Category Archives: Dear Church

Dear Church

Dear Church, What happens if you’re wrong?

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Places like this remind me how much more there is than me and my knowledge about things.

I remember somewhere around 2012 when Rob Bell, the Christian author and pastor “came out” in affirmation of the LGBTQ+ community. I remember hearing about it, and mulling over it in my mind. I tend to argue and process in my mind, from as many angles as I can imagine, before I settle on where I “land.” I usually take the more cautious position, believe it or not, unless there is a compelling reason to do otherwise. I remember having a discussion with my husband. He had read Rob’s book, Love Wins https://a.co/d/hCIFnUr and found it compelling. I had not read the book. Perhaps I was afraid it would confuse my position on what love was. Also, I didn’t read as much in those days. I do remember rationalizing to Chris, “I would like to take the affirming position, as it feels more loving; but I would be worried that I might be wrong.” I do remember considering then what might happen if I was wrong. It boiled down to not making it to heaven and possibly leading others that way as well.

I worry about being wrong ALOT!!! I think about it at my job. I think about it in my marriage. I think about it as a Mom. I think about it as a “Jojo (grandmom).” I think about it as a friend. I think about it as a writer. I think about it as a creator. I think about it VERY often. I am not a miserable person :), but I am careful about what I choose to believe. I really do want to the right thing, because I still feel a deep responsibility to all around me (friends, family, coworkers, God, etc. ) not to cause harm. I do not want to be responsible for being a wrong example for others. In fact, believe it or not, it takes a great deal of courage for me to put these curiosities and opinions in front of you, because of this very real “weight of glory” as C.S. Lewis named it.

What I did not consider in 2012, when I was determining if I could join Rob Bell’s ideology, was what if my 2012 position was wrong? What if it wasn’t all about heaven or my responsibility to convince everyone in my sphere to go there? Or what if God made some people gay, because He is creative and likes variety? And what if it’s possible that gender dysphoria is real, and appropriate healthcare measures are a reasonable means to help a person become their true selves? What if it didn’t even matter what I believed about it? What if my beliefs on the matter had nothing to do with whether or not my kids “became gay.” or whether or not they would experience this gender dysphoria? What if the Bible actually meant something different than I had previously understood? What if the Bible exists by a very long process with many iterations, and what if those verses dealing with the topics of LGBTQ matters were interpreted by people who had opinions about it that were based on their own views versus a revelation from God? What if the Bible is more of a history book, where we can learn about God and people’s perception of him, and not a weapon to use toward everyone who doesn’t interpret it like we do? But I am getting ahead of myself.

I feel my search for rightness, after I fully faced the LGBTQ issue, brought me to the realization that I had been wrong. It helped me grow open to other ideas that challenge my beliefs. I remember when it occurred to me that maybe my community loved the Bible more than they loved Jesus or people. I wonder if “We teach the Bible” has become a more important statement than “We love others” or “We follow Christ.” Many “Bible believing” churches seem to have a clear view of what each verse means. They believe there are clear rights and wrongs, and if you don’t agree, you are judged.

Dear Church,

What if you are wrong?

I don’t know how to be in a place of certainty anymore, but I know that I aim to be in a place of integrity, humility, and justice more than ever. Whether I am right or wrong, I feel compelled to support my fellow humans, whether they look and act like me or not, especially in these times where diversity, equity, and inclusion are being scorned. Maybe it is time to take a closer look at our beliefs. Maybe it’s time to risk the possibility that we may have been wrong. It might cost you your community, but integrity, humility, and justice are worth it.

Consider those verses that aren’t being amplified right now, such as this one: Micah 6:8 “He has shown you, O man, what is good and what does the Lord require of you. But to seek justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

Dear Church, Uncategorized

Dear Church, Thanks for the love.

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A lonely, tattered, rusty chair in beautiful British Virgin Gorda

Belonging is powerful. I have mentioned in previous posts the relationship challenges we have had with our Christian community, only after we came out in support of LGBTQ people. People have disappointed us, and we have disappointed them. I have done much soul searching as I try to understand what my relationship with God looks like now. I think I was quite a codependent, and perhaps my identity as a Christian was more about being in the right group than actually standing up for what I believed in. When you don’t belong where you once did and when the previous comfortable community has left, it really does make you think about what you believed and why you believed it. I know deconstruction is a term that is loaded, but it has been a helpful concept for me. I mean, if God is who we believed him to be, he will hold up under it, right?

I still feel hope in my gut that God is real and there is love and joy and peace and patience, kindness, gentleness, and self control, that reflects a soul that is god filled. And one of the reasons I feel hope of that is the church, or Christians. So here is another side of the “Dear Church” letters that I am happy to share.

I have a job supporting foster families. Many of them are Christians. I watch them day after day care for kids who are not theirs. They manage difficult behaviors with grace, and they love kids for days, weeks, months, and years. And then they often have to give them back, sometimes with grieving hearts but committed to having no strings attached. They surrender hearts full of fear for outcomes they can’t know or control. It is a constant toll, but they keep doing it until they cannot do it anymore. They do it, because something calls them to it–something or someone. Watching these people choose to do this hella hard work is bringing healing to my wounded soul, because this love… doesn’t make sense.

