here?"
[Insert me sharing briefly why I love the LGBT community and my call to help the work of reconciliation.]
Dumbfounded silence.
What followed the silence was beautiful. It was so emotional, a moment of pure holiness in our conversations. People's eyes would go soft. I could literally see something inside of them turn towards me. Some would ask me why I would care enough to do this - to travel all this way, alone, to come and be there with them for the weekend. Some would wonder why I would paint a target on myself, take on the risk of rejection by my peers and faith community, by choosing to stand with them. Some were lost for words - they would just say things like "You're awesome" and then stand there with a look of hunger in their eyes, as if they just glimpsed something they had been looking for their entire lives. All of them thanked me, with such sincerity in their voices, with such a humility, they thanked me profusely for caring, for being there, for speaking on their behalf to people and communities that they felt abandoned by. I was forever changed by these conversations, and forever humbled. Something was stirred deep within me. Something was disturbed in me, that even this small gesture of love and support was so foreign to them. They reached to me with their words, with their eyes, with their souls, with their arms. They hugged on me and loved on me. It was beautiful. Something big happened in my heart through these conversations - something life changing, something with the scent of God's presence and transformation, something beautiful and terrible and terrifying and wonderful.
The General Sessions
The worship times at GCN were absolutely transformational for me. The first one was on Thursday night. I had the pleasure of meeting and conversing with three lesbian women that night. We had such a great conversation and such a great connection that they invited me to sit with them for the worship. I was glad to have someone to tag along with. As I worshiped next to these women, and in the midst of 400 gay Christians, I was in awe. These people were so sincere in their love for the Lord. I could hear it in their voices as they sang. In fact, I sensed a level of sincerity, surrender, and humility before the Lord in our worship times that I haven't experienced in a church in years. I was astounded! Gone were all the stereotypes I had brought along with me. It was an amazing thing to just worship God together. The next morning God really shook me during the general session. I sat alone, and I'm glad of it, because I wept and wept the entire time we sang together. I wept because it became so clear to me as we sang (songs like "I could sing of your love forever" and "Blessed be your name" and "Nothing but the blood") that this beautiful group of people knew what it meant to live a life of sacrifice for Christ that most of us never could understand. So many of these people had been cast out of their churches and had experienced unspeakable pain in the name of Christ. So many of them had tried to change their orientations for Christ. They were willing to sacrifice everything to honor him. So many of them had experienced such an extreme faith crisis that, had it been me, I likely would have thrown the towel in and told God to just forget it because the sacrifice and the confusion would be too much. But they didn't. They kept going. Their love for the Lord drove them to His feet. God overwhelmed me with a sense of this during worship on Friday morning and I wept. I wept because I have sacrificed so little for the Lord, and have been angry and bitter when he's asked the little of me that he has. I wept because I sensed God's love and favor and mercy on a group of people who are trying to make sense of things. I wept because these people didn't choose their orientations, but they chose Jesus - and the church hates them for it. I wept because even in the midst of all the painful experiences present in that room, those beautiful people chose to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are deeply, truly, passionately indebted and bound to Jesus, no matter what. It was magnificent. Justin, the executive director of GCN, put it so well when he said "Many people reconcile their faith and sexuality by dialing back the faith. That never seemed like a good option to me. I was the kid with a Bible in my backpack all the time." Justin, like many others at the conference, has not sacrificed his love for the Lord, or for Scripture, in his quest to reconcile his sexual orientation and his faith. And there were many more like him.
The speakers were great as well during the main sessions. Philip Yancey was particularly inspiring. He spoke of how one's sin and temptation are the very thing that push us toward Christ, force us to rely on Him, even in our weakest of moments. He spoke of God's reconciliation and forgiveness and grace. He gave voice to the reason I had spent the worship time in tears when he said, "There's no advantage to you, as LGBT, to worship God. You are just asking for hatred from your fellow believers."
I have to share with you two more of my favorite quotes from the weekend:
Philip Yancey - "The greatest danger is not that you will fail, but that when you do fail, you will be cast down by shame, rejection, and a belief that you cannot reach God's grace."
Justin Lee - "What a horrible state of affairs if people can't go to their churches when they're feeling so alone that they want to kill themselves."
