(Part 1 of this post can be found here)
1 John 5:3 “For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome.”
I have close relationships with several LGBTQ+ people. And, not surprisingly given my background, the majority of them grew up as and still identify as ‘Christian’. Some of these dear friends I met as an adult. They have graciously shared with me pieces of their stories. Others, I have known for many years. And I have been a firsthand witness to large portions of their lives.
I know many of them well enough to be assured that they have known what it is to identify with this verse. To know that “not burdensome” doesn’t mean ‘easy’ or ‘effortless’, but that it does mean that there is joy and fullness of life to be found in turning away from things that bring death and destruction.
In short, I trust queer Christians when they say that they know the joys that spiritual discipline and obedience offers. That they embrace Jesus’ assurance in John 15 that the one who keeps His commandments will abide in His love, and such assurance brings joy.
Unfortunately this clarity and confidence stands in stark contrast to the complicated picture that emerges when we press in on evangelical conceptions of ‘obedience’ for LGBTQ+ Christians.
[As discussed in the previous post, there is disagreement among various streams of evangelicals on how to distinguish ‘sin’ versus ‘temptation’ for LGBTQ+ matters. For some, inclinations and attractions are not seen as inherently sinful, but only become so when they develop into “lust” (so, Wesley Hill). For others (proponents of Christian reparative “therapy” or perhaps someone like Rosaria Butterfield), there is some degree to which the very inclinations toward non-heteronormativity are evidence of “indwelling sin” (to borrow from Butterfield).]
What, then, does it mean to ask queer Christians to walk in ‘obedience’ regarding sexuality?
Evangelical articulations of sexual ethics for heterosexual Christians are not without their own complexities, but, as James Brownson puts it “[I]t is one thing to interpret the appropriateness of one’s sexual desires based on relationships and context, and it is quite another when the whole continuum of desires that are part of sexual orientation are placed under suspicion — that is, as a manifestation of a distorted and sinful nature.”
When evangelicalism can’t even come to a consensus on where the line between ‘temptation’ and ‘sin’ lies for queer people, what does it mean to ask them to walk in ‘obedience’?
Brownson again:
“Where does one draw the line? Where does the sinful impulse begin? Is it when gay or lesbian persons experience a desire for friendship with others of the same sex, admiration for another’s physical beauty, the tendency to frequently think about another person, the persistent desire to be with another person, the desire to be touched by another, the desire to kiss or be kissed, or the desire for still more intimate sexual contact? For most gay and lesbian persons, these desires are part of the same continuum, and they cannot always be readily distinguished from each other.”
The ‘obedience’ much of evangelicalism requires of queer believers is an endless and exhausting practice of introspective vigilance, suffused with constant guilt over potentially ‘crossing the line’. Eventually for some, worn down and fatigued, they resort to numbing themselves emotionally and relationally–suppressing their ability to give and receive true intimacy. Countless stories echo those of Julie Rodgers, who writes: “What I didn’t know before was that you can’t selectively shut down. When I had suppressed my sexuality, I had to detach from my desires, my feelings, my intuition, my capacity for intimacy. That process of fragmentation inhibited my ability to truly know myself or connect with other people.”
None of these outcomes provides what Brownson calls “[an] integrated basis for becoming whole persons.”
So many queer Christians have shared the exhaustion and isolation that such practices bring. Their experiences are far from the assurances of joy and fulfillment that the scriptures declare are the outcomes of obedience. This yoke is not easy, and this burden is not light.
If obedience, enabled and empowered by God’s Spirit constitutes “walking by the Spirit”, then one ought to expect that the product or fruit of this is “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” in the life of the person.
Yet, as noted above, the second guessing, fear, loneliness, depression and shame that so many queer Christians feel when they pursue the path of ‘obedience’, seem incompatible with the promise of love, joy, peace, and patience that the scriptures say are the hallmarks of the Spirit’s work.
I have listened to story after story of LGBTQ+ Christians who spent their years seeking to honor God and be obedient to their understanding of the scriptures, only to reap sorrow and frustration.
I am not suggesting I have spoken the definitive word on these matters. But I am convinced that we need to refrain from using words like ‘temptation’, ‘sin’, ‘obedience’, ‘spiritual fruit’, and ‘sanctification’ with respect to LGBTQ+ matters in the church, unless we are willing to press into the fullness of complexity involved in employing those terms.
Caught Between 