Blessing versus Privilege

I grew up in very religious family.  Even today when I have dinner at home,  my family regularly prays and thanks God for the "blessings that He has provided us."  I'm not writing this to dispute the idea of being grateful and praising God for things that we have every right to be thankful for, and especially those things for which we do nothing to deserve.  But as I've grown up and become immersed in the world of feminist philosophy, I have, in my own life, begun to recognize my "privilege" much more often than I recognize God's "blessings."  And it's not that I think that the two concepts are in direct contrast or competition with each other, but I do believe that talking only about blessings can lead to a form of apathy and even smug indifference to the plight of those around us that is exceedingly dangerous.

Talking about and acknowledging privilege, in the feminist and progressive movements, is an active process.  It's about recognizing those things that we have simply by nature of our economic, social, political, racial, or gendered place in life that those who are oppressed in those same areas do not have.  It's also (and this is, in my opinion,  a far more difficult and important process) recognizing and combatting those systems that allow the privilege to remain.

Talking about blessings, specifically in a religious or spiritual context, doesn't ever call the acknowledger to action.  I can acknowledge the great blessing that I have because I was born in and now live in two countries which both, respectively, allow me to practice my religion without condemnation or any real constraint.  This is a frequent refrain in both Canadian and American church prayers.  But this acknowledgement is passive. I can acknowledge this religious freedom, thank my God for it, and then move on with my life.  But if, instead, I acknowledge that this religious freedom is a privilege that originates in my socio-economic, national, and racial status, I must then also realize that there are oppressive systems (whether political, social, or cultural) at play in countries across the world that deny other people this same privilege. When I acknowledge this hard truth, I must also commit myself to changing these oppressive systems in any way that I can.

This same thought process is true for countless other hard truths.  And I think this difference between passively acknowledging and being grateful for undeserved blessings and actively recognizing, checking, and committing to changing systems of privilege and oppression is one of the major reasons why churches in the Western world are plagued by apathy.

I think we Christians do ourselves and our God a disservice when we acknowledge these same truths using the language of blessing and gratitude.

How can I thank God for my whiteness?  Or my wealth?  Not only did I not do anything for these attributes, but God didn't give them to me as a positive thing to be grateful for.  To think that way is to place the different races and socio-economic statuses on a scale of good to bad, blessing to curse.  If I were to thank God for my whiteness, then doesn't that mean that being black would somehow be a negative?  A non-blessing?  A burden? A curse?

How could I think this way?  How could anyone (or at least anyone who doesn't openly and joyfully embrace racist ideology)?  But if I call my place in this country, my freedom from the tensions embroiling Ferguson a "God-given blessing," isn't that exactly what I'm doing?

I think churches and religious people across the Western world need to move beyond this passive gratitude. There's nothing wrong with thanking God, but I think we need to critically analyzing the thing which we thank God for.  We need to ask ourselves, is this really something to be grateful for? Is it a blessing? Or is it just me enjoying the benefits of being on the winning side of an injustice?  And if that's what it is, then I will not be grateful.  And neither should you.  We should all commit ourselves to analyzing and acknowledging when we are on the winning side of such an injustice, and instead of thanking our Deity for the win, we should commit ourselves to fighting to end the injustice that allows for someone else to be on the losing end of the equation.

I am not grateful for my whiteness.  Instead, I recognize it, acknowledge it, and commit myself to the lifelong process of checking my privilege at the door, seeking out the voices of those who are not white, so I can come to know the best, the most effective ways for me to engage in the struggle to end the racial injustice that allows the colour of my skin to be a privilege at all.

I know a lot of people who strive to view themselves and to be what they label "colour-blind."  I know my Dad will always answer the question of what race he is with the answer, "human."  And while for a long time I loved this response,  and even used it a few times myself, we can't whitewash the systems of racial injustice away simply by pretending that we don't see them.  We can't pretend that I would've faced the same treatment walking down the street in my Naperville, IL next to a cop car that Michael Brown faced in Ferguson, MO.  Calling yourself colour-blind or labeling yourself human instead of white doesn't change the vastly different treatment that Michael Brown and young black men across this country face every time they encounter a member of law enforcement.

If I went to any number of local churches this coming Sunday, I could no doubt hear many a pastor include in a prayer a message of gratitude for the supposedly God-given blessing of living in an area that is not plagued by the racial violence and unrest that is facing Ferguson, Missouri right now.  But what good does such an acknowledgment of supposed blessing actually do?  It allows for and even enables our own innate inclinations towards apathy.  I can easily sit idly by and simply acknowledge that I am blessed to live in a majority upper middle class, white area of the county.  But if, instead, I recognize and proclaim the hard truth that I am not faced with the violence and unrest here in DuPage County precisely because of the privilege I have because of the systems of privilege I enjoy due to my skin colour and my socio-economic status, I must then also recognize that other people, through just the same non-existent effort as my own, do not have this same privilege.  Instead these people are oppressed by these same systems because they live in poorer areas and/or were born with brown or black skin.

And this isn't just about race.  There are so many other hard truths in the world, so many injustices that can just as easily  be viewed as "God-given blessings."  We have got to stop being passive.  Stop being grateful.  We have got to "ready our heart's teeth.  Chew through the etiquette leash," to begin fighting injustice everywhere we see it, every time we contribute to it or benefit from it.

Deeper Faith or Sacrilege?

For my whole life, I was taught and (to a certain extent) believed that fostering a growing, dynamic Christian faith had to look a certain way.  I'm not talking about the way you are supposed to live your outward (to use the "Christian-ese" term) horizontal faith -- i.e. how  you express your faith through words and actions.  I'm talking about the more introspective, inward, "vertical" aspects of faith.  No matter where I stood with God or my changing belief system or calling, I have always thought that, to be a truly mature, growing Christian, I had to have at least a certain minimum of (relatively) structured prayer and Bible reading time and I absolutely had to be involved in a Church community (though the latter didn't need to be anything near traditional).  And there have been times in my life when each of these components have been crucial, not just to my spiritual well-being, but my mental and emotional well-being too.  When I struggled most heavily with depression, suicide, and cutting, I can honestly say that being able to cry out to God in prayer, no matter the dark or angry content of my thoughts, helped keep me alive.  When I was struggling with figuring out who God is, who I am, and/or how to reconcile the two, reading the Bible and being a part of a relatively traditional faith community were essential to that process.  I know that without having spent long hours digging into the Bible to figure out who God is, I would not have the stable foundation on which to build the rest of my life and beliefs.

But here's the thing: when I was in those times of digging into the Word to figure out who God is to help build that foundation, I, without fail, always felt so challenged by what I read.  I would dig into traditional expository commentaries and look online for historical contexts for passages and read dozens of both conservative and liberal interpretations of passages.  I never ceased to be challenged.

 A month or so ago, I figured I should really try to get back into that habit.  I love feeling challenged and stretched  and pushed to grow in my understanding of who God is, of the way I look at the world.  I love seeing, for the first time, a new and beautiful aspect of broken humanity that makes me love it all the more.  And yet, when I tried to dig into a passage the past several attempts, I never felt any of those things.

Now this isn't me bitching and complaining about a spiritual dry spell.  That's not it all.  Because recently I've been reading so many different things and engaging in an amazing community and feeling so very challenged in my understanding of the world and of people and, yes, of my faith.

But because of the way I was raised and this belief system that I've always had about what a growing internal faith life is "supposed" to look like, it honestly never even dawned on my that the things I have been reading are challenging and growing my faith.

