One more quote from Blue Like Jazz that I identified with:
Until this point, the majority of my friends had been Christians. In fact, nearly all of them had been Christians. I was amazed to find, outside the church, genuine affection being shared, affection that seemed, well, authentic in comparison to the sort of love I had known within the church. I was even more amazed when I realized I preferred, in fact, the company of the hippies to the company of Christians. It isn't that I didn't love my Christian friends or that they didn't love me, it was just that there was something different about my hippie friends; something, I don't know, more real, more true. I realize that is a provocative statement, but I only felt I could be myself around them, and I could not be myself with my Christian friends. My Christian communities had always had little unwritten social ethics like don't cuss and don't support Democrats and don't ask tough questions about the Bible.
Place "evangelical" in front of "Christian" and "church" and substitute "gay Christians" for "hippies," and this tracks pretty closely with my own experience. On the whole my gay Christian (and non-Christian) friends are considerably more open than my other Christian friends to listening to my doubts and questions without presuming which conclusions I'll reach if I'm truly saved.
To be fair I have several ex-gay and non-gay friends who are willing to love and support me as a person whether or not we agree on everything, but by and large I've learned that I still have to be very selective about who I open up to.
So when did it become okay for the church to be such an unsafe place? When did we become more concerned with rules and outward conformity than with loving people? I mean really loving them, not throwing scripture verses in their face and calling it "speaking the truth in love." When did driving people away from God become proof that we were following His will (since God's truth is a stumbling block and all that)?
I've heard it said that, by showing any acceptance for homosexuality, the Church would be losing its distinctiveness and becoming just like "the world." But if that's the only thing (or even the main thing) that separates us from "the world," then our faith must have been pretty shallow and indistinct to begin with.
The early church creeds give us a pretty good idea of what the essential beliefs of the Christian faith are. Not once is any mention made of sexual ethics. Does it matter what we do with our bodies? Absolutely. But to say that condemnation of all homosexual behavior is an essential Christian doctrine is to adopt a questionable set of priorities.
If one were to rank sins based on the emphasis placed on them in the Bible, idolatry, pride and economic injustice (among others) would come out well ahead of homosexuality. Yet the actions of many evangelicals suggest that battling the so-called "gay agenda" is more important than caring for the widows and orphans in their own neighborhoods.
And yes, all sin is sin in God's eyes. But that only exposes the hypocrisy that we engage in when we create our own little systems to rank which sinners are the worst. Perhaps if we focused more attention on our own sins, we'd find that we're better able to extend God's love to others and transform the church into the safe haven that it was meant to be.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
Marriage Yet Again
Hot on the heels of my comments on marriage yesterday, Jason Kuznicki at Positive Liberty has just posted what is probably the most compelling argument I've read to date in favor of same-sex marriage.
My own reservations on this issue stem from the understanding that, if God does indeed disapprove of all gay relationships, it means that there would be negative societal consequences stemming from their normalization. I'll be interested to see if conservatives come up with any good counterarguments to Jason's points.
In the meantime I'll just reiterate the point that "God said so" is just as bad a justification for public policy decisions as it was during the Inquisition...
Addendum: Jason has reiterated in subsequent posts that he is merely trying to reframe the marriage debate without advocating for or against same-sex marriages, so I add that disclaimer here. All the same, in my opinion defining marriage by its nurturing/caretaking aspects (as opposed to the procreative and romantic angles usually emphasized) automatically strengthens the case of gay marriage advocates.
My own reservations on this issue stem from the understanding that, if God does indeed disapprove of all gay relationships, it means that there would be negative societal consequences stemming from their normalization. I'll be interested to see if conservatives come up with any good counterarguments to Jason's points.
In the meantime I'll just reiterate the point that "God said so" is just as bad a justification for public policy decisions as it was during the Inquisition...
Addendum: Jason has reiterated in subsequent posts that he is merely trying to reframe the marriage debate without advocating for or against same-sex marriages, so I add that disclaimer here. All the same, in my opinion defining marriage by its nurturing/caretaking aspects (as opposed to the procreative and romantic angles usually emphasized) automatically strengthens the case of gay marriage advocates.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Marriage Again
Earlier this month The Volokh Conspiracy hosted a debate on same-sex marriage, with Maggie Gallager arguing against it. She gave all the standard arguments, some of which are stronger than others, but then she made this rather bizarre analogy:
"Imagine you stand in the middle of vast, hostile desert. A camel is your only means of transversing it, your lifeline to the future. The camel is burdened-- stumbling, loaded down, tired; enfeebled-- the conditions of the modern life are clearly not favorable to it. But still it’s your only hope, because to get across that desert you need a camel.
