“But we’re not all like that!”

Straight Ally Flag

Not gonna lie, I’m sure I’ve said those exact words.  Or, more specifically, I’ve muttered them at my computer screen, whispered them to God late at night in bed, and thought them angrily in my head while listening to people preach.  Up until a couple of years ago, I didn’t dare speak them out loud, because to do so would mean to lose the people I hoped to help move toward change.

I admit, I’m not a huge fan of Dan Savage, but I credit him with saying something that made me take notice.  He said Christians should stop hiding behind “not all like that” (I’m paraphrasing here).  He specifically meant in regard to support of LGBTQI people, but I think it applies just about everywhere that -isms reside.  We can’t just sit silently or straddle fences; if we’re against oppression, then we need to do something about that.  (Honestly, I could just shorten that to “Fuck living in the tension.” If I never hear that phrase again, I will die happy.  It strikes me as a way of trying to have one’s cake and eat it, too.  Just be honest, dammit–if you’re truly anyone’s ally, spell it out; otherwise, keep your yap shut.)

Anyway, that’s not my point, really.  What I want to write about is the people who wear their “Not All Like That” gold star as a way of silencing people.  I’ve actually found, over the years I’ve been at this blogging thing, that Not All Like That is really code for, “I don’t approve, but I’m going to be nice anyway.”  These are not hidden allies who are scared to speak up; they’re people who still believe they have the right to treat people as issues to fight over.  More often than not, it’s people who are still stuck in an endless loop of “love the sinner, hate the sin” and “it’s the same as any other sin, like being a drunk” (heard that one more times than I can count at this point).  My personal favorite is, “Well, I’m wired to want to cheat on my wife; you’re wired to like people of the same sex–let’s both work on our issues.”  Yech.

An exchange between friends this morning prompted me to think about the ways in which some Christians continue to deny that there’s anything wrong because they aren’t participating in the worst of it.  There were some words traded back and forth about whether or not the Church has chosen to fixate on the wrong problems in the world.  I had a distinct impression of excusing religiously-based heterosexism because it’s not as bad as hate speech.

This is just an alternate form of “not all like that.”  I’m not sure where the idea comes from that the Church bears no responsibility for quite a lot of anti-gay obsession.  A number of prominent organizations and preachers have had pretty vile things to say about LGBTQI people, mostly in public.  There are still places one can go to be “cured” of the “homosexual lifestyle.”  Friends have expressed grief that they’ve been shamed–sometimes publicly–both for being LGBTQI and for being an ally.  It’s easy to see where the Church has gotten a reputation for spending more time and energy on fighting gay marriage than on resolving world hunger (or hell, even hunger in our own country).

At the same time, there’s this new wave of “moderate” Christians who want to distance themselves from what they perceive as the truly evil, while still maintaining a position in which they refuse to acknowledge people’s humanity.  A fellow blogger has pushed every. single. one of my buttons by continuing to act as some kind of spokesperson for the Church of Not All Like That.  She’s written on such cheery methods of “reconciliation” as hugging a gay person (at random? one we know personally? not sure here) and attending a gay pride parade for the purpose of observing the people there.  (Just a bit of advice: Please don’t do that.  Put that way, it dehumanizes people by making them sound like wild animals you’re visiting in their native habitat.)  I’ve seen similar sorts of things across my Twitter and Facebook feeds, and it drives me up the wall.

Listen.  I know you Not All Like That folks mean well; I really do.  But please trust me when I tell you that LGBTQI people and their allies do, in fact, know the difference between patronizing them and actually loving them.  Sometimes, when you have an established relationship, you can make this work.  God bless and more power to ya.  But when you are a random stranger on the Internet?  Don’t.  Just–don’t.  The words, “But I love you anyway” should not come out of your mouth or your keyboard.

It’s easy to say you’re going to love a LGBTQI person (or hug them or stare at them at Pride or write precious things about how you care for them even though you “disagree” with who they are).  I recommend against saying it, though.  It’s a lot more important that you do it.  Your LGBTQI friends and family don’t actually require your approval to be who they are, so telling them that you “love them anyway” is not likely to further that relationship.  That isn’t acknowledging anyone’s personhood, it’s making you feel better for trying hard not to be a jerk.

