Give a Damn

This weekend a number of thing collided in my brain and spirit as I sat feeling a heavy weight of sadness in our church service. As I pondered and listened and prayed, I strained to integrate the various thoughts and impressions that swirled within me. I’ve been wrestling with this heavy sadness for a while. I’m guessing that it is a combination of several things – partly spiritual stuff, partly my own tiredness, partly my own vulnerability to depression, partly ‘par-for-the-course’ vocational stuff. Inevitably, when we encounter this kind of experience, we want to find some meaning and purpose in it. Sometimes, it is less about meaning and more about the simple message to slow down, find our rest in God, and allow him to replenish us in his time. Sometimes, it is a multi-layered message that is drawing us towards some kind of cross-road. And sometimes, I think, it is, at least in part, an assignment … something we are asked to carry in identification with the grief in the heart of God. I don’t claim to fully understand this kind of assignment and what its purpose is …. but a glimpse of resonance is found when Paul says, “For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.” (2 Cor. 1: 5-6) My pastor mentioned that this past Friday as International Human Rights Day. He made some comment about how the church has failed to be the leading voice in the fight for human rights. And my mind returned to the article I’d read the day before about Cyndi Lauper. When I was a teen, Cyndi’s song, “True Colours” was played over and over again in my sony Walkman. In the article, Cyndi’s advocacy work on behalf of LBGT teens was profiled – and in particular, her catalytic role in the building of a safe residence in New York City for sexual minority teens who have been kicked out or run away from home. And I thought to myself, “Where is the church?” I’ve been to Cyndi’s “Give a Damn” website. I think many in the church would see it as another project of the gay agenda steam rolling through our culture to silence a traditional biblical sexual ethic. And, indeed, there may be many aspects to the site that some Christians would disagree with or find problematic. But I wonder, if we carte blanche write off a campaign like “Give a Damn” what message are we communicating? How are we demonstrating, as a Christian community, that we care about the reality of sexual minority youth? What residential housing are we building as a safe place to help keep LGBT kids off the streets? How are we advocating for their worth and value and dignity as fellow image-bearers of God? My pastor referenced an article in the Toronto Star. Helen Prejean, the nun who wrote the book, “Dead Man Walking”, had been in town. The article describes Prejean’s metamorphosis:

“Prejean, as a sheltered nun living in a convent in New Orleans, was oblivious not only to the fearsome death penalty rate in China (which executes more people annually than the rest of the world combined) but also to the race-based horrors of poverty a few blocks away in a low-income housing project, and the disproportionate ratio of young black men languishing on death row in the United States. Shielded by “class and culture,” she explains, she was “asleep” and had to be “awakened” to the realities of racism and deep poverty within her own city. One of the voices who roused Prejean was fellow Roman Catholic sister, sociologist Marie Augusta Neal (1921-2004). Neal taught Prejean that the Christian vocation was not simply to show charity toward the poor, but to strive for justice for the poor. It was a personal game changer, one that pulled Prejean out of her well-ordered convent down the street to the St. Thomas housing project, where she lived among the impoverished black residents.”

But do we extend the same vocational call to advocate for sexual minorities? What reservations or hesitations arise? Certainly, there is the question for some people of faith whether or not they would then be advocating for that which is sinful – if not the experience of a differing sexual identity, then the outworking of such minority identity in behaviour and relationships. Others wrestle with not wanting to reinforce an identity that they would see as an unhelpful and imposed social construct. Within these reservations, I wonder if we miss the point. The question of advocacy is not about who someone might be or should be – what they might do or should do. The question of advocacy is about that individual right where they are, right now. It is about stepping into that place, being present, sharing life, extending respect and dignity to that person as they are. It is about building a residence that may save and protect a vulnerable person from the streets, from prostitution, addiction or death. It is about saying, “You are worth it.” It is about justice. It is about taking on human flesh and moving into the neighbourhood. It is, in the holiest possible sense, giving a damn.

-WG

The "if's" and "when's" of generous spaciousness....