"Now, chop off its legs and order it to carry you to safety.
"That’s what SSM looks like, to me."
Huh?!???!!???
How on earth is chopping the legs off of a camel analogous to expanding the definition of marriage? That analogy would actually work reasonably well as an illustration about the effects that no-fault divorce (which Gallagher references earlier in her post) has had on the institution of marriage, and she might - might be able to argue that expanding the definition would add to the camel's burden, but as written her metaphor is simply nonsensical. Talk about chopping the legs off of your own argument!
For the record, I'm still undecided on this question. It's definitely time that we extended certain legal protections to same-sex couples, just as we already do for common law marriages, but whether that requires redefining an existing institution is another question entirely. In my opinion, at least.
On the other hand, even when I was still fully invested in the ex-gay mindset I recognized what an abomination the federal marriage amendment is. With a single stroke it would permanently redefine the separation of powers codified in our constitution and unravel our federal system of government every bit as much as proponents of the amendment claim that same-sex marriage would damage the institution of marriage. And to think conservatives used to stand for upholding the constitution.
Anyway, back to Maggie Gallagher's analogy: Good Lord, no wonder Christians aren't taken more seriously in the marketplace of ideas.
"Imagine you stand in the middle of vast, hostile desert. A camel is your only means of transversing it, your lifeline to the future. The camel is burdened-- stumbling, loaded down, tired; enfeebled-- the conditions of the modern life are clearly not favorable to it. But still it’s your only hope, because to get across that desert you need a camel.
"Now, chop off its legs and order it to carry you to safety.
"That’s what SSM looks like, to me."
Huh?!???!!???
How on earth is chopping the legs off of a camel analogous to expanding the definition of marriage? That analogy would actually work reasonably well as an illustration about the effects that no-fault divorce (which Gallagher references earlier in her post) has had on the institution of marriage, and she might - might be able to argue that expanding the definition would add to the camel's burden, but as written her metaphor is simply nonsensical. Talk about chopping the legs off of your own argument!
For the record, I'm still undecided on this question. It's definitely time that we extended certain legal protections to same-sex couples, just as we already do for common law marriages, but whether that requires redefining an existing institution is another question entirely. In my opinion, at least.
On the other hand, even when I was still fully invested in the ex-gay mindset I recognized what an abomination the federal marriage amendment is. With a single stroke it would permanently redefine the separation of powers codified in our constitution and unravel our federal system of government every bit as much as proponents of the amendment claim that same-sex marriage would damage the institution of marriage. And to think conservatives used to stand for upholding the constitution.
Anyway, back to Maggie Gallagher's analogy: Good Lord, no wonder Christians aren't taken more seriously in the marketplace of ideas.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
The Great Adventure
I love The Amazing Race. I love the theme music, I love Phil's voiceovers, I love watching all the teams race through exotic locales. I cheer when the nice team comes in first, and I get teary-eyed when someone I like gets eliminated. I boo the jerks (there's always one or two thoroughly unlikable teams) and cheer when they get eliminated.
I'd love to compete in The Amazing Race. It'll never happen in a million years because I'm Mr. Anti-TV Personality with a face made for radio, but I'd kill small rodents for the opportunity all the same. My teammate and I would zip through roadblocks and conquer detours. We'd never need to use the fast forward because we'd always find the fastest route to the mat.
In short, I want adventure. I want a life that's more than punching a timeclock every day and going to church on Sundays. And I want someone to share that adventure with. I'm not even talking about marriage now - just give me a best friend (or two) to face the world with, and there'll be no limit to what we can do.
To be sure, I've already had more than my share of incredible friends, some of whom I've known since college (or longer). I'm even out to most of them. But all of them have busy lives, and most of them have families to look after. None of them are available for adventuring, except maybe around the game table. And while killing monsters with the roll of a die is fun in its own way, it's not real. At the end of the evening the only world that's been saved gets packed up into a notebook and stored on a shelf until the following week.
I have no idea what the adventure looks like, but I know it's out there, just waiting for me. I don't care if I'm Frodo or Sam, or even Gimli, as long as we get to set out for Mount Doom.
But what if the adventure doesn't await? What if my only Comrades In Arms are a TV Guide and an internet connection? What if God's wonderful plan for my life involves sitting at a desk for the next 40 years? Sounds depressing, quite frankly. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to face that possibility just yet. Good thing the Amazing Race is on every Tuesday.
I'd love to compete in The Amazing Race. It'll never happen in a million years because I'm Mr. Anti-TV Personality with a face made for radio, but I'd kill small rodents for the opportunity all the same. My teammate and I would zip through roadblocks and conquer detours. We'd never need to use the fast forward because we'd always find the fastest route to the mat.