Because I've always looked at faith as this two-dimensional foundation upon which I am supposed to view every other belief that I hold or thing that I learn.  Mostly, I've always viewed my faith as something just relating to religious beliefs.

But my faith is so much bigger than a set of beliefs regarding who or what deity I believe in and then coming to an understanding of the finite ways that that set of beliefs regarding that deity is supposed to affect the way I think and live.

At its core, my faith is a belief that God called me to love my fellow humans and serve them and fight for justice for them.  But that calling, that faith, is so much bigger than just religious beliefs. 

It's who I am.

Yes, my specifically "religious" beliefs explain why I believe certain things and even act or think certain ways.  But my religion falls far short of being able to explain my whole belief system and every thing that I think about the world, about humanity, and about my place as an agent of change in each.  Yeah, my religious beliefs, those things that I've learned from my more "traditional" faith-related activities, definitely inform many parts of my belief system and my desired role in the world's conversation and economy.  But those things I learned in Christian schools and in church and even in traditional Biblical study fail miserably to adequately explain so many crucial parts of who I am and of what I believe.

I've said for years that I believe that God gave us rational minds to help us figure out the world.  I've also frequently said that God gave us the ability to create art in so many diverse forms, and far be it from us to arbitrarily name certain pieces or aspects of art and culture as sufficiently "Christian" to be able to teach us faith-related lessons.  I've never believed that God recorded every aspect of truth and insight necessary to navigate the world exclusively in the Bible.  To me, it's simply a ludicrous thought to believe that a book written by human hands thousands of years ago (no matter your belief about the extent or degree of its Divine origin)  could help a 21st century adult navigate something as (seemingly) benign as social media.  I believe that in so many different aspects of life, God wants us to become well-rounded, well informed, rational people who live by the beliefs that come from that well-rounded and informed rational thought.  There are so many issues and problems we face today that a human Jesus simply could not have grasped and, as much as Jesus being God may have granted this extra knowledge and understanding, the vocabulary and culture Jesus was confined to couldn't have allowed the adequate expression of so many things that are crucial to understanding and living in this world today.

But as much as I believed all of these things, when it dawned on me recently that my faith is being challenged and stretched and grown the most recently by the things I'm reading in queer and feminist media, literature, and law journals, and by engaging in these same communities, I felt like this was somehow sacrilegious.  Like this couldn't possibly be what God wants my faith life to consist of, can it?

Like, if the Bible contained an entire book on recognizing your own privilege, another on having compassion for others who are (for possibly the first time) forced to confront their privilege, and still another on the best way to form coalitions around intersectional systems of oppression and privilege, that's where I'd be digging in my teeth in an intense Bible study right now.  Because my capacity to understand the world and humanity and to learn to love more deeply are so being stretched right now by digging into these issues.  And I honestly can't think of a more faith-related exercise than learning to better love and serve and seek justice for my fellow humans.  So how could expanding my understanding and ability in these areas be sacrilegious?

I know that the reason why I struggle with the thought that calling these activities "faith" is sacrilege, though, isn't just because studying feminist and queer issues doesn't "look" like religion.  It's also because I'm realizing that, for me, what I describe as my "faith" is something so much bigger than just religion.  It's about my entire outlook on life, on the world, and on myself.  Yes, there is certainly a traditionally religious aspect to it.  But it's so much more than that, too.  When I say "faith," I know for certain that I'm no longer referring to the strictly Webster's (or AWANA club's, for that matter) definition about believing in something without fully understanding it.  It's not about taking a "leap of faith."  I think what I mean when I use the term "faith" is something more akin to the terms "worldview" and "calling" put together.  So, yeah, perhaps I should think of a better word for it, but the fact is that the reason why I consider these things to be part of my faith is because they are all inextricably linked to what I believe about God, about the world, about people, and about my place  within and among all of these things.

So I'm going to continue to open my eyes and mind to the beautiful and challenging insights around me.  I'm not trying to say that I'm completely forsaking the Bible.  I'm still a Christian, and as much as I'm re-thinking what I believe an active and growing internal faith life looks like, I'm not saying that I'm turning in my Bible in exchange for Autostraddle.com (although the latter is my browser homepage).

Part of growing up, if you were raised in a traditional Christian home, is about re-examining every aspect of your beliefs, faith system, and worldview.  So many of these things have changed so drastically for me over the past decade of my life; I doubt I would even recognize the pre-teen girl blasting Rebecca St. James in her room 24/7, dreaming of joining the Aussie singer and abstinence-only activist on tour.

I have learned so many amazingly complex and beautiful things since then about God, about the world, about myself, and about humanity.  I've learned to love and see so much beauty in all of the brokenness; I've cried for the suffering and pain and felt paralyzed by the guilt of my own privilege and the depth of my own compassion; I've become a feminist activist and I've come out as queer.  I've perpetually been drawn to stories and lives of brokenness, suffering, and beauty.  I've felt and given myself over to an inescapable calling to spend my life seeking and fighting for justice and equality.

I could sit here and try to list every single way that my faith has influenced me through each of these times of change and trial and pain and growth and beauty and love.  But that list could never be any where near completion, because, as I said, my faith is who I am.  Who I believe God to be, the Jesus that I have fallen in love with, has governed each of these phases of my life, has been the deciding factor in every one of my belief systems.

So when I feel close to God after reading a call to feminist action, when I feel challenged to lookdeeper at my own privilege, when I read a post that pleads compassion for those who cannot see the injustice in their beliefs, when I research and write a paper formulating a plan of action to end a pandemic of violence against an entire class of people, even when I begin to grasp both the depth of the beautyand the scope of the problems in the media that I consume, how could these things not be pushing my faith deeper?  How could I not have a better understanding of God and of humanity?  How could the preparation for and pursuit of the calling that God has laid before me be anything other than an action of my faith?  How could calling any of these things part of my faith be sacrilege?

Changing Marriage

I've written before about the major "clobber" passages in the Bible which are consistently used in modern times to say that homosexuality is a sin.  And I still believe that that is an important conversation to have, an important debate to delve into.  But something is missing from that debate.

Nowhere in that conversation is there a discussion of sexual politics and the cultural use of sexual relations at the time in which the different passages were written.  Because here's the thing: the concepts and ideas of sex and marriage which are so prevalent today were nowhere to be seen in Biblical times.  Marriage during the pre-Christian eras, during the Greco-Roman empire in which Christ lived and the whole New Testament was written was not about love or commitment, or a life-long bond between partners.

In the Greco-Roman world, sex was political.  It was about power and control.  It was a display of the dichotomy between dominance and submission.  Under Roman law, a Roman citizen had sexual rights to every person who was not their equal.  This meant that a Roman citizen, by nature an adult male with political rights and power, could legally have sex, forcefully or otherwise, with any person who was not a Roman citizen.  So he had sexual rights to every woman (no matter her ethnic or social class), every slave (male or female), every child (yes, child!), and every other person who did not hold the political station of a Roman citizen.

There was no such thing as consent.

So when Paul, in his epistles of Corinthians and Timothy, was talking about sex, he was wrestling with how to assimilate the newly converted Gentiles with their practices of sexual dominance, power, and politics into the Jewish-turned-Christian way of life.  But he didn't address those issues which we, today, would see as the biggest moral or ethical problem with Greco-Roman sexual practices: the absence of the concept of consent!

Paul addressed alot of different things, many of them quite vaguely.  And there can be arguments and debates about what he really meant or how it should apply to our lives.  But we cannot ignore the fact that the society in which he lived, the mindset which he had about sex and marriage has very little in common with our modern conceptions of sex and marriage.