The Workshops
The workshops were great, but honestly, I only went to two of them (and part of a third). By Saturday, I really sensed the Lord showing me that I should focus more on building relationships than attending formal workshops. The two I went to were excellent, however. The first one was "Understanding and Supporting our LGBT Friends and Family." I was really touched to hear each person at that breakout session share why they were there. Some of the stories were really heartbreaking. Several people admitted they came just because they wanted to have hope that their straight friends and family members could love them again someday, or want to understand and support them. I believe the leader of the session, Kathy Baldock, provided this insightful instruction (but forgive me Kathy if I've misquoted you):
"When you love and care for those on the edges of society, you will grow in mercy, and grace, and compassion. And there is no better spiritual qualities to have. You will look and smell like Jesus."
I want to look and smell like Jesus.
The second workshop I went to was "Engaging the Evangelical Church" and it was fantastic. I am still processing it. There was quite a lot of education and evaluation that went on during this session - a really valuable time. The thing that struck me the most during our time together was a discussion that took place in which the attendees examined with the workshop leader how they might be able to respond with Christ's love to those in the church who had dealt them hatred and pain in the name of Christ. I sat in my seat totally baffled. This was the one and only "gay agenda" present at the conference. The spirit of the people was strikingly, "How can we be more like Jesus, even when we are hurt and abused in his name?" I was totally awestruck. How often do I seek Christ like that, willingly wanting to respond in love when someone wrongs me? The discussions during this workshop in particular, and in many of my personal conversations, centered on how to be more centered on Christ, more submissive to his authority, seeking his holiness ever more. It was beautiful, and convicting.
The Relationships
This was the funnest part of the weekend, and one that I really truly miss. In two nights I got 7 hours of sleep - total. I couldn't tear myself away from the people I had met. The fellowship we had over meals and into the wee hours of the morning every night was incredible. There was such a sense of acceptance and love in the friendships I made. One of my fondest memories of the weekend was lunch on Friday, when I met several of the people I now count as dear friends. We spent the first half of our time together laughing, bantering, joking, and having a good time. The conversation took a turn as we got our food and I had the opportunity to share why I was at the conference, the calling I feel on my heart to develop non-threatening environments to talk about faith and sexual orientation, and the love I have for the LGBT community. I was so humbled as one after another, each of them affirmed me, encouraged me, and spoke words of blessing, acceptance, love, and appreciation over me. It was such a precious, holy moment as God knit our hearts to one another. We shared openly about our struggles, our vulnerable spots, and our love for one another - no holds barred. It was the kind of intimate conversation you usually only get the chance to experience with people you've known for years, not hours. It was heart-warming and stunning. The rest of the weekend was filled with conversations, one after another, about how we could grow to be more like the Lord, what we could do to reflect him better, and sharing with one another about the amazing work He's done in our hearts and lives.
A Summary of Everything
As you can imagine, this conference was overwhelming. The thing that was most striking of all though was that, although it was a gathering of LGBT individuals, the focus wasn't so much about sexual orientation as it was about Jesus. Everything was so centered on how to be faithful followers of Christ in all areas of one's life, not just in sexual orientation. These are the kinds of conversations I think are so important. When we reduce a person to his/her sexual orientation, we miss the beauty of his/her personhood. There is so much more to a person than orientation - there are hopes and dreams, insecurities and fears, victories and passions, beliefs and convictions. I suppose, at the heart of things, that is what I loved about the GCN conference - it did not diminish any person or any conviction. Instead, it focused on the things that united us all - our faith in the almighty God, his Son who was sent to pay the price for our sins, His worthiness to be praised and honored, and His holiness that demands our lifelong gratitude, service, surrender, and allegiance. It called on us to remember these things, and to take heed of them in our daily lives. And it called us to them in a way that was affirming and challenging, generous and faithful, nurturing and open, with a dedication to living in the tension of disagreement with one another, in love.
That is why I will never miss another GCN Conference again. I hope some of you will go with me next year.
