Rescuing the Gospel from “Christians vs Gays”
|I recently read Justin Lee’s spiritual memoir Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gays vs Christians Debate, and like its predecessor, Wesley Hill’s Washed and Waiting, I found Torn to be exceedingly helpful, a must read.
A spiritual memoir, Torn unfolds and unpacks Lee’s spiritual journey as it relates to his understanding of (his own) homosexuality. Justin relates how he grew up in a conservative Evangelical home, the process of his coming to the realization that he is gay, and his venture toward reconciling those two identities, having been taught they were mutually exclusive and that “ex-gay” programs were the solution.
After a lengthy dating relationship with a girl in high school that had all the marks of precious friendship, but no sparks of romantic love (on his part), Justin comes to accept his homosexuality and begins his search for guidance from the church about how to move forward.
He quickly encounters the “ex-gay” movement and believes he has struck gold. Like many young gay and lesbian teenagers discovering that their sexual orientation is different from “everybody else’s,” Justin wished for nothing more than to be able, with God’s help, to change his desires. So he signed up.
It didn’t take long before Justin realized that “ex-gay” ministries weren’t all they were hyped up to be. They handed out shallow, one-size-fits-all narratives about “what causes people to be gay,” narratives that simply did not fit into Justin’s actual experience being gay — he was never sexually abused; he had a close relationship with his father and a healthy relationship with his mother… Similar to Wesley Hill’s experience and that of many of LGBTQ folks, none of the supposed “causes” of homosexuality were true in his life, despite all the various logical gymnastics the leaders and other members attempted in order to force it to fit.
Not only were their origin stories untrue, so were their “results.” To his deep disappointment, Justin saw how the vast majority of ex-gay members weren’t ex-gays. They were men and women who still yearned for romantic connection with members of their own sex and had little to no desire for members of the opposite sex. They might have been celibate, but they weren’t ex-gay.
Furthermore, Justin became troubled by these “ministries'” willingness to harm heterosexual women by exhorting gay men to marry them even though they had no desire for their wives. If these women suffered loveless marriages, they were “suffering for Jesus.” Ex-gays never came out and said this directly, of course; but their unmindful negligence toward women derived, in part, from their unspoken but indelible bottomline: anything is better than homosexuality.
When Justin realizes that no one in these ex-gay ministries has actually “switched teams,” he comes to understand that identifying as “ex-gay” when you still find yourself attracted to members of your own sex is disingenuous. As a young man devoted to following Christ, Justin knows he cannot call himself “ex-gay,” that doing so would be a lie.
Therefore, as a gay Christian, Justin finds he no longer fits in (is welcome) among conservative Christians, all of whom insist he identify as (“become”) “ex-gay.” He is not welcome in the church where he grew up. Student ministries on his college campus quote Leviticus at him and demand he go to ex-gay groups then ban him when he tries to talk about why they didn’t work. None of the Christians in his life, except his parents, listen or try to understand. They are too entrenched in the one-dimensional, gay-vs-Christian theology.
Despite all this, Justin holds on to his faith in Christ, his high view of Scripture, and his heart for the church. Many have cursed the church and the Bible for far less. Justin never does.
And because of this, Justin’s alienation is not one-sided. He isn’t welcome among Evangelicals, who consider his un-acted-upon sexual impulses to be “unrepentant sin.” But, though welcome, neither does he really fit in among secular gays on his campus — in part because many in the gay community (understandably) reject the religion that has rejected them and in part because Justin is still recovering from his own gay-vs-Christian (these two don’t mix) upbringing.
Justin has a heart for reconciliation, something that his deep experience of alienation no doubt strengthened. His long struggle to reconcile his own identity as both gay and Christian would eventually lead him to establish the Gay Christian Network, a community and a resource for all gay Christians and their allies — both celibacy advocates and marriage advocates. Justin is particularly gifted at bridging these kinds of divides. The more I read his writing (which you can do here at his blog, “Crumbs from the Table”), the more I have come to appreciate just how uninterested Justin is in advocating his particular position.
Like Wesley Hill’s Washed and Waiting, Torn is vastly important because reading Justin’s story is like becoming his friend. We listen to his life and we gain better understanding — of “the other” and ourselves. Its firsthand story helps dispel the secondhand misinformation about gay men and women that continues to stubbornly poison the church. It provides a home and haven, a fellowship and connection for other gay Christians who find themselves perpetually alienated.
