Sunday, July 17, 2011

Better is One Day in Your House ....

Maybe it was because I’d caught the bug my kids were sick with. Maybe it was due to being up very early all week with our new puppy. Maybe it was PMS. Not sure what it was, but as I made the drive to another suburb of the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) to preach, my mind and heart were swirling with emotions. For some reason, I was feeling a kind of vulnerability akin to pressing on burnt skin ….. every thought seemed to prod and poke some tender point, some memory or sense, and the emotions seemed so close to the surface. I felt hurt. The pain flooding through seemed overwhelming.

For those of you who’ve not had the privilege of preaching, perhaps you haven’t often thought about the raw mess of humanity that steps into the pulpit in front of you on a Sunday morning. Preaching at the best of times is a vulnerable experience. Opening yourself to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Submitting yourself to be used as a vessel. Desiring to connect with the members of the Body and hoping they encounter the presence of the living God through your words is no trivial matter.

And so in the chaos of my thoughts and emotions on the 45 minute drive, I made my supplication, “Lord, please calm me so that I can serve this congregation faithfully.” But despite my prayers, my practiced disciplines to center me prior to preaching, and my endeavours to quiet my heart and mind in the spirit of Psalm 131, “I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.” …… I was struggling to enter the Lord’s rest.

I seemed to be living in the midst of Psalm 41:
Blessed are those who have regard for the weak;
the LORD delivers them in times of trouble.
2 The LORD protects and preserves them—
they are counted among the blessed in the land—
he does not give them over to the desire of their foes.
3 The LORD sustains them on their sickbed
and restores them from their bed of illness.
4 I said, “Have mercy on me, LORD;
heal me, for I have sinned against you.”
5 My enemies say of me in malice,
“When will he die and his name perish?”
6 When one of them comes to see me,
he speaks falsely, while his heart gathers slander;
then he goes out and spreads it around.
7 All my enemies whisper together against me;
they imagine the worst for me, saying,
8 “A vile disease has afflicted him;
he will never get up from the place where he lies.”
9 Even my close friend,
someone I trusted,
one who shared my bread,
has turned against me.
10 But may you have mercy on me, LORD;
raise me up, that I may repay them.
11 I know that you are pleased with me,
for my enemy does not triumph over me.
12 Because of my integrity you uphold me
and set me in your presence forever.
13 Praise be to the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.
Amen and Amen.
A number of people in my life, who I love and consider friends, had behaved in ways that hurt me. I could rationalize the potential reasons for their oversight or unawareness – but for whatever reasons the hurt seemed to resist the intellectual justifications I attempted. It hurt to feel like I wasn’t as much a part of some friends’ lives as I used to be. It hurt to know that my willingness to transparently express vulnerability had resulted in silence and avoidance. And it hurt to be told that I had been viewed with contempt by friends who felt I had become “soft” in my views and convictions. These myriad of experiences all seemed to collide together in a kaleidoscope of emotion, sadness and loss.

But…… as I entered the sanctuary, the worship team was practicing their song list. The tech team came and got me and my laptop wired and set to go. And as I settled into a chair in the empty sanctuary to again try to pray, the worship leader began to sing,
Draw me close to you
Never let me go
I lay it all down again
To hear you say that I'm your friend
You are my desire
No one else will do
Cause nothing else can take your place
To feel the warmth of your embrace
Help me find the way
Bring me back to you

You're all I want
You're all I've ever needed
You're all I want
Help me know you are near
This is a song that goes way back for me. Written in 2001, it is a song that has brought comfort and ushered me into a safe and quiet place of intimacy. I hadn’t heard it in a long time. And in those moments, as I listened and quietly sang, my heart began to drink from the source that I had been searching for all morning. In those moments, God did some healing in my heart. His presence allowed some of the hurt to retreat. I was able to receive. I became like that weaned child, quiet and secure in knowledge of being loved.

Indeed, “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.” (Psalm 84:10)

My guess is that some of you have experiences like this. That at times you also struggle to not be overwhelmed by the hurts that have been projected on you. That the secondary emotions of anger and resentment can nip at your heels and distract you from the source of comfort and love. In these times, we need one another …… and need the presence of the Lord to come, in sometimes surprising, sometimes simple ways, to soothe our chaotic minds and tender hearts, and remind us that our life is found in him. May you know God’s love and shalom today.

-WG

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Another take on 'disputable matters'

Back in May I had the opportunity to speak at a conference called Presentensions. The two main speakers were David Fitch and Phyllis Tickle. I spoke abit about Tickle in my post on authority here. I noticed, however, that David Fitch raised some questions after that particular event in his blog post entitled: Questioning The Great Emergence – What Emergents Don’t Understand About Us Anabaptists

