What the Bible seemed to address in a much larger and emphatic way was justice, especially the imperative to treat the “other”—the outsiders and outcasts—with unconditional love and acceptance.
Privilege is something you may not be aware you have if you’re part of the “in-group.” I’m a cisgender, straight white male, so I know I have privilege in my culture. It took me years to figure that out, though. But if you’re paying attention, life has a way of teaching you lessons.
During the mid-1980s, my sister came out as bisexual. This was the first time that I and my family had to directly confront issues surrounding the LGBTQ+ community. Like so many people who were children of parents who became Christians during the height of the Jesus Movement of the early 1970s, I grew up with an evangelical upbringing. Though my parents were reasonable people and distrusted fundamentalism, there were certain church teachings that they took for granted. Among those was the teaching on “homosexuality” and how it was contrary to God’s will to be in a gay relationship.
As a child, I was unaware gay people even existed until I thumbed through a Chick tract in a Christian bookstore when I was about 9. Looking back, I now realize it was a revolting and hate-filled piece of anti-LGBTQ+ propaganda. But back then, I didn’t know any better. The tract was filled with gay stereotypes and depicted a gay wedding (in a very unflattering way). I was shocked. I didn’t even know that there was even such a thing as same-sex relationships.
As I moved on into my teens and adulthood, I gradually became aware of the gay rights movement, but didn’t give it much thought. I wasn’t acquainted with any LGBTQ+ people (that I knew of) and nobody in my circle really talked about it much.
When my sister came out as bisexual my parents didn’t freak out, but they also didn’t approve of her identity. They willingly read material she provided them, but in the end, they cited Scripture to defend their non-affirming stance. To my regret now, I remember siding with them. A few years later, she married a man, and I think we all figured that was that.
As the 1980s progressed, the hatred shown by some (but not all) of the Christian community towards gay AIDS victims rubbed me the wrong way, despite my non-affirming stance. In the early 1990s, a group called the “Oregon Citizen’s Alliance” sponsored several anti-LGBTQ+ bills in that state. Disgusted at such proposed discrimination, I voted NO. (Thankfully, the bills did not pass.)
Still, I maintained a kind of dualistic view of queer people. On the one hand, I felt compassion for them, and I was totally against any kind of housing or employment discrimination. I would scold Christians who told disparaging gay jokes or in any way spoke ill of sexual minorities. On the other hand, I couldn’t pull myself away from the view that, as I saw it, the Bible specifically and unequivocally condemned “homosexuality.” It was an uncomfortable and very unsatisfying place to be. Something just wasn’t adding up.
Twenty-seventeen was the turning point for me. One cold January morning, my sister invited me to have coffee with her at a Portland coffee shop. After I arrived and sat down across from her, one of the first things she said to me was, “you have a brother.” I immediately knew what she, now he, meant. He was transgender. The scales fell from my eyes. I immediately embraced him. Things made sense. Reflecting on our growing up, I had always sensed that he was not comfortable in his own skin. Now his moment of liberation had come. Thankfully, my parents also embraced his identity. Unbeknownst to me, they had also been gradually moving to a place of affirmation.
A couple of other things happened during 2017 that also made me rethink my views. First was the election of Donald Trump. The fact that so many evangelicals who had relentlessly scolded Bill Clinton for his infidelity now embraced a twice-divorced serial adulterer and sexual predator without the slightest hint of irony confirmed to me that I was playing on the wrong team. During Trump’s first term, anti-LGBTQ+, and specifically anti-Trans, rhetoric was ratcheting up. I heard people I knew and loved saying hateful and hurtful things about the LGBTQ+ community. I left the evangelical church without hesitation and never looked back.
It was also during 2017 that I finally read the Bible cover-to-cover. It didn’t take me long to figure out that it was a very human book, written by humans and full of different culture-bound human perspectives and opinions. I also discovered that the Bible had hardly anything at all to say about “homosexuality,” let alone anything else that pertained to the full spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities. There were only a handful of verses (almost always taken out of context) that conservative Christians always trotted out to issue a blanket condemnation over a whole group of people who had long been subject to all kinds of horrible discrimination and violence. What the Bible did seem to address in a much larger and emphatic way was justice, especially the imperative to treat the “other”—the outsiders and outcasts—with unconditional love and acceptance. Jesus never said a single word about “homosexuality,” but he had plenty to say about hypocrisy and how to love your neighbor. I started to read blogs and listen to podcasts by progressive Christians who were affirming (shout out especially to Pete Enns and the Bible for Normal People podcast). They helped me intellectually shore up my own evolving views regarding sexual minorities. By 2018, I was fully affirming- both in society and in the Church. Today, I consider myself an ally to the LGBTQ+ community and I want to heartily apologize to that community for previously holding views that diminished their humanity. I’m learning. And I’m here as a very flawed follower of Jesus to humbly lend my voice and my actions in support.
– M