In short, I want adventure. I want a life that's more than punching a timeclock every day and going to church on Sundays. And I want someone to share that adventure with. I'm not even talking about marriage now - just give me a best friend (or two) to face the world with, and there'll be no limit to what we can do.
To be sure, I've already had more than my share of incredible friends, some of whom I've known since college (or longer). I'm even out to most of them. But all of them have busy lives, and most of them have families to look after. None of them are available for adventuring, except maybe around the game table. And while killing monsters with the roll of a die is fun in its own way, it's not real. At the end of the evening the only world that's been saved gets packed up into a notebook and stored on a shelf until the following week.
I have no idea what the adventure looks like, but I know it's out there, just waiting for me. I don't care if I'm Frodo or Sam, or even Gimli, as long as we get to set out for Mount Doom.
But what if the adventure doesn't await? What if my only Comrades In Arms are a TV Guide and an internet connection? What if God's wonderful plan for my life involves sitting at a desk for the next 40 years? Sounds depressing, quite frankly. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to face that possibility just yet. Good thing the Amazing Race is on every Tuesday.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Marriage
I guess what I was originally going to write about today is going to have to wait, so I can get this on paper - er, screen - while it's fresh in my mind. I came across the following bit of dialogue in the book I'm currently reading (Blue Like Jazz), and it speaks volumes:
"[Marriage is] much more than I ever thought it would be. One of the ways God shows me He loves me is through Danielle, and one of the ways God shows Danielle He loves her is through me. And because she loves me, and teaches me that I am lovable, I can better interact with God."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that to be in a relationship with God is to be loved purely and furiously. And a person who thinks himself unlovable cannot be in a relationship with God because he can't accept who God is; a Being that is love. We learn that we are lovable or unlovable from other people. That is why God tells us so many times to love each other."
And it's true - it is very difficult for me to accept God's love, even after the extraordinary lengths He's gone to in an effort to make it as clear as possible. I've experienced love through friends and family members, to be sure, but nothing that contains all the dimensions described in the above dialogue.
All of us were designed for the deep companionship that's ideally found in marriage, and yet the Church (and possibly God too) would tell me that I can never have that, so tough luck. It's about so much more than just the sex, though that's certainly part of the equation. It's even about more than having someone to face life's trials together with. It's about experiencing God in a way that I, as a single person, never can. For that I'd be quite willing to set the sexual aspect aside and consider the possibility of a celibate partnership, if I thought I would be taken seriously by more than a small handful of people.
So why would it be sin for me to seek to fulfill God's design for my life through a relationship with someone I'm naturally capable of bonding with? Because God destroyed Sodom following an attempted rape? (Honestly, I can't believe anyone tries to apply Sodom to this debate with a straight face.) Because of other, conflicting aspects of our design? I've already demonstrated how selective the Church is when it comes to the design argument. I've also heard it argued that same-sex relationships simply don't work, but that's so obviously mistaken that it's hardly worth dignifying with the space it takes up on this page.
Oh, and to those who would point out that nothing's stopping me from going out and marrying a woman: Yeah, because that would really be fair to her. I already know that my feelings are less than nothing to anyone who would make that argument, but you could at least think about the other person who would have to suffer the consequences of my self-deception.
"[Marriage is] much more than I ever thought it would be. One of the ways God shows me He loves me is through Danielle, and one of the ways God shows Danielle He loves her is through me. And because she loves me, and teaches me that I am lovable, I can better interact with God."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that to be in a relationship with God is to be loved purely and furiously. And a person who thinks himself unlovable cannot be in a relationship with God because he can't accept who God is; a Being that is love. We learn that we are lovable or unlovable from other people. That is why God tells us so many times to love each other."
And it's true - it is very difficult for me to accept God's love, even after the extraordinary lengths He's gone to in an effort to make it as clear as possible. I've experienced love through friends and family members, to be sure, but nothing that contains all the dimensions described in the above dialogue.
All of us were designed for the deep companionship that's ideally found in marriage, and yet the Church (and possibly God too) would tell me that I can never have that, so tough luck. It's about so much more than just the sex, though that's certainly part of the equation. It's even about more than having someone to face life's trials together with. It's about experiencing God in a way that I, as a single person, never can. For that I'd be quite willing to set the sexual aspect aside and consider the possibility of a celibate partnership, if I thought I would be taken seriously by more than a small handful of people.
