my journey to becoming affirming

In light of it being Pride Month and some recent news at my alma mater, I decided to write my own story for two reasons: in case it might help someone else who is on a similar journey and as an act of repentance for my own complicity in the discrimination of LGBTQ people.

Something that I have realized as of late is that we all need to be more open about how we have changed and evolved to not only destigmatize changing one’s mind, but also to glorify the ability to grow and change. In the Trump era, it certainly feels like we all need a little more encouragement to grow up, to look at an issue or situation with new eyes, a willingness to change our minds on long-held beliefs. To that end, I want to share my story of becoming openly affirming because I’ve grown and evolved on this issue, and I think it is important that we be more vulnerable about ways that we have changed, in hopes of giving others freedom to change too.

I grew up Catholic, but I didn’t go to a church that talked much about sex, heterosexual or otherwise. I don’t remember meeting an openly gay person until I was in high school. I assume my parents thought homosexuality was a sin because that was in line with church teaching, but I honestly don’t remember ever having a conversation about it. When I started seriously dating my now-husband, we went to various evangelical churches that took a much more hard-line on gay marriage. A benefit of my Catholic upbringing is that I wasn’t burdened with a literal-only way of reading scripture, so, on the topic of whether same-sex relationships were sinful according to the Bible, I figured this fell into the same category as holding slaves, women wearing head coverings, eating pork, or the hundreds of other things that the “Bible says we should do,” but that we don’t actually do because we have a more holistic understanding of the entirety of scripture and its context and setting.

My line on the topic of same-sex relationships was that, “I’m not sure if it’s sinful or not, but I’m going to err on the side of compassion. If I wind up being wrong, I’ll take that up with God presumably when I die.” I didn’t research the scriptures typically used to condemn LGBTQ people. I didn’t take a particularly strong stand on the issue. I continued to attend and lead at a church that was quiet about their stance on gay and lesbian relationships. They said everyone was welcome, but they also said that acting on same-sex attraction was sinful and wrong, even doubling down on their position on sexual orientation when they made the move to allow women to lead, teach, and preach.

I began, what I would now call, a period of deconstruction of both the faith I grew up with and this other faith I had practiced for most of adult life. It was messy, complicated, and is nowhere near over, but in the process, we found a small affirming community in our bright red county in the very red state of Indiana. For the first time, I became friends with gay and lesbian couples. I started reading more about the context of the “clobber” passages used against LGBTQ people. I listened to the stories of my new friends who were so happy to find a welcoming place to worship after years of being ridiculed, ignored, or worse.

I realized that my previous laissez-faire stance on same-sex relationships was actually harmful. I believed that LGBTQ people deserved to be at the table as much as anyone else. I believed that sexual orientation was something planted in us from birth – and, therefore, came from God. I believed that discriminating against LGBTQ people was wrong and that it had been used in the church as a way to create an us-versus-them dichotomy that was analogous to the Kingdom of God that Jesus preached about. And yet, I didn’t really say that. I kept going to that church that wasn’t openly excluding LGBTQ people, but they believed that same-sex orientation was sinful and wrong. I stayed quiet, and in so doing, I was part of the problem. Martin Luther King, Jr., said, “in the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

I was complicit in the discrimination of LGBTQ people because I stayed quiet, and I repent for all of those years of being wishy-washy. It isn’t enough to believe that the table is open for everyone. Following Christ requires inviting everyone to the table since it isn’t our table anyway. It requires, especially for those of us in positions of privilege, to call out – loudly and often – organizations and their leaders who are trying to exclude people from the table for whatever reason. It requires us to be vocal opponents of or to leave organizations and churches who continue to create false dichotomies of who is in and who is out.

I write this story of my own evolution on what it means to be affirming because I think that those of us who have become more open and inclusive are quick to forget where we came from because we are ashamed of the ways in which we excluded others or were complicit in doing so. But we would be more convincing if we were open and honest about our own journeys and about the freedom that we have experienced on the other side of struggling with hard topics and issues. Changing our mind isn’t something to be feared or critiqued; the willingness to change our minds shows courage, curiosity, and maturity. We need more of it, not less.

Additional resources that haved helped me in case you’re interested:

• Unclobber by Colby Martin
• Sarah Bessey’s story on becoming affirming
• Inspired by Rachel Held Evans and What Is The Bible? by Rob Bell – both of helped me better articulate my understanding of scripture
• Liturgist’s LGBTQ episode
• Shameless by Nadia Bolz-Weber
• Sarah and Beth’s stories on Pantsuit Politics
• Feel free to add your recommendations in the comments!