Relationships

Taking It Too Far

Today I got into a fight online with a stranger. The thing is, I have no idea why I took it so personally. Well, come to think of it, maybe I do.

It wasn’t because the other person was mean. She was harsh, yes, but not cruel. It wasn’t because I was right and she was wrong. I’m not sure there was a right or wrong. It wasn’t because she doesn’t like me. I have no idea what her feelings toward me are. And I don’t care if random people like me.

No, what bothered me is that I wasn’t able to come across as my authentic self. I would have needed an entire blog post of my own to explain the feelings and thoughts that the original article evoked. So I resorted to idea nuggets in the comments section. It was a bad idea.

Even worse, I failed to be anything like the Jesus I claim to love. Not because I was rude, nasty, or resorted to childish behavior, but because I didn’t express mercy or grace.

I’m not okay with that. I don’t want to be that sort of person, one who comes off as unconcerned about someone else. When I posted my comments, I wasn’t trying to be unkind. But I somehow wasn’t able to convey my real feelings about the issue being discussed.

So here I sit, reminded that how we interact online is just as important as face to face. Next time, I need to choose my words much more carefully, or say nothing at all.

Moral Source

Morality, Relationships

Some recent interactions with friends and family have left me wondering: If there is no source for moral conduct, then how do we figure out what’s right and wrong? Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual (fundamentalist argument that the Bible fits the bill aside). So where is the line between anything goes and some things are simply not moral or ethical?

I don’t buy into the slippery slope idea. Just because I’ve rejected some things as morally unimportant doesn’t mean that I will eventually reject everything. After all, I now have short hair and I don’t wear a hat in church, but I’m not about to teach Sunday school in a bikini. On the other hand, when a person rejects everything, what’s left?

I’ve noticed that many of my fellow Christians believe that in order to be a moral person, one must be a Christian. I will personally vouch for that being untrue. I have many friends and family members who are highly moral people. I also know more than a few people who call themselves Christians but slowly destroy the lives of themselves and those around them by their lack of character. Clearly the answer isn’t religion (or even “relationship,” as my Christian brothers and sisters like to say).

The one big difference I see is between people who genuinely care about the well-being of others and those who don’t, or don’t appear to. One recent conversation left me reeling. Afterward, I ended up having the sense that the person to whom I was speaking has almost no regard for other people. She bases her decisions in life on what she personally will stand to gain from her actions, or, in some cases, what harm may come to her as a result.

Sadly, this is the sort of thing that bleeds into every aspect of one’s life. If you don’t like some aspect of your job, go ahead and quit instead of finding ways to cope, work around it, or change the nature of what you do at work. If a relationship isn’t working, send the other person packing instead of finding out what lies beneath the surface. If you’re tired of the preaching at your church, try out a different one. And all the while, you convince yourself you’ll be happier once that issue is out of your life. One problem: It doesn’t work. I’ve seen countless people slowly bleed emotionally from trying to hold that kind of lifestyle together. The bar is set lower and lower, until running from one job or relationship or location to the next develops an impossible pace.

At this point, there are people rolling their eyes and wondering who I am to judge someone else for living his or her own life. After all, if someone wants to engage in serial monogamy or church shopping or change jobs once a year or repeatedly move town to town, what business is it of mine? To be honest, I don’t actually care what someone else does, until I see the effect on the people around them. When person after person is wounded by someone else’s discontent, it makes me angry.

I originally saw this in the context of marriage. We live in a society where marriage is disposable. Divorce can be costly if it’s contentious, but it’s not difficult to obtain in a legal sense. More and more I’m seeing people explain it away by saying that people grow apart, that marriage shouldn’t be difficult, or that modern marriage isn’t really meant to last a lifetime. I wonder, though, if those same people feel the same about blood relatives or best friends. Are the same people as quick to say, “My sister annoys me. I’m just not ever going to talk to her again”? I suppose some might. But the majority of people wouldn’t treat family that way. Why treat marriage that way?