An overall analysis
The general sessions
The workshops
The relationships
A summary of everything
An Overall Analysis
This was the first year I've attended the GCN Conference and I have vowed to never miss it again. My attendance there was one of the most spiritually and personally significant experiences of my life. I was a little hesitant going into the weekend, not sure what to expect or what I would experience. I wasn't sure how welcome I would be as a straight ally, if I would be able to build friendships easily, etc. In reality, I was probably pretty concerned that people would demand to know my beliefs and stances on everything - conversations I don't like to engage at a first point of meeting. Another thing I was unsure about was whether the conference would be about indoctrinating everyone to think or believe one particular thing about homosexuality. I don't find those types of experiences to be particularly helpful personally, or for bringing reconciliation between the church and the LGBT community, so I was a bit hesitant, but very curious nonetheless.
To be brutally honest, I went into the weekend with a lot of prejudices. It doesn't matter that I've spent years hanging out in the LGBT community. All of the reading and research in the world still sometimes leaves you with pockets of ridiculous unfounded beliefs and fears that hide in dark corners and wait for the right moment to slither out. I laugh at myself now. Oh my own bigotry! I think there was a part of me that somehow expected that wild "gay agenda" to be a part of the weekend. I expected people to try to change me, argue with me, tell me what to believe and why, and become offended when I would refuse to share my personal beliefs and convictions. (Trust me, sometimes it is so darn TEMPTING to share my opinions. It would make it so much easier that way, but easy doesn't make it wise.) So, in summary, I guess I was bracing myself for the possibility that people may 1) be offended by me 2) try to influence me to adopt their perspectives 3) reject me personally 4) be insincere in their desire to follow the Lord.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong! I have never in my life been so wrong! Instead of all of those things, I was encouraged, blessed, challenged, and embraced. I was truly struck by the sincerity of sacrificial worship in our times together, the depth of relationships that developed (in just a short 48 hours), and the honesty, and wholeness, and holiness that marked the paths of those I came in contact with.
One of the things I hadn't anticipated was that I'd be mistaken for a lesbian. I'm pretty sure I should have expected that. It seems logical right? I'm at a gay conference - why wouldn't people think I'm a lesbian? It didn't bother me at all - actually, it weirdly made me feel honored because people automatically assumed I "belonged" in a sense. Throughout the weekend though, I'd refer to my husband naturally in conversation without even thinking about it, and then I'd realize that people were looking at me in utter confusion. The conversation would go something like this...
"Wait...did you say your husband?"
"Yes, I'm straight."
"Oh. (pause) Are you here with someone?"
"Nope."
"So...why are you here?"
[Insert me sharing briefly why I love the LGBT community and my call to help the work of reconciliation.]
Dumbfounded silence.
What followed the silence was beautiful. It was so emotional, a moment of pure holiness in our conversations. People's eyes would go soft. I could literally see something inside of them turn towards me. Some would ask me why I would care enough to do this - to travel all this way, alone, to come and be there with them for the weekend. Some would wonder why I would paint a target on myself, take on the risk of rejection by my peers and faith community, by choosing to stand with them. Some were lost for words - they would just say things like "You're awesome" and then stand there with a look of hunger in their eyes, as if they just glimpsed something they had been looking for their entire lives. All of them thanked me, with such sincerity in their voices, with such a humility, they thanked me profusely for caring, for being there, for speaking on their behalf to people and communities that they felt abandoned by. I was forever changed by these conversations, and forever humbled. Something was stirred deep within me. Something was disturbed in me, that even this small gesture of love and support was so foreign to them. They reached to me with their words, with their eyes, with their souls, with their arms. They hugged on me and loved on me. It was beautiful. Something big happened in my heart through these conversations - something life changing, something with the scent of God's presence and transformation, something beautiful and terrible and terrifying and wonderful.