As I continue to interact with people around the idea of nurturing generous spaciousness in the conversations at the intersection of faith and sexuality, it is clear that there is an appropriate time to enter such space – and times it may be unhelpful.

Generous spaciousness is a conversational posture that can be helpful, and I believe consistent with the person of Jesus, when encountering diverse perspectives around faith and sexuality. This posture invites us to a deeper humility that is, in part, marked by an ability to say, “I could be wrong.” Now, perhaps this is said with the thought, “I really don’t think I am ….” Perhaps, one’s internal dialogue will go something like this, “I’ve done my homework, studied Scripture, been prayerful, discerning of the Holy Spirit’s leading, willingly read widely including multiple perspectives, and I hold my convictions deeply … and I fear that you are at best mistaken or more significantly blinded or deceived ….. but I do recognize my fallibility …. I do try to remember that I have my own blindspots …… I recall that I bring my lenses and my experiences and my anxieties to the table …. And so as an intentional posture of humility I concede that I could be the one who is mistaken or blinded or deceived …. And to the best of my ability I will be open to hear you and to listen for the ways I will encounter the presence of God in you and for the ways the Holy Spirit might speak to me as I interact with you…”

Generous spaciousness may be helpful in a friendship context where such a posture can free friends to be able to focus on encouraging one another to grow in Christ. If we encourage one another to more fully invite the presence of Christ into our lives – perhaps through times of study, silence, solitude, fasting, contemplation, submission, obedience, worship – then we can rest in loving and serving one another with the confident trust that God will continue work out his purposes in our friend’s life. I’m reminded of Philippians 2: 12 -13:

“Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.”

While we are called to work out our salvation – through spiritual disciplines and loving serve in the pursuit of justice, it is ultimately God who will work in any of us to cause us to will and to act out his good purposes for us.

Generous spaciousness may be helpful in an extended family context where different individuals have different perspectives and experiences in relation to sexual minorities. Christmas is coming – a time when larger family gatherings bring together people who may not find themselves on the same page. There can be a fluffy avoidance of any meaningful conversation. Or there can be an icy silence that carries the weight of unspoken judgment and looking down on another. Or there can be a space nurtured where the parameters of the conversation are laid out ahead of time. This would include the acknowledgment that there are different perspectives and the need to lay aside judgment of one another as to why such perspectives are held. Perhaps, it might be helpful to consider the many “one another’s” in Scripture that remind us how we are to view and treat one another. Perhaps, the conversation begins with affirming our mutual care for one another. Perhaps, with talking about why this conversation is important to us as a family: our shared love for God and the Scriptures, our shared love for sexual minority family members or friends, our concern to be faithful representatives of Jesus, a desire to have more than superficial relationships and conversations with one another, the opportunity to discover unity in diversity as we listen to one another with humility, respect, and unconditional love. We recognize in generous spaciousness that this is not the posture in which we try to convince one who differs from us that our perspective is superior, it is not the time to out-argue the other. Perhaps, such an intellectual discussion should happen – but perhaps after we have spent some time investing relationally with one another, truly hearing one another, looking for the spirit of Christ in one another, touching one anothers hearts. Generous spaciousness is a posture in which the dignity and value of each person in the conversation is affirmed – where we genuinely do our best to step into the other person’s shoes to understand why they have landed in the place they have. We may still disagree – but hopefully we will not do so in an arrogantly dismissive manner. Such a posture is costly. It will require that we invest in one another, serve one another, grow in extending love to one another. And it will be particularly costly when “Uncle Howard” seems unreasonable and unwilling to reciprocate the humble respect you are seeking to offer to him. In those moments, remember that this is a space in which you have the opportunity to grow in Christ-likeness, to grow in the maturity that continues to serve and love and extend dignity even when it is not returned. It is the space where you may need to be willing to be labeled, perhaps accused, judged, dismissed, maybe even rejected. It is a time when you may need to be willing to review and reconsider your own perspectives and test how much they line up with Jesus. This can be painful – especially if it has taken a lot of wrestling to get where you are.