If it were only people outside the church living this way, I might feel some hope. If we Christians were bringing love and grace and forgiveness and hope to despairing people, there would be a chance to stop the spiritual and emotional injuries. Sadly, the discontent is all to common even inside the church. The only difference is that inside the church, people feel the need to justify themselves, often by using the Bible in a legalistic manner.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t actually know how to tackle this sticky problem. It doesn’t seem like enough to throw Bible verses at the problem or remind people about the responsibilities of keeping one’s commitments. And it’s made even thornier because of legitimate reasons to quit one’s job, end a marriage, chase a dream, or leave a church. How do we determine where the line is between selfish pursuits and protecting ourselves from real harm?

Affirming Promiscuity?

LGBTQ+, Morality, Relationships, Sexuality and Gender

When you say stupid things in public, it’s going to come back to bite you in the butt someday. My hope is that this trash from Chuck Colson eventually finds its way back to him an unexpected and unpleasant way.

You know, I may not agree with everything a person says. But if it’s conveyed in a respectful manner that acknowledges factual information, I’m in favor of listening. My hope, when I saw the aforementioned article, was that perhaps Colson had some reasonable things to say. Maybe he would have a kind, respectful manner of laying out the issues as he sees them. I should have known better.

Instead of honest dialogue, we are left with garbage like this:

I have never believed that gays wanted to marry. Their behavior by its very nature is too promiscuous. Gay relationships are for the most part sexually open rather than exclusive.

Really? This is news to me. You know, I was going to say that perhaps Colson doesn’t actually know any real, live gay people. But I’m amending that to suggest he doesn’t know any real, live human beings. Who does he think is responsible for the majority of divorces, adultery, and visits to prostitutes? Who does he believe is buying pornography? And how did he miss the recent statistics that 80% of self-proclaimed evangelicals ages 18-29 have had premarital sex?

As for his other point, that same-sex couples don’t actually want to get married: Also for the birds. That isn’t because he’s entirely wrong about the statistics. But if suddenly all straight people were not allowed to get married, I suspect that even the couples who live together without a legal document would want to support the rights of others to be married. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that the same holds true for same-sex couples?

As I read this, I was reminded that this was exactly how African American slaves were seen, despite evidence pointing to the contrary. It disgusts me that we have simply transmuted one variety of hate into another. (Actually, I don’t believe that the racist stereotype has been eradicated.)

This is the time for stepping up and showing love to our brothers and sisters, not condemning them. It sickens me that Colson would put such crap in print. But it is equally disturbing that my fellow Christians would pass it on, failing to see that there is no love behind his words. I don’t care for the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin,” but in this case, all we have is “hate the sin.”

Do us all a favor and don’t pass this one on to all your friends as though it represents a fair and reasonable point of view.

Hurt and Angry

Relationships

Forgive me, as I type this I am at the end of my rope. It’s been one hell of a week. Too much has happened in a short period of time.

I’m not normally very open about my feelings when something serious is going on. Part of that is the irrational belief I have that whatever I experience pales in comparison to what my friends have to endure. And I don’t want to be specific, as I feel it would be unproductive, bordering on public gossip, and could cause irreparable damage to a fragile relationship.

All that said, I’m angry and hurt beyond what I’ve experienced in recent years. However it happened, I’ve become a doormat in one of my relationships. The hard part is, I want to be forgiving and loving. I want things to work out for the best. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, even unintentionally. I find myself walking that fine line between accepting another person, warts and all, and allowing myself to be used.

I called someone else on her behavior. My hope was not to make her feel bad, but to improve a situation that had been brewing for some time. Instead, she became defensive and made accusations back at me. It hurt. Not because I believe I am perfect, or even that what she said is untrue (at least, some of it). It was just a flat-out denial that she has any responsibility or that there is any need to change. She seems content to believe the lies she tells herself, making sure that the rest of us know that we are the problem.