I have been attending a church for a few years that is small but safe. Most are hurting from a variety of church wounds, many in the LGBTQ+ community. But it remains a church- a place of faith in the Christian God. It feels different from any church I had previously attended. There is much validation and zero judgment. Some in the church say they may not be alive were it not for the support they received there. I joined a Bible “restudy” the other night where I heard very different interpretations of Bible verses. Remaining open to the possibility of the reality of God gave me the desire to attend this sweet space where questions and imperfections were allowed. This has brought healing and hope to me.

My daughter’s family has been attending a church in their area, and I have been joining them when I am able. It *feels* more like church than the other one, for better or worse. Sometimes I don’t know if I can honestly sing all the songs. But when they sing Brandi Carlile’s Highwomen’s “Crowded Table” https://g.co/kgs/USQWGw6 I try to belt it as I tear up. It isn’t a big body of people but they have been feeding hundreds of local houseless folks breakfast every Sunday morning for decades. They are an ecumenical church and very diverse. I was singing about God’s love while there recently, and I felt a very real warmth. Maybe it was simply a feeling, but it seemed like something in me was healing.

I really do not believe I can know if there is a God or not. I cannot be sure if my experiences with spirituality are from God or coincidence. I have feelings, but they may just be feelings. But I am open to the possibility. I think that is a place I would choose to be–more open.

Dear Church, Thanks to those of you who are able to care for the children who are displaced by things outside their control. It isn’t easy. There are people of faith and not of faith loving these kids, but most of the you I engage with are people of faith. And all of the you who do it seem to be called by something or someone. Thank you for sharing with me this healing love as I see you loving your kids.

Dear Church, https://missiongathering.com/mg-bellevue/Thank you for making a safe space for those who have been wounded by religion. Thank you for being aware of each potential trigger, and thank you for training people to be emotionally in tune with themselves and one another. Thank you for creating a very safe space for curiosity and healing love.

Dear Church, https://www.urbangrace.org/Thank you for pushing through hard seasons and sticking together. Thank you for feeding the needy in your city. Thank you for singing songs about God’s love, and creating a space where this love is able to be felt. Thank you for welcoming my kids. Thank you for showing me another kind of church that eminates a love less stringint or dependent on conditions.

Dear Church, You have helped me not give up this search for understanding God. This love that you show is a beautiful part of life where I want to belong. Is it just about the community? Am I just codependent? Perhaps. But it seems proven that people need each other, and it seems a reality that we were made to belong. Belonging and God can still be in the same space for me, thanks to these fine folks :).

Dear Church, Pride, Thoughts

Courage Takes Time, for Me at Least

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I imagine if you are at all invested in my blogposts and if you are at all affiliated with the church, you may feel like sitting ducks. Believe it or not, I am the last person that would want to be the cause of that feeling in you. I wanted to take this breather between “Dear Church” posts to say that while I have been busy, I have not been in a hurry to put that next post out. I typically prefer to behave myself, and sharing the next post feels a little like talking back to my Mama. And that didn’t fly in our house! 🙂

I am a bit of a chicken, but I also think it is OK to sit on my feelings for awhile and consider others. Man, emotions are SO heightened these days, and it is easy to want to react versus sit and take a minute. We are so quick to jump into whatever camp we feel most comfortable in, instead of leaving space for the challenges that the folks on the other side might be going through. So, I have been mulling over how my post might have been difficult for some. I also wonder how many will even read another post. But it really does not matter. I put these thoughts out in case they are helpful, and I hope they are. It does take courage, and courage takes time. That is probably the main reason for the delay. This is not the next scary post, but a pause for additional thoughts.

My sincere hope is that anyone willing to read would know that my intent is not to be mean or hurtful. It is hard to have someone accuse you of wrong, especially if you feel like you are sacrificing what feels good to do the right thing. I know my generalizing of the church may have been hard to take, because of this truth. Ironically, I completely understand and have also felt this sentiment. It was not my intent to generalize or assume that all church attendees were in the group that was causing harm. My hope, though, is to reach some people who are curious or don’t know, who may be open to discover what is hurtful and what is not.

Thoughts within thoughts

One thing I have found interesting is this. I suspect that if I had been quiet about my position of support for my daughter and her wife, I would have experienced something very different from the church friends. My daughter could be herself, and live her life; and I could probably even be in wedding photos. I feel fairly certain that it is the “loud” support that has created problems for myself. I really struggle with this reality and would like to be wrong about it. I understand that celebrating sin is not cool. I would never celebrate a murder or abusive behavior. Some may feel that my support is the same as doing that. That is an extreme example, but I think many communities I have been a part of would equate my support with supporting a heinous crime.

One of the books I read in my journey was God and the Gay Christian, by Matthew Vines. I read the last chapter where the author, who had same sex attraction AND loved the Bible, pleaded with those willing to support to support loudly. I felt compelled to do so, though it took me awhile. Courage takes time. He really felt the pain of not being allowed to serve in ministry and not even being able to darken the door of some churches, due to his honesty about who he was. Would he have been welcome to serve if he had stayed closeted? Most definitely.