But, if in that space of the spiritual discipline of ‘examen’ you hear the quiet whisper of Jesus then ask for his strength to welcome the inevitable misunderstandings and mischaracterizations that may come your way. And ask Jesus to deepen in you the traits of the suffering Messiah. Ask him to help you guard your own heart – that you would resist the lure of your own self-righteousness, or bitterness, or arrogance, or judgment. Ask him to teach you in greater depth the power of powerlessness. And ask him to keep on revealing himself to you in these hard, and perhaps lonely, places. And remember ….. it is worth it. It is worth it to glimpse more deeply the heart of Christ.

Generous spaciousness, in a similar manner, may be helpful in a congregational setting where there is a commitment to shatter the lack of authenticity that D.A.D.T breeds. Again, this is a conversation posture. It may eventually lead to the kind of discussion around which decisions need to be made. But, in and of itself, it is not about decisions regarding positions and boundaries. Rather it is a relational space in which we can enter one anothers lives with the safety that says we are not going to pigeon-hole one another, we are not going to make assumptions about one another, we are not going to judge the motives or integrity or commitment of the other, we are going to really listen for one anothers hearts on these matters. We are going to look for the ways we hear and smell and taste Jesus in one another. We may not agree with one another. And we may not agree that this is a disputable matter. But we are going to risk really knowing one another and really considering how God is working through the other. We may encounter the pain and exhaustion of trying to figure out “where to from here” once we truly hear and acknowledge the diversity among us. But we will have the opportunity to wrestle with “how now shall we live together in the way of Jesus” knowing full well that we will grow in mutual submission and honouring, we will grow in hospitality, generosity, and the capacity to welcome diversity. We will grow in patience as we discover that this is not a fast process nor is it a process that brings quick or easy resolution. Rather, we will grow in the maturity that comes from being willing to embrace paradox and tension. We will be better postured to engage in meaningful pastoral care with those whose contexts are messy and chaotic. And in the midst of all of this, we will grow in learning to trust and depend on God rather than our own resources, abilities, or controlled plans.

I understand that the stakes are high. I understand that generous spaciousness is an invitation to difficulty and exhaustion. I understand that while you might be willing, those you seek to engage might not be. I understand that the systems are big and not conducive for this little subversive conversational posture. I get it.

But go do it anyway.

Do it because it smells like Jesus.

Do it because polarity and enmity and smug certainty and alienation and stoney silence don’t smell like Jesus.

And do it because he promised that he would be with you – Emmanuel.


There are some times, however, that generous spaciousness is not the appropriate approach.

If this conversation at the intersection of faith and sexuality is your life, and if your convictions are fairly fresh, and if you feel overwhelmed by the vulnerability that generous spaciousness would thrust you into ….. then know that it is ok that you try to find people who share your convictions, who can unequivocally support you in living consistently with your values and goals.

If you cannot enter generous spaciousness without getting defensive, angry, persuasive, and demanding that is probably a pretty good sign that it isn’t the right time for you to wade into the challenges of diversity. Now is probably a good time to be refreshed and renewed by receiving the love and encouragement of people who won’t challenge your perspectives. And that is ok. We all need that at times.

If you feel like living in the diversity that marks generous spaciousness is chipping away at your sense of confidence and security a few things might be going on. Maybe you are legitimately experiencing some level of conviction from the Holy Spirit that you need to create some quiet and solitary space to explore. Maybe the people you are in conversation with care more about you coming to their perspective than to encourage you to press closer to Christ – in which case you may need to take some space from the conversation. Maybe the conversation is triggering some old people-pleasing tendencies or some flashbacks to pressure-exerting conditional relationships – and perhaps some space would allow you to refocus on being the person you feel God has helped you to grow to be. Maybe you feel like it just isn’t an encouraging experience for you – you feel worried or fearful or questioning in an unhelpful way …. and perhaps realigning your priorities is in order. Perhaps, it is time to refocus on spiritual disciplines that will help to ground you and grow you in Christ-like virtue.