How can we have a conversation about sexual ethics or the correct "definition" or marriage based nearly entirely upon such outdated notions as those prescribed in the Bible?

I'm not saying that we should ignore everything in the Bible related to sex, love, and marriage.  Absolutely not.  But we have got to read it with a grain of salt, understanding the world in which it was originally written, and even the world in which the Bible was canonized and interpreted throughout the centuries.

In fact, it wasn't until the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries that homosexuality became a broadly condemned practice across Christendom.  And this was an age of broad social intolerance which saw a dramatic rise in the condemnation of Jews, "heretics," and many other social minorities.  Before that time, there are examples throughout the early church, the Renaissance, and the Middle Age from the literate classes (oftentimes nobility and especially monks) including explicit gay poetry with little to any condemnation of the practice .  Much of it was widely accepted as some of the most beautiful and high class literature of its time.

It was during these periods following the fall of the Roman empire that the concepts of sex and marriage transformed from an expression of political dominance and power into an expression of human love and pleasure.  It wasn't perfect, just as our sexual ethics today aren't perfect across the board.  But the ideas of love and marriage during these times were changing rapidly towards a more modern understanding wherein sex and marriage were viewed as expressions of love and consent.

In light of our modern view of marriage and erotic expression as an outpouring of intimate love, we must view much of the Bible differently.  And not just in relation to the aforementioned "clobber" passages that can be used to address homosexuality.  Today, we can see the loving, intimate relationships of Jonathon and David, as well as Naomi and Ruth as intimate same-sex relations (regardless of whether or not they were sexually intimate).  Because today we view marriages as much more than a means of exerting political power and ensuring reproductive legitimacy.  Instead, we view marriage as an expression of commitment, love, intimacy.  In fact, the vow which Naomi gives to Ruth ("But Ruth said, 'Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge.  Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.  Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.  Thus may the Lord do to me, and worse, if anything but death parts you and me.'") is often used as a proclamation of commitment at many heterosexual Christian weddings.

No one can question that both couples were, on some level, intimate.  I'm not trying to make an argument absolutely that either of them were sexually involved.  Because that's not the point.  Just as the point of marriages today is not exclusively about sexual intimacy.  Today, in the Western world, most people get married because of love, commitment, and respect.  And even among those who don't marry for those reason, most all of them would at least acknowledge these principles as the components of an ideal marriage.  Can anyone argue that Naomi and Ruth weren't loving, committed, or respectful of each other?  The same with Jonathon and David?

Some may argue that this is a spurious argument, and it may well be.  But whether or not you see these two relationships as intimate on an equivalent level with modern marriages, discussing them still brings up this crucial point: we don't have any Biblical examples, gay or straight, of a marriage (that is explicitly labelled as such) that is equivalent to a modern ideal for marriage.  We can see glimpses of such a concept though the two same-sex relationships described above, as well as in the erotic poetry of Song of Songs.  But there is no directly equivalent example of a Biblical marriage which mirrors a modern marriage.  Because the culture in which the different books of the Bible were written had no such concept of marriage.  There was no consent.  Love was by no means required, or even encouraged, throughout most Biblical examples.

I think the one major thing that we can take away from Paul's teachings on marriage is the concept that, ideally, marriages should be based upon love and respect, not upon an exertion of political power, dominance, and control.  Paul was pushing his readers in the direction of a modern-day concept of marriage.  But he wasn't there yet.  The whole society had to change.  And when it started to, these Pauline passages weren't used to impose a ban and homosexuality, or even on gay marriage.  They were used to encourage the movement towards marriage as an expression of love, commitment, and respect.

I guess my point through all of this is simply to say, once again, that we have got to recognize the prisms through which we view Biblical concepts.  Moreover, we have to figure out and acknowledge the culture and norms of the time when the Bible was written, the era in which it was canonized, as well as the ways in which it has been interpreted throughout the centuries.

Sources:
John Boswell. Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality: Gay People in Western Europe from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century.  Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980.

Blind Faith Is No Faith At All

At my church this morning, they were talking about Father's Day and giving advice on how to be a good father, etc.  All around, I think it was a good and valuable sermon.  But one thing that one of the pastors said in the middle of it really disturbed me.  He was talking about a local church that asks as one of its fundamental questions, "What about God the Mother (as opposed to God the Father)?"  And this pastor said that even asking that question is offensive because it somehow implies that fatherhood is an insufficient role for God to be put into.  Now, beyond the substantive problems with that statement (i.e. All of humanity was made in God's image, both male and female, so of course the question "What about God the Mother?" is not only valid but vital), the statement that "even asking the question is offensive" places the entirety of faith and religion inside of a tight little box, never to be shaken loose, pondered, or questioned.

But I have to ask, how can you have true faith without doubt?  What is the point of trying to live for Christ if the way you live and the beliefs you cling to reject so many of those whom Christ reached out to the most?

The central passage of today's sermon was found in Deuteronomy 6 which urges the Israelite nation to follow God with their whole heart, soul, mind, and strength.  But what does it look like to love God with all that you are?  We talk about parents being consistent and involved in their kids' lives, but what kind of message does it send to your children when the religion you cling to, the faith you base your life and belief system upon is immovable?

Your faith shouldn't be immovable.  It should be ever-changing, ever evolving.  God is not stagnant, so why should we allow our faith, our belief systems to sit still, growing stale from lack of challenges, questioning, or doubting?

The sermon focused explicitly upon how parents should raise their children.  And you can be the best, most loving and godly parent in the world, work yourself ragged to instill what you believe to be the appropriate Christian values into your children, but if you teach a rigid, immovable faith that has no room to breath, what is the point of it all?  Can there be such a thing as true faith without being willing to doubt and question?  How can a child learn to grow without these crucial aspects of having faith?  And how can your children have anything close to true faith without being taught that it's okay to ask the tough questions, to not know all the answers, and even to buck tradition if you feel God leading you in that direction?

I don't believe that faith exists absent questioning and doubting.

Faith shouldn't be blind.  It should live and evolve and grow and be challenged and break and change and, most importantly, be filled with love and grace.

I have always been taught that the Word of God is infallible.  But what does that tenant say about our faith?  This rigid clinging to Scriptures, blindly accepting everything it says (or everything we are taught that it is supposed to mean) as incapable of corruption or misinterpretation or mistranslation?

I believe that clinging to this notion with such a tight grip denies so much of the expressive work of God in our lives.  If the Spirit of God leads us to a conviction or even just a thought that seemingly challenges a verse or passage of the Bible, shouldn't we have enough faith to be willing to question, to doubt, to wonder, to challenge?

God is more powerful than our belief systems, than our rigid clinging to the Bible.  Yahweh wrote this Book, it's true.  But He also entrusted into the hands, words, and voices of fallible man.  So if we cling so tightly to this human-entrusted work, we are making the Bible our idol instead of worshiping the Creator of both man and the Word.  Jesus is the Word, so it is Him we must follow more so than the human-entrusted Scriptures.

"One way to guard against [making the Bible an idol] is to realize that while the Bible may be at the centre of matters of faith, it must also be in 'conversation' with tradition, experience, and reason" (Rev. Mona West).  We must realize that the Bible was written at a particular time, within the traditions, contexts and mindsets of its many authors.  We must also realize that when we, as humans, read the Bible, we read it from the prisms and mindsets of our modern lives.  And just as within the past couple centuries specific Scripture passages were used to justify the institution of slavery because of the context (time, place, and mindset) in which it was being interpreted, so we, today, read and interpret the Scriptures in the context of the world in which we live.