Torn closes with a vision for a path forward, how we can rescue the Gospel from the Culture War and re-cultivate the soil in the church so that it is hospitable for it’s gay brothers and sisters: specifically by rejecting ex-gay ministries and promoting celibacy, and how both sides (even theological gay marriage advocates!) can, and must, do that better. Torn presents cases for both Side A and Side B theology (and practice), and lets the reader decide. Because, again, advocating his own position is not Lee’s primary goal, unity is.
Updated July 29, 2015
Please see Lee’s comment below, which clarifies my weak word choice “unity” with the better, more specific “understanding.”
What price is acceptable to pay for unity?
A paradigm case of a price worth paying for unity would be a lack of agreement on various eschatological details: pre-trib vs. mid-trib rapture, for example. A paradigm case of a price too high to pay for unity would be the gospel: The Scripture says of one who preaches a different gospel, which is not really another genuine gospel, “let him be accursed” (Galatians, ESV). Elsewhere Paul writes of Hymenaus and Alexander, “whom I have handed over to Satan, that they may learn not to blaspheme” (1 Timothy, ESV).
Since you’re writing about ethics rather than pure theology, a more paradigm cases in ethics would be in order. A price worth paying for unity: Not having full agreement on the use of alcohol. A price too high to pay for unity: acceptance of sexual relations such as those referred to in 1 Corinthians 5, or perhaps acceptance of polygamy or racism.
Renea, you and Lee evidently think that compromise both on the permissibility of homosexual acts and on the definition of marriage is a price worth paying for unity in the church: “Torn presents cases for both Side A and Side B theology (and practice), and lets the reader decide. Because, again, advocating his own position is not Lee’s primary goal, unity is.”
My instinct is to view both of these as prices too high to pay. Can you help me understand why you think differently (or how I’ve misunderstood you if the above paragraph is not what you’re saying).
Maybe the question is clearer when asked this way: What is the criterion for distinguishing one kind of price from the other? What makes these things more like the paradigmatic cases of prices worth paying, and less like the cases of prices too high?
Mark, I need some help understanding where you’re coming from/how you’re defining a few things.
First, How do you define the gospel? How does Side A preach a different gospel? How does Side B preach a different gospel?
(My second definition question might be irrelevant depending on your answer to these first questions, so I’ll save it for now.)
“How does Side A preach a different gospel? How does Side B preach a different gospel?”
Who ever said they did? I never said that.
I get the impression you didn’t understand my comment at all, so here’s a summary of it:
There are reasons sufficient for sacrificing unity. There are reasons not sufficient. There must be a way of telling the difference. I don’t know how you try to tell the difference, and I’d like to know. That was all I asked.
Why didn’t you just say so? I kid. Thanks for bottom-lining it for me.
I agree with what I understood you to be saying in the first part of your comment. We must draw the line at the gospel. When folks mess about with the historicity or divinity of Christ and his resurrection, that sacrifices unity. When people replace grace with systemic legalism, that rejects Christ and sacrifices unity. For me, I can agree to disagree on everything else.
Regarding this issue in particular, there are people on both sides who love Jesus and take his word, the written revelation of how to live the gospel, seriously. Side A folks haven’t merely found loopholes to “get out of” submitting to difficult passages; they have a hermeneutic for the whole of Scripture that has brought them to their position. (Same goes for Side B.) In all these things, therefore, neither side, at its best, sacrifices the gospel. (There are of course folks on both sides who adhere to bad hermeneutics.)
Does that answer your question?
For what it’s worth, my initial understanding of your comment derived from the statement, “My instinct is to view both of these as prices too high to pay.” The closest syntactical referent for “both of these” is in the preceding clause: “Side A and Side B.” However, I see now you meant to refer to “homosexual acts” and “the definition of marriage,” which still seems to indicate you believe Side A compromises the gospel, that Side A theology/ethic is a price too high to pay for unity. So my question remains. How does Side A preach a different gospel? Or, if it doesn’t, as you say in your second comment, why is Side A too costly, and what does it cost (if not the gospel)?
Thanks, Mark.
Ok, thanks! Now we’re getting somewhere!
I’m on a phone, but I’ll do my best without a proper keyboard!
“We must draw the line at the gospel.”
Agreed. But there are other criteria. I’d also consider conformity with a good basic statement of faith, e.g. the Nicene Creed, to be a good criterion. (I’ll assume you concur unless you say otherwise.) That’s two criteria (so far).
“For me, I can agree to disagree on everything else.”
I don’t think so: You also give what appears to be a third criterion: Submission to the authority of Scripture: “Regarding this issue in particular, there are people on both sides who . . . take his word, the written revelation of how to live the gospel, seriously. Side A folks haven’t merely found loopholes to ‘get out of’ submitting to difficult passages . . . .”