And if your congregation needs to make decisions about policy, boundaries or position – generous spaciousness can feel like you are spinning your wheels. While I think it is not only helpful, but important, to have made an investment in conversations marked by generous spaciousness, there may come a time that a congregation needs to exercise its channels for decision-making and come to some clarity on specific questions. I would hope that the clarity would be articulated in a manner that is informed by generous spaciousness. I would hope that this clarity is lived out in a manner that is generously spacious, hospitable, humble and respectful. But at the end of the day, a congregation needs to have some clarity.

An individual needs clarity too ….. but I think the capacity to live in the tensions of uncertainty can be more fruitful over a longer period of time for an individual as they invite Jesus into the midst of their questions and position themselves to continue to be receptive to the ways he reveals himself to them in this space. But even in this place of uncertainty, there needs to be some bedrock on which an individual will submit and obey even as they wrestle with bigger questions.

So there are some legitimate times that entering a generously spacious place of conversation may be unhelpful. At the same time, I think it is important to consider the spiritually formational reality of choosing to enter the reality of diversity with the postures of humility, hospitality, generosity, graciousness, patience and incarnation. I truly think it helps us to become more like Jesus.

-WG

What is your lens?

One of the reasons I wrote the previous post was to consider the ways we make assumptions of the text. The manner in which we interact with Scripture is an important factor in the conversations around faith and sexuality. Different traditions and different people approach Scripture differently – and this difference is not necessarily a matter of one way being ‘right’ and another way being ‘wrong’. God is bigger than our feeble attempts at hermeneutics. I trust that He can reveal himself to us – even if we are applying lousy hermeneutics. At the same time, I want to be willing to be challenged in the ways I bring my experience, expectations and, yes, anxieties to the text. So, as I’ve tried to live in the larger story of Scripture (I’ve been reading through the Bible annually for several years), I’ve tried to look through different lenses at stories that are sometimes very familiar. To be willing to ask different questions. To be willing to consider what assumptions I bring to the passage. This is inherently threatening. But, I have also found that it can be life-giving and catalytic to a deeper trust in the Holy Spirit revealing Jesus to me in new ways through the text. I noticed a facebook friend yesterday who was speaking of reading Scripture through the eyes of refugees and those who are displaced. Their comment was that this is likely a more faithful posture, since much of Scripture was written by and for people who were on the move – the Exodus, the times of exile, living under another empire. They went on to say that we, in the west, tend to read Scripture from our own place of stability and rootedness – and suggested this may be, at times, an unhelpful lens. He was finding that reading as a refugee brought a new freshness and life to the text – that he was seeing things he had not seen before. For nearly ten years now, I have attempted to read Scripture through the lens of someone who is a sexual minority – someone who finds themselves outside the heterosexual mainstream. This isn’t the only way I’ve been reading Scripture – as that would then become a biased lens. But it has been a regular practise and discipline for me as I have sought to posture myself in a place of incarnational connecting with those for whom this is a personal reality. It has been revealing and threatening and exciting and eye-opening and challenging. And I truly believe that as I have attempted to do this in a posture to serve and love others, Jesus has been showing himself to me. Note, I said Jesus has been showing himself to me. I am not making a comment here about sexual ethics or doctrine or theology of sex …. I am simply saying that I have been blessed and enriched by the ways that I have seen Jesus’ heart towards those marginalized from a heteronormative status. I’m not sure that many can say they have attempted this exercise with any regularity or consistency. I find that even some Christians who are same-sex attracted haven’t attempted this exercise – perhaps because of an intrinsic sense that they ought not to. That somehow, to read Scripture as a sexual minority is inappropriate or wrong. Perhaps, it feels like that would be “giving in” to their different sense of sexual identity – and that true Christian discipleship fights against same-sex attraction and seeks to move towards their sense of God’s created intention of complementarian sexual identity. Since I view (as commenter Dave mentions as well) the experience of same-sex attraction as morally neutral I don’t have any reservation about seeking to read Scripture through the lens of a sexual minority experience. From my perspective, to read Scripture from the perspective of someone on the margins is one faithful way to engage God’s story – particularly given the thread throughout Scripture that breaks down barriers and exclusion of those different from the majority, dominant status. I realize that not everyone will share this perspective. However, in my vocational calling, this practice has been deeply enriching and revealing. This experience is perhaps the backdrop for the manner in which I might engage particular texts that are often highlighted in the conversations around faith and sexuality. From a previous post, a commenter referenced Jesus’ words in Matthew 19 where he speaks about marriage. Verses 3-6 read:

Some Pharisees came to him to test him. They asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?” “Haven’t you read,” he replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

I have heard on many occasions these texts used to demonstrate that Jesus was standing for truth on the question of gay marriage. When I look at this text, I need to ask myself what context I am projecting on the text and what context the text actually reveals. Jesus is not asked the question about the potential appropriateness of a committed, covenantal same-sex relationship. He is asked a question about whether a man can divorce his wife for any reason. And he is asked this question with the clear motivation on the part of the Pharisees to test Jesus. If I use this text with loud certainty to demonstrate that Jesus is against gay marriage – I have projected a different context onto the text. While Jesus is certainly pointing to the majority normative status of heterosexual relationships – his comments here, in and of themselves, do not demonstrate whether or not he would see extension of grace to two same-sex oriented individuals as an exception to this majority experience. This text doesn’t really tell us how Jesus would respond to the dilemma of a sexual minority for whom heterosexual marriage is not a likely, healthy or just option. What Jesus is speaking to is the partnership of men and women in marriage – and that once that covenant is formed, the husband’s loyalty and love is to be for his wife. This is in the context that in Jesus’ day, women were viewed as the property of men – first their father and then their husband. Jesus’ words are words of equality and protection for the wife – in her own way, a minority status situation. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that this text ought to be used to support gay marriage. I’m simply saying that I’m not sure it ought to be used to condemn it. And of course, I recognize that there are other texts that need to be considered in terms of the question of same-sex partnerships. I find it ironic, however, that this text is so often used to speak against two same-sex oriented people seeking to live a life of fidelity together when the Christian church has so often failed to live out Jesus’ direct admonition for fidelity in heterosexual marriage. I think the point of Jesus’ words here is the call to fidelity. While we extend grace, as I believe we often should, to those who, in the brokenness of life, are unable to maintain fidelity in their marriages – we refuse to extend grace to those who do desire to live in fidelity as same-sex partners. In the past year, some of the most vehement responses to my invitation to consider the reality of diverse perspectives on the question of faithful outcomes for same-sex attracted people have come from people who have been divorced and remarried. Note: the invitation is not about changing their convictions – but simply to hear the experience of those with differing convictions. The seeming inability to listen with any serenity, openness or genuine respect has at times confounded me. I wonder how Jesus views this incongruity. And I wonder how Jesus would have responded to the question if it had been posed by a sexual minority longing to experience fidelity in a life-long covenant. My questions have less to do with ascertaining the “right” or “wrong” doctrine based on what he would say – and more to do with Jesus’ tone, his posture, his heart. Because I want to have his tone, his posture and his heart. Jesus concludes his conversation about divorce with the Pharisees with this rather mysterious conclusion:

The disciples said to him, “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.” Jesus replied, “Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who were born that way, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others—and there are those who choose to live like eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.”

It would seem to me that there is a glimpse of generous spaciousness in Jesus’ response. Different people have different experiences, capacities, and outcomes. I am intrigued by this. And I want to sit at his feet, like Mary, and listen and seek to understand more deeply who this Jesus that I love is.

-WG

Living Like Jesus & Letting Go of Control

I’d been pondering the notion of certainty many of us have in how we view how Jesus interacted with people. (Dave picked up on this in his comment for the last post.) And another friend, David, who blogs at NakedPastor.com wrote this:

“Abraham’s primitive spirituality was radically different than Moses’ deliverance spirituality. But then Moses’ spirituality was radically different than Samuel’s prophetic spirituality. And Samuel’s spirituality certainly looked a lot different than David’s earthy spirituality. And David’s spirituality looked a lot different than Jeremiah’s sorrowful spirituality. But then Jeremiah’s spirituality looked quite a bit different than Peter’s Messianic spirituality. And Peter’s spirituality looked a lot different than Paul’s missional spirituality.”

