The Care and Keeping of Morals

My last post — So You’re Gay — So What? — generated a decent amount of discussion off-blog. I was concerned that the subject matter would be too broad for a single post, and I would like to add a followup now for the sake of clarity. I think a portion of the confusion surrounding this topic comes from trying to discuss a moral issue (homosexuality) and a legal issue (same-sex marriage) as though they were the same thing. They aren’t. I want my personal stance to be clear on several fronts, not because I wish to use this site as a political platform, but because I wish to refrain from hiding behind vague generalizations.

Because this is a legal issue at the moment, let’s start there. From a legal perspective, I support same-sex marriage because I do not think that morality is the domain of the State. I’ll leave it for others to decide what constitutes marriage within the Church. Right now, this isn’t about the Church. This is about government which, in an ideal world, would be an impartial judge among all people.

From a personal or heart perspective, I support gay marriage because I cannot find it in my spirit to condemn anyone else’s romantic attachment as less valid than my own. It doesn’t seem fair.

The moral perspective is, of course, the tricky one. And on that front, the best I can do is this: From a moral perspective, I don’t know. Taking the law of love (which is a different kind of love) out of the equation, I do not find biblical support for homosexuality. But let God be the judge of that. It is not my place, my heart does not understand it, and I refuse in good faith, with biblical backing, to judge what I do not understand: “Judge not, that you be not judged” (Matthew 7:1 NKJV).

The point that I wished to make before and will reiterate now is this: The morality of homosexuality is irrelevant — both to my legal stance on the issue and to my personal response to people who are homosexual. As a Christian, I answer to the same commandment in either case.

It occurs to me even as I’m writing this that perhaps the greatest point of contention on this topic has less to do with morality than with differing views towards the role of government in our society. Regardless of my personal or religious beliefs, I think that all people should be treated equally under the law, and even if I were to be wholeheartedly convinced that homosexuality is wrong, I would stand by the fact that ultimately the law exists to protect a nation’s citizens from physical harm, not moral failing. Morality is a personal and spiritual choice. (I realize it’s more complicated than that, but for the sake of brevity, I’ll leave it.) When we allow the government to dictate morality, we fuse Church and State, disregarding the principles on which this country was founded.

In the end, my concern is that we — as a Church, as a nation, as people — have blown the gay rights discussion all out of proportion. Too many of us have made this personal when it was never personal. Legally, there is no good reason to deny equal rights to people of all sexual persuasions. Morally, we are responsible for no one’s actions but our own, and those of us who follow Jesus bear the responsibility of acting in love towards all people, whether we agree with their actions or not. Can I, acting in love, justify the denial of equal rights to anyone before the law?

I understand that sexuality sparks a complex debate, and I do not mean to oversimplify it. But let us remember that we were never asked to judge the morality of others. When people play at being God, no one wins. Let God be God. Let the government govern. And as for the rest of us, let us be courteous and compassionate and kind – and pray that heaven has mercy on the lot of us.

So You’re Gay — So What?

You don’t need me to tell you that gay rights and same-sex marriage are a controversial point in the media and general conversation these days. For some time now, I have wished to address the topic on this blog, but the pervasiveness of “anti-gay” sentiment in the Church points to an issue so much deeper that I do not know how to address it without returning to the most rudimentary of doctrines. Today I would like to broach the subject, but I’m not going to talk about whether homosexuality is right or wrong or learned or innate because all that is totally irrelevant to this discussion. Let’s talk about what’s important.

Several weeks ago, I spoke to a friend whose Bible study group had apparently spent the last several meetings following rabbit trails regarding the supposed horrors of gay marriage. Another friend told me she no longer counts herself a Christian because her Christian friends say things like this: “Yeah, I have a gay friend. He’s pretty cool. It bums me out that he’s totally going to hell.” Within the last few weeks, a number of Evangelicals have condemned Christian minister Rob Bell for speaking out in support of gay marriage.

Hearing these sorts of stories, I am torn between conflicting desires: to snatch a foghorn and apologize on behalf of Christians everywhere or to crawl under a rock in embarrassment.

I realize that there is Scripture in both the Old and New Testaments criticizing homosexual behavior. I can also tell you, as someone who has read and wondered, that the Bible contains a great number of strange and forgotten laws. While I’m at it, I could bring up 1 Corinthians 6:12 — “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful” (NKJV) — which presents a most intriguing preface to one of Paul’s classic lectures against sexual immorality. But I’m not writing here to discuss the morality of sex.