I’m kinda done with the whole fence-sitting thing; I have been for a long time.  I don’t bother trying to engage people in conversation so I can convince them to change their position.  I used to be willing to go there, but not anymore.  Honestly (and I apologize for this), I was making humans into issues.  There was a point at which I truly wanted everyone to stand on what I believed to be the “right” side.  What I want now is for people to just be honest.  I’m not interested in making space for anyone at my table–I want a whole new table where people don’t need to ask for space.  If don’t want to do that, then own it.  Don’t pretend you’re honoring the full humanity of others while still refusing them a seat.

Notable News: Week of June 8-14, 2013

Happy Friday! Here at our house, this is the last Friday of the school year (for the kids, anyway).  They’re done as of next Wednesday.  I’m glad, because I need a vacation.  The nice thing about the school calendar is that just when I’m starting to feel burned out, we get another break.  I’m going to be making the most of mine, that’s for sure.

Here are the cool (and not-so-cool) things I read this week:

1. The “question” of consent

Dianna Anderson has a fantastic post on dignity and not treating people as questions to be answered.  She rightly points out the inherent problem of calling consent a question and where the Church must tread lightly in regard to ideas open to debate.  Ironically, the same day I read this post, I read another one in which the writer cheerily talks about wanting to interact with “the gay community” in order to demonstrate how loving she is–all while simultaneously referring to “the gay lifestyle” as being outside God’s perfect design.  Guess that writer didn’t read Dianna’s post first.

2. The “question” of breadwinning wives

I highly recommend you make time to read all of Danielle’s response to Mary Kassian’s post on breadwinning wives.  I particularly liked the second part, My Marriage Is Not a Form of Prostitution.  In parallel, I’ve seen couples treat marriage this way outside of the career/financial angle–a lot of people seem to think that it’s an acceptable transaction to trade sex for goods and services.  I’m not convinced that’s a healthy view of marriage.

3. Questions for N. T. Wright

If you’re a fan of Wright’s work, you may be interested in his responses to readers’ questions on Rachel Held Evans’ blog.

4. The “question” of women teaching

This is a great read from Laura Ziesel about the illogical view of women as “more easily deceived.”  I have long held that not only can we not determine exactly when a boy is too old to be taught by a woman (many churches arbitrarily use 18), we also have the stupid view that a 70-year-old life-long woman of faith cannot teach a young, inexperienced barely adult male of 18 or 21.  Now there’s another one–that women, being weaker and more easily deceived, should probably not be teaching children, either.  What a load of manure; thanks, Laura, for pointing that out.

5. Questions for a couple coping with chronic illness

This is an interesting interview with a couple in which the wife has endometriosis.  I appreciate the wisdom in recommending that the Church develop healthier ways to talk about sex and relationships, especially given the fact that it’s never one-size-fits-all.

6. The “question” of PDA

Yeah, I admit I’m one of those people who prefers that couples not stick their tongues down each others’ throats in public or grope each other under their clothes on the beach.  But a little kissin’? Heck no, that doesn’t bother me.  It makes me just want to scream whenever I see someone on social media write,

I’m not homophobic, but I really don’t need to see two guys kissing.

I get it that some people don’t like PDA, but until everyone starts pointing it out when they see a het couple doing it, then those people really need to keep that thought to themselves.  Anyway, go read this article about couples who were asked to leave for PDA and then try to tell me it’s not homophobia.

7. Love isn’t a question

My fellow writer Aaron Smith has written a beautiful guest post over on Registered Runaway’s blog.  He says it all; I have nothing to add.

8. A question of point of view

Novelist Adrian Smith explains using second person.  I do it all the freakin’ time, on this blog and in casual speech, but I’ve never written a story in second person.  When done well, it’s good; when done poorly, it’s awful.  See if you can make it work. (See what I did there?)

9. The “question” of modesty

Oh, dear Lord, here we go again.  We women don’t know what we “do” to men.  Apparently, they have to repeat the internal mantra, “Don’t think about boobs don’t think about boobs don’t think about boobs dammit I’m thinking about boobs.”  This just seriously creeps me out, because I don’t think I know any men who really have these issues, but a few who do have managed to convince a whole generation of young men that they do, too.  So gross.