To read the rest of his post and the comments following check here. It seems to me that as I’ve been seeking to live in the gospels, that my picture of Jesus has been challenged and stretched – and along with it, some of my certainty about how Jesus would engage if he showed up and hung out with me and my friends. The encounter of Jesus I find frequently quoted in the conversations around faith and sexuality is Jesus’ encounter with the woman caught in adultery. Jesus concludes his respectful deference to this woman by asking her who has condemned her. She replies by saying that no one has. And in verse 11 of John chapter 8 Jesus says these familiar words, “Then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin.” When this account is referenced, often with a sense that this is a decisive example of Jesus’ encounter with people, it is rarely acknowledged that this particular text is disputed and was not a part of the earliest manuscripts or witness accounts. We leave that out, perhaps because we like this text. We like it because it demonstrates a social stigma shattering compassion while avoiding a wishy-washy position on sin. It serves our purposes well – and from it we extract a certainty on Jesus’ manner of dealing with people in what we describe as broken and sinful circumstances. I wonder if in some sense, it even becomes a lens through which we read the rest of the gospel accounts of Jesus’ encounters with people. Curiously, a few chapters earlier, when Jesus encounters a Samaritan woman at a well who has had a string of husbands and is now living with a sixth man who was not her husband, once he exposes this reality in her life, he doesn’t comment much on her relationship status or sexual behaviour. We don’t know, of course, all of the conversation that went on between Jesus and the woman. But I do find it interesting that when the woman returns to her village and tells others about Jesus, her focus is on the fact that he knew everything she ever did – and on this basis her speculation that he might be the Messiah. She doesn’t say, “He told me everything I ever did, called me to repent, to stop my life of sin, to get married and stay faithful or be single and chaste, and then I can worship properly.” The gospel accounts don’t reveal that she shared anything about Jesus’ words about worshipping in Spirit and in truth. We simply learn that the Samaritans, because of the woman’s testimony that Jesus had revealed her life to her, urged Jesus to stay with them – and he did for 2 days – during which time many more believed in him. Clearly, the reality of her poor record of sexual relationships had been exposed …. And yet, in the big picture, this revelation did not seem to be the focus of Jesus’ ministry with either this woman or the Samaritans according to the emphasis of this gospel account. I don’t conclude from this that Jesus doesn’t care about sexual morality. But I am confronted with the question of why this is raised but not really addressed in this particular account. What does seem clear, is that Jesus’ priority was revelation – and most specifically, revealing who He, Himself, was. Living in this text has helped me to recognize that in meeting and connecting with people whose relational and sexual lives differ from my own, my priority ought to be sharing together in the revelation of who Jesus is – the One who calls us to worship the Father. Another text I’ve been living in is Jesus’ encounter with the 10 lepers. Found in Luke 17, Jesus is travelling along the border, as he was prone to do, I think a good metaphor for the margins of society. In these border lands, Jesus was challenging the notions of who was “in” and who was “out”. He had a thing for Samaritans, despised and rejected by his own Jewish brothers and sisters. On this border, he meets 10 guys with leprosy who have been outcast due to being unclean. They call out and ask Jesus to have pity on them. In this account, Jesus doesn’t touch them, doesn’t ask if they want to be well, doesn’t spit (go through the gospels and count how many times Jesus uses spit in his encounters with people – very interesting and my 13 year old son’s favourite parts). Instead, he simply tells them to go show themselves to the priest. Along the way, they are cleansed. Nine of them continue on to follow the prescribed religious system for reincorporation into normal, clean society. But one turns around and heads back to where Jesus is. I’m not so sure it was as much about gratitude as it was about desperation. You see, this guy was a Samaritan. And Samaritans didn’t have a hope of being reinstated into normal Jewish society by the priest no matter how clean their skin condition was. So he goes back to Jesus, perhaps hoping that he’ll at least experience some level of community with him and his disciples. Jesus makes another revelatory remark when he asks where the other nine are – and was there no one else to bring praise to God except “this foreigner”. Then he says to the Samaritan, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” Can you imagine? He doesn’t talk to him about repentance. He doesn’t talk to him about the appropriate way to live. He doesn’t tell him about himself so that he can go and represent him