That’s three (so far). I’ll add a fourth later.
“Does that answer your question?”
With that clarification, yes, thank you.
“The closest syntactical referent for ‘both of these’ is . . . .”
Oh, I get it now. Thanks!
“. . . which still seems to indicate you believe Side A compromises the gospel . . . .”
No. It indicates EITHER that I think it is on the wrong side of SOME criterion (of which we have three so far), OR that I simply have a theological instinct I haven’t thought through thoroughly yet!
It was actually both. Like I said, I’m looking at criteria here. I wasn’t sure what yours were, or indeed mine!
In fact I could see no point in thinking through it carefully until I had your answer: Without your answer how could I be sure whether we just differed on the third criterion above? Now I see we don’t. (Yay!)
So now I have to move towards thinking through my theological instincts more carefully. (Just a step or two in that direction should be enough for today!)
A preliminary note: To not compromise on our third criterion, an acceptable Side A theology has to be Beth, not Chris–dusting off that old illustration again.
One more preliminary: I consider Beth style Side A theology to rely on lousy hermeneutics.
Background to this preliminary: I’m aware of two efforts to do Side A theology as a Beth. One was by a friend, whom I refuted myself. Another was Matthew Vines. I read Mohler’s refutation of Vines, and I consider it decisive.
More background: Vines cites scholars in support of his position, but Mohler notes that they are all Chris, not Beth. So from Augustine (and earlier!) to Vines, there weren’t any Side A Beths to speak of–that Vines could find in his research.
So here (at last!) is my FOURTH criterion: A Christian and, by extension, a church or denomination can risk unity among believers in order to teach and adhere to a moral principle which is taught clearly in Scripture.
Presumably we either disagree on this criterion OR on my view that Bethish Side A theology relies on lousy hermeneutics.
One paradigm case I suggested earlier provides an opportunity to say something on behalf of both this criterion AND my assessment of Bethish Side A theology.
On behalf of this criterion: It works well on racism.
On behalf of my assessment of Bethish Side A hermeneutics: IF I can read the Bible well enough for myself and I refute one effort at a Bethish pro-racism theology and I read a decisive refutation of another and have reason to believe that other attempts at that sort of thing are rare, THEN I’m justified in considering such theologies to all rely on lousy hermeneutics.
Moreover, I can keep on thinking this without going out of my way to seek out new hermeneutics.
It’s the same way with the moral status of homosexual acts and the definition of marriage. (And if not, I have no idea why not, but you’re welcome to tell me.)
One more thing: The context of unity matters, and so does the manner of its loss. In internet conversations among believers and in cooperative disaster relief efforts, for example, I woukd support fewer criteria than I would in the context of a local church’s requirements for membership.
Finally, there are all kinds of unChristlike ways of promoting good biblical teaching. These are wrong, and I have surely been guilty myself of some of these myself. But it is surely possible, and necessary, to promote good biblical teaching in a Christlike manner. If some believers refuse to be in fellowship with those holding to this teaching, that is their decision, and the risk that they will make it is sometimes a risk worth taking.
Hi Mark!
Just got pointed here. I appreciate your question, but to clarify on my own behalf, I don’t advocate “compromising” on marriage or sexual morality for the sake of “unity.” I believe Christians need to be able to take stands on moral issues.
What I do believe, though, is that many in the church—on both sides, myself included—have at times misunderstood the real issues and concerns facing those on “the other side” in this disagreement, with the result being that we sometimes stereotype or believe falsehoods about one another, and we end up failing to show grace and love in areas where we could have done so without compromising our theological views.
Much of my goal in the book was to educate my fellow Christians about the many ways we’ve misunderstood one another and to make a case for how we can move forward as a church and as a society even as we continue to disagree. I don’t believe that the disagreement about marriage (what we sometimes call the “Side A/Side B” debate) is unimportant or can be simply set aside. It matters to all of us and to God. What I do believe is that I can love my neighbor/brother/sister even if I think he or she has gotten this completely wrong. I wanted to paint a picture for what that looks like when done right—and when done wrong.
I hope that helps!
Thanks for the comments, Justin! That sounds good.
If this is your first time at TTC, welcome!
Maybe I should add that I really like a lot of the material here. Christians aren’t supposed to be against gays, but for every sinner (and against the devil and against every sin, including the beams in our own eyes, whatever they may be).
The weakness of the ex-gay ministries (or at least a number of them based on Lee’s experience) is a story that hasn’t been told to a lot of people; I’ve heard very little of this story myself.
Thanks for adding this comment! Because this really is one of the the main points/goals of the post/book.