10. A question for Cheerio-despising racists

At the end of this spoof of the Cheerios ad with the biracial couple, the question is: “What? Now this is a problem?”  Go watch it and share the funny with your friends.

11. A story with a question

I’m not entirely sure what happens after the end of my story for Fiction Friday.  I’ll let you decide.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Spiritual Abuse Awareness Week: After-Image

Graphic by the amazing Dani Kelley

I wasn’t able to participate in the first day of Spiritual Abuse Awareness week due to other demands on my time.  I wasn’t sure I was going to write anything today, either.  My experiences are mild compared to the horrific things friends and fellow bloggers have shared, and I believe those people who have survived need safe space to heal.  That sometimes includes people like me, who only feel it like the residual tremors of an earthquake, remaining quiet and letting others tell their stories.  But I had an experience that reminded me that everything has consequences, even if we don’t realize it at the time.  So here is my story about the aftermath of dealing with spiritually abusive people and how deep it can make us bleed.

Last Sunday, the pastor asked to speak to us about our son.

I was on my way in alone; I was playing my violin during the service and had arrived early to practice with the choir.  My husband and children were driving separately.  The pastor stopped me on my way up to the choir loft and said,

I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes in my office after church, about your son.

I must have looked surprised, because she added that it was about his baptism, which is scheduled for the Sunday after Easter.  I nodded and told her that was no problem.  But inside, I was panicking.

That’s not really a healthy response to a conversation with a pastor.

I need to say here that our pastor is a lovely woman.  She is kind and gentle and delivers fantastic sermons.  She has been nothing but loving and warm towards our family, our children in particular.  My daughter warmed to her immediately, which is fairly miraculous–she has discriminating taste in people.  So there are no circumstances under which I should feel threatened or intimidated by this pastor.  Even if I had committed some grave error, I suspect she would handle it with grace.

And yet.

My immediate reaction to anyone in spiritual authority asking to speak to me has become one of fear.  I have learned to expect rebukes rather than positive conversations.  When I realized what had happened, that my response was out of proportion with reality, I was puzzled.  Where in the world did such feelings come from?

I knew that it wasn’t really the result of my experiences as a teenager.  I was a little afraid of the pastor of that church, but I don’t believe that I thought of him as genuinely in authority over me.  I had no sense of church politics or hierarchy; I was in a bubble of Christian youth culture (as much as there actually was back in the late ’80s/early ’90s).  And it certainly didn’t come from the ten years my husband and I spent at our first church as a married couple.  That pastor and his family were like an extension of our own.  We were close, and we remain in touch to this day despite the 3000 miles separating us.

I’m sure you can guess where this is going.  I am not going to sit here and say that I was spiritually abused by our church or the leadership*.  That would be lying, and it would be hurtful to those who are still involved.  But I will tell you this: There were people in authority there who absolutely, unquestionably used intimidation tactics on me and on others.  I was spoken to multiple occasions about my writing, particularly in regard to my feminism and my unwavering stance as an LGBT ally (and once or twice about my parenting).  I was never told I shouldn’t blog or use social media, but I received subtle threats about it more than once.  Additionally, there were a few adults who used my children for the purpose of coercion and “correction.”  (Nothing makes me go all Mama Bear faster than church people using my kids as weapons.)

None of that may sound particularly bad; and perhaps it isn’t.  But taken as a whole, it damaged my sense that pastors and leaders are safe people.  They may not overtly threaten or shun or shout from the pulpit, but they hold power over the people–in large part because they (or the church structure) dictates that they do.  When leaders wield their authority inappropriately, it undermines people’s faith that they can trust them.

This is exactly what happened to me.  I believe that over time, I can–and will–regain my ability to trust, because it wasn’t damaged beyond repair.  But there are others for whom the same cannot be said.  This is unacceptable–not because it’s unacceptable to be non-religious or non-churchgoing, but because the reason for being non-religious or non-churchgoing should never, ever be because it was literally or figuratively beaten out of you.

