"Oh yes, you did laugh."

I had a disorienting experience the other day that got me thinking. I still don't quite know what I want to say about it, but I'm just going to describe what happened and get some feedback.

I was at a church on Sunday that is not "my" church but which I visit occasionally. During the sermon, the pastor used the famous quote by Saint Francis: "Preach the Gospel; when necessary, use words." I was nodding in agreement when I heard several people in the congregation laugh out loud. I was completely thrown off guard. I had never thought that this quote was funny. I wondered if I'd missed something.

Later that afternoon, I called my dad, a longtime pastor and a Saint Francis fanboy. I told him about this new reaction to the quote, and he told me he'd had similar experiences in certain churches or settings where he was a visiting preacher or speaker. In particular settings, some things he says that would normally (by people who know him and share his perspective) would be met with pondering silence instead elicit laughter.

I suspect I'll eventually have more to say about what I think this means, but for now I want to hear your thoughts. What is your reaction to the saying, "Preach the Gospel; if necessary, use words?" Or have you had an experience where you found something funny that wasn't intended that way, or vice versa? What do you think different reactions to a statement like that mean, if anything?

O Young and Fearless Prophet (A Hymn by S. Ralph Harlow)

O young and fearless Prophet
of ancient Galilee,
thy life is still a summons
to serve humanity;
to make our thoughts and actions
less prone to please the crowd,
to stand with humble courage
for truth with hearts uncowed.

We marvel at the purpose
that held thee to thy course
while ever on the hilltop
before thee loomed the cross;
thy steadfast face set forward
where love and duty shone,
while we betray so quickly
and leave thee there alone.

O help us stand unswerving
against war's bloody way,
where hate and lust and falsehood
hold back Christ's holy sway;
forbid false love of country
that blinds us to his call,
who lifts above the nations
the unity of all.

Stir up in us a protest
against our greed for wealth,
while others starve and hunger
and plead for work and health;
where homes with little children
cry out for lack of bread,
who live their years sore burdened
beneath a gloomy dread.

O young and fearless Prophet,
we need thy presence here,
amid our pride and glory
to see thy face appear;
once more to hear thy challenge
above our noisy day,
again to lead us forward
along God's holy way.

UMH No. 444

We Understand Tectonic Plates (a hymn by Andrew Pratt)

This and other hymns and worship resources for times of crisis can be found at http://www.gbod.org/Worship/default.asp?loc_id=739,1112&act=nav_loc.

We understand tectonic plates
That move beneath our feet
We understand that powerful waves
Make rivers in the street
But when we try to centre God
Our sense is incomplete

To say creation points to God
Will never make real sense
Except within a frame of faith
Outside it brings offense
Our claim is more than paradox
Within this present tense

And so we struggle with the fact
That contradict belief
Until we find a greater truth
We never find relief
Reason and revelation clash
And die in disbelief

We honor God for all that is
And all that is to be
We may not understand God's ways
Until eternity
But love is stronger than belief
And faith can help us see

(Set to the tune MORNING SONG)

Why I wouldn’t want to attend an "open and affirming" church

A few opening words. First, the title of this blog was intentionally worded to elicit an emotional reaction, and I'm betting it did its job for most of you. Before you read further, take a moment to register what your initial thoughts and feelings were upon reading the title. Tuck that away in the back of your mind, and keep reading.

Second, this blog is one I think I meant to write years ago. I did write something that was a pitiful attempt at this, but it was clumsily conceived and written, and it hurt some people. For that I am sorry. This entry is an attempt at an apology and a rewrite. Hopefully this time, what I meant to say will come through more clearly.

With the disclaimers out of the way, I should warn you that if you do not share the basic assumptions I am working with, reading this blog is pointless. So let's get that straight from the get-go, OK? Here are the givens on which my thoughts depend:

• Homosexuals are members of the body of Christ
• Heterosexuals who support LGBT rights are members of the body of Christ
• Heterosexuals who do not support LGBT rights are members of the body of Christ

If you disagree with any of those statements, or think that any one of them is more important than the others, you should proceed with caution, or at least keeping in mind that we might not see eye-to-eye on our basic assumptions. Also, I've had to simplify my categories for the sake of brevity—I am fully aware that there are heterosexuals who do not think homosexuality is a sin but who do not support gay marriage, and that there are plenty of other in-betweens. Forgive me the lack of nuance, and if you don't seem to fit into one of the three groups above, I'd be more than happy to talk with you more individually if you so desire. My thoughts on this subject are continually developing, and I have much to learn.