The General Sessions
The worship times at GCN were absolutely transformational for me. The first one was on Thursday night. I had the pleasure of meeting and conversing with three lesbian women that night. We had such a great conversation and such a great connection that they invited me to sit with them for the worship. I was glad to have someone to tag along with. As I worshiped next to these women, and in the midst of 400 gay Christians, I was in awe. These people were so sincere in their love for the Lord. I could hear it in their voices as they sang. In fact, I sensed a level of sincerity, surrender, and humility before the Lord in our worship times that I haven't experienced in a church in years. I was astounded! Gone were all the stereotypes I had brought along with me. It was an amazing thing to just worship God together. The next morning God really shook me during the general session. I sat alone, and I'm glad of it, because I wept and wept the entire time we sang together. I wept because it became so clear to me as we sang (songs like "I could sing of your love forever" and "Blessed be your name" and "Nothing but the blood") that this beautiful group of people knew what it meant to live a life of sacrifice for Christ that most of us never could understand. So many of these people had been cast out of their churches and had experienced unspeakable pain in the name of Christ. So many of them had tried to change their orientations for Christ. They were willing to sacrifice everything to honor him. So many of them had experienced such an extreme faith crisis that, had it been me, I likely would have thrown the towel in and told God to just forget it because the sacrifice and the confusion would be too much. But they didn't. They kept going. Their love for the Lord drove them to His feet. God overwhelmed me with a sense of this during worship on Friday morning and I wept. I wept because I have sacrificed so little for the Lord, and have been angry and bitter when he's asked the little of me that he has. I wept because I sensed God's love and favor and mercy on a group of people who are trying to make sense of things. I wept because these people didn't choose their orientations, but they chose Jesus - and the church hates them for it. I wept because even in the midst of all the painful experiences present in that room, those beautiful people chose to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are deeply, truly, passionately indebted and bound to Jesus, no matter what. It was magnificent. Justin, the executive director of GCN, put it so well when he said "Many people reconcile their faith and sexuality by dialing back the faith. That never seemed like a good option to me. I was the kid with a Bible in my backpack all the time." Justin, like many others at the conference, has not sacrificed his love for the Lord, or for Scripture, in his quest to reconcile his sexual orientation and his faith. And there were many more like him.
The speakers were great as well during the main sessions. Philip Yancey was particularly inspiring. He spoke of how one's sin and temptation are the very thing that push us toward Christ, force us to rely on Him, even in our weakest of moments. He spoke of God's reconciliation and forgiveness and grace. He gave voice to the reason I had spent the worship time in tears when he said, "There's no advantage to you, as LGBT, to worship God. You are just asking for hatred from your fellow believers."
I have to share with you two more of my favorite quotes from the weekend:
Philip Yancey - "The greatest danger is not that you will fail, but that when you do fail, you will be cast down by shame, rejection, and a belief that you cannot reach God's grace."
Justin Lee - "What a horrible state of affairs if people can't go to their churches when they're feeling so alone that they want to kill themselves."
The Workshops
The workshops were great, but honestly, I only went to two of them (and part of a third). By Saturday, I really sensed the Lord showing me that I should focus more on building relationships than attending formal workshops. The two I went to were excellent, however. The first one was "Understanding and Supporting our LGBT Friends and Family." I was really touched to hear each person at that breakout session share why they were there. Some of the stories were really heartbreaking. Several people admitted they came just because they wanted to have hope that their straight friends and family members could love them again someday, or want to understand and support them. I believe the leader of the session, Kathy Baldock, provided this insightful instruction (but forgive me Kathy if I've misquoted you):
"When you love and care for those on the edges of society, you will grow in mercy, and grace, and compassion. And there is no better spiritual qualities to have. You will look and smell like Jesus."
I want to look and smell like Jesus.
The second workshop I went to was "Engaging the Evangelical Church" and it was fantastic. I am still processing it. There was quite a lot of education and evaluation that went on during this session - a really valuable time. The thing that struck me the most during our time together was a discussion that took place in which the attendees examined with the workshop leader how they might be able to respond with Christ's love to those in the church who had dealt them hatred and pain in the name of Christ. I sat in my seat totally baffled. This was the one and only "gay agenda" present at the conference. The spirit of the people was strikingly, "How can we be more like Jesus, even when we are hurt and abused in his name?" I was totally awestruck. How often do I seek Christ like that, willingly wanting to respond in love when someone wrongs me? The discussions during this workshop in particular, and in many of my personal conversations, centered on how to be more centered on Christ, more submissive to his authority, seeking his holiness ever more. It was beautiful, and convicting.
