Why I Stay
Last week I saw a video (it's a few years old but new to me) called "Why I Stay," from the perspective of a gay pastor on why she chooses to remain a Christian despite the church's treatment of LGBTQ people. On the second anniversary of my coming out, I decided to reflect on why I stay.
The last two years have found me wrestling with what it means to be an out-and-proud bisexual man while remaining a Christian, and a theologically-trained Christian at that. There are those who find my existence a contradiction in terms, who believe it impossible to love and serve God without totally abnegating one’s queer identity. Incidentally, one of my favorite things about being a queer Christian is that all I must do to disprove the inane thesis that one can’t be both (queer and Christian) is to exist as myself. To love God and embrace my sexuality. My mere existence problematizes these rigid categories of who’s in and out. It’s kind of a trip.
Still, I have dear friends who’ve left the faith over the church’s treatment of LGBTQ people. Some of them are queer themselves; others simply can’t abide belonging to an organization that would reject their LGBTQ loved ones. I don’t blame these people, but it grieves my heart because things don’t have to be this way.
I can’t speak to anyone else’s experiences, but I can share my own, and make my case for why I stay within a faith that, on paper, appears not to want me.
There’s a short answer, and a longer one. The short answer is Jesus. I stay because the person of Christ has captivated me, and continues to shape my life and choices fifteen years after I gave Him my life at a summer camp. The example of Jesus, and the ways He was moved in my life spill over into my morals, my vocation, my desire to see people loved, and my drive to create a more just world in my lifetime.
The longer answer is that I stay because, even after weighing the ways in which the church has neglected and abused the hurting, perpetrated injustice, and specifically targeted people like me, I still believe the Gospel is a force for good in the world. It may have been so fundamentally misunderstood by those in power, by those who wield it like a weapon, but it has also been a salve for the poor, the destitute and the disenfranchised since Christ himself walked the earth. The message of Jesus has been a source of healing for hurting souls for two thousand years, and I was one of them. Over half my lifetime ago, the Gospel of Jesus Christ saved my life.
I guess the long answer is my own life story. I was a lonely, sensitive kid who felt everything, who was constantly overwhelmed by my own pain, the pain of those I loved, and pain in the rest of the world. Like Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, I saw the pain and didn’t know “how to not notice it.”
Friendship seemed elusive; hope was illusory. I sat alone at lunch every day. I was, outside of a few precious moments with my beloved family, terminally unhappy. Then some loving grown ups saw me, really saw me, and invited me to become part of something. They taught me that I was made by love, that I was radically, holistically loved by my Creator. This is the first thing I ever learned about God, which has remained the cornerstone for my faith ever since: God loves me. God loves everyone. If God is anything at all, if there is a God to speak of, then that God is love.
My soul latched onto this Good News, and it was good news, and I knew that I must give my whole self to it. So I did.
I’ve told this story before, so I’ll spare the details, but suffice it to say that now, fifteen years after I gave my heart to my Creator, I do not regret it. Even considering the turbulence I’ve experienced in spiritual spaces since coming out, I would not trade my faith for anything. It was a treasure, buried in a field, and I sold everything I had to possess it. I made the right call.
But none of that excuses the pain LGBTQ people have had to endure while coming to terms with their sexuality, particularly in Christian churches and families. It is inexcusable. People like me deserve better than to be ground up in the gears of institutional Christianity. We are God’s beloved children and we deserve love. So another reason I stay is that I want better for the next generation of LGBTQ Christians, those of us who love Jesus (or might love Jesus) but cannot tamp down our orientations or sexualities for the sake of assimilation. I stay for the gay kids who live on the streets because their Christian parents rejected them. For the trans teens who, statistically, will seriously consider or attempt suicide because they cannot imagine a future in which their loved ones know their true selves.
I stay for this kid:
I stay for this 15 year old dork who loves his friends, loves his God but cannot imagine being honest about who he is for fear of rejection. Who will struggle in silence for another decade before he can tell the truth. I stay because someone needs to stick around to tell kids like this, kids like me, that we’re ok. That God isn’t mad at us. That we don’t have to choose between our orientation and our faith. That God isn’t asking us to.
I stay because, even on days when I’m not entirely sure that every little detail of the Christian story is true, it is still the best news I’ve ever heard. It is a story of love for the loveless, hope for the hopeless, and justice for the oppressed. And it makes me better, this Jesus story, this Gospel. It invites me not just to ordinary generosity or good will but to radical love, service and kindom, especially with those at the lowest rungs of society. Jesus calls me to love the poor, to love myself and my neighbors, to love even my enemies. What a way to live in the world. Quoting Father Gregory Boyle, the Gospel invites me to imagine a circle of compassion, and then imagine that no one is standing outside that circle. That’s how I want to live, even when I’m not 100% sold on every theological claim in the Bible. Jesus’ team is the one I want to be on.
Why do I stay? I stay because I’ve been held by Love on nights when I had no other reason to live. I stay because I genuinely believe that my Creator loves me, and that this mysterious Jesus figure is the key to unlocking a life of love, service and meaning. I stay because we need more people of faith standing in their churches and demanding that queer people be seen, and known, and loved just as they are. Because the stakes are too high to get this wrong. I stay to hold these people who taught me about the grace and love of God accountable to what they preached. You told me God loved me; prove it. And I will continue to try and live a life that proves God’s love to everyone I meet.