I also want to say upfront: homosexuality is not an "issue." It has to do with people. And we aren't just talking about behaviors—we're talking about identities. Heterosexuals on both sides of the "issue" (there I go already) sometimes forget that.

So let’s get down to business, shall we? Back to the title of my blog. I would not want to attend an "open and affirming" church. To begin to articulate my thoughts on this, I'll share a bit about one church with which I am fairly familiar. It's a large, mainline Protestant church, historically white and upper-middle-class but recently becoming wonderfully diverse in many ways. There are a number of members who are gay, but the church has not declared itself "open and affirming."

Recently, a few people (who I believe were relatively new to the congregation) began to lobby the pastor to make this move. The pastor dissuaded them. Why? Because if that church were to be branded "open and affirming" or "gay friendly," the one or two members staunchly opposed to homosexuality would come out in full force, and deeply hurtful things would be said. Right now, the church is doing fine at welcoming gays, whether every single member knows it or not. To declare the congregation "open and affirming" would divide the church more than it would unite it.

A similar thing happened with my campus ministry group a few years before I got to college. The LGBT center was asking various organizations to make themselves known as "safe places" by putting stickers from the center on their office doors. Despite the fact that my campus minister and many of the group's members are vocal allies, they decided against it because they did not want to make people who disagreed feel unwelcome. Think about it—if you proclaim yourself "open and affirming," how much meaningful conversation will you have in-house on the topic that isn't one-sided?

See, it's not that I’m opposed to a church being open and affirming in deed. It's just that I wonder what is lost when a church takes the road of declaring itself as such. There are people in my life whom I would miss very much from my congregation if that happened. Some voices would be emboldened, but others would be lost completely.

I once went to a worship service that was so LGBT-friendly that I felt out of place—the songs were all about love in many forms, the vestments were rainbow-colored, even the communion bread had been made with an array of food dyes. I'll admit it—I was uncomfortable. I wasn't even sure I should be there.

The thing is, even though I was personally uneasy in that worship service, it was a truly beautiful event. All around me were people who had been hurt or disenfranchised by society and even by the church, and suddenly they were empowered, they were loved, they knew that at least in that time and that place, they were members of the body of Christ. My own discomfort paled in comparison to the joy and hope I saw in that room. And I couldn't help but think: the way I feel now—some of these people feel that way all the time.

Here's the part where I need help. What the heck are we supposed to do about this? The problem that I recognize in my own argument about avoiding the "open and affirming" stamp is that it can easily be misconstrued to mean, "don't ask, don't tell." But how can we be members of the same body if we don't understand each other? How can we bear one another's burdens if we don’t know what those burdens are?

There's another point I want to make that's going to be tricky to articulate, but I think it's important, so allow me to try. I've heard several gay friends and acquaintances of mine tell me that part of their struggle is that they don't want their lives to be defined by one issue (because even if we acknowledge what I said earlier—that it's not an "issue," it's about people—the world makes it an issue for us). Neither should an issue define our faith. Part of why I was so uncomfortable in the worship service I described earlier is that I feel very strongly that worship is not about us; it's about God. Worship shouldn't be about celebrating gayness—neither should it be about celebrating American-ness (which is why I don't like singing patriotic hymns in church), wealth (which is why the "prosperity gospel" is no gospel at all), racial identity (oh good grief that's a whole other can of worms, not now, please), or any other human quality.

By the way...let me briefly unpack my 3 givens from the beginning of the post. Too often we forget that saying someone is a member of the body of Christ does not mean that you agree with everything they say or do. At the 2008 General Conference of the United Methodist Church, a group tried and failed to change the wording of the paragraph in the social principles about homosexuality. Contrary to what you might have gathered from the intense anger of the opposition, the change would not have condoned homosexuality. What it would have said was that we must acknowledge that many intelligent, faithful people have examined the Bible, church tradition and the issue itself, and they have come down on both sides. The question here in my blog is not the whether homosexuality is right or wrong. I rarely debate that subject anymore, because honestly, I have yet to be thoroughly convinced by anybody one way or the other. I've heard people use the exact same Bible passages to argue opposite points, and at least for me the question has worn out its welcome. I don't want to know whether the church can come up with the perfect answer to every question. I want to know what the church is going to do in the face of uncertainty and disagreement.