By the way, the reason the pastor wanted to talk to us was so she could set a time to come to our house to speak to our son about what will happen when he’s baptized, physically and spiritually.  We met last night, and it was good–exactly as I should have expected.

I hope you will read the other stories about spiritual abuse this week.  There are some remarkable survivors out there.  Take the time to get to know them through their words.  And if you have been spiritually abused, please read this excellent post by Caleigh on self-care.  Meanwhile, I’m going to spend some time praying for the strength to trust again.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*That is not to say that I wasn’t exposed to abusive beliefs or teachings; I’m speaking specifically here about being directly abused, harassed, threatened, mistreated, intimidated, etc. by pastors, elders, and other leaders in the church.

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For more posts on spiritual abuse, visit these web sites:

Wine & Marble: Spiritual Abuse Day 1

Joy in this Journey: Spiritual Abuse Day 2

 

Holy Hand Sanitizer

By Tlow03 (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Have you ever been somewhere and needed to clean your hands but were unable?  Perhaps you were in a public restroom and the soap had run out.  Maybe it was in church last week when you passed the peace and shook the hands of twelve strangers.  You might have been in the park and picked up some stray trash.  If you’re a parent, you’ve surely experienced the same thing with your kids–they tend to get their hands on a whole lot of disgusting stuff, and there’s not always a bathroom nearby.

For times like that, I keep a small bottle of hand sanitizer in my purse.  It’s not ideal, even though it says on the label that it will kill the germs.  I don’t know about you, but I never feel quite clean enough.  It’s better than nothing, but I nearly always think, I can’t wait to get home and just use water and real soap.

The church can be a bit like that hand sanitizer in the way we treat people and the issues in their lives.  This morning, I read this excellent piece by Jennifer Luitwieler on the ways in which our culture promises happiness is the reward for skinniness.  Now, this was about the wider society, not the church, but a thought struck me: Inside the church, we do exactly the same thing, but we dress it up in Jesusism.

I read a blog post a couple of months ago in which the writer claimed that being fat wasn’t okay with God.  It was my opinion then, and it remains so now, that the writer was projecting her own beliefs and insecurities on other Christians.  The truth is, God is not sitting up in heaven policing our bodies and demanding that we be thin.  There is absolutely no command in the Bible about being thin.  We could have a conversation about gluttony, but we need to keep in mind that fat and gluttonous are not synonyms.  What’s really going on here is that the cultural pressure to be skinny has seeped into our churches.  Instead of being counter to society, we’ve appropriated societal norms and bent them to a Christian worldview.

Body image isn’t the only way the church has done this.  We’ve done it with parenting, money, leadership, and even sex.  We don’t look for our actions in the persistent call for justice that runs like a river throughout the whole of Scripture.  Instead, we’ve merely taken what’s happening in the world at large and tried to write new rules that conform to our interpretation of the Bible:

  • Culture says skinny is good/fat is bad; the church says God wants you to be a “healthy weight” through “biblical principles.”
  • Culture provides fertile ground for arguments and attacks on parenting style; the church says there is a Biblical way to parent, which is different based on which interpretation of Scripture one uses and looks remarkably similar to secular styles.
  • Culture bombards us with investment opportunities and encourages spending; While the church may not encourage consumerism (though this is debatable), it does encourage investment, savings, and tithing (which may or may not actually help those in need, and a portion of which funds the church itself).
  • Culture has standards for “excellence” in leadership and one can find books and seminars almost everywhere; the church not only encourages the same principles used in business, but often looks to secular leaders for advice.
  • Culture provides sex without context; the church provides context without sex.  Neither encourages having both.

You may be thinking one of two things.  First, if you believe we once were a Christian nation, you may be thinking that I have it backwards–it’s the world that has corrupted these biblical principles and the church is merely trying to redeem them.  Second, you may be thinking that there is nothing wrong with using the things that have value, so long as we don’t lose sight of God’s truth.  Both lines of thinking are flawed.

First, there is no such thing as a Christian nation.  Even if there was a time when most people at least nominally believed, by the very nature of who Jesus is there cannot be a Christian government.  Jesus effectively silenced any notion of that in the way he ran counter to both the Roman authorities and the religious ones.  We have no business linking God and human rule.  We also have no business–for much the same reason–linking Jesus and culture.

