Processing...

What a month it's been. I don't want to hit replay in my mind because it wasn't an easy month in so many ways. Of course my mom's passing tops the list as the single most difficult yet blessed event. Blessed because I was privileged to be there, to be with her, to be with my dad and sisters at the very end. Blessed because the hospice nurse helped usher mom into heaven, an unforgettable experience which was horrible and wonderful, amazing and terrifying, joyful and incredibly sad. Blessed because I connected with a cousin I hadn't spent time with in years, and another cousin (in-law) who I got to know so much better, finding we had much in common. Blessed because when my aunt and uncle stood by mom's bedside hours before she left us...she perked up and puckered up to receive a kiss. Proof that she was still so very much with us, yet so very close to leaving us. How could you not cry? How can I keep back tears in the retelling? It was very much like a glimpse of heaven.

I've always felt extra sorry for people who lose loved ones close to the Christmas holiday, but for me it turned out to be a blessed distraction. After Mom passed, I had to do the next thing. I had to get on a plane and go home and make Christmas happen. My children and grandchildren would be arriving in shifts. There were presents to buy and wrap, meals to plan, rooms to prepare -- hurry, hurry, rush, rush, Christmas is a comin'! And there are great expectations to be met. Expectations of my own making.

 

Then there were Christmas services in which to participate, parties to attend, presents to open, sweet time together and reluctant goodbyes, and then a new year to usher in. Good things. Glimpses of heaven.

 

Soon after the new year began, I was off to an annual conference for gay Christians. My third. Attendees at the GCN conference are incredible people, really incredible. There is more talent, kindness, friendliness, grace, compassion, love and Christ-like behavior -- in one very diverse group of people -- than I've ever encountered anywhere. Glimpses of heaven abound.

 

Phenomenal speakers, Rachel Held Evans, Rob and Linda Robertson, and Dr. Christine Wiley, blessed with words from heaven. And the music? Heavenly as well, especially the choir numbers at Sunday morning worship. I'm grateful for all who participated, and especially grateful to Ben Shopland who chose the songs, directed the choir, and sang in both a quartet and a duet along with his dad.

 

Sights and sounds...more than just a glimpse of heaven.

 

It's not quite possible for me to imagine what it's like to be gay and Christian, but I'm glad for all of these people who are. Glad I've rubbed elbows with them, dined with them, worshiped and communed with them. Here, you see, are a bunch of Christians living out their faith in spite of and in the face of persecution...offering Christ's love, mercy, and grace in return. They love and accept those who are different from them. They love and accept me and others like me into their fellowship -- unconditionally. It can't be missed, they are disciples of God. And you'll know they are His disciples by their love.

 

 

Rainbows and Other Signs of Hope

Testimonies like the one in italics below touch my heart. Touch isn't really the right word, pain would be more accurate. I know young people like the one who penned the words below -- beautiful, delightful, sweet, kind, strong, smart, wise-beyond-their-years young people. Dear human beings who are Christians and lovers of God. I'm talking about Christians who have had to come to grips with who God made them to be. The text below was written in reference to Mary Lambert's song, "She Keeps Me Warm".

"This was the song  that was so important, my God. I wanted to write a chorus that was poignant and honest; genuine. I really tried to not be gay at points in my life, but I was (and am) at a point where I refuse to apologize about my identity. I am not sorry about my gayness. I am not sorry I’m a Christian, either, though that’s far less persecuted than my gayness, which is ironically, instigated by the Christian community. “Not crying on Sundays” was a huge lyric for me to write. I cried and cried in church for a year, believing that I was going to Hell, trying to reconcile “the demons”. At some point, it became absurd."

I realize there are some brands of Christianity that would keep this dear person, these dear people in that absurd place, crying every Sunday -- and most of the week as well. Some of you reading this would defend your stance saying it's better to be miserable and cry all through this life than to burn in hell for eternity. You'll claim it's only because you love gay people that you persecute them, hoping to push them to repentance. You forget, it's God's kindness that leads to repentance. It's by grace we are saved, not because of anything good that we've done, but by His grace.

I've come to know quite a few Christian people who are gay. I've met some of the young people interviewed on a DVD entitled "Through My Eyes". They tell their stories, many of them heart-wrenching stories of lonely journeys, coming to realize they weren't like all the other girls or boys. Denying as long as possible their sexual orientation. Knowing that accepting it and coming out would rock the world of everyone who loved them, they kept their secret. They tried changing, tried dating opposite sex, tried and prayed to get straight. All to no avail. So they mustered their courage and went to a best friend, a sibling, a parent, and told their secret. The results varied widely and wildly. Some best friends turned their backs, some siblings turned them in -- telling on them as if they were still children, some parents fell apart, cried, screamed, denounced, sent away. Others stood by their children offering them not support and acceptance, but help. "We can help you change. There's an organization that guarantees success. Together, with them, we'll pray away the gay for you."

But that organization, Exodus, International, is closing up shop. This is a convoluted sign of hope for the LGBT community, but a sign just the same. Exodus leadership realized the error of its ways, confessed they did more damage than good, even called their ministry a "hurtful echo chamber of condemnation." The false hope they offered to gays led innocent people to acts of desperation when they weren't healed. One of three things typically happened after a round of reorientation therapy. 1. Under pressure and with lots of discipline some people felt and claimed a change took place. 2. Lacking what it took to claim a healing touch from God, disillusioned gays walked away from faith. 3. Others who couldn't find God's healing, deduced they weren't good enough -- not worthy of a healing, not worthy of God's love. They took their own lives.

Beautiful people, delightful, sweet, kind, smart, Christian people, lovers of God. But they took their own lives. I would have too. 

Only those in category #1 were success stories -- each a poster child for sexual reorientation therapy. Many of them married opposite sex people and began families. Sadly, most of those found their "change" temporary. The result when one or both partners could no longer keep up the charade, a divided, divorced, broken family.

Meanwhile, conservative churches, the ex-gay ministries, and hopeful loved ones continued to rally for change. They were happy for anyone who gave it the old college try! Never mind the frustration, the hurt and sadness. Never mind the devastated spouse, child or children left in the wake. And I can't help but wonder, who was there to pick up the pieces? (In their defense, Exodus dropped the slogan "Change is Possible" a few years ago, and in January 2012 the president of Exodus International, Alan Chambers, admitted that 99.9% of conversion therapy participants don't experience any change to their sexuality. A year and a half after that statement, June 2013, the ministry announced its closing.)

And now, July 2013 the Pope, the Roman Catholic Pope, Pope Francis, has taken a step, made a conciliatory speech that could change the tone of how the Catholic church views and responds to gay people. It's a glimmer of hope, just a glimmer, but still, a sign -- of hope.

We're fearfully and wonderfully made by a Creator, our Father God, who so loved the world, He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish (burn in hell), but have eternal life (go to heaven). God did not send Jesus to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.…

 For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

Psalm 139:13-14