Happy Pride month everyone. May God bless you and keep you, now and forever.
The last two years have found me wrestling with what it means to be an out-and-proud bisexual man while remaining a Christian, and a theologically-trained Christian at that. There are those who find my existence a contradiction in terms, who believe it impossible to love and serve God without totally abnegating one’s queer identity. Incidentally, one of my favorite things about being a queer Christian is that all I must do to disprove the inane thesis that one can’t be both (queer and Christian) is to exist as myself. To love God and embrace my sexuality. My mere existence problematizes these rigid categories of who’s in and out. It’s kind of a trip.
Still, I have dear friends who’ve left the faith over the church’s treatment of LGBTQ people. Some of them are queer themselves; others simply can’t abide belonging to an organization that would reject their LGBTQ loved ones. I don’t blame these people, but it grieves my heart because things don’t have to be this way.
I can’t speak to anyone else’s experiences, but I can share my own, and make my case for why I stay within a faith that, on paper, appears not to want me.
There’s a short answer, and a longer one. The short answer is Jesus. I stay because the person of Christ has captivated me, and continues to shape my life and choices fifteen years after I gave Him my life at a summer camp. The example of Jesus, and the ways He was moved in my life spill over into my morals, my vocation, my desire to see people loved, and my drive to create a more just world in my lifetime.
The longer answer is that I stay because, even after weighing the ways in which the church has neglected and abused the hurting, perpetrated injustice, and specifically targeted people like me, I still believe the Gospel is a force for good in the world. It may have been so fundamentally misunderstood by those in power, by those who wield it like a weapon, but it has also been a salve for the poor, the destitute and the disenfranchised since Christ himself walked the earth. The message of Jesus has been a source of healing for hurting souls for two thousand years, and I was one of them. Over half my lifetime ago, the Gospel of Jesus Christ saved my life.
I guess the long answer is my own life story. I was a lonely, sensitive kid who felt everything, who was constantly overwhelmed by my own pain, the pain of those I loved, and pain in the rest of the world. Like Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, I saw the pain and didn’t know “how to not notice it.”
Friendship seemed elusive; hope was illusory. I sat alone at lunch every day. I was, outside of a few precious moments with my beloved family, terminally unhappy. Then some loving grown ups saw me, really saw me, and invited me to become part of something. They taught me that I was made by love, that I was radically, holistically loved by my Creator. This is the first thing I ever learned about God, which has remained the cornerstone for my faith ever since: God loves me. God loves everyone. If God is anything at all, if there is a God to speak of, then that God is love.
My soul latched onto this Good News, and it was good news, and I knew that I must give my whole self to it. So I did.
I’ve told this story before, so I’ll spare the details, but suffice it to say that now, fifteen years after I gave my heart to my Creator, I do not regret it. Even considering the turbulence I’ve experienced in spiritual spaces since coming out, I would not trade my faith for anything. It was a treasure, buried in a field, and I sold everything I had to possess it. I made the right call.
But none of that excuses the pain LGBTQ people have had to endure while coming to terms with their sexuality, particularly in Christian churches and families. It is inexcusable. People like me deserve better than to be ground up in the gears of institutional Christianity. We are God’s beloved children and we deserve love. So another reason I stay is that I want better for the next generation of LGBTQ Christians, those of us who love Jesus (or might love Jesus) but cannot tamp down our orientations or sexualities for the sake of assimilation. I stay for the gay kids who live on the streets because their Christian parents rejected them. For the trans teens who, statistically, will seriously consider or attempt suicide because they cannot imagine a future in which their loved ones know their true selves.
I stay for this kid:
I stay for this 15 year old dork who loves his friends, loves his God but cannot imagine being honest about who he is for fear of rejection. Who will struggle in silence for another decade before he can tell the truth. I stay because someone needs to stick around to tell kids like this, kids like me, that we’re ok. That God isn’t mad at us. That we don’t have to choose between our orientation and our faith. That God isn’t asking us to.
I stay because, even on days when I’m not entirely sure that every little detail of the Christian story is true, it is still the best news I’ve ever heard. It is a story of love for the loveless, hope for the hopeless, and justice for the oppressed. And it makes me better, this Jesus story, this Gospel. It invites me not just to ordinary generosity or good will but to radical love, service and kindom, especially with those at the lowest rungs of society. Jesus calls me to love the poor, to love myself and my neighbors, to love even my enemies. What a way to live in the world. Quoting Father Gregory Boyle, the Gospel invites me to imagine a circle of compassion, and then imagine that no one is standing outside that circle. That’s how I want to live, even when I’m not 100% sold on every theological claim in the Bible. Jesus’ team is the one I want to be on.
Why do I stay? I stay because I’ve been held by Love on nights when I had no other reason to live. I stay because I genuinely believe that my Creator loves me, and that this mysterious Jesus figure is the key to unlocking a life of love, service and meaning. I stay because we need more people of faith standing in their churches and demanding that queer people be seen, and known, and loved just as they are. Because the stakes are too high to get this wrong. I stay to hold these people who taught me about the grace and love of God accountable to what they preached. You told me God loved me; prove it. And I will continue to try and live a life that proves God’s love to everyone I meet.
Happy Pride month everyone. May God bless you and keep you, now and forever.
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