This is similar to the conflict I encounter when I am open about my support. If I kept it secret, I would be welcome in all my old circles of friendship and service. But my integrity keeps me from those relationships. This is really something, isn’t it? I don’t feel it makes a lick of sense. But it is what it is.

Ok, I’ll try to get my nerve up to share my now VERY edited letter to the church :). I know it won’t be as cool as Peter or Paul’s. Take a deep breath, church people. And remember, I love y’all! AND when I am not out of town, I still go to church :).

Dear Church, El Camino, Pride, Thoughts

Dear Church

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The Church in Leon, Spain. Just one of many cathedrals we saw on our Camino journey last year.

Traveling across Spain on foot gave lots of time for taking in the amazing cathedrals. They were awe inspiring with their grandeur, and I found myself curious about the unbelievable time, talent, and treasure that had been invested in these works of art.

I found myself wondering why? Were they concerned that God would not be pleased with anything less? Did they want to show the power of religion? Were they wanting to make sure that this cathedral measured up to the one down the road? Or why am I judging? Maybe they just wanted church to be fantastically beautiful to invite in the hurting, giving them hope that something that grand had to have power to heal. I know seeing a church as we crested a hill at the end of a long walking day, kinda gave me that feeling on my Camino.

Whatever the reasons, am grateful for the time, talent, and treasure invested. Walking through the vast time capsules that were these cathedrals was nothing less than a gift to me and others, these centuries later. They are stunning.

I imagine that modern church leaders discuss the nature of church buildings in similar ways. They may need them to have a big stage with fog machines, or they may focus on the practical with chairs that connect easily. I expect they want to be more inviting than austere, feeling warmer with their coffee shop vibes.

I like inviting. I was part of a church that I loved dearly where the pastor said that he wanted the atmosphere to be comfortable until you were in your seat. Then he felt the church leaders were responsible to work with God to bring transformation, which is not often comfortable. I appreciated this sentiment at the time. I felt I needed transformation, and assumed everyone else did too.

Another past pastor of mine used to say that he wanted people to be glad, at their funeral, that he was their pastor. He also clearly felt responsible to guide others on the correct path. I also feel this responsibility too, if I am honest. I think growing up a preacher’s kid gave me this sense of needing to help people toward the blessed life.

I wonder what it feels like to attend one of these cathedrals. Is it comfortable? It is a place of transformation? Is it the responsibility of the pastors and priests to invite us into comfort or conviction?

I used to believe so, but after some curious thinking I am less sure.

It must be a tremendous burden to feel responsible for all of those people. For the corrupt person, it could also support a tremendous feeling of power. Is this what being “called” looks like? Teaching people how to live? I wonder if there are things that are missing or even wrong in this structure called “church.” There seem to be lots of things spoken that are not demonstrated, things like “the greatest of these is love,” or “how can he say to his brother, ‘let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the while he has a plank in his own eye.” It can be hard to reconcile, and I understand all too clearly the challenge.

My family has gone through stuff. We have traveled the lonely path of being very involved in a church, then subsequently embracing a life of loving and fully supporting our lesbian daughter. Our daily life probably looks similar to any other privileged, white family. I try to love others well and live an intentional life, caring for myself and those around me; yet this has been a season of grief and loss of nearly all of our early church community.

I remember the echo chambers of the large, albeit beautiful cathedrals. I remember being in my modern echo chamber of a sanctuary and nodding my head, feeling so accomplished in my Christian successes. My husband was a Sunday School teacher, and taught challenging and thoughtful lessons. I remember our last Sunday there, before we moved away. I remember individuals in our class recounting all our valuable traits that they were going to miss. They mentioned the example of our lives, and how much they appreciated our friendship. We poured so much into that community, and loved them all so much.

I have always wanted to write a letter to them. I wonder why we have not heard much from most of them, since our daughter came out. We had a journey, that was not easy, of tears, searching, confusion, etc. as we navigated how to respond to our precious child. It would have been really nice to have some of those old friends reach out in support. When we did hear from them it was in urging us to change our position. That added shame to an already difficult time.

I know time also can affect relationships. We have all traveled a hard road through a pandemic and the divisions that came because of a vaccine. And amidst the sickness came some powerful moments of pain, as we saw again and again, Black people dying unnecessarily by the force of racism. And all of it is made political, including how to handle the LGBTQ community. https://respectfullycurious.com/did-covid-steal-your-relationships/

It has been 4 years since we were honest about our position on embracing the LGBTQ community. Time has been kind for those we have kept in close proximity with– our family and a few dear friends have been able to find a way to love us. But for many of our early church community, time has not been kind. It has allowed assumptions about who we now are and how we now live to fester. When we have revisited those friendships, we have felt the toxic void of proximity.

Next I will share my hardest post yet. My body fears it. It is not a theological treatise, but my heart’s response after yet another recent, deep wound from those who used to be our closest friends.

Dear Church,

Please consider the damage. Perhaps it is time to move from our austere places of worship, inviting or not, to life on life, with respectful curiosity and humility.