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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.