Second, there isn’t anything wrong with making use of good sense.  It is indeed wise, in our society, to save money for retirement.  But that isn’t a biblical principle!  That’s an entirely secular one.  By biblical standards, we should be making sure that our poor and our elderly and our children and our infirm are cared for–without expecting that they’ve “planned” for it.  There is nothing wrong with having healthy bodies, but we simply cannot get carried away to the point that we use junk science to support our theories and then call that “biblical.”

In other words, there is no problem with being part of our culture, as long as we don’t become confused and think that what culture says is biblical.  We ought to take our cues first from the calls to love and justice in the Bible, rather than attempting to use the Bible to whitewash the culture.  The problem is that the church has mostly been in the business of sanitizing worldly principles.  Instead of making a commitment to this,

But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream! [Amos 5:24]

we’ve tried to apply the Bible like a Band-Aid to what the wider culture says.  We haven’t committed to helping people find healing and wholeness.  We’ve rather criticized them for what we believe are “poor lifestyle choices,” which are remarkably similar to what secular culture calls “poor lifestyle choices.”

I would love to stop reading blog posts and listening to sermons on the Ten Ways We Can Improve Our Lives.  I don’t need another podcast with five points all starting with the letter P.  I don’t need a workshop on becoming an effective leader.  I need opportunities to love my neighbor, feed the hungry, and care for the oppressed.  Jesus doesn’t care which seminars I’ve attended, he cares which people I’ve served.

When are we going to stop turning church functionally into hand sanitizer?  When will we reach for the cleansing soap and water and really wash ourselves clean?

Goodnight and not goodbye

 

Adam Brooks [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Our family is entering a new stage in our journey, and I want to share a little about that.  Many of you who know us in real life already know about what’s been happening, but for those who don’t, allow me to explain.

We have come to the decision that we need to find a new church.

This was not an easy decision, nor was it one we made quickly.  It was not made in anger or over something anyone said or did.  In fact, we have no hard feelings toward the church or any individuals.  We love the church and the people in it.  We have made wonderful friends, people we hope to have in our lives as long as they will have us.

The reason I have not written about it sooner is that we felt we should speak with the church staff and elders first, out of respect for them.  That way, they would have heard the story first and anything anyone else had heard could be verified or denied.  We met yesterday, therefore we are prepared to discuss what has been going on and how we are feeling.

Our church has a specific mission and purpose.  We think that is wonderful, and we hope that the leadership and the people in the church continue to carry it out.  We will continue to support all of you who are still part of the church.  But we believe that God is calling us in a new direction.  We feel God’s leading toward social justice ministry.  Although it would be ideal if we could do this and continue to be part of our church, that is not possible.  It would be like telling someone who wants to build houses in Africa that they should just donate money to an organization or go on short-term trips.

I’ve posted about this before, about how deeply I was affected by Bill Hybels’ message about what wrecks us.  For about the last 2 years, we have both been looking more deeply at what wrecks us and what we can do about it.  For a time, we both tried to do this within the context of ministry at our church.  We even made some changes in parts of our lives outside of church.  But it’s grown beyond that, and we’re ready for more.  We’re ready to take the things we’re passionate about and make a difference for others in this world.  That’s really what social justice ministry is all about, after all.

If you read this blog regularly, I’m sure that most of you can figure out what I’m most passionate about (and therefore why I can’t do that kind of ministry at our church).  As this is my blog, and I believe that my husband is capable of speaking for himself, I won’t go into detail on his behalf.  If any of you have any questions, including more information about why we left, what our plans are, or what we intend to do, please feel free to contact us.  You can leave a comment here, use the contact form on this blog, message us on Facebook, or email one of us directly.  Please respect our privacy by using email or messages to get in touch, rather than calling us.

Some of you may be wondering where we will be attending church now.  That’s a fair question, but not one we are prepared to answer at this time.  We need to protect our family, especially our children.  Being judged for the church we have chosen or for any other part of this process is unfair to them.  We know you wouldn’t mean to judge us, but unfortunately, any opinions or advice or discussion about what we have or have not decided comes across as judgmental.  You are absolutely entitled to have an opinion.  We’re just politely requesting that you keep it to yourself.