What is left is a broken relationship that I am not sure can be mended. Right now, it doesn’t feel like there is any way to move beyond the place we have found ourselves. Too much is at stake. I want to give up, but that doesn’t seem right either. The “fix-it girl” in me wants to rewind, take the blame, and say, “Yes, you’re right.” But in my heart, I know that can’t, and shouldn’t, happen.

My heart is grieving the loss that seems inevitable.

In Hiding

Relationships, Sin

This morning’s church service gave me a lot to think about. The message delivered by one of our pastors really hit home. I don’t always find that what I take away from a sermon is exactly what was intended, especially since my theology does tend to veer off the beaten conservative path. Today was no exception. It was a great message, by the way, and one that could be heard by people at many stages of their journey of faith and still have significance.

One of the things that really struck me was when our pastor talked about being real with each other. (I forgive the pastor for speaking in lingo, as he’s the youth pastor. And also, he may be reading this…) What really punched me in the gut was the realization that I tend to be “unreal.” I use that term because I don’t live a fake life. I don’t pretend that I’m somehow better, or without sin, or that I’ve achieved some kind of spiritual pinnacle. But I don’t tend to like to let anyone in behind the wall, to know what my honest struggles are. I might hint, or downplay, or say something like, “Yeah, I have a hard time with certain things in my life, too.” But I don’t often outright admit my specific flaws.

I would say that it isn’t that I don’t want to, but it really is that I don’t want to. Not because I fear embarrassment. Not because I think people will stop liking me. Not because I want to project an image. Not even because I fear being excused from serving in the church. In fact, our church, despite its limitations, is probably the last place any of those things would happen.

The reason I don’t like to admit where I’m weak is that I use it to protect myself. I place my sins between myself and others, using them to create the wall. Instead of using other bricks, my building material of choice is my own sin. I use it to keep others out because, deep down, I secretly believe they already want to be shut out.

I know why I do it. For some people, they have terrible family situations growing up; mine wasn’t especially bad. We had some issues, but doesn’t every family? Where I was hurt most was in my peer relationships. I spent more than 8 years being bullied. I was called names; put down; physically beaten; and sexually harassed. It was hell on earth. Finding God did not change it, but I was so fearful that even then, I didn’t want to let anyone in. I spent years in a toxic friendship with another Christian because I believed her control and neediness were signs that she actually cared about me. Even though that relationship is over, I still fear the consequences of ending it.

Now, none of that excuses my sin or my failure as a friend to others. But somewhere in there, I heard the key turn in the lock. I understood why I needed to keep everyone at arm’s length, and why my particular go-to sins are the kind of thing designed to keep people out (things like judgmentalism and inappropriate anger). That doesn’t mean that the road to spiritual healing will be easy. But it does mean that I don’t have to go down that road alone. I can ask for, and even expect, help. And with the wedge gone, it means that I can mean it when I say my chains are gone.

Thanks for listening, dear friends.

Relationships: Reaching Out When It’s Hard for Us

LGBTQ+, Relationships

Brace yourselves, this is a long one.

Sometimes, God wants us to stretch and grow and He uses pretty interesting ways to get our attention. Like the people He sends into our lives and the things He asks us to do. Some years ago, after an encounter with a friend, I felt God speaking to me, saying, “I want you to reach out to the church on behalf of my gay children.”

As you can imagine, my first reaction was, “Huh?” I could almost feel God sighing, much the way I do with my kids when I know they’ve heard me but are being intentionally dense. I am pretty sure God said, “You heard Me.” I thought maybe I had misunderstood. God didn’t want me to reach out to LGBT people, He wanted me to reach out for them. I had no idea what that meant.

Now, if you had asked me even a decade ago if this would be my life, I would have said absolutely, unquestionably, emphatically, no. If you had asked me twenty years ago, I would have run screaming from the room. At that point in my life, I had been conditioned to believe that the gay community was the church’s version of Public Enemy No. 1.