The Relationships
This was the funnest part of the weekend, and one that I really truly miss. In two nights I got 7 hours of sleep - total. I couldn't tear myself away from the people I had met. The fellowship we had over meals and into the wee hours of the morning every night was incredible. There was such a sense of acceptance and love in the friendships I made. One of my fondest memories of the weekend was lunch on Friday, when I met several of the people I now count as dear friends. We spent the first half of our time together laughing, bantering, joking, and having a good time. The conversation took a turn as we got our food and I had the opportunity to share why I was at the conference, the calling I feel on my heart to develop non-threatening environments to talk about faith and sexual orientation, and the love I have for the LGBT community. I was so humbled as one after another, each of them affirmed me, encouraged me, and spoke words of blessing, acceptance, love, and appreciation over me. It was such a precious, holy moment as God knit our hearts to one another. We shared openly about our struggles, our vulnerable spots, and our love for one another - no holds barred. It was the kind of intimate conversation you usually only get the chance to experience with people you've known for years, not hours. It was heart-warming and stunning. The rest of the weekend was filled with conversations, one after another, about how we could grow to be more like the Lord, what we could do to reflect him better, and sharing with one another about the amazing work He's done in our hearts and lives.
A Summary of Everything
As you can imagine, this conference was overwhelming. The thing that was most striking of all though was that, although it was a gathering of LGBT individuals, the focus wasn't so much about sexual orientation as it was about Jesus. Everything was so centered on how to be faithful followers of Christ in all areas of one's life, not just in sexual orientation. These are the kinds of conversations I think are so important. When we reduce a person to his/her sexual orientation, we miss the beauty of his/her personhood. There is so much more to a person than orientation - there are hopes and dreams, insecurities and fears, victories and passions, beliefs and convictions. I suppose, at the heart of things, that is what I loved about the GCN conference - it did not diminish any person or any conviction. Instead, it focused on the things that united us all - our faith in the almighty God, his Son who was sent to pay the price for our sins, His worthiness to be praised and honored, and His holiness that demands our lifelong gratitude, service, surrender, and allegiance. It called on us to remember these things, and to take heed of them in our daily lives. And it called us to them in a way that was affirming and challenging, generous and faithful, nurturing and open, with a dedication to living in the tension of disagreement with one another, in love.
That is why I will never miss another GCN Conference again. I hope some of you will go with me next year.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Did They Choose It?
One thing I have come to realize is that there is some groundwork I have failed to lay. Since I've been reading and thinking on these topics for years, I forget some of the most basic questions I had when I first started becoming acquainted with the LGBT community. So, here's the biggie that perhaps some of you might still be asking. And, if you've never investigated it, it'd be no wonder why you'd been disagreeing with virtually everything I've said thus far.
Does a person choose to be gay?
There are a very few precious things that I will assert on this blog with no room for dispute, but the answer to this question is one of them. No. No, they did not choose to "be gay". Do some people choose to have homosexual relationships? Yes. But do people choose to feel attracted to members of their own sex? No, absolutely not. I assert this one has no wiggle room because:
1.) Even the most conservative of theologians, psychologists, sociologists, etc. that are informed on the issue would not assert that someone "chooses" same-sex attraction.
2.) I don't see anything in Scripture that would indicate that someone would choose to feel attracted to members of their own sex.
3.) I have met hundreds of people who deal with same-sex attraction and not one of them would say they "chose it"
There are a host of different theories on what "causes" same-sex attraction, including anything from poor parental relationships/bonding to being born with a genetic component that causes it. Some of the theories, in my opinion, are a little crazy. Others seem more viable. One thing I feel pretty certain of is that it is "caused" by different things for different people. Some people I've spoken with remember experiencing same-sex attraction before they ever knew what "gay" was, some of them as early as age 5 or younger. Most LGBT people I have met would say that they think it's inborn. A few (very few) have told me they feel that life events influenced their attractions. But all of them, every last one of them, have told me that it has not been a matter of their own decision. Afterall, why would someone ever choose to feel in a way that would cause them to become an outcast of their culture, their Church, their family, etc? No one would want to experience that sort of pain! I have met so many people that have shared heartbreaking stories with me of how they would lay in bed every night, crying themselves to sleep, begging God to take away their feelings for members of the same sex. Day in and day out they worked to try to become attracted to the opposite sex, with no progress. Some of them went through times of prayer and exorcisms at their church as people tried to cast out the spirit of homosexuality from them. Many of them chose to go through reparative therapy (or conversion therapy) in attempts to change their sexual orientation. Some of them spent years in these pursuits and still could not change the way they felt towards the same sex.