Instead I would like to pose a question: Is this any of your business?

Now, if it’s your life we’re talking about, of course it’s your business. If you are a man who wants to marry your boyfriend, or a biological woman who identifies as a man, or a girl who gets crushes on girls as well as guys — By all means, your sexuality is valid. If you believe in God and fear there is some conflict between your faith and sexuality, study it. Pray about it. Forget what everyone else is telling you and trust that the God who loves you will reveal his intentions for you as an individual. He did not create you only to cast you out. And know that whether you do right or wrong, his love overrides all condemnation.

To the rest of you, I ask again: Is it any of your business what another person chooses to do with his or her body?

A group of pharisees — the “church people” of Jesus’ time — faced a similar question when they dragged an adulterous woman before Jesus, quoting the law that demanded she be stoned in hopes they could goad Jesus into a response. Jesus ignored them. At last he answered, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.” Then he — who was without sin, by the way — sat back down. One by one, the others walked away, until only the woman and Jesus remained. “Has no one condemned you?” Jesus asked. “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.” (You can read the story in its entirety in John 8.)

The message of condemnation is completely at odds with the message of Jesus, who commands righteousness only after forgiveness has been established. Notice that unlike the Pharisees, Jesus does not name the woman’s sin. In fact, the closest he comes to calling her a sinner at all is in those words “no more,” which imply she has sinned before. But the sin is not the point. The point is redemption. The point is love.

So when asked, “Is homosexuality (or abortion, or premarital sex, etc.) wrong? Is it worthy of punishment?” I have no response but this: “Am I without sin?” It is not my place to make those judgments in any life but my own. For others, my only responsibility is to live according to Jesus’ commandment: “that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another” (John 13:34).

I will be returning to this topic of love. For now, I hope that any others who count themselves followers of Jesus will stop to consider the picture of God we have chosen to spread to our gay neighbors whom our Father loves.

A Word of Encouragement (And a Manifesto)

Perhaps this is out of keeping with my usual style here, but having spent most of a sick day on the couch browsing social networks, I am struck by the amount of hatred and sadness and negativity I witness there, and I feel compelled to add a word or two to the mix.

Let me make it clear that I am no stranger to hatred or sadness or negativity. I am but recently emerging from a vast dark place of the soul, spanning several years, and I speak not from judgment but from understanding. I know how it is. And I know that for someone in that dark place, the things I say here will probably mean very little. But I will say them all the same.

It is natural to feel overwhelmed by the suffering in the world or near driven to madness by the aggressive misunderstandings among peoples. It breaks my heart to hear the victims of rape called “sluts,” and it also hits a nerve to hear the calls for violence to the perpetrators in response. (I say this knowing that I too have wished vengeance on those who have wounded me.) I cannot bear that there are real people who in the name of God believe they can justify hatred of others based on sexual choices, or that whole churches think it their right to exile a man who interprets the biblical message of love differently than they. I hate that even our most common form of humor involves putting others down, flaunting some imagined superiority — and I speak as one guilty.

Goodness knows this world gives us plenty of reason for sadness and hatred and negativity. But I do not think that this is the end of it, that this is the best we will manage. I have only my own life as testament to the things I believe, and that’s not much, volatile creature that I am, but I speak from a mixture of personal experience and gut certainty when I say that I do not believe the darkness will be allowed to win out.

I believe that we are capable of forgiveness.  I believe in healing and the redemption of broken things. I believe in hope. I believe in peace. I believe in our ability as a people to rise up and love one another, to be the change we wish to see, to break the cycle (remembering, simple as it sounds, that hatred towards those without love is not the answer).

I believe that the happy endings we aspired to in childhood are not mere make-believe but proof of a higher reality which we have lost faith in. And I do not think our loss of faith changes that reality.

Most importantly, I believe in a God who does not need you to believe in him in order for him to love you. And I refuse to accept the policy of condemnation that would cast anyone from the light of that love based on doubts or politics or past wrongs or race or sexuality.

I write this tonight without any agenda except to put it out there, because I believe it needs to be said. And if you take nothing else from it, take this and, I pray, believe it: Whoever you are, whether we agree or not, you are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

On Falling

Last week, on a frigid day when the grass was blonde and snow-spotted, an icy set of steps caught me off guard. In a remarkable feat of antigravity, my feet flew six inches, landed, and slid, and I came to my senses sprawled halfway down the stairs with wood biting into ribs and elbow and a shock wave rattling the meat of my brain against my skull. It’s hard to appreciate the significance of one’s perspective until it changes by an altitude of seven or eight feet in the space of half a second.