A little background: That isn’t how I was raised. My family, at least on my mother’s side, is pretty tolerant and open to a lot of perspectives. The majority of my close relatives are non-religious (though most would claim to be spiritual in one sense or another). When I was a teenager, I did become religious. I came face-to-face with the Living God, and there was no way to deny His presence and power in my life. At that point, I joined the church in order to be part of a community of believers.

While much of what I learned at church was valuable, I also learned, from some of the members, a specific brand of hate. I have a close relation who is a lesbian, and I felt immediately that I would need to hide that fact. It was something to be ashamed of, or at least be horrified by. When I finally came clean to some friends, they weren’t sure how to respond. They made sympathetic noises, but I could tell that they were all relieved it was my family and not theirs. When I shared with adults, I was instructed to remind my relative (and any other family members who were supporting her “lifestyle choice”) that she was living sinfully and was outside God’s grace. I was led to believe that I was personally responsible for keeping her out of Hell. There are no words for how devastating and terrifying this was for an adolescent. I honestly felt the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Not only that, I had to endure years of hearing people say things like, “That’s so gay,” when they meant they disliked something. Guys routinely called each other “sissy” or “fag” to imply being less-than-manly in some situation—even in the church. Even now, some people just can’t keep their nasty comments to themselves. I have deleted more than one person from my Facebook friends list because of the inappropriate comments made about the LGBT community, individually and collectively. And lest anyone think that the church has stopped heaping abuse on people and that Fred Phelps is an aberration (he blames gays for pretty much everything), consider the fact that some pastors see it as their job to “educate” their congregations about the “causes” of homosexuality, reinforcing stereotypes rather than demonstrating God’s love and grace.

The way I was treated just for having a lesbian relative led me to act , myself, in some unloving ways. As a young adult, I had three friends attempt to come out to me, and I made it impossible for all of them. I rejected them, at least in that way, and for that I am deeply sorry. Thankfully, two of them have forgiven me. I have no idea what happened to the third, unfortunately. I regret my participation in the cycle of hate encouraged by some Christians.

Thankfully, through all of this, God kept speaking and I kept listening. Some wonderful people have come into my life, both gay and straight. Friends have led me to a variety of incredible resources.* Not only that, I learned that I am not the only straight Christian in this position and that there are people out there who have made it their life mission to close the gap between the evangelical community and the gay community. We don’t live in a perfect world, so the people, the relationships, and the methods are similarly imperfect. But there is hope.

I say all this because reaching out to help heal the hurt and abuse delivered by the church, and to prevent further damage, was a major relational challenge for me. Because of the hurt I myself had suffered, I was still afraid of being rejected for standing up and saying that it had to stop. Yet God wanted me to take those steps. It may have taken years to accomplish that work in my heart, but God (and my very forgiving friends and family) never gave up on me. I know there are other areas in which I need to extend grace to people, so perhaps that is what is next in God’s plan. At any rate, I had to make a move, reach out even when it was difficult, lonely, and painful. I had to take a risk, and I still see the consequences—there are people who don’t want much to do with me anymore. But I consider it worth it when I see the difference it has made in so many people’s lives.

Because you are not me, your passions and the people God wants you to reach will be different. Only you know what your struggles are. The world is still full of racism, classism, sexism, and a lot of other -isms. It might be hard for you to befriend people from certain parts of the world or who have different religious beliefs. Maybe you, like me, have been commissioned to build bridges between the church and people who have suffered at the hands of the church. Maybe all of this is too hard for you and for now, the most you can muster is tolerating people of a different political party. That’s a good first step, then. Everyone needs to start somewhere.

Who are the people God is challenging you to reach? Where do you need to take relational risks in order to be the love that someone needs?

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*If you are interested in some of the resources I have collected over the years, contact me and I will be more than happy to help. A good start, and my earliest inspiration, is the film Lord Save Us from Your Followers.

Taking It Too Far

Moral Source

Affirming Promiscuity?

Hurt and Angry

In Hiding

Relationships: Reaching Out When It’s Hard for Us

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