To set the stage, consider this excerpt:
Emergents push for conversation that is inclusive. We (Anabaptists) push for inclusive conversation that moves towards resolution on the ground under Christ’s Lordship in community. Like Phyllis, Emergents believe that somehow through talking we will all converge someday. They have faith that the established church will form anew (we Anabaptists smell Christendom here). We push for local incarnation, the working out of our faith and practice and mission in local communities who live under the Lordship of Christ and His incoming kingdom. Here we not only converse, we practice conflict resolution in mutual submission to His Lordship, we encounter His presence and receive and give out of the Eucharist, we minister to the poor by being present among them offering what we have, we participate in community, submitting to each others’ gifts. We do all these things in a way that theology is worked out on the ground.
I am sure Emergent’s do all of this! Yet for us, this is the soil from which true theology shall be done. This is the soil for the renewal of the church. We therefore resist isolating issues from the church community’s life in the world. We believe you work out issues like same sex relations, pluralism, gospel etc., IN MISSION. We believe you work these issues out one community at a time and report what we have learned to the larger Body. We work these issues out to resolution because they will not go away and demand the attention of our communities who are dealing with these issues right now.
What Fitch is essentially saying is that clarity of answers is worked out in local contextualized communities as you have specific opportunity to work through particular issues. The local fellowship can then offer their earned knowledge and wisdom to the larger church body. In the case of same-sex relations, this would mean encountering same-sex attracted individuals in their community, being in relationship with them in community, working towards discernment in discipleship, and then based on the experience of the individuals who continue in the community, offer their response to the questions around integrating faith and sexuality. It would seem to me, however, that such discernment may be weighted by the perspectives and hermeneutics of a community’s leaders. One has to wonder if there is space within a local community to wrestle with diverse perspective when there seems to be such an urgency towards concrete resolution. Given the emphasis on Lordship, one might ask who’s definition of Lordship.

Fitch asks a similar sort of question when he raises the matter of disputable matters. In my presentation at the Presentensions event, I had identified some “old” questions in the conversation on faith and sexuality including causation, orientation change, and whether someone can be gay and a Christian. Among the “new” questions I suggested the church needed to consider, was the question of, “How do we wrestle through discerning what disputable matters are relevant for today? How will we learn to love and honour one another in the model of Romans 14?” Additional “new” questions I suggested were, “What does it mean to be hospitable?” “What does it mean to be a spacious community where diverse perspectives are acknowledged & seen as opportunity not problem, conduit for growth and spiritual formation?” “How can a diverse Body experience belonging, collaborative service, sharing of gifts and mutual pilgrimage?” “How can we live the way of Incarnation with those who differ from us?”

On the question of disputable matters, Fitch says,
“In Emergent conversation, “disputable matters” (Rom 14) are to be held open for discussion in perpetual conversation. The looming question for us Anabapatists is who gets the power to call something “a disputable matter”? Who gets the authority to say “this issue should be left open versus a belief/and or practice that must be dealt with for the sake of God’s justice/righteousness in the community and world? For the Anabaptist, this is the job of the community as the Holy Spirit works from the ground up. When an issue arises, we continue to work together via Matt 18:15-20 until it is resolved (this could take months or even years). It is the local community which determines whether this issue can be resolved between two people or must be resolved for the whole community in its context.”
If I look at the question of disputable matters that arises in Romans 14, there is no one with particular power deciding that the question of eating meat sacrificed to idols or the matter of holy days is a disputable matter. Rather, it is something that arises within the body. It is what it is. People who have committed themselves to be followers of the way, followers of Jesus, have different convictions about these matters largely along the lines of their Jewish or Gentile backgrounds. It would be fair to say, I suggest, they came at the question with very different hermeneutical assumptions. But Paul doesn’t lay out the correct and only way to approach these matters. Rather, he lays out principles for how to treat one another.

In the case of gay Christians disagreeing with one another about the appropriateness of committed same-sex unions, there may be similar enough experiences to be able to focus primarily on hermeneutical issues. But as with those of Jewish background and Gentile upbringing, those who do not experience same-sex attraction and those who do come from very different experiences through which to wrestle with convictions about this question on the basis of Scripture, tradition, reason and experience. And when individuals who both do not experience same-sex attraction seek to resolve hermeneutical and theological differences, it is essentially a theoretical exercise.

The way Fitch poses the question would seem to suggest that anything that can be connected to God’s justice and righteousness cannot be a disputable matter. If this is what he is suggesting, then I think the question is, “Who gets the power to decide that something is a matter of God’s justice or righteousness?” It seems to me that on matters of same-sex relations, part of the disputable matter is that some followers of Jesus consider the question to be a matter of justice and lifting oppression from a group of minorities. Other followers of Jesus see this as a matter of righteousness and counting the cost of discipleship. Is there only one way to view the matter? Or might the Body as a whole actually benefit from hearing truth in both perspectives? Might we need to hear the call for justice and lifting unChristlike judgment and exclusion from a group of people? And might we also need to heed the call to righteousness as human sexual beings – all called to steward our desires toward intimacy in fidelity?

To apply the disciplinary process of Matthew 18: 15 – 20 seems to require some assumptions to be made. The text says: “If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector. “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. “Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” One of the assumptions is that someone has sinned – presumably by entering a same-sex relationship. But who has the power to judge what is sin? Those who would claim the plain reading of the text would insist that power is on their side because of their particular hermeneutical approach. But those who approach scripture differently would say that in light of cultural and historical context, the prohibitions in the 6-7 texts specifically dealing with same-sex sexual behavior do not correlate to the desire for life-long consummated companionship between two constitutionally same-sex oriented adults. So if two people hold differing views on what is sinful, applying Matthew 18 becomes a great deal more complex.