We don’t want any of you to believe that you caused any of this.  Please believe me when I say that you didn’t.  We love you all enough that if one of you had hurt us, we would have told you directly rather than leaving the church.  This is entirely on us, based on what we hear God saying to us.

You may pass this along to anyone you feel may want to see it, as not all of our friends read this blog or have Facebook/Twitter accounts.  There is nothing secret here, and we won’t consider it gossip for you to discuss this with each other, since you have our full permission to share.

We hope that we can still remain in touch with all of you.  Your love and care have meant the world to us over the last 7 years.  Thank you for everything and may we continue this journey of faith together, even though we do it in different ways.  Blessings, and much love to you all.

The Help that Hurts

After yesterday’s post (which came from a place of great frustration and anguish), I started thinking about what happens when the place we trust for healing is the place doing the hurting.

This can happen in a number of ways, but I think this is what is really at the heart of the exodus from traditional churches.  I don’t mean just people who have been directly hurt by church members or leadership.  Obviously, that is a factor as well.  But nearly every reason I’ve seen listed for why people leave the church has to do with something hurtful.  And while the methods of emotional (and sometimes physical) injury are different, they all have something in common.

Each and every one of the most frequently cited reasons for leaving has something to do with being told that we are not living up to the expectations of the church.

Everything, from the church being too political to rejecting science to the insistence on hell as a literal place of eternal conscious torment to the restrictions on women to the treatment of LGBT people falls into this category.  It doesn’t require having church leadership say, “Your beliefs are stupid and wrong and you are an idiot.”  All that’s needed is for the teaching from the pulpit on Sunday morning to reflect the idea that some people are better than others.  And if it’s done using the Bible to back it up, then it can be claimed as truth.

Think about how each of these statements could make a person feel rejected at their core:

  • Christians are better than other religious people, therefore those people are damned.
  • Republicans are better than Democrats because Democrats don’t value the right things and don’t support “God’s ideals.”
  • Men are better than women because God made them first and created women as “helpers.”
  • Straight people are better than gays because gay people don’t use their genitals in the correct, Biblical way.
  • Creationists are better than “secular” scientists because everyone knows that science lies and the Bible is the only book we need to explain everything.

Each and every statement has to do with a way in which a set of values, a set of beliefs, or even the very core of a person is held in higher esteem than someone else.  Not only does this leave some people feeling directly rejected, it leaves those who love them feeling awkward and uncomfortable.  Those who are highly empathetic, even if they’ve never felt personally rejected for who they are, leave because they can’t bear seeing it done to those they care about.

A gathering of Christians, people who profess to follow Jesus, should be a place of healing and hope.  It should be a place where all the things outside that press on us, weigh us down, are a little lighter for being carried by our fellow Christians.  It should be a place where loving one another isn’t about dictating our politics or our education, but about coming together to lift one another up.  Sunday morning should be a way to prepare ourselves for the things we face “out there” each week.

It absolutely, definitely, unquestionably should not be a place of further hurt and shame.

So if the church is wondering just how we can stop the bleed, stop our young people and our old people and our middle-aged people and our men and our women and our children from leaving, we can start there.  We can start by refusing to make preaching about shaming or belittling anyone for any reason.  We start by tanking people up with love and encouragement, and giving us the tools we need to go out and make a difference beyond the church.  And we can stop using our words and our interpretations of the Bible to wound those inside our walls.

“We heard about your church and decided to check it out…”

The other day, I played a game with myself called “what if.”

What if a married couple came to your church because they’d heard about it via postcard in the mail or through a web search? Imagine they come in, two small children in tow. They worship among the other people in attendance. They bring their kids to the children’s ministry or Sunday school or junior church. Suppose they like what they hear: the Sunday sermon is meaningful, the praise music is uplifting, and the people seem genuinely friendly. Their kids love their class and begin to make new friends. This family decides to settle in, remaining in attendance for six months. They decide the time has come to join as members.