We no longer view slavery as a Biblically acceptable institution.  So, knowing that the Bible has been used throughout history to rationalize injustices that were viewed as socially acceptable at that time, so the Bible, today, can and will be used to rationalize philosophies and beliefs that history, and even the church, will look back upon as unjust.  We are fallible people, reading and trying to interpret the Bible through the prisms of our own lives and experiences.

We must recognize this simple fact: we are fallible.  We must therefore hold our interpretations of Scriptures loosely, realizing that we may and will be wrong about some of our views.  We cannot rely entirely upon the teachings of the modern church about how individual Scripture passages should be or have been interpreted.  Because the church has been and will be wrong about some of these interpretations.  That's the nature of having a human-led church.

So let's stop making the Bible our idol.  Let's stop holding so tightly to our beliefs, rationalizing the idea that our traditional beliefs are, by the very nature that they are traditional, correct and infallible.  Instead, let us use our ability to reason and philosophize and question and doubt and wonder.  Let's not forget that we can and will be wrong.  And that's ok.  But let's pay attention to the leading of the Spirit in our own lives, instead of just the guidance of tradition and church history and interpretation as the sole authority for our lives.  When Jesus left this earth, He told us that He was sending us a Counselor to help us navigate this world.  So let's stop idolozing the Scriptures and instead listen to the Spirit and be willing to ask the tough questions, not afraid to go against tradition, but instead check everything we believe against that voice of the Spirit inside each of us.

This Is What I Know

I still don't have all the answers.  I don't think I ever will.  But here's what I do know: my God is bigger than all of this.  His wisdom and guidance and patience and love and peace and mercy are all eternal.  There are so many people, from my immediate family to random acquaintances, that feel like I'm making a horrible "choice" by being gay.  And Jesus predicted that this would happen.  That Christians would turn on one another.

So I can't argue or explain their condemnations away.  Yeah, I can answer questions about the theology.  I'm pretty sure I can explain the ways in which every Scripture passage which has continually been used to condemn homosexuality is really just taken out of context, misunderstood, or blatantly mistranslated to achieve a specific agenda.  So I can have those conversations.  But I know that those conversations won't help.  They won't change anything, because words alone will never be enough to change anyone's minds on this issue.

But, again, here's what I know: I have never felt more connected with God, never felt the presence of the Holy Spirit more strongly than since I've come out.  I also know that it was that same Spirit that confirmed in my heart that these feelings I've always had aren't something to be ashamed or afraid of.  That I am His.  That He is love.  That I am made in His image, held in His hand.

I remember so vividly praying for hours, for days, for weeks and months, for an answer to this question that has plagued me practically my whole life: "Am I gay? And, if so, is it ok?"  And the answer that I got from my God (once I was finally willing to actually listen for an answer), the thing that He whispered to me over and over and over again was "You are Mine.  I am love and not condemnation.  You are made in My image and, as such, you are good.  There is nothing wrong with the way you feel, the way you've always felt.  You are Mine. I am love."

I realized recently that I need to seek God's mercy and forgiveness.  But not for what so many people might think.  I need His mercy because I've spent so much of my life hiding, afraid, and ashamed of ever even asking Him the questions.  Afraid of confronting what I've always known to be true.

And God's mercy is new every morning, so I know that I am free of that sin of hiding.  But it kind of shocked me in that moment when I felt God telling me that I needed forgiveness for not coming out.  It was always something that I pushed aside and shoved away because I didn't have enough faith to believe that God would answer me and, more than that, that He would confirm His answer in magnificent and miraculous ways.  I was also always scared of hearing His answer, no matter what that answer was.  I just didn't have enough faith.

While this whole process has been so very hard and stressful for my family, I am still feeling so much peace.  I feel freedom and even joy for the first time, I think, in my entire life.  And as I've said before, I long for my family to feel that same thing.  But, again, I can't argue anyone into agreeing or believing or understanding.  But I do know that, no matter what, we are a family.  We are all God's children.  And, as such, the disunity we are feeling right now isn't of God (Philippians 2:1-5).  The Spirit of God is of fellowship, love, and unity.  And that's what God longs for His church to have (1 Corinthians 1:10-13).  That's another thing that I know.

Even though I feel so much peace, I still feel Satan crouching at the edges of my family, trying desperately to breed a lack of love and acceptance and wisdom.  Satan has used this very issue for so long to break people, families, communities, even nations apart.  He's forced homosexuality to become this "central" issue to the Christian faith even though there are only about a half a dozen verses in the Bible that seemingly address the topic.

I completely believe that the disunity and hatred and condemnation that engulfs this issue is not from God.  When Jesus was on this earth, He didn't spend His time badgering people with His own moral views, condemning everyone He came across.  Instead, He spent his entire life ministering to the poor, the needy, the sinners, the least.  So because I know that Satan is behind this disunity, I just keep praying and rebuking and repeating over and over again that Satan has no place in my family.  Because we are God's and so Satan has no power over us.

These disagreements that we have, no matter how "huge" they may seem in our finite world, during this finite time, won't even matter in eternity.  But even still, I feel called by God to speak out against this spirit of disunity and hatred and condemnation and lack of love and acceptance and tolerance that has clung to the church at large for so very long.

I'm not claiming to be some definitive authority on the topic of homosexuality for all of Christianity.  All I know is the views I feel God has led me to.  I also know that, to Him, no matter our live's paths and curves and twists and bends, we are still His.  And nothing else matters.

Even if...I'm wrong about this, I am still His.
Even if...it's a sin for me to be gay, He still loves me and always will.
Even if...this is a "choice" that Satan has tricked me into believing and feeling, Jesus still died for me.

Even if...we've all gotten it wrong on nearly every moral belief on which we stand, we are still saved.  We are still His.  And nothing we do or say on this earth can change that.

I'm not saying that moral questions or choices don't matter.  It's important that we Christians live our lives as acts of worship to God.  And that's exactly why I'm writing these things down, journaling my own story of being a gay devout Christian.  Because I feel called to this: to be a voice speaking out into the darkness surrounding this belief that is held so strongly by most of Christendom.  To live a life, faltering and failing but always trying to serve God with all that I have, with everything that I am.

So, no, I can't argue or cajole anyone into changing their minds.  But I can live for Him.  And serve others for Him.  Fight injustice for Him.  Love for Him.

I won't win everyone over.  I don't even know if I'll win anyone over.  But I know who I am in Christ, so I will not be defeated.  Jesus has overcome, so Satan has no power over me.

My life as an act of worship to God might not look the way so many people think that it should.  But neither did Jesus' life when he spent his time with the least, the worst of the worst in His culture.  He was condemned and crucified for speaking a truth He knew to be true and for starting a social upheaval focused on seeking out the lost, serving the least, ministering to the outcasts, and loving...everyone.  No matter what.

Once again, I believe revolution is coming in the church.  I'm not arrogant enough to think that my voice is going to somehow spark a giant movement.  But if enough lone voices reach out to their relatively small audiences, through their words and their lives, revolution will come.  I wholeheartedly believe that.

But even if I never get to see it, even if I live my entire life as a relative outcast from the larger church community, that's ok. Yeah, it'll be hard and painful at times.  But I rest in the knowledge that I am His.  I am still living in the peace and freedom that He has blessed me with.

And, once again, I know that my God is bigger than all of this.

My Apology for Homosexuality

Note: I know this post is way longer than I would normally write, but please bear with me.  This is a hugely important issue and I am getting there. 