I know plenty of gay Christians who have been confronted in love according to this text and have heard of the disconnect for them, the alienation for them, and the pain for them. Matthew 18 has been misapplied to issues like sexual orientation, assumptions of sexual activity, and presumed promiscuity. Just this past Sunday in my own congregation, a woman shared a testimony in which she included a great deal of extraneous information unrelated to the actual testimony she been asked to share. One of the things she said was that drug addiction had drawn her sister into lesbianism (her term) but that just before she died she came back to the Lord and was delivered from homosexuality (again, her terms). Not only was this offensive to the gay and trans people in our congregation – but she also personally brought her version of Matthew 18 to two dear friends of mine. She told one of my gay celibate friends, who happens to also be an elder in our church, that she and her husband would pray for him to be delivered – as if he hadn’t tried everything known to man to be “delivered” from his same-sex attraction for over 15 years. Then she told a dear trans friend who is newly transitioned and still exploring faith, that if she didn’t repent from her transition and revert to living as a man she would go to hell. She apparently, in her conviction of her prophetic evangelist calling, assumed she had the power to determine what was sin and to apply her version of Matthew 18. Will an application of Matthew 18 to the sin of pride, judgment, and alienating those on the margins away from Christ lead to resolution of such radically different perspectives within our diverse Body?

When Fitch suggests that such a process may take months or years, it begs the question for me, “At what cost?” Given the tapestry of diversity that a hospitable congregation will attract, given varying levels of maturity, brokenness, potential mental health issues, differing learning styles, personality types, and ways of processing information, the expectation of finding a final clear answer on any matter judged to be connected to God’s justice and righteousness may exact a greater toll on community than acknowledging and accepting that there is a way to move forward, focused on Christ together, despite differing views. Indeed, the idea of disputable matter is more than simply interminably perpetuating conversation as some isolated intellectual and theoretical exercise. Living the reality of disputable matter, even as it relates to such a complex and important matter as sexual ethics for sexual minorities, is the stuff of community. It is the stuff of living out the kind of honouring, mutual submission and humility of which Paul speaks in Romans 14. Such commitment to one another, in the midst of the chaos of diversity, reaching to the margins and choosing to continue loving those we find difficult to love, making space for each to wrestle with God even as we together commit to worship, serve, and share the good news of Christ in our neighbourhood, surely honours God and his heart for all to be reconciled to him. Core values of fidelity, self-giving love, and honouring the image of God in one another as we all grow in the fruits of the Spirit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control are what bind us together as we journey as a community committed to glorifying Christ.

-WG

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Review: The End of Sexual Identity



Earlier this spring, Jenell Williams Paris published the book, “The END of Sexual Identity: Why Sex is Too Important to Define Who We Are”. I was intrigued when I heard about it – but my premonition that I wouldn’t like it very much. To be truthful, there just aren’t that many books from a Christian perspective about sexual identity that I feel I can recommend without reservation. I thought it only fair that I read the book before making any comments – and so made the amazon purchase and finished it while camping. I was pleasantly surprised by the generous and humble tone of the book.

Paris comes to the topic as an anthropologist. This is a good starting point. Additionally, she is candid about her bias and assumptions, identifying herself as a wife and mother who, along with her husband, care for preschool twins and a toddler. She says, “My life stage and family commitments shape my views on sexuality, and you’ll see that influence throughout the book.” (p. 20) She also is upfront about her evangelical background and the fact that she has spent her career as a professor in Christian colleges. She doesn’t, however, reveal her position on sexual intimacy within same-sex relationships until page 85. There she says, “My views are conservative- I’m a “sex only within marriage between a man and a woman” kind of Christian – but I am well aware that Christians of good faith disagree about the meaning of personal sexual holiness.” While I can imagine that Paris was hoping to earn a reading without the limitations of people’s opinions about her particular views on appropriate sexual intimacy, and while my sense is that her commitment to be as generous and nuanced as possible within her views is genuine, I can’t help but feel that her particular view influences the book more than any other assumption and readers would have been well-served for her to identify this back on page 20 with her other assumptions.

