The Good Samaritan and GSM (LGBT+)

Let me state by saying that I do not believe that we can truly love somebody while considering that person to be fundamentally broken, flawed, bent, abominable, while comparing that person’s very existence to something like adultery or demanding that the person be celibate because of their very nature.

In short, you cannot love somebody while declaring their nature to be evil and classifying any love or intimacy they may feel as an evil on the level of infidelity or thievery or perversion.

In short, you cannot love someone who is a gender or sexual minority in the way that Jesus calls his people to love unless you accept that person as they are, and accept that person’s love and relationships.

I have seen the damage that this approach has gone, especially to people who were raised in the church. The damage that is done to a child by being told again and again that they are fundamentally broken, that any romantic relationship that they may have feel is a simple abomination – that the image is incalculable, and can and does lead to suicide again and again.

Time and again, Jesus said that we must judge a tree by its fruit. Suicide, pain, alienation, and depression are not good fruit. They are a bitter, bloody harvest that we bear responsibility for.

Any doctrine that leads to death of children and teens cannot be of God.

I don’t want to sound as if I’m condemning Christians who try to love people while maintaining their sincerely held moral objections, because that is often a step on the path. I know I had to get there before I could get here. But I don’t want to give the impression that I think that this is anywhere to end up. This is a baby step. This is milk, and we Christians are called upon to grow up, eat adult food, and put aside childish things.

Rachel Held Evans gave a good illustration of this by pointing out that in Jesus’s parable of the good Samaritan, it was not the Samaritan who needed help, who needed somebody to be God’s hands to him. Instead, the Samaritan, who was a member of a group that good observing Jews of the time would consider heretical and immoral, this Samaritan was the one who acted as a good neighbor to the injured man, who was in this context Jewish. It was the outsider, the one who was looked down upon, who was the hands of God to the man after the priest and the Levites passed by and did nothing.

This is a revolutionary concept, but I wanted to publicly put my name on this belief because I don’t want there to be any confusion among anyone who may have read anything else I’ve written as to where I stand. As believers, we don’t need to welcome anyone in just so we can change them. We don’t even need to welcome them just so that we can love them and be Jesus to them. We need to recognize that they may be the hands of God to us, that we may learn from them, grow because of them, or be rescued through them.

 

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Long Journey, Part 2: A Long Road That Has No Turn

​https://youtu.be/sGs9V7iDuZU

Yesterday, I talked about how the changes I want to make in my life all promise a lot of effort, even pain, with no guarantee of arrival. 

I’ve been thinking about that since I wrote it,  and it occurs to me just how  fortunate I am.  

The goals I have to struggle toward are self-actualization goals. The first four levels of Maslow’s needs hierarchy are pretty much taken care of. 

I have a good job (one I enjoy most of the time)  with benefits and truly good co-workers. 

There is plenty of food in our panty,  fridge,  and deep freeze,  and money to eat out of we don’t feel like cooking

Our house is safe, dry,  un-infested, and everything works. 

I live in  a safe neighborhood.

I only drive about 2 miles to work.

As a white (cis, het) man, the world is an infinitely safer place for me than it is for most other Americans. 

I have a loving wife and daughter. 

I have an extended family, and we love each other (even my in-laws, which I understand makes me really lucky).

Truthfully, my stakes are low. If I fail at these personal goals, I will be upset with myself, and my life will not improve. 

But my kid won’t starve, I won’t lose my house, I won’t be raped and then watch my rapist get 6 months in prison, and I won’t be gunned down while buying a bb gun at Wal-Mart.  

We all want to improve ourselves and our lives, but it’s easy to lose track and think that if we can, anyone can. For people like me, that kind of thinking is part of the problem. 

Fifty Tears for Orlando

I posted about this on Facebook on Sunday, and thought I should add it here, where it would be more permanent. I thought about adding more here than I said there, then I read this: Dear White, Hetero, Cis People: Please Don’t Co-Opt This Tragedy. 

The truth is, it doesn’t really matter what I think. I’m not gay, transgender, bisexual, or otherwise a sexual minority. I’m not Latino. Any observations beyond base sympathy would be little more than armchair commentary from the safety of the sidelines.

We should get out of the way and yield the floor to LGBT+ people, especially Latinx people, so I’ll link to this interview with Isa Noyola and then be done.

[My Facebook post from Sunday, June 12, 2016, follows]

My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of the Orlando nightclub shooting [Saturday night, June 11, 2016]. This morning in the service, Pastor Megan told us of an old ritual (Jewish, I believe) of pouring out drops of wine or water in mourning, to represent tears. She poured out fifty drops of water (the number murdered at the last count at the time), counting each one.

I closed my eyes in silence as she counted, trying to comprehend that each number represented somebody’s life. Somebody of incomparable value. Somebody who was most likely loved by friends, family, loved ones. Perhaps somebody who felt alone.

All taken away in the name of “righteous” anger, of “purifying America,” of self-righteous hate.

Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on us all…

Freestyle Friday: A Museum of My Mistakes

(With apologies to Julia Wertz, who draws a comic called “Museum of Mistakes“)

Restarting my blog has led me to re-read some of the posts I wrote three or four years ago … and boy, is that embarrassing.

In some areas, I’m a little embarrassed by where I was then, compared to where I am now.

And I’m more than a little embarrassed by how little progress I’ve made in other areas.

But I’m extremely embarrassed by a few stupid insensitive things I did back then, like using the “homosexual” as a noun, instead of LGBT+ person, gender/sexual  minority (GSM), or a more specific and appropriate term like gay man or lesbian woman.

My first instinct was to go in an “correct” it, changing the old terms to more appropriate, sensitive and respectful wording.

But I’ve decided to let it stand. I’m not going to sanitize my past. Because I wasn’t writing that to speak against GSM people, but to work through my own understanding, and come to a place where I could at least be supportive and respectful to them as people.

I just didn’t know that I didn’t know.

I know now, but I think it would be wrong to go back and change it, to retroactively present myself as wiser or more sensitive or understanding than I really was. That would be false.

So I’ll let the old posts stand as a “Museum of My Mistakes.” Though I do reserve the right to take a post down entirely, if I really feel I need to. But I won’t alter what I wrote, and leave it up as if it had always been that way.

You can’t change the past, even if you have editing privileges 🙂