I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again, but one of my greatest heroes in life is the 20th century suffragist, Alice Paul.  She was willing to be jailed, go on a hunger strike, and be force fed, all in the name of taking the first of many steps on the road to female equality: the ballot.  And I often think that I would be willing to go those same length to fight for my convictions.

But here's the thing: it's not the United States government that I worry about disagreeing with my beliefs.  I don't worry that, by standing up for myself and my convictions, the government will choose to find an excuse to lock me in a cell and throw away the key.  

But there is another institution that I worry about rejecting me and people that I know will not accept the things that I have to say.  That institution is the Christian church and those people are many of my closest family and friends.  But I can't let that stop me.  I just can't anymore.

Throughout my years in high school and college, I remember pastors and youth leaders calling for "revolution."  But they were never very clear about what that revolution was supposed to mean or do.  Yeah, they made vague references to influencing the world towards "Christian" ways or somehow re-shaping our culture, but there was no specific call to action.  I think part of that was because they simply had no clue what a revolution truly is.See, the Christian church has gone through revolutions before, although it is more commonly called a "reformation."  Yes, I am talking about the "Great Reformation," sparked by that quintessential moment when Martin Luther nailed his 95-Theses to the door of the Catholic church in Wittenburg, Germany.  And while, for years, I've known about this unilateral act by Martin Luther, I don't think I ever really considered what that must have meant for him.  Specifically, I never contemplated how very much courage it must have taken not only Martin Luther, but every single one of his followers to actually be willing to turn away from the Catholic church, risking (according to the Catholic church) their very souls.

Going against the established church back in the 15th century was, or course, far more courageous than any push against the established church today because, for Martin Luther and his contemporaries, there was only one church.  Today, the organized church is not one whole unit; it is splintered into dozens or even hundreds of different denominations, some with only minute disagreements among themselves, others with near catastrophic differences.  So I'm not claiming to even come close to comprehending the amount of courage that it took for Martin Luther to nail that document to that church door.  I just don't know.  But I do know something about fearing rejection by the established church, even with a definition of such a thing as the "established" church being murky at best.

But nonetheless, I do believe that the church today, however it may be defined, does desperately need revolution.  And although it is a different scale, it does still take courage to stand up and call for it.  And it is a lack of courage that has kept me from speaking out and calling for change for a long time now.  But it has kept me from even coming to my own personal conclusions, despite my own convictions, for even longer.

One of the things that Martin Luther fought for was the ability of everyday man to have access to the very pages of Scripture that the Catholic church was abusing.  Since that day, people, through reading the Bible themselves, have had the power to figure out for themselves what to believe about specific passages and the ways that those passages should impact their lives.

Over the last several decades, though, something else has changed: the church has decided that, on a vast many topics, only one interpretation is considered valid.  Now, people are supposed to just accept the English interpretations of some, at times, very obscure texts written hundreds of years ago in ancient Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic.  These interpretations can range from only slightly subjective to extremely biased.  And yet we, as Christians, are simply supposed to blindly subject our belief systems and actions to the choices that these translators have made.  And for a lot of issues, that wouldn't bother me.  But there is one issue, in particular, that I can't just blindly accept anymore.  In fact, I haven't been able to blindly accept it for a long time.  

The issue I'm talking about is one that is, in so many Christian circles, seen as the "worst of the worst."  It's used to hate and bash and blame and yell and diminish and hurt.  Oh, so much hurt.

Some of you may already have figured it out, but just to be explicitly clear: the issue that I'm talking about is homosexuality.  And, to be clear, when I say in the title that I'm making an "apology" for homosexuality, I'm not saying that I'm somehow trying to make amends.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I'm using the term "apology" in the context of a theologically based argument.

So I've studied the issue, looked at the original Greek or Hebrew words, examined context and culture, all to try and make the most informed decision I can about what an accurate interpretation of these passages should be.  Now, I don't claim to have any training in original language interpretation.  So all I can do is read as much as I can and then go with my convictions (and that, by the way, is all that I can ask of anyone else).

There is, and probably always will be, more to say on this topic, so I'm not going to even attempt to make a comprehensive apology for homosexuality not being against the Word of God.  Also, for anyone reading this who doesn't believe that the Bible is God's Word or should be used as applicable to our lives: you are not the people that I'm writing this to.  Because, for you, it just doesn't matter.  But for me and for my family and many of my friends and my church, this issue is crucial.   And, far more importantly, it is crucial to anyone who is not a heterosexual, no matter what label they carry, who has been hurt or rejected or shamed by the church. So, because I started by talking about Martin Luther, I too am going to break down what I have to say into a number of different points.  Although I don't have 95.  I don't think I'd ever finish...