Paris, in a refreshing departure from typical messaging in the evangelical church, does acknowledge the reality of straight privilege when she says, “On one hand, same-sex sexualities are normalized in mass media, and public school students are taught to be accepting and tolerant of all forms of diversity, including sexual. But on the other hand, heterosexuality continues to be the privileged norm, so much so that adolescent sexual minorities experience hatred and violence.” (p. 38) And, “because sexuality has moved center stage in defining human identity, heterocentrist theology constructs a hierarchy of persons. Even humble heterosexual Christians who make every effort to be kind and gracious toward homosexuals are not really reaching out; they’re reaching down from a place of moral elevation.” (40) In an effort to demonstrate the social construct behind this privilege, Paris tells her students that she is coming out as no longer heterosexual. She claims that she doesn’t “want to get life, secure in my moral standing or gird my marriage with a social identity that privileges some and maligns others on the basis of inner desires and feelings.“ (p. 43) She goes on to say that she sees heterosexuality as a concept riddled with problems and even calls it an abomination. In an ideal world this might be a route to attempt to deconstruct a false sense of privilege that permeates much of the Christian church. And it may be an effective teaching tool to help students consider the way such privilege acts in opposition to the message of the gospel that we are all one in Christ Jesus, that there are no favourites, and that in God’s Kingdom the last are made first and the first are made last. But I have to wonder whether, in the real world of heterosexism and the elevation of such privilege in the Christian community, such a gesture has any potential to produce sustainable change. Paris herself recognizes that to attempt to strip oneself of a heterosexual identity whilst being married to an opposite gender spouse and holding the role of wife and mother is “inane”.

Paris suggests that, “The major problem for Christians with heterosexuality, and sexual identity in general, is that it is a social construct that provides a faulty pattern for understanding what it means to be human, linking desire to identity in a way that violates biblical themes. No pattern is perfect, but this one isn’t even close. And “Christianizing” sexual identity – whether by affirming or negating the morality of various sexual identities – doesn’t help, because it doesn’t address the faulty connections that sexual identity categories make between human desire and identity.” (p. 43) Paris attempts to describe the problem by initially talking about heterosexuality. One of the limitations of her premise, however, is the reductionism of linking simply desire to identity. A more fair treatment of our sexuality would consider the variety of ways our sense of sexuality influences the manner in which we navigate the world of people and relationships. To describe one’s sexual identity with the social construct of heterosexual or homosexual is not merely a statement of the direction of one’s sexual attractions. Rather, it is an attempt to authentically articulate the particular manner in which one feels completed through union with another human being. Since this is more fluid than binary for many, particularly women, it is understandable that in queer studies there is the ongoing attempt to move past black and white categories of gay or straight. While such fluidity inevitably increases the complexity of the questions of identity, fluidity itself does not alter the reality that the search for a sense of resolution in one’s sexual identity is about much, much more than the direction of desire. Opposite-sex, same-sex or bi-sexuality might be better described as the drive to overcome our aloneness by completion with another, the peculiar manner in which we express ourselves in relation to men and women at the progressive levels of intimate relationship, and impact on the manner we relate our personhood to the world around us (ie. Through our creativity, humour, stewardship, communication etc.). Such a definition does not deny the reality that sexual identity is built on social construction – but it does recognize that sexuality is much more robust than merely desire or genitalized behaviour. It could be argued that the departure point for Paris is the social construction of identity because she seems to develop a broader sense of sexuality as it connects to our humanity. She writes, “God created sexuality. People created sexual identity. For Christians, developing ethical understandings is always a task of cultural deconstruction, but grounding sexual ethics in our humanity more than in contemporary sexual identity categories would be a starting point closer to God’s created order.”

On the tired question of causation of same-sex desire, Paris offers a nuanced and inconclusive response that considers the tremendous complexity of this question. As an anthropologist, she makes a direct connection with the influence of culture on our expressions of sexual behavior. In connection to this, she has this to say about the question of sexual orientation change: “….it is all too easy for Christians to claim that homosexuality stems from “nurture”, and therefore that all homosexuals need to do is choose to change. This is a vestige of premodern Christian thought, when same-sex activity was thought of purely in terms of behavior and in religious terms: the sodomite needs to repent. That line of reasoning simply doesn’t fit the world today. Even scientists who emphasize “nurture” agree that homosexuality is not always freely chosen, or that it’s not always possible to change orientation.” (p.61)

Paris shines particularly in her treatment of sexual holiness. She writes, “When distorted, holiness is used as a synonym for morality, when it’s really about being more and more in love with God and with humanity….. When sexual morality is elevated to an idolatrous place, it diminishes people’s sense of being loved and being able to love, instead of being put in its place by love.” (p. 83) If such a Christ-centric and love based idea of holiness actually permeated the church, we would be able to navigate our disagreements with one another with much more humility and gentleness. Paris goes on to say, “Maligning those with whom we disagree, even to the point of questioning the validity of their faith or salvation, is counterproductive and damages the witness of our religion as a whole, which is supposed to be comprised of believers from many times and places united in their devotion to Jesus, not to a set of beliefs about sexuality.” (p. 85) As I have often said, the hope of uniformity on the question of committed same-sex unions is an unrealistic one. We should, rather, focus on the question of, “How now shall we live together? Pursue mission together …. Pursue justice together ….. Worship together” Paris echoes this when she says, “The world in which Christians all agree about sexual issues is an imaginary one. Love of God and neighbor, the heart of holiness, has to be practiced in the real world in the midst of these disagreements.” (p.86) Paris posits that the Christian community would benefit from a renewed focus on sexual holiness as she describes rather than using sexual identity categories as the primary grid we read back into scripture and through which we view and evaluate people. She suggests that, “In the post-sexual identity church, there’s no moral high ground for heterosexuals and no closet for homosexuals. There’s just people, each of whom is lover and loved.” (p.92) She reiterates what many of my gay Christian friends have told me, that their primary identity is that they are the Beloved of God. But while it would seem that Paris would seek to erase a secondary manner of identification as connected with one’s sense of completeness and family in intimate, committed and consummated relationship, for my gay friends this continues to be significant as they seek to live honest and authentic lives in a hetero-privileged context.