A friend of mine (who is gay) once told me that although it's fine for people to disagree theologically with homosexuality, it is never OK to hate. The crucial point here, which far too many people miss, is that disagreement and hatred are not correlative to each other. We can be a part of the body of Christ without being on exactly the same page on everything, if only we can remember that our focus is on God and that the only way we can be healed is by working together towards understanding, not by issuing ultimatums.

So. Can you be gay and be a Christian? Yes. Can you support gays in their sexual identity and lifestyle choices and be a Christian? Yes. Can you hold the belief that homosexuality is a sin and be a Christian? Yes.

In closing, let me ask you to recall that first emotional reaction to the title of my blog. Did you assume I was anti-gay? Did that offend or affirm you? Did your assumptions prior to reading this blog color my status in your mind as a member of the body of Christ—or not? We all need help being Christians. None of us have it right. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." All means all.

Why Has This Happened to Me?

These two videos together form my sermon from worship yesterday at Asbury Temple UMC. It's in two parts, so don't forget the second video.

My husband's/wife's deepest needs

I have never cared about gender issues. When I was younger, I would hear people talk about women being disadvantaged in the academy and the workplace, and I would wonder why they couldn't just get over it--be really good at what you do and your gender won't matter. I still believe that to some extent, and I try really hard only to call foul when it's a real issue, but I'm finding that more and more I'm becoming a (*insert heavy sigh here*) feminist. I really hate that word, because it has bad connotations for me, but through life experience (some of it, unfortunately, bad) and just growing up, I'm starting to see more and more the ways in which the world and (sometimes especially) the church screws up gender roles and expectations. It's going to be fun for me when I really come into my prime after being underestimated and type-cast since high school.

Anyway, here's where some of this is coming from: I recently helped with music at a church marriage retreat. To preface, I'm not going to say which church because I don't want to seem like I'm dissing them, which is not at all my purpose. Also, I want to stress that I think a marriage retreat is a GREAT idea. The church needs to do a better job in general of talking about relationships, marriage, love, sex, all of that stuff. Too often I feel like the emphasis is placed on saving yourself for marriage, but then nobody tells you what you're supposed to do once you get there. I'm all for lots and lots of premarital counseling (Protestants, we suck at this. Let's please learn from the Catholics) and lots and lots of postmarital (er, during-marital?) counseling and whatnot. The divorce rate in this country is appalling, and the church is failing couples constantly by not giving them the resources to make and follow through on commitments.

OK, so this marriage retreat. I was behind the scenes for part of it, so I didn't get to hear it all, but some of it sounded really great. I heard lots of talk of communication and honesty, of moving out of an economy of shame into a life of grace, of forgiveness and joy and lots of great stuff. I'm sure a lot of couples were blessed--I know I was, one of a handful of single folks in the room.

I'm writing all this because I want to stress that my hang-up was over something minor. On each seat was a slip of paper with writing on both sides. Side one:

My Wife's Deepest Needs:
1. My wife needs a Godly man and my unconditional love.
2. My wife needs my affection, security, comfort, approval, tenderness, touch, cards and gifts.
3. My wife needs conversation with me.
4. My wife needs my honesty and openness.
5. My wife needs financial security.
6. My wife needs my commitment to the family--be faithful to my wife, share parenting responsibilities, take initiative in home repairs and be the spiritual leader in my home.

Side two:

My Husband's Deepest Needs:
1. My husband needs a Godly wife and my unconditional love.
2. My husband needs sexual fulfillment.
3. My husband needs recreational companionship.
4. My husband needs an attractive wife.
5. My husband needs domestic support.
6. My husband needs my admiration.

OK. Word to Godliness, unconditional love, etc. However, I have a few questions/comments:

-- #2 on side one sure makes women sound needy.
-- The claim that women need financial security is just funny to a woman whose boyfriend refers to her as his "sugar momma."
-- If anyone does house repairs in my family, it's my...sister.
-- Do wives not need sexual fulfillment?
-- Do wives not need attractive husbands? Is #4 on side two suggesting that it's the duty of a woman to stay beautiful for her husband? What about his beer belly?
-- I just hate the word "domestic," even if I've found in the past few years that I do enjoy cooking and cleaning. *sigh*

So...yeah. Just some thoughts. I could get all indignant over some of this stuff, but it's not worth it. Mostly I just found the card funny (yes, I kept it).