So why would it be sin for me to seek to fulfill God's design for my life through a relationship with someone I'm naturally capable of bonding with? Because God destroyed Sodom following an attempted rape? (Honestly, I can't believe anyone tries to apply Sodom to this debate with a straight face.) Because of other, conflicting aspects of our design? I've already demonstrated how selective the Church is when it comes to the design argument. I've also heard it argued that same-sex relationships simply don't work, but that's so obviously mistaken that it's hardly worth dignifying with the space it takes up on this page.
Oh, and to those who would point out that nothing's stopping me from going out and marrying a woman: Yeah, because that would really be fair to her. I already know that my feelings are less than nothing to anyone who would make that argument, but you could at least think about the other person who would have to suffer the consequences of my self-deception.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Reason
JJ blogged recently about the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, a tool which many Christians have used for centuries to help discern right from wrong. In short, any sound doctrinal position rests on four pillars: Scripture, Tradition, Reason and Personal Experience. Any one (or two) of these alone can lead to serious error: scripture can be twisted to suit any conceivable end, tradition can lead to oppression, reason is subject to human error and personal experience is thoroughly subjective.
On the issue of homosexuality, tradition is the primary bulwark against the acceptance of same-sex unions by most churches. Nobody on either side of the debate disputes the fact that the Church has, throughout its history, condemned all homosexual acts. It's possible that there were a few rare exceptions here and there, but prior to the last 40 or so years those appear to have been anomalies.
Scripture has been claimed by both sides in the debate, and current scholarship has demonstrated that the 'clobber passages,' when properly examined in their original contexts, form at best a weak case against monogamous same-sex unions. There's a stronger case to be made from the way the male-female paradigm is repeatedly emphasized in both the Old and New Testaments, particularly as it's employed to illustrate Christ's relationship with the Church. Yet even that begs the question of whether such illustrations should be used as proof that only heterosexual unions can ever be legitimate. After all, a teacher can best drive home his (or her) point by using illustrations that all (or at least most) of his students can directly relate to. The illustrations themselves are not necessarily meant to be interpreted by the class as imposing an additional set of laws.
As for personal experience, everyone has a different story. My experience yanked me out of the comfort of my little ex-gay world and dragged me kicking and screaming to the crossroads I find myself at now, only to traipse off without another word and leave me there. Whatever that really means, it's clear that I'm exactly where God wants me to be.
Which leaves reason. With each passing year it seems to become more clear that reason favors the normalization of gay relationships. And reason's voice cannot be shoved into a closet and locked away. Even most conservative Christians agree that if God declares that something is sin, He has a reason for doing so. Sin is harmful, either to the perpetrator or the victim (or both), and its effects can ultimately be measured in the real world. If the evidence suggests that an action does more good than harm in the majority of cases, we have good reason to question whether it is in fact a sin. It may still be a sin in some cases, or it may be that we misunderstood altogether.
It's because of this that so many Christian advocacy groups continue to recite Paul Cameron's 'statistics' (among other myths and discredited studies) years after his research was thoroughly debunked and laid to rest. They realize that they will lose in the marketplace of ideas if they can't find a way to get reason back in their corner, even if they manage to win the debate in the scriptural arena, and so they have become willing to adopt decidedly un-Christian tactics in the hopes of scaring people into their camp. Quite frankly their willingness to lie in the name of upholding the truth doesn't instill me with much confidence.
So what do I do with the fact that reason stands in direct opposition to tradition (and possibly scripture) on this issue? My mind is largely convinced by the facts but something in my gut holds me back from embracing what reason says to me. Whether that instinct is the work of the Holy Spirit (who brought me out of my former way of thinking to begin with) or the residual effect of a lifetime of legalistic programming remains to be seen.
I don't need to be psychic to know that everyone who's already chosen a side has their own opinion about which of those two possibilities is correct. But I'm not ready to choose my side just yet - or even to say that it would be appropriate for me to choose a side.
On the issue of homosexuality, tradition is the primary bulwark against the acceptance of same-sex unions by most churches. Nobody on either side of the debate disputes the fact that the Church has, throughout its history, condemned all homosexual acts. It's possible that there were a few rare exceptions here and there, but prior to the last 40 or so years those appear to have been anomalies.
Scripture has been claimed by both sides in the debate, and current scholarship has demonstrated that the 'clobber passages,' when properly examined in their original contexts, form at best a weak case against monogamous same-sex unions. There's a stronger case to be made from the way the male-female paradigm is repeatedly emphasized in both the Old and New Testaments, particularly as it's employed to illustrate Christ's relationship with the Church. Yet even that begs the question of whether such illustrations should be used as proof that only heterosexual unions can ever be legitimate. After all, a teacher can best drive home his (or her) point by using illustrations that all (or at least most) of his students can directly relate to. The illustrations themselves are not necessarily meant to be interpreted by the class as imposing an additional set of laws.