As Paris begins to talk about sexual desire, I found a sense of seemingly reductionistic thinking that is not consistent with the experiences of individuals I have been in connection with. When she speaks of sexual identity being based on feelings, the object of one’s desires, there again seems to be a disconnect with a more robust understanding of same-sex sexuality as being a more integrative part of our personhood than merely the one aspect of sexual desire. The example used, of a young man mired in promiscuity and longing for God to intervene so that he can experience intimacy in a monogamous relationship seems to minimize the potentially pervasive impact that same-sex sexuality may have on the young man’s sense of personhood. By suggesting that his alignment with a gay identity is “conforming to the pattern of this world” but is understandable since the church hasn’t provided an alternative, Paris seems to be leveling the same kind of judgment that she encouraged Christians to eschew in the first half of the book.

In speaking about the way judgment assesses sexuality, she looks at both extremes of seeking to amputate sexual feeling that the individual deems inappropriate and full affirmation of desire (in particular same-sex desires). Her suggestion is that both lack discernment, however, I think such a suggestion makes unnecessarily sweeping assumptions. Even where there is affirmation of the acceptance of same-sex sexuality and committed same-sex unions, there can still be discernment around the stewardship of desire, intimacy, relationships around values of fidelity, humility, honouring and giving to another. Paris says, “In contrast to judgment that assesses a person’s sexuality as good or bad, discernment honours the paradoxical way that blessing and suffering coexist in a holy life. Though sexual attractions and behaviors will never reach moral perfection, our sexual lives can be congruent with our spiritual lives, characterized by mercy, forgiveness, sin and restoration, love, joy, peace, patience, and self-control.” (p.107)

Paris rightly lays out a realistic portrayal of sex within heterosexual marriage. She describes situations and circumstances in which sexual intimacy is negatively impacted and rightly suggests that good marriages are sustainable even when sexual intercourse is infrequent, painful or unsatisfying. She says, “It just isn’t true that, in order to be a happy, healthy adult, a person must explore his or her sexual feelings, choose a corresponding sexual identity, and live out that identity through sexual activity.” While I agree with this sentence, I am concerned about the insinuations that arise from it. Same-sex oriented people who seek a same-sex partner with whom they can enter a life-long committed relationship are not just exploring feelings, choosing an identity and engaging in sexual activity that corresponds. Long-term committed gay couples that I know acknowledge the same reality of sex within their relationship having its disappointments, seasons, and challenges. But like any other committed person in an opposite gender relationship, they assert that their relationship is about much, much more than sexual activity. They too share life at multiple levels, being companions for one another, sharing decision-making, sharing joys and sorrows, navigating challenges together, serving others together, extending hospitality together, perhaps raising children together – or mentoring, fostering or otherwise investing in others’ lives. The glue that holds their relationships together is much more complex and multi-faceted than simply shared sexual activity. Additionally, gay Christian couples I know share a similar mature Christian understanding of sex that she describes as, “… the center of sexual love is neither orgasm (as the pinnacle of fulfillment) nor sexual feelings (as the center of personal identity). Holiness in sexuality is the same as holiness in any part of life; it’s the life of love, centered in Christ.” (p.118)

In her chapter on celibacy, Paris nuances the topic well. She is attuned to the common lack of not only a support system for those who are celibate, but the lack of plausibility in our current social and church cultural contexts. She writes, “It’s another thing, however, for a persistently same-sex attracted Christian in his thirties or forties to choose against sexual intimacy. In this case, saying no to sex means also saying no to partnership, intimacy, and all the other social and economic benefits of long-term sexual partnerships and/or marriage.” (p. 136) Paris seems to be articulating some of her own cognitive dissonance. She has stated clearly that it is her conviction that sexual intimacy be reserved for marriage between one man and one woman. At times, she seems to articulate a simplistic or reductionistic idea of same-sex sexuality as being merely about the object of one’s desire. At other times, she seems to well acknowledge that same-sex oriented persons have legitimate human needs that go far beyond genitalized sexual activity. She acknowledges that same-sex attractions may not undergo radical change in direction. She seems to recognize that involuntary celibacy in a context that is unsupportive can be harmful. She then quotes Martin Luther in this manner, “Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world….. No sin can separate us from Him, even if we were to kill or commit adultery thousands of times each day. Do you think such an exalted Lamb paid merely a small price with a meager sacrifice for our sins? Pray hard, for you are quite a sinner.” She then says, “It would be better to sin and experience the immensity of grace than to avoid sin for fear of disapproval, banishment, or loss of employment or leadership roles in the church.” (p.137) The reader is left wondering what Paris is actually recommending. Should Christians who experience persistent same-sex attraction sin boldly? What does this look like? What effect does this have on the discernment and discipleship that Paris has taken pains to emphasize throughout the book? And how does that connect to her conclusion that imposed celibacy either within marriage or singleness can be viewed as crucible, akin to Paul’s thorn in his flesh, and therefore a means to grace?