1. First and arguably most importantly, we need to be constantly aware about the context in which we are speaking, specifically about the impact that what we have to say has on people's lives.  No one lives in a vacuum, so simply making a proclamation such as "homosexuality is wrong" or any variation similar to that touches people's lives.  It is a statement about someone's very identity.  Even if you hold the belief that people can "choose" whether or not to be gay, you still need to be aware that the majority, if not all non-heterosexual people feel that their sexual orientation is a part of who they are as a person.  So making the aforementioned proclamation attacks a person's very identity.  It can lead others to a lack of understanding, fear, and hatred.  These things, in turn, can and do lead to violence.  We need to be aware of this context before going any further.
2. We need to be open to learning new truths from the Bible, even if that means changing long-, strongly-, and traditionally-held beliefs.  The apostle Paul had to be struck blind by God to turn from traditional Judaism and the apostle Peter saw a sheet lowered from Heaven in a dream in order to change his beliefs about Biblical teachings.  Martin Luther sparked the Protestant Reformation.  Churches across this country for years believed and taught that slavery was Scripture-sanctioned, interracial marriage was wrong, and women should hold no leadership roles.  Yes, we believe that the Bible and God are both infallible, but that says nothing of you or me.  We, as humans, are far from infallible.  We are prone to errors, mistranslations, and misinterpretations.  And it's prideful to think otherwise. 
3. Now, I think another important thing to be aware of when digging into this issue on a Biblical level is realizing that every book, chapter, and verse of the Bible fits together to tell a single story, all revolving around God's radical love for mankind manifested most fully and most poignantly in the personhood of Jesus Christ.  So, when examining a specific and, at times, seemingly obscure passage that seems to address homosexuality, it is primarily important to put that passage into context.  It's important to ask how this passage furthers God's message of love and salvation.  So, when looking at specific passages for an answer to questions about sexuality or sex, it's crucial to remember that the Bible is not a book written about sex or orientation or identity.  It's a book about God and by God about who He is and His love for us.
4. Furthermore, there was no definitive word in the Biblical languages that is equivalent to a modern understanding of monogamous, committed homosexual relationships.  There just wasn't.  I'll get into what the words sometimes translated as "homosexual" are talking about in a bit, but for now it's important to be aware of this simple fact.
5. Now, moving on to those specific passages used by people to try to condemn homosexuality.  First, and most notably, there is the infamous story of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 18:16-19:14).  This story is the origin of the degrading term "sodomy" and its derivatives.  We likely all know the tale: two angels who came in the form of men, go to Sodom to retrieve Abraham's nephew, Lot, in advance of the city's predicted destruction.  Now this is an important point: the city was already doomed even before the angels entered the city.  Now, the saga that occurs once those angels enter the city have nothing to do with homosexual relations as we know them today.  It is a story of a complete lack of hospitality and, yes, of savagery.  But that savagery is in relation to an attempted gang rape.  Yes, the intended perpetrators were men and, yes, their intended victims were men.  But rape has NOTHING to do with sex, and EVERYTHING to do with exerting power and control.  We don't have any clue what the sexual orientation of those offenders was!  But you don't have to take my word for it.  The prophet Ezekiel makes clear that the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah that doomed them to destruction was that they were rich and prosperous but did not care for the poor and needy among them (Ezekiel 16:48-49 - "This is the sin of Sodom; she and her suburbs had pride, excess food, and prosperous ease, but did not help or encourage the poor and needy.  They were arrogant and this was abominable in God's eyes.").  Likewise, in Matthew 10 and Luke 10, Jesus refers to the sin of Sodom as the sin of inhospitality.  So the point that God is making in this story is heard clearly in Micah: "do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8).
6. The second most oft quoted passage used to condemn homosexuality is Leviticus 18:22; 20:13.  These are the verses that declare that, if a man lies with another man, it is an abomination and they should be executed.  But let's put these verses into context: just around these verses are "condemnations" of a man sleeping with a women while she is on her period.  It declares that this is an abomination and that both the man and the woman should be executed!  Leviticus also seemingly condemns tattoos (oops!!), wearing clothing of mixed fabrics (no cotton/poly blends for you!), eating pork or even playing with its skin (so, sorry Ravens, no Superbowl title for you. It's an abomination!)  My point being, the Levitical code needs to be taken with a grain of salt and understood in context.  It's a book written by Moses primarily to the Levitical priesthood about how the priests should conduct their lives.  Some of it is addressed to the Hebrew nation as a whole, but the entire point of it was to call Israel to a higher, nay an impossibly high standard so that Israel would be a nation set-apart, completely distinct from every surrounding culture.  Furthermore, the word "abomination" that is used throughout this Holiness code has a very different meaning from the way it is commonly understood.  The Hebrew word was "TO'EBAH" and it is in reference to behaviours that people in a particular place and time find tasteless and offensive.  Ergo, which acts are "TO'EBAH" will change depending upon your circumstances.  When Paul declared that it is ok for Christians to eat pork, he was talking about the requirements listed in this Levitical holiness code, and he said that it does not pertain to Christians!  Likewise, the Levitacal holiness code said not to work on the Sabbath, yet Jesus openly declared that to be not applicable.  So why, according to this Levitical code, was it "TO'EBAH" for a man to sleep with another man?  It's the same reason why Genesis 38:9-10 condemns a man "spilling his seed on the ground" (this has been used to condemn masturbation or even "pulling out" as an act of birth control).  It was because they believed that man's seed contained the entire essence of life (and woman was just the incubator for that seed) and the Israelites were trying to expand their nation in order to fulfill God's command and promise that they reproduce and fill the earth.  So, in today's context, there are and probably should be a certain standard of sexual conduct expected for Christ followers, but it doesn't find its root in the Levitical code.  Furthermore, we now understand the biological process of reproduction exponentially better than the Israelites ever did, and most Christians agree that we are no longer under the strict command to "fill the earth" (i.e. reproduce endlessly without birth control).
7. Next, I want to talk about two passages together: the creation story in Genesis 1-2 and the passage in Romans 1 used to condemn both gay and lesbian relations.  So in the Genesis story, you see God displaying awesome power in his creation of the entire world, from the sky above to the earth below, to the plants and the animals, and finally, to man and woman.  Throughout the entire creation process, God keeps stopping and declaring an end to every day of work with "It is good."  When he creates man, he declares him "very good."  But then something happens: God declares something "not good."  He says, "it is not good for man to be alone."  And so he creates a woman, Eve, to be his suitable companion.  And again he declares it "very good."  Now here is where most critics of homosexuality from a Biblical perspective come in with snarky signs that say "God created Adam and EVE" not "Adam and STEVE."  And it's true.  For Adam, his suitable companion was Eve.  But does that inherently mean that EVERY man's suitable companion is a woman? And vice versa?  Well, first, from a practical perspective, if God had made two men, there could have been no children, no "reproduce and fill the earth."  And equally if He had created two women.  So, for Adam, with his duty to reproduce, the only suitable companion for him was a woman.  But let's go back to that first premise: "It is not good for man to be alone."  Now, the traditional interpretation and application of Christian doctrine on homosexuality is that, for a homosexual, he/she must necessarily remain alone, for although their suitable partner would be someone of the same gender, and, if that is morally wrong, he/she, as a Christian must refrain from acting on it.  Forever.  So, I have to ask: how can it be "good" for a gay person to forever remain alone?  Doesn't that fly in the face of that first declaration of "not good" in reference to man's isolation?  Now, Paul's teaches in Romans 1:26-27 that a man exchanging "natural" relations with a woman for "unnatural" relations with a man (and likewise, women exchanging "natural" relations with men for "unnatural" relations with each other).  The passage is clear that it is talking about someone abandoning his/her former state (i.e. heterosexuality) for one that is unnatural for him/her.  The verses preceding this passage are talking about people who previously knew God but abandoned Him to pursue worldy idols.  So, in this light, for a straight man, any straight man, of course it is inherently "unnatural" for him to have sex with another man.  But what about for a gay man?  Wouldn't it be just as "unnatural" for him to stop sleeping with his male partner and start sleeping with a woman?  For the passage is clear that the people in question were, in fact, already having relations with people of the opposite gender.  So it is arguably safe to say that these people were, according to today's terminology, straight.  Furthermore, let's look at the context surrounding this passage: Paul had just returned from Rome where he witnessed the odd sexual practices of priests and priestesses in the pagan temples.  These practices ranged from drunken orgies to sleeping with young temple prostitutes (more on this in a minute) to castrating themselves.  So he we exhorting the recipients of his letter to not be overtaken by a sexual obsession and sink into sexual depravity.  So God gave them over to the natural consequences of their obsessions.  To me, this says nothing of a lesbian woman and her life-long partner/wife (depending on the laws in their state) engaging in a healthy level of commitment, love and devotion in pursuit of honouring God comparable to a "traditional," Godly, heterosexual union.  Furthermore, the one other time that Paul uses this term "nature" is in 1 Corinthians 11 wherein Paul describes it as "unnatural" for a woman to pray with her head uncovered and for a man to have long hair.  The contexts and words used in these two passages are remarkably similar, but the way in which they are traditionally understood is markedly different.  So the terms "natural" and "unnatural," it would seem, refer to customs of the time.  It does not refer to biology or sexual orientation, but to customs and idolatry and unbridled passions.
8. Finally, and on this I want to be perfectly clear and very blunt: the word "homosexual" never appeared in the Bible until the late 1940s at the earliest.  It is now used to translate the Greek word "arsenokoitai."  This word first appears in 1 Corinthians 6:9 and again in 1 Timothy 1:10 and its translation is murky, at best.  Also appearing in these verses is another troublesome Greek word, "malokois," often translated as either "effeminate call boys" or as "male prostitutes."  The primary interpretation of the second word, "malokois" refers to young boys who were shaved clean and traded at the temple for money.  Others say that the literal interpretation of "malokois" is "soft" and refers to people who are lazy or cowardly.  Whichever may be more accurate is unclear, as this is a vague term often used in lists of general vices.  And, although the word "arsenokoitai" is hardly ever found in any of Paul's contemporary Greek literature, we can be pretty sure, from the context in which it is written, that the term refers to those people whom today's society would label "dirty old men" or, to put it more bluntly, the pedophiles who pay for sex with the "malokois."  Every other use of the term following Paul's (which is the first known use of the word) refers to some form of sexual and economic exploitation.  So this word, as best we can tell, has nothing whatsoever to do with a loving, faithful same-sex relationship.  Therefore, it would seem that Paul's condemnation of "arsenokoitai" and "malokois" is a condemnation of exploitative, sexual relationships, especially pedophilia.
9. And  my final and most crucial point comes from Matthew 19:4-5, 11-12.  These long-forgotten passages specifically affirm homosexuals who are "born that way" (yes, apparently, Jesus knew of Gaga even before Gaga existed).  In the first portion of the passage, it is Jesus' explanation of the reasons behind marriage.  He says "Have you not read that the One who made them at the beginning made them male and female... For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife and the two shall become one flesh?  Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one separate."  Jesus then allows for three exceptions to this rule, "Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given.  For some eunuchs because they were born that way; others were made that way by men; and others have renounced marriage because of the kingdom of heaven.  The one who can accept this should accept it."  So, what on earth is this talk of "eunuchs?"  Well, eunuchs were highly ranked but socially "deviant" men who were supposed to protect and serve the female royalty without feeling sexual or romantic attraction for them.  So, in layman's terms, the last one seems pretty simply: those who choose celibacy to serve God (Paul would probably fall into this category); those who are castrated (or otherwise made impotent at the hands of man); and those who innately do not feel sexual attraction to women.  Now, this last category could, in theory, apply to that EXTREMELY small group of people who are born without "parts," for lack of a better term.  But, because this is so incredibly rare (and it's unlikely that society even recognized this group of people during Jesus' time), it is far more likely that, here, Jesus is referring to men who are not attracted to women because they are, in fact, attracted to men.  As I already emphasized, there was no language in Jesus' time to describe homosexual orientation as we know it today, so it seems to me that Jesus expressed his affirmation of homosexual orientation in the only language that he knew how: through a seemingly obscure reference to "eunuchs" who are "born that way."  Furthermore, when this reference to "born eunuchs" is used in other writings around that time, it is associated with men who are sexually attracted to each other.  And Jesus stated that those with that orientation "should accept it."  This, to me reads that homosexuals should embrace their orientation as natural and live their lives accordingly.  Furthermore, when Phillip comes across an Ethiopian eunuch on his travels, although we do not know for sure if he was a born eunuch, it seems like a fair assumption, especially in light of his reading material (Isaiah 53's passage regarding suffering and rejection) that he was, in fact, gay, Philip does not condemn or tell him that he cannot be baptized.  Instead, he says if you believe with all your heart, you may." (See Acts 8:26-40).