As for personal experience, everyone has a different story. My experience yanked me out of the comfort of my little ex-gay world and dragged me kicking and screaming to the crossroads I find myself at now, only to traipse off without another word and leave me there. Whatever that really means, it's clear that I'm exactly where God wants me to be.
Which leaves reason. With each passing year it seems to become more clear that reason favors the normalization of gay relationships. And reason's voice cannot be shoved into a closet and locked away. Even most conservative Christians agree that if God declares that something is sin, He has a reason for doing so. Sin is harmful, either to the perpetrator or the victim (or both), and its effects can ultimately be measured in the real world. If the evidence suggests that an action does more good than harm in the majority of cases, we have good reason to question whether it is in fact a sin. It may still be a sin in some cases, or it may be that we misunderstood altogether.
It's because of this that so many Christian advocacy groups continue to recite Paul Cameron's 'statistics' (among other myths and discredited studies) years after his research was thoroughly debunked and laid to rest. They realize that they will lose in the marketplace of ideas if they can't find a way to get reason back in their corner, even if they manage to win the debate in the scriptural arena, and so they have become willing to adopt decidedly un-Christian tactics in the hopes of scaring people into their camp. Quite frankly their willingness to lie in the name of upholding the truth doesn't instill me with much confidence.
So what do I do with the fact that reason stands in direct opposition to tradition (and possibly scripture) on this issue? My mind is largely convinced by the facts but something in my gut holds me back from embracing what reason says to me. Whether that instinct is the work of the Holy Spirit (who brought me out of my former way of thinking to begin with) or the residual effect of a lifetime of legalistic programming remains to be seen.
I don't need to be psychic to know that everyone who's already chosen a side has their own opinion about which of those two possibilities is correct. But I'm not ready to choose my side just yet - or even to say that it would be appropriate for me to choose a side.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
More Than the Sun
A book I recently read asked the question: do you ever take time to just let God love you?
In the midst of my busy days I probably don't do it nearly enough; when I do remember to turn to God it's usually either to ask for something or to complain or to apologize for being too self-absorbed. But when I have taken the time to do it, it's been more healing than anything I've done to address my "father wounds" or any other issue in my life.
Music is a particularly effective way of hearing from God; the right song at the right time can leave me curled in a ball and crying my eyes out until my pillow is soggy and it's sunk in just a little bit deeper that I'm not a worthless pile of crap in God's eyes for being gay and for being unable to do anything to change that fact.
A few songs in particular have played a significant role in that healing process, in particular "More" by Matthew West:
Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me
Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am
And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me
And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
Shine for Me
Shine for Me
Shine on, shine on
You shine for Me
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
Through the joy and the pain
I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
And I see you
And I made you
And I love you more than you can imagine
More than you can fathom
I love you more than the sun
And you shine for Me
In the midst of my busy days I probably don't do it nearly enough; when I do remember to turn to God it's usually either to ask for something or to complain or to apologize for being too self-absorbed. But when I have taken the time to do it, it's been more healing than anything I've done to address my "father wounds" or any other issue in my life.
Music is a particularly effective way of hearing from God; the right song at the right time can leave me curled in a ball and crying my eyes out until my pillow is soggy and it's sunk in just a little bit deeper that I'm not a worthless pile of crap in God's eyes for being gay and for being unable to do anything to change that fact.
A few songs in particular have played a significant role in that healing process, in particular "More" by Matthew West:
Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me
Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am
And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me
And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
Shine for Me
Shine for Me
Shine on, shine on
You shine for Me
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
Through the joy and the pain
I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
And I see you
And I made you
And I love you more than you can imagine
More than you can fathom
I love you more than the sun
And you shine for Me
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
On a lighter note
Here's the dialogue from a Dilbert cartoon that came up on my calendar the other day...
Pointy-haired boss: "If we can put a man on the moon, we can build a computer made entirely of recycled paper."
Dilbert: "Your flawed analogy only shows that other people can do things."
Boss: "Maybe you should call other people and ask how they do it."
Dilbert: "Maybe they use good analogies."
Yes, there is a relevant point in there, but I won't belabor it.
Pointy-haired boss: "If we can put a man on the moon, we can build a computer made entirely of recycled paper."
Dilbert: "Your flawed analogy only shows that other people can do things."
Boss: "Maybe you should call other people and ask how they do it."
Dilbert: "Maybe they use good analogies."
Yes, there is a relevant point in there, but I won't belabor it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)