I appreciate Paris’ final sentence at the end of the book, and truly hope others in the Christian community will heed her call. “When disagreements about same-sex sexuality are just differences, not divisions, and when we share mutual affection and bestow honor on those with whom we disagree, we’re already living beyond the end of sexual identity.” (p. 144) In the book, Paris attempts to open the conversation at the intersection of faith and sexuality with a fresh, creative, and charitable tone. She laments the prescriptive and definitive nature of social construction of sexual identities such as heterosexual, homosexual, straight, gay, lesbian or bisexual. She suggests that our sexuality needs to be redefined on the basis of our belovedness and as made up of components such as behaviors, choices, relationships, hopes, memories, marriage, physical health, fantasy, and desire that all people share regardless of the direction of their attractions. As an anthropologist, she points out that sexual identity is conceived differently in various cultural contexts and therefore supports her thesis that we can begin to navigate these questions in a different way. While I appreciate the manner in which she deconstructs the privileged status that heterosexuality has claimed and her helpful assessment of the reality of sexual fluidity, her alternatives for sexual minorities seem at times to be disconnected from the core needs I have encountered in same-sex attracted individuals. While I would agree with Paris that there can be a certain energy propelling such identification due to the very nature of minority and lack of privilege, for the gay Christians I know, their identity is not solely based on their desires.

I would suggest the onus for implementation of Paris' thesis lies with heterosexuals within the Christian community willingly laying aside heteronormative privilege in order to find common ground and a place of shared humanity with all brothers and sisters regardless of whom they find themselves most longing to be completed by in intimate relationship. Paris raises this challenge within the framework of maintaining a traditional understanding that sexual intimacy ought to be limited to a marriage relationship between one man and one woman – which one might surmise would make the invitation less threatening and more palatable. But in the end, I hold little confidence for widespread understanding and acceptance of Paris’ attempt to call the church to proactively initiate the end of sexual identity. Heterosexuals demand and enjoy their privilege far too much and find their security in such a constructed paradigm with the assertion of its biblical foundation far too deeply to truly consider that radical steps of moving past judgment and privilege that Paris calls for. Such resistance and refusal will continue to be to our impoverishment in the Christian community and to continue to perpetrate the alienation of sexual minorities from the church. A good start, however, would be for pastors and leaders of our churches and Christian organizations to pick up this book and prayerfully consider the implications for themselves and the folks they lead.

-WG

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

To my Post-Christian Friends .....

This post was inspired by a note I received after the last blog ..... and since I know that at least a few of my post-Christian friends read BTG, I thought I'd put this in an open letter.

To my post-Christian friends,

I wish I could say I understand some of the tension and residue that tugs on your mind and heart ….. because I really do want to understand and enter in and be present with you. But it would be presumptuous in a big way to suggest that I do understand. I’m not gay. And I have not disrobed myself of a worldview and system of faith. And while I know the pain and disappointment of judgment, rejection and hypocrisy in the Body of Christ, my life still had enough connection with majority privilege that I could find enough of a place to feel that I belonged. I know that some of you at a deeper and more intimate place absorbed a distorted message from the church that you did not belong – and I know that this wounded you in a way that goes beyond words, beyond explanations or excuses, beyond feeble attempts to fix. When I ponder this, I am deeply grieved, outraged, overwhelmed and so very sorry.

I know that your path away from Christian faith is a complex weaving of your experiences, your hurts, anger and understandable resentment, and your intellect. I know that most Christians you encounter feel anxiety about your autonomous decision to leave the system of Christian faith – and that you can sense this anxiety directed at you in a number of unhelpful ways. I know you’ve been made to feel like a project. That it has been dehumanizing to you to feel like people only care about a transactional reinstatement of peculiar belief to ensure that you are saved and others can breathe a sigh of relief.

And I know that there isn’t a simple way to resolve this paradox that emerges in every relationship you have with a follower of Jesus. The nature of Christian faith is to want others to share it with you. The idea of loving a friend means to do everything you can to invite (which can also read persuade, convince, or sometimes even manipulate or coerce) the ones you love into your system of faith. And with post-Christian gay friends – this can become even more complicated by the way a system of faith suggests that such same-sex sexuality ought to be stewarded. This paradox makes some friendships essentially impossible – conversations don’t feel safe or free of agenda, experiences can’t really be shared or celebrated because the gulf is too great. I know that this has spelled loss in a multitude of ways.

I can only imagine what it is like to feel like you have to fight every moment you are with Christian family members or friends ….. fight in the sense of standing up for yourself, standing up for your self-acceptance and sense of identity, standing up for your relationship choices and the one you love, standing up for your worldview, philosophical foundation, personal values …. and perhaps to constantly feel like all of these things are under critique and under pressure to change. Gosh, I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

I can picture the ways you feel disrespected at times. Your intellect questioned. Your values judged. Assumptions made.