My incident with the stairs got me thinking about the word “fall,” which is popular in Christian terminology. We speak of the “fall of man” and “falling from grace.” We refer to temptations as “stumbling blocks.” To sin is to fall.

Let me tell you something about falling, as one who knows: It’s not something you do on purpose. The moment before my foot made contact with the ice, I had every intention of reaching the bottom of those stairs like a decent, well-balanced person. Several seconds later, I found myself bruised and bewildered, staring as snow drifted from the clouds like the fine debris of a minor explosion. As I waited for breath to catch up with me, I might have been a child with a skinned knee, debating whether the situation warranted a good cry.

When we slip up — there’s another one — according to our morals, the action often leaves us feeling shaken and, in some cases, completely disoriented. It’s as though the whole world shifts in accordance with our failures. It hurts, certainly. It’s in its nature to hurt. But it is important to differentiate between pain which is the natural result of gravity and pain as punishment.

We punish ourselves, but God is not a punisher. Psalm 37:24 says,“Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; For the Lord upholds him with his hand,” and Psalm 145:14 says, “The Lord upholds all who fall, And raises up all who are bowed down” (NKJV). When I read these verses, I see the kindly stranger stooping to lend a hand to the man with the contents of his briefcase scattered on the asphalt, or lifting the chin of the woman crying on the bench. Empathy towards human failing is written into the very language of the Christian faith.

I do not mean to imply that we never leap, or dive. But for the most part, we fall. We become the victims of distracted eyes and unexpected patches of ice. We call it sin, insofar as it wounds us or those around us, but it has less to do with evil as we usually understand it than with a loss of balance and perspective.

To a power as great and stable as the Creator, many of the worst decisions in every life are simply falls along the way. So if you’ve lost footing, take heart, brush yourself off, and grab the handrail. You haven’t wrecked your chance: the path will still be there when you stand up.

A House Divided

Ladies and gentlemen, forgive me, but it had to happen sometime. Today I’m going to get political.

This evening I read a fascinating article from examiner.com which presented some excellent points contrasting abortion and gun control laws. The writer was, in essence, pointing out the flaws in a political party’s calling for enormous restrictions on one controversial, potentially damaging constitutional right (abortion) while desiring only minimal restrictions on another controversial, potentially damaging constitutional right (gun ownership). I do not intend to take a stance on either of these topics in this post, but suffice it say the article put forth a valid argument.

However, I was less impressed with its tendency to call out Republicans for unreasonable logic. While no doubt plenty of Republicans do subscribe to the ideas attributed to them in the article, it is neither fair nor correct to assume that any group as large as either dominant political party in this country will hold, without variation, a single radical set of beliefs. Of course, we have all seen the same tactics used against Democrats.

This divisive trend in the political media may be the greatest obstruction to the opposing sides’ ability to have a rational discussion about major issues. A good argument — and both sides have them — should not have to depend on insult to gain attention. The world is full of highly intelligent people with vastly different opinions. Politics is not football: The point is not to take down the other team. The problem is we are too busy piling up defenses to actually listen to one another and reach an understanding.

I think that many people, regardless of religious affiliation, would agree that there is wisdom in Jesus’ words in Matthew 12:25: “Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand” (NKJV). Division weakens the whole of which we are all a part. No one person (or side) has all the answers. Progress depends upon our working together.

I cannot say anything about God for certain, but I have a strong feeling He doesn’t back any one political party. And Jesus, whom I believe, came to preach peace, not division. Paul, too, gives this beautiful advice in Romans 12:16b-18: “Do not be wise in your own opinion. Repay no one evil for evil. Have regard for good things in the sight of all men. If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men” (NKJV).

(And if you also believe in Jesus as Savior, take a moment to consider how many did not believe because they expected a warrior who would attack as we do.)

I am not the first to say any of these things. More and more people, of both parties and neither party, are itching beneath the labels they have made us wear. The beliefs of the group — and this goes for any group: political, religious, minority, and so forth — are never uniform. And that’s okay. It’s healthy. It proves that people are unique, that minds can grow.

We are not children who must rely on emotional stimulation to form an opinion. There is more to us than opposing sides. So how long will we let popular media speak for us? How long will we let them proclaim humanity the enemy?

In Which We Reconvene

When I set out to write a new post after two months away, I must admit my first inclination was to delete everything up until this point. New year, new beginning. I was two-thirds through a shiny new introduction before I realized that my rationale for deletion was at odds with my purpose in writing here.