Pretty common experience in many churches, especially those on a steady trend of growth. I know that at most churches, people would be thrilled with a new family becoming a permanent part of the congregation. It would mean more people attending, the possibility that this family might reach out to their friends, family, and neighbors. It would mean the chance to see their kids grow up and hopefully integrate into the life of the church. It would mean more people to pitch in and help out in the ministries of the church. It would mean a chance to make new friends. Everyone wins, right?

Just not if the couple happens to be two women or two men.

I live in a place where marriage equality is the law. So a married same-sex couple might actually be legally joined. For that reason, we need to start asking ourselves what we might do as a church in a situation like the one I described above. It’s possible that a couple might attend a church unaware of that church’s position on homosexuality, even if the church appears conservative in other ways. I attended a church for ten years, and never once heard the pastor give a sermon on the subject.

In a church that holds to a certain reading of Scripture, there are usually prohibitions (written or not) against membership when a person is actively engaged in something the church specifically teaches as sin. That means that an unpartnered gay person would likely be allowed membership, provided he or she remained celibate. A gay couple would probably be allowed to continue to attend church, but would not be offered membership. In some churches, membership might be extended to one or both if they were to end their relationship and commit to celibacy. So that brings up the question of what to do if the couple I described seeks membership.

There are a number of possibilities, all of them fairly grim and not particularly loving:

  • Refuse to allow the couple membership, but let them know they are welcome to continue attending. That might be an option, but it would severely restrict the ways in which that family could serve in the church. Many churches have policies prohibiting people from participating in certain ministries unless they are members. Besides, would you want to keep going to a church that wouldn’t let you join officially? You might as well just…
  • Ask them to leave. Pretty rude, considering they’ve been with you several months. Still, at least it’s honest. But unless you are giving them the name and address of a local affirming community, you have no assurance that these people will ever set foot in a church again. And if you choose not to do so (because you’re kind of self-righteous?), are you saying God has given up on them? If you’re in the business of helping people find Jesus, that misses the mark. Besides, we’re talking about people who have a six-month history at the church. Kicking them out would really hurt. So maybe you…
  • Tell them they can be members if they break up. I suppose there are people who might have considered that to be some bizarre sort of solution before same-sex couples could legally marry. Nowadays, that couple can’t just split up. They would literally have to divorce, which introduces issues such as alimony, child support, and custody. And seriously, what kind of heartless jerk does that to a family with children anyway? Plus there’s the problem that we don’t do that with other couples who are not married under “Biblical” circumstances. I’ve never heard of anyone being asked to divorce a spouse because they had had an affair and then married each other. Well, as a last resort I suppose you could…
  • Shun the family or refuse to serve them in any way unless they “renounce” their sin. What part of “love” wasn’t clear? I’ve never seen ignoring anyone work as a means to salvation. This ends up in the same place as bullet point number two.

So what are we going to do in that situation?

See, the problem here is that whole “live the sinner, hate the sin” thing. It allows us to separate people from their behavior, but it denies the fact that there is more to people than their behavior. It allows us to imagine being gay as something people do as opposed to someone they are. It lets us think “those gay people” are doing yucky things with each other that we don’t like, and keeps us from seeing two people who have built a relationship, a marriage, a family, and a life together. It prevents us from understanding that there are children who could be hurt, not by their parents’ “sinful lifestyle” but by our condemnation.

It could happen. A church web site proclaiming the congregation to be “Bible-believing” or “conservative” or “traditional” might say something about whether or not a married same-sex couple would be welcome (probably not). On the other hand, many mainline churches could be described with those words, yet are in fact affirming. A warm welcome on their first visit might indicate the future of the relationship with that church. But a lot of people would be reluctant to openly reject anyone right away, even if they felt uncomfortable. Would it work if someone were to simply pull the family aside, explain things to them, and turn them loose? I don’t know. I suppose it might ease the conscience of the people at that church, knowing they were honest right away.

Real life, real people, are complicated. We can’t just wait for a situation to occur before we know what we’re going to do about it. That leads to panic and ends up with too many people being hurt. I think it’s time to face the facts that even though an awful lot of churches might like it to, marriage equality is not going away. Any church that isn’t affirming needs to decide what will happen when the inevitable occurs and a family walks through the doors looking for a church to call home.