So no, sexual orientation is not a choice. Sexual conduct is always a choice, but orientation? Nope. Not a choice. It's probably for this reason that I feel so much compassion for the situation this community of people find themselves in. I have thought to myself many times, "What if my love and attraction for my husband was the wrong orientation? How would that feel to have the world tell me that what feels so natural and normal to me is wrong, perverted, disgusting? How hard of a pill would that be to swallow?" I'll tell you - it would be hard. Near impossible even. I'm not sure what I would do if I found myself in that situation. I'm not sure how I would view Scripture, the Church, God, my faith in general. It is a difficult spot that many find themselves in, trying to reconcile their faith and their orientation.
Orientation, no matter what causes it, is not chosen. But faith in Jesus is. And I'm so thankful for those that experience same-sex attraction, but have chosen Jesus nonetheless - people like the great Christian writer and priest, Henri Nouwen. There are so many more like him, many that I met this weekend. They have a perspective on sacrificially following the Lord that many of us could not possibly grasp, because our road has been easier, because we have always had heterosexual attraction.
So, in summary....
Sexual relationships? Chosen.
Sexual orientation? Not chosen.
Does a person choose to be gay?
There are a very few precious things that I will assert on this blog with no room for dispute, but the answer to this question is one of them. No. No, they did not choose to "be gay". Do some people choose to have homosexual relationships? Yes. But do people choose to feel attracted to members of their own sex? No, absolutely not. I assert this one has no wiggle room because:
1.) Even the most conservative of theologians, psychologists, sociologists, etc. that are informed on the issue would not assert that someone "chooses" same-sex attraction.
2.) I don't see anything in Scripture that would indicate that someone would choose to feel attracted to members of their own sex.
3.) I have met hundreds of people who deal with same-sex attraction and not one of them would say they "chose it"
There are a host of different theories on what "causes" same-sex attraction, including anything from poor parental relationships/bonding to being born with a genetic component that causes it. Some of the theories, in my opinion, are a little crazy. Others seem more viable. One thing I feel pretty certain of is that it is "caused" by different things for different people. Some people I've spoken with remember experiencing same-sex attraction before they ever knew what "gay" was, some of them as early as age 5 or younger. Most LGBT people I have met would say that they think it's inborn. A few (very few) have told me they feel that life events influenced their attractions. But all of them, every last one of them, have told me that it has not been a matter of their own decision. Afterall, why would someone ever choose to feel in a way that would cause them to become an outcast of their culture, their Church, their family, etc? No one would want to experience that sort of pain! I have met so many people that have shared heartbreaking stories with me of how they would lay in bed every night, crying themselves to sleep, begging God to take away their feelings for members of the same sex. Day in and day out they worked to try to become attracted to the opposite sex, with no progress. Some of them went through times of prayer and exorcisms at their church as people tried to cast out the spirit of homosexuality from them. Many of them chose to go through reparative therapy (or conversion therapy) in attempts to change their sexual orientation. Some of them spent years in these pursuits and still could not change the way they felt towards the same sex.
So no, sexual orientation is not a choice. Sexual conduct is always a choice, but orientation? Nope. Not a choice. It's probably for this reason that I feel so much compassion for the situation this community of people find themselves in. I have thought to myself many times, "What if my love and attraction for my husband was the wrong orientation? How would that feel to have the world tell me that what feels so natural and normal to me is wrong, perverted, disgusting? How hard of a pill would that be to swallow?" I'll tell you - it would be hard. Near impossible even. I'm not sure what I would do if I found myself in that situation. I'm not sure how I would view Scripture, the Church, God, my faith in general. It is a difficult spot that many find themselves in, trying to reconcile their faith and their orientation.
Orientation, no matter what causes it, is not chosen. But faith in Jesus is. And I'm so thankful for those that experience same-sex attraction, but have chosen Jesus nonetheless - people like the great Christian writer and priest, Henri Nouwen. There are so many more like him, many that I met this weekend. They have a perspective on sacrificially following the Lord that many of us could not possibly grasp, because our road has been easier, because we have always had heterosexual attraction.
So, in summary....
Sexual relationships? Chosen.
Sexual orientation? Not chosen.
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