I know that not everyone who reads this will "accept it."  But I ask you to at least try and understand.  Try to look past yourself, your own lack of understanding about same-sex attraction, your own traditions.  I may not be able to change anyone's minds.  But this is no longer just me spewing a political belief.  It is an apology, a call to action, a call for reformation.  I believe that revolution is coming, particularly on this issue.  It will change the church forever, and so I ask you, do you have the courage, like Martin Luther and his followers, to answer that call?  I know it's scary, and you may have to risk everything, but you are called to scrutinize teachings in light of the Bible.  And, once you have sought and found the truth, you are called to action.  And you are called to reformation.

One final word, and with this I actually am making an apology in the traditional sense of the word.  To anyone and everyone who has been hurt by the church's traditional views on sexual orientation: please know that I am so sorry and heartbroken that we, the church, have hurt and attacked and shamed you.  That is not who Jesus is.  That is not who I am.  I am sorry for every last tear, every fear, every feeling of shame and rejection.  You are not alone.  You are loved,.  You are loved for exactly who you are.  And who you are and who you love, God has declared it "very good."

Sources:
http://www.soulforce.org/
http://matthewvines.tumblr.com/
www.wouldjesusdiscriminate.org/
"For The Bible Tells Me So"
http://www.religioustolerance.org/hom_bibl.htm
http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/

Walking the Tight Rope

I’m plagued by these thoughts.  I always have been, for as long as I can remember. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve repressed every last one of them.  These thoughts will invade my dreams, both waking and sleeping, and I’ll push them aside, telling myself over and over that that person cannot be me.  That I can’t feel that way.

I justify in my mind that it’s ok for other people to feel and act on these feelings, but I judge and repress and flog and punish when it comes to me.  I complain about being forced to live up to those lofty expectations set by the organized church or by my family or even by my friends, all the while forcing myself to live out my own double standard.

I walk this fine line, tight-roping my way through questions of politics and morality, telling myself, and making some damn convincing arguments, that the two can somehow be separated.  That I can believe in the freedom of others to say and do one thing while condemning those very thoughts inside myself.

I cling to the comfort of the religious explanations and condemnations that I’ve always known, despite condemning their tone and even their proclamation.  I want one thing in my private life and another in the public sphere.  This is my desire, because such a separation makes my own twisted thoughts and longings so much easier to rationalize, to push aside, and to wipe away.

I long for a clean slate, a simpler state of being, where I don’t have to search out my own answers.  I shouldn’t have to spend longsuffering hours searching for some form of balm for the truth that I’ve always known in my heart.  I read through exposition after exposition, knowing that they more fully explain these oft quoted words of hate and pain than anything else I’ve ever heard or read, and still I tell myself that they’re not enough.  That I need something more.  Some grand gesture, some neon-light-in-the-sky revelation.

But that revelation has been and always will be a simple, small, quiet voice in my heart, telling me over and over again that love, and not condemnation is the answer.  Telling me that the one true and perfect Yahweh made me, and, at my core, who I am is a reflection of His very truth and perfection.  That nothing can taint my Imago Dei.  I have been wiped clean by the blood of the Lamb, so who I am, what I’ve always known, that is truth.  That is my revelation.  I don’t need these expositions, these arguments, this constant need for justification and validation.

But how do I finally learn to trust this truth that I’ve always known in my heart?  And, better yet, how do I actually admit to the world that I’m embracing this truth inside of me, their so-called “truths” cloaked in condemnation, hate, and lies be damned?

I’ve already ripped the veil off once before, declaring once and forevermore that I am not perfect, that I don’t have it all together.  But I still clung to those basic beliefs, no matter what my heart or even my logic and exposition said.  I wanted that comfort.  I wanted to belong.  So I claimed to agree with every tenant of the faith, even those that grated against my very soul.

I’m not ready to throw off that cloak just yet.  It’s not as much a need for that comfort anymore as it is a fear of being rejected.  I now know, and rest perfectly at ease in the knowledge and truth of the love of my family and friends.  But what of their acceptance?  They claim to give it on a synonymous basis with their love, but love and acceptance are far from equals.

So for now I remain hidden, choosing to bide my time in hopes of building my courage.  But this grating against my soul can only be suffered for so long before it must be pushed out.  And then where will I stand?

"No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Reaching My Limit

I'm beginning to ask myself, "Where is my limit?"

Over the past year and half, I have been dealing with a major neurological disorder that causes excruciating pain throughout my extremities.  I used to deal with this same type of pain when I was a kid, but it only lasted for a total of three months before we found an answer and a solution.  It was a grave and painful solution (brain surgery at the age of 11 usually is), but it was over.  Or so I thought.

When this all started up again last March, I declared the following:

"But I will say this much:  I'm all in.  There are no questions about that. If this is where God wants me, what He wants me to go through, I'm here.  Yes, I never thought I'd have to go through this again.  Yes, it's thrown me for a gigantic loop.  But, no, I'm not angry or upset.  I'm just here.  All in."