And while I have not left my faith, I have wrestled deeply, questioned outrageously and at times wondered if the thread by which I was continuing to hang on to faith would sustain me. I know the bloody carnage of butchering my own personal sacred cows – and longing for the church at large to have the guts to throw a good ‘ol beef bbq. I know a sense of hopelessness that the system is broken and there is no concrete remedy on the horizon. I know what it is to feel the fear in the pit of my stomach that others would reject me if they knew the cyclone in my mind and heart. And I know what it is, at least to some degree, to feel like I don’t fit, like I’m an alien in the church.

As I connect with others in ministry, particularly pastors, I inevitably find occasional kindred spirits – those who know well what the dark night of the soul is, those who can't always reconcile the dissonance of God’s character and sovereignty with all the crap they encounter in people’s lives and the world around them. It seems this used to be quite the secret club replete with passwords and ritualistic hand-shakes …. well ok not really ….. but hidden none-the-less. More and more, however, I hear people daring and risking to air these questions, these doubts and these struggles. More pastors realize that their humanity, transparency and vulnerability are a vital part of authentically serving and walking with others in the journey of faith. These conversations meander from doubts about God’s existence, to personal disappointment and anger with God and the church, to cognitive quandaries regarding science, miracles, interpretive labyrinths and yes, homosexuality. There is no doubt that agnostics step into the pulpits of many churches each Sunday …..sometimes cynical, sometimes grieving, sometimes genuinely wanting to love and serve, sometimes just hanging on for the paycheque to feed their family. We don’t often talk about this stuff – but maybe if we did, some folks in the pews would feel a little more understood. (Of course, others would demand certainty and confidence and security. And there are certainly pastors, leaders and Christians who truly don't have doubt or questions.)

What I would want to say to you, my post-Christian friends, is that it is my heart to simply love you. It is my heart to simply trust that if the God I continue to be in relationship with is who I believe he says that he is, then he is more than able to make himself known to you in a manner that is perfectly tailored to who you are and how you might be most able to receive him. So, I would want you to know that I do my very best to not have an agenda for your life. I’m not perfect in that, of course. My mind cannot fathom all the mysteries of humanity, eternity, and love. I am not free of my own anxieties. I am prone to cling to control – even though I think I am letting go. But despite all this, I want to know you – and part of knowing you is accepting where you are right now – as I hope that you will be able to accept me where I am right now. I want to have honest and authentic conversations – conversations that are meaningful. I want to celebrate your humanity – though it will, inevitably, be filtered through my sense that you are created in the image of God, highly valued and valuable and simply and completely the Beloved. Through our friendships, our conversations and connections ….. my deepest hope is that in the end love will triumph. Indeed, that love will win. And if along the way I can be a small part in healing the rift with the church or with Christians, or in experiencing some sense of community and belonging, or in restoring hope in some particular sense …. for that I will be deeply humbled and grateful. Because the rest, I truly believe, is God’s gig – and he sets me free to befriend and love you right where you are.

-WG

Monday, July 4, 2011

What does it mean to be welcoming?


Pastors' Conversation Live Stream from Flexweb Multimedia on Vimeo.

Thank you to all who tuned in and participated with us in our pastors’ conversation. Despite some technical glitches in the live stream, I was grateful for the conversation overall and pleased to see how many are accessing the video. My sense is that some will feel that it was biased towards an affirming perspective. Perhaps it could sound that way to those who are used to only talking about this topic from the expectation and assumption that people are struggling and seeking transformation and mastery over their same-sex attractions. When this is your focus in the conversation, the priorities sound different from the priorities that emerged in our conversation.

In our conversation, we spoke more about gay Christians who have come to terms with the reality of their sexuality, embrace self-acceptance, profess faith in Christ, and are seeking authentic places to connect and belong in the Body of Christ. This doesn’t mean we don’t acknowledge that there are those who are struggling and seeking wholeness by experiencing mastery over their same-sex attractions. But it would seem to me, that Exodus and its member ministries are already focused and speaking to this group. New Direction, on the other hand, acknowledges the reality that there are many Christians who do accept the reality of their same-sex orientation, some who do identify as gay, who do care deeply about their faith, who may be wrestling with Scripture – or have come to terms with their sense of Scriptural guidance for their life, and who are looking for a place in the church.

In our conversation, we wanted to particularly address some of the tensions that arise when gay Christians attend churches that have clear boundaries limiting sexual intimacy to heterosexual marriage. But these tensions do not just affect the lives of gay Christians. Many pastors are impacted as well. Given the reality of these tensions, remaining static isn’t a particularly effective response. This is not to say that the movement that is needed must be towards a fully affirming theological stance. But it is to suggest that we need to better learn how to welcome people who are different into our church communities. Different, not only in terms of sexual orientation, but potentially different in how they approach scripture, how they view the character of God, how they engage mission, and what they prioritize in a worship experience etc. The Body of Christ isn’t meant to be a monolithic group. It is meant to be a Body with different parts, different gifts, different experiences, and different strengths. Having to navigate tension isn’t something to avoid. As we actually willingly do this together, we have the opportunity to grow together in the fruits of the Spirit – perhaps the most significant being self-control, patience and humility. We learn to be gracious with each other. We become enlarged in the capacity to be generous with one another.