Thoughts?

Truth-telling modifies behavior

The question of truth-telling has been an interesting one throughout my life. As a child, I was utterly guileless. The other day, commenting on how my younger brother was grounded for something or another that involved lying--and inept lying, at that--my dad noted that Noah is only slightly better at lying than I am, and we both knew that was a pretty bad insult (if having one's talent at lying slighted can be called an insult). I learned very quickly when I was young that I was a terrible liar, and I had such a deep fear of angering or disappointing anyone that I did all I could to avoid any situation that would require (or maybe I should say tempt) me to lie later.

My freshman year of college, I wound up in a romantic relationship that thankfully did not pan out as horribly as it could have, but still reflected lots and lots of bad judgment. The other person involved had the gall to lecture me on honesty when our whole relationship was largely secret and based on deception. I learned from that mistake, though unfortunately it took me one or two more similar situations to really figure out that any relationship that involves deception is not OK. Period.

A friend of mine was in a scarily similar situation a few years ago and protested my concerns by asking why it was anyone's business what people did with their personal lives. Unluckily (or luckily?) for her, she's a Christian, and folks, being a Christian means that you don't get the kind of personal life we talk about in America--the kind where you keep your problems to yourself and think that mistakes won't affect anyone but you. We are called to bear one another's burdens, and guess what that means? We have to know about each other's burdens. And sins. And mistakes. And joys!

My dad and I had an interesting conversation the other day (stemming from shaking our heads in amusement at my little brother). He told me about something he heard from a Jewish man who grew up in Europe, I think in the early 20th century. What he said was that being a Jew in Europe meant that you couldn't make any mistakes. If you stole someone, suddenly all Jews were thieves. If you had family problems, suddenly all Jewish marriages were dysfunctional. And on and on. What he said was that, far from encouraging good behavior and high moral standards, this pressure cultivated deception. You had to maintain your outward appearance and reputation, but if you could violate that image in secret, you would.

My response summed up some things I've been thinking about a lot lately. To me, I think the problem is a matter of priority. If our main concern is our image, what others think of us, then the truth can become secondary and inevitably it will be sacrificed if it comes into conflict with the maintenance of that image. Whether it is your economic status, marital bliss, academic prowess or what have you, if other people's perception of that is more important than their integrity, when push comes to shove the truth will lose every time.

On the other hand, if truth is the most important thing, it's a whole different ball game. If you commit to being honest all the time, there are tons of things you might say or do otherwise that you won't do if you know you'd have to tell someone about it. Truth-telling modifies behavior. Sometimes, you may even know that you are behaving in a way that is inconsistent with your beliefs, but trying to change that on your own is not enough. But, if you just tell someone what's actually going on, suddenly whatever you're doing is no longer your personal life, no longer just your business. Suddenly, whether you change a behavior or not affects someone else, and someone else cares.

I wish that I had understood this earlier in life, and also that I had had people in my world at certain points with whom I could be completely honest all the time. I'm still really bad at lying, but I'm ashamed to say that there have been times when I've found myself telling selective truths to different people. For a while at one point, I was basically living two separate lives, one all happy and Christian-y and the other pretty much a mess, but neither really knew much about the other. Oh, and by the way, this person to whom I would have liked to have been able to honest would have had to have been a Christian, or at least someone whose values aligned with mine (because I have plenty of non-Christian friends whose morals rock way harder than those of a lot of Christians out there). There were some people who knew when I wasn't always acting the way I should, but they didn't care because they were doing it too. That's just self-justification.

My thesis is in the subject line. If your first commitment is to truth-telling, everything else has to fall in line with that. If anything else is more important--your looks, your relationship, your popularity, your job--you will find yourself sacrificing truth to that, and though I have neither the time nor the emotional energy to go into what happens when that goes down, we've all been there. Let's hold each other to a higher standard of integrity. Let's be people who tell the truth and are willing to hear the truth from others--without being offended, without judging or condemning. Only in this way can we seek the Truth of the One who made us all.