I said this before I knew what was really going on.  And I'm now coming to realize that I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into.  Since that first trip to the Johns Hopkins emergency room, I have been to emergency rooms across the country several times, been to dozens upon dozens of doctors appointments, and taken literally thousands of pills to try and moderate my symptoms.  After ruling out the initial theory (that my condition from when I was 11 was wreaking havoc again and so they would need to redo the original surgery), I was eventually diagnosed with elevated cerebrospinal fluid pressure  This elevated pressure is pressing against my spine, causing the aforementioned extremity pain.  The longer this goes untreated, the more the pressure on my spine increases and spreads, causing ever more excruciating pain from the tips of my fingers to my shoulders, from my hips down to my littlest toe, and, recently, into my torso and neck.

There simply aren't words to adequately describe what it's like to live in a state of near constant physical pain for 19 months and counting.  Sure, I get periodic relief from lumbar punctures, diuretics  nerve relaxants, and narcotics, but it doesn't completely go away.  At least not for long.  I don't even think I remember what it's like to walk without some degree of pain, to write an in-class exam without my hand feeling like it was dying from pain by the end, or to ride in some form of mass transportation without the alternately steady and jerking motions making my nerves go haywire.  I can't fully explain the physical, emotional, and mental toll it takes on me to have to bear this pain.

I'm surrounded by family members, friends, and even acquaintances telling me how sorry they are that I'm going through this and how much they wish they could take it all away.  Recently, it takes everything in me not to just scream at them, "Well you can't take it away, so why don't you shove your useless sympathy where the sun don't shine!!!!"

I know these people mean only to express love and solidarity through their platitudes.  I get it.  I've done the same thing when I'm in their shoes, witnessing someone forced to go through some horribly painful experience alone.

And that's just the thing: I am alone in this.  There's not a single person in the world that can actually lift the burden of this pain off of my shoulders.  No one else has to suffer under the crushing weight of having no guaranteed end in sight.  No one else knows what it's like to regret pursuing their own passion and calling in life because the burden they are carrying will almost certainly cause them to falter and fail.

Back before I declared myself "All in," I did attempt to contemplate the ramifications of that commitment.  I ended that blog post with this:

 "How much is required? He [God] answers: 'Everything, because I gave even more.'"


With everything that is happening to me, I've been contemplating human limits, and I've been wondering about my breaking point.  You see, what I'm afraid to admit to anyone is that I feel like I'm cracking.  Like after all of these many months, I'm finally breaking apart; I fear that I'm reaching my limit.

But here's the thing: Jesus came here as a man.  And the night before He was to be arrested, tried, and summarily and brutally executed, He was weak.  In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed to His own Father to take this burden off of His shoulders.  Jesus thought that He was at His breaking point.  So He asked to get out.

God denied His Son's request.

So Jesus went forward.  And in those final moments, after enduring all of that brutality, after taking every ounce of physical, emotional, and mental pain the world (and God) could throw at Him, Jesus breathed His last.  And I can't help but ask, how did Jesus, instead of whispering, "Into Your hands I commit my Spirit," not scream, "Fuck you, God, you bastard!!"

But, no, Jesus did not scream obscenities at God.  Despite thinking that He was at His limit in Gethsemane, Jesus never reached His limit on Calvary.  He made it through, and thus saved us all.

And yet Jesus, despite being the Son of God, was completely human.  And every human has his or her limits.  So where was Jesus' limit, if not on Calvary?  Do limits only come through sin, because that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.  But I digress...

Everyone has his or her limits.  I know that I have them.  I may not be completely self-aware as to where they lie, but I know that there are points past which I cannot be pushed without breaking, without cracking wide open and losing the wholeness of who I am.

Through all of this, I'm not doubting God's sovereignty, his love, or any of His other amazing qualities that I've grown ever more in love with over the years.  But I do doubt myself.  I doubt that I can last much longer, and I doubt that I'll be able to find any point in any of this if it ever does come to an end.

And I think what I hate most of all is that I am doubting that God will stop all of this before I truly have reached my limit.  I'm worried that, in the end, I'll be cursing the name of the very God that I love so much, having reached my limit, broken apart, and lost whole segments of who I am, including my faith.

Pleadings for Tolerance

I don’t care if people don’t agree with anything that I say or believe, if they hate all of my interpretations and every single one of my beliefs.  It really doesn’t matter to me.  Some of my closest friends and most trusted confidantes disagree with me on a huge number of my beliefs, especially many of those that I tend to post about on this blog.  So what I do care about is people having enough respect for the fact I am a (relatively) rational adult with the free will, freedom, and intelligence to make my own decisions, to form my own thoughts, and to have my own interpretations.

In today’s culture (and perhaps in the past as well), “tolerance” is a dirty, four-letter word among many Christians.  For some reason, they view it as a requirement to give up every one of their beliefs, to concede to total universalism, and to never even be used in expanding the Church.

I understand that fear, and while I find it ludicrous (and have probably addressed it elsewhere), that’s not what I’m talking about right here.  What I’m so incredibly twisted around about currently is the idea that, even among fellow Christian believers, there cannot be dissention, disagreements, or alternative interpretations.

I’ve said it before, in fact I said it incredibly recently on this very blog, but I will reiterate: for Christians, beyond the “essentials of Christianity” (usually defined as a handful of doctrines including man’s sinful nature, God’s holiness, Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, and the creation of the Church), there is much room for interpretations.  In fact, a Jewish rabbi once said that with every passage of Scripture there are thousands of ways to understand what it means.  Furthermore, even in Biblical times, there was valid and acceptable dissention in the early church.  Peter and Paul had sincere doctrinal disagreements.  Paul once said “Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial.”  And while, according to my own arguments, this statement can be interpreted any number of ways, what I understand it to mean, in light of the context of the passage, is that different Christians can and will have sincere disagreements over doctrines, over how to act, over moral choices.  What matters is not coming to some universal agreement on every minutia, but instead to believe what we believe, act the way we have come to understand is correct, while keeping a watchful eye for situations in which some spiritual or other leadership role would cause our beliefs and actions to become “stumbling blocks” to others.

Additionally, the thought that it is every Christian’s job to “judge” their fellow believers is so beyond my comprehension, it’s laughable.  Jesus said, “Take the beam out of your own eye before trying to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”  I’m not saying there is no place for encouraging and challenging your fellow believers to re-evaluate their actions or beliefs in light of Scriptures.  There is.  But I simply can’t wrap my head around the thought that, as a Christian, I have the right to walk up to any fellow believer, no matter my relationship with them, and, in judgment, try and force them to accede to my own beliefs and interpretations.

As I said, there is a role for constructive criticism, for accountability.  But, from what I’ve come to understand, this role should be (and is) fulfilled in my life by certain individuals who truly know me, have the opportunities and abilities to see the way that I both speak and live, and in whom there is a relationship of mutual respect.

If among believers as a whole there is no room for differing opinions, for alternate interpretations, for “agreeing to disagree,” for tolerance, the church, and ultimately the world, would be in a constant state of war.  Every believer would perpetually be trying to force their beliefs down every presumed Christian’s throat, and I don’t see any way other than it getting bloody at some point.  In my opinion, this thought that tolerance is unacceptable is simply dangerous. 

And while I, by nature of my own thoughts on the subject, will tolerate my fellow believers’ opposing views on tolerance, I must set up boundaries between myself and them if they choose to try and shove their beliefs down my throat.  I cannot have rational conversations with people who won’t even respect me enough to allow me to have differing opinions, who won’t tolerate my opposing views.