Pastoring a congregation towards such a mindset of hospitality can be a challenging process however. We are accustomed to expectations of conformity in the church. This can be couched in language of sanctification or holiness – but sometimes there is a significant element of simply, “We will be most comfortable if everyone in our church acts in a certain way.” What this can boil down to is to at least pretend that we all act the same way. The kicker is, even some of our most conservative, strict church communities have their own built in exceptions. A common one is turning the blind eye to those who are not experiencing mastery or freedom in the arena of their own health stewardship. This may be noticeable by body size, onset of diabetes, high blood pressure or heart problems. Another common area is the privatization of our use of financial resources. We lack transparency with one another in relation to our spending priorities. We tolerate great diversity in levels of extravagance in housing, modes of transportation, vacations, and entertainment. Yet another is our commitment to stewardship of creation. We don’t often speak with one another about minimizing waste, recycling, energy management to name just a few. Then, of course, there are the morality issues. We know that internet porn addiction is rampant in the church – yet very few fellowships are safe enough places to invite mutual accountability and support. The alcoholics among us hide well in our pews and leadership councils. Spouses enduring abuse stay silent. Infidelities become compartmentalized aspects of our lives.

The reality is, if we did fixate on these matters in one another’s lives, our precious sense of unity might become quickly eroded. We might discover how very difficult it is to love one another through this kind of messiness. And we might realize that our patience, grace, maturity and humility need to be enlivened by the Spirit’s presence if we are to be able to remain in community with one another.

However, when we intentionally choose to welcome diversity with the recognition that we all have areas of strength and areas of weakness, that we all need space and grace to grow, that we need love and acceptance extended to us in the journey, that we are mutual pilgrims with those who differ from us, we are positioned to take the risky steps needed to begin to experience real and authentic community with one another. And it is in this kind of community that we can find ourselves most receptive to experiencing both the freedom and the increasing mastery that every Christ-follower needs in their walk of faith.

I think this is summed up so well with the ethos statement that is read at Highlands church as they gather together for worship:
Married, divorced or single here, it's one family that mingles here.
Conservative or liberal here, we’ve all gotta give a little here.
Big or small here, there’s room for us all here.
Doubt or believe here, we all can receive here.
Gay or straight here, there’s no hate here
Woman or man here, everyone can here.
Whatever your race here, for all of us grace here.
In imitation of the ridiculous love Almighty God has for each of us and all of us, let us live and love without labels.
The conversation about extending hospitality to LGBT people is really just the conversation about being a community that humbly recognizes and welcomes people who are searching for a way to embrace faith in Christ in the midst of the challenges of our lives. The conversation is about becoming friends, seeing one another’s humanity, sharing meals, being in one another’s homes, praying for one another through the joys and struggles of our every-day lives. It is quite different from a discussion trying to figure out at what point should people be removed from fellowship because of a lack of alignment with a particular set of beliefs. In our fragmented, individualistic and isolated culture, I have often articulated that church discipline, in the spirit of working towards restoration, shouldn’t be about removing people – but actually saying that, “We’re going to stick with you. You can’t get rid of us unless you remove yourself…. Because we are committed to walking with you¸ committed to trying to grow in faith together.” This is messy and difficult. It means we’ll be uncomfortable both with other people’s choices and our reactions and responses to such choices. It means we’ll feel that inevitable temptation to withdraw from one another and retreat back into an artificial unity and niceness. It means the potential pull towards power-plays will cause us to consider how to protect the purity of our church.

This doesn’t mean there will never be times when separation seems to be the best way to move forward. If a church does have a clear boundary related to same-sex unions, a gay couple may journey for a time with such a church – but may come to the point that they feel they need to experience greater freedom and space to use their spiritual gifts in service within the Body. This may catalyze a season of discernment in which the couple comes to the conclusion that they need to be in a community that will welcome their leadership contributions. My hope is that this process of discernment will be shared with the community they have been a part of. My hope is that their current pastor will have built relationships with other pastors in the neighbourhood in whose congregations a gay couple would be welcome to serve and grow in their gifts and calling. My hope is that if a transition seems to be the best next step – that it would take place in the context of relationship – both a grieving and a celebration of past relationships and an anticipation and welcome into new relationships. And my hope is that beyond particular congregations, friendships would cross such boundaries and people would continue to share their lives with one another and be willing to humbly learn from one another as we see God at work in one another.

Outside of relationship, I’m not sure there will be tangible growth beyond the polarity of many of the typical conversations on this subject. Without humility, I’m not sure there will be the kind of spaciousness that is needed to move forward. Apart from entrusting one another to the leading, correction and nurturing of the Holy Spirit, I’m not sure we’ll learn to embody the unity Jesus prayed for.

But with these commitments, with relationship, humility, and trust, I deeply pray that we, the church, will find ourselves more in step with the Spirit of Christ as we welcome diversity and embrace an ethos of hospitality.

-WG