One of my prime reasons for starting this blog was that I do not like the way that Christians — and no doubt other people of faith, though I have the most experience with Christianity — shy away from the big questions, sweep our darkest moments beneath the rug, pretend we’ve never wondered, etc. This kind of evasion isn’t helping anyone, and it’s particularly unfair to those living in the dark moments right now, who most need our openness and encouragement.

The end of 2012 had its share of dark moments. In the months since the first reboot, I have discovered the difficulty of being genuine during hard times — times when there are no answers. I don’t like fumbling. I don’t like unresolved issues. I fear that my writings during these times will come across as overly negative or trite or meandering. And however noble my intentions, as I steer clear of a particularly troubling period, my default response is to start fresh and destroy the evidence.

But reading back over old entries, I realize that is not what I came here for. The world has no shortage of faked perfection. No one is good, but the next best thing you can be is honest.

Please bear with me, as I am still learning the balance between honesty and over-sharing. On the one hand, I think it borders on dishonesty to write about spiritual things as though they were impersonal, as spirituality is by its nature a deeply personal experience. On the other hand, I do not wish to obscure the larger perspective by keeping a micro-focus on my own struggles.

I welcome any input on this issue. For now, upon further reflection, it seems best not to hide where I’ve been, no matter where I’m going. And hopefully where I’m going will be a little brighter, a little clearer, than the place from which I’ve come.

I hope to post more regularly in the coming months. Until then.

A Year in Deaths

I recently read a quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer in which one character asks another if her mother’s death was sudden. “No,” she responds. “And yes. It’s always sudden.”

Death has made an unusual number of cameos in the lives of those around me this year. I would prefer a less morbid topic to close out 2012, but these thoughts press me too much not to relieve them. Allow me to describe the year in deaths:

(For those who have had enough of the sad news, feel free to skip to the break.)

Through the end of October I worked with my grandmother in a shop she opened to distract her from grief and loneliness. Within a year she lost her ex-husband, younger brother, and close friend. Her remaining brother was then shot through the lung in an armed robbery. He survived, only to be diagnosed with stage four cancer a few months after his release from the hospital. The cancer has now spread to his brain.

Driving home from a date one night this summer, I was caught in stalled traffic while a woman in a car like mine died in an accident within view of her boyfriend’s house a few car lengths ahead.

In July, a police officer my age became the first in my town’s history to be shot and killed in the line of duty a few days before his wife gave birth to their first child.

This autumn, I stayed up half the night fumbling through conversation with a good friend while he waited up with his sleeping grandmother a week before she died.

My best friend lost three people close to her — two of whom were young and in good health — to unrelated causes between October and December.

My sister’s old coach, in her forties, died of pneumonia a few days before Christmas.

Another friend asked me this week if I would keep him company after the funeral of one of his mentors tomorrow.

My own uncle’s funeral was two weeks ago.

All these not to mention this year’s two widely publicized mass shootings.

* * *

I have compiled this list not to be melodramatic — none of the incidents listed had more than an indirect impact on my life — but in an effort to give substance to a weight that seems to grow heavier with each new piece of ill news. While dear friends and family struggle with grief, I am out of words to comfort before I open my mouth.

Perhaps there is no better argument for the immortality of the human spirit than the shock value of death. It ought to be the most natural thing in the world, the most uniting factor of all living things: we stop living. And yet it is always sudden. At close range we find death to be sick, offensive, indecent.

If the body aches with fever, we know something to be out of balance. When the heart aches with grief, are we then to accept this as a healthy response to a normal condition? Maybe it points to a different kind of sickness, some tear in the fabric of our being. But to what purpose, if there is no cure? Why would this universe, so efficient in the orbits of its electrons, the shapes of its stars, squander such energy on human grief?

Perhaps the “sickness” has less to do with death itself than with our perception of it.
Perhaps we were never meant to view death as an ending. I believe this to be true. But heaven help me, I don’t know. I don’t know a single thing. Not even the words to soften the pain. It comes down to this: Either there is a purpose to suffering, and eventually it makes sense, or else it is senseless, and eventually we escape. I suppose that is some comfort.

I fear this post is neither clean nor conclusive, and if others have clearer thoughts than mine — any thoughts at all, for that matter — please share them. I wish to understand more than I do now.

At any rate, I hope for those around me for whom this year has been so full of pain, that this next year might go gentle on their spirits, that they might find light even where they least expect it. To life, peace, and new beginnings.