correctly to his fellow Samaritans. He doesn’t give him a short lesson in catechism. He sends him off, knowing full well that he will share the story of his healing with the people he encounters. It is astounding to me that Jesus doesn’t exert a little more control over how this guy will represent him. And this isn’t a one time thing. Jesus in Luke 8 asks who touched him because he felt healing power leave his body. Trembling, the woman who had been subject to bleeding for 12 years finally owns up and gives testimony to her instantaneous healing. Jesus simply says to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” It would have been very common for the people around her to assume that it was some sort of sin issue that caused her to suffer with long-term bleeding. But Jesus doesn’t say a thing about sin. Doesn’t say it isn’t her fault. Doesn’t tell her to stop sinning. Simply sends her off in peace. In Mark 3 Jesus pushes the religious leaders past their point of patience when he heals a man with a shrivelled hand in the synagogue on the Sabbath. In this case, he simply says to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” No mention of sin. Again, no absolution “no it wasn’t his fault” nor “stop sinning”. In each encounter, these people would go on to be witnesses to their encounter with Jesus. Wouldn’t it be important that he clarify that now that they would be testifying about him there were certain expectations and moral obligations to offer a more faithful, vibrant and robust witness? To me this is an astonishing trust on Jesus’ part. And I want to be like him. That means I need to learn a whole lot more about letting go of control. Or I think of Jesus’ words in Mark 2 when the Pharisees accuse him of doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath (his disciples had picked heads of grain as they walked along). He points to the account of David and his men eating the consecrated bread that was to be reserved only for priests to eat. Jesus explains the rationale as David being “hungry and in need”. Well if you remember Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, they died because they made an incense offering with unauthorized fire. They did not carry out, to the letter, the instructions given regarding what was consecrated. How is it that Jesus legitimizes David’s actions based solely on fleshly need? He then turns the law on its head when he suggests that the Sabbath was made for people, not people for the Sabbath. What are we to make of this? It would seem that Jesus’ encounters with people and interaction in relation to sin issues isn’t as cut and dried as we sometimes try to make it out to be. It would seem that Jesus not only responded uniquely in each different situation, but that he also modeled a remarkable trust in releasing people to take their accounts of him to others. There is no question in my mind that Jesus taught and modelled a radical devotion and commitment to God. He went deeper than the letter of the law to the motivations and inclinations of the heart. He called for a profound cultivation of virtue that many of us cannot claim to have mastered. At the heart of this discipline of virtue is an outrageous love – a love that Jesus says goes beyond loving those who are like us, those who believe like us, those who view sin like us, those who live out their faith like us … but extends to those who differ from us. The belief that same-sex sexual behaviour is inconsistent with Scripture’s admonitions is not an unknown or unfamiliar one in our context. Anyone who experiences same-sex attraction and seriously explores the Christian faith is confronted with needing to consider this perspective in light of their posture before Scripture, in submission to the leading of the Holy Spirit and in relation to the church’s teaching. This belief is not under-represented – though it is at times misrepresented by the spirit through which it is communicated. But consideration of this question is not the only question of faith a same-sex attracted person needs to consider. Our desire is to encounter people as Jesus did – not with a formulaic expectation – but with the investment in each individual uniquely, discerning with them what the next steps in our journeys of faith might be. And it is our hope to relinquish control in that process to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Our attempts to embody an invitational posture do not change the reality of the challenge in front of any sexual minority who needs to personally search and wrestle with the implications of God’s will for the expression of their sexuality. Rather, our invitational posture extends the space for each individual to own for themselves their convictions as they wrestle that out in relation to Scripture, the church, and the leading of the Holy Spirit. This is consistent with our value to be non-coercive in the lives of those we connect with. Where we encounter true faith in Christ, we can rejoice in confident expectation that God will complete the good work he has begun. We also believe such postures nurture space which optimizes exploration of faith and deepening of faith. For a faith or conviction that is demanded is a weak and unsustainable faith indeed.

-WG