How I Stopped Being Angry At Anti-Gay Christians

I do hope that I don't turn people off because the things I say are hard to hear. Frankly, they're hard to say. They bring up a lot of painful memories for me. I have tried to present the effects anti-gay beliefs and actions have on us, while also acknowledging that the other side sometimes has good intentions.
I am not trying to attack anyone. If I hurt you, I didn't mean to. And please know how much it also hurts me to talk about this. I know you think God makes you oppose us. It still has the same painful effect, whether from God or man, love or hate.

There is the stereotype, among evangelicals, of the angry lesbian or gay man. And from my perspective as a gay person, it is entirely understandable. Anti-gay Christians literally call us disgusting, and call our real feelings of love a sin--when they are not fighting, politically, for laws and limitations that would make our lives worse. (Sometimes I think that most anti-gay Christians really want to make it as difficult as possible to be gay and have a good life, so that we will submit to the miseries of conversion therapy. I know that was my thinking, in my more honest moments, when I myself was anti-gay.)

So when you see us, you are usually at least standing before us as a reminder of our very painful anti-gay childhoods, and maybe of our rejection by our families. And that's if you're not expressing anti-gay beliefs or sentiments yourself, or on the other side of our battle for a better life.

No wonder we are angry.

However, anger is not a healthy state to be in. It robs you of the good and joyous life that you have a right to, whether gay or straight. It wears out your adrenals, steals your happiness, and may interfere in your relationship with God. Indeed, how can you praise God, when you are full of "righteous indignation"? Not only do I seek out happiness, but my relationship with God is just as important to me as any straight Christian's is to them. (I may have different beliefs than you, but it is. Beliefs don't always indicate sincerity.)

So one day I sat down and thought about anger. There are many emotions that serve us individually and as a species. Love makes us care for our children and elderly. Fear makes us run from danger. Even desire leads to procreation and bonding. But what purpose does anger serve--other than to make us kill each other?

Then I realized that anger was not real. Anger is not a real emotion, but a cover for other emotions. Anger is an attempt not to look weak, whether to others or yourself.

Lasting, deep anger is a cover for one of two strong emotions: hurt or fear.

I have been on both sides of this divide, and felt everything.

When gay people are hurt, they say, "These are my real feelings of love, I am not hurting anyone, and they call them disgusting and an abomination." When gay people are fearful, they say, "They want to take away our rights, put us in prison, take our children, fire us, or stone us to death."

When anti-gay people are hurt, they say, "My son is gay--that's not the way we raised him." When they are fearful, they say, "God will punish our nation for gay marriage."

All of these sentiments and more, on both sides, may be disguised as "anger."

And you can hear it in other politics, too. "They are taking our jobs," is fear. "They are killing babies," is hurt, or more specifically grief. "They are destroying the environment," is fear. "They are testing on animals," is grief.

We are taught in our society that it's not okay to show the "weakness" of being hurt. Bullies on TV and in real life mock us by fake-crying and asking if our feelings are hurt. It's also not easy to admit, even to ourselves, when we're scared. Men especially are taught never to have these feelings, but these toxic teachings affect everyone.

Sometimes we are even mocked for caring too much about other people's feelings. "Political correctness," for example. (A term only used anymore by people who are denouncing it.)

So it's hard to face our own fears and hurts. But facing mine feels a whole lot better than being trapped in anger. It hurts when people are angry at me for being gay. It hurts that people genuinely believe that my harmless and sincere love is a sin. It hurts to be taught from a young age that God hates my love. It hurts, of course, to called a false Christian when I know my own sincerity. And it hurts, that some people think that hurting me is an act of love.

I feel fear, too, sometimes. I am afraid for my life. Anti-gay sentiments range from not interfering with LGBT protections, to preaching in the pulpit that I should be stoned to death. They may be false Christians, but if they had their way, I would still be truly dead. And the true Christians would never defend me from the false. They aren't now, with their words, so they won't later, with their actions.

How many Christians hid homosexuals from the Nazis? How many Christians in Medieval times argued against burning at the stake? How many Christians today are hiding homosexuals from ISIS? How many anti-gay Christians spoke up against the "Kill The Gays" bill in Uganda? (Searching the internet, I could find nothing on any of these things.) The anti-gay people who say they love me would never protect me. They don't even bother saying to my would-be killers that I shouldn't be killed.

I know, too, that if you think being gay is a choice, then a loved one "choosing" to be gay or come out can seem like a rejection of your beliefs, and by extension, you. You would probably be hurt by this, if that's your perception. And I too have felt afraid that God would punish the whole nation for people being openly gay without some sort of punishment, stigma, or controversy.

And it doesn't feel good to be hurt, or afraid. But at least now I can take an honest look at my feelings, and deal with the underlying issues rather than surface anger. Now I can deal with my grief or fear, and move on.

I realize that I may have opened myself up to ridicule by openly admitting that my feelings have been hurt. (That's what blocking is for, I guess.) But I hope to have helped someone understand their own anger, whatever their beliefs about homosexuality. Maybe I have spared a gay person someone's anger. Most of all, maybe together we can make the world a less angry place.

I Wish You Knew: A Love Letter

To all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, who are afraid to be affirming:

This may be hard to hear, but it's even harder for us.

I wish you knew the anguish we go through, though I wouldn't wish it on you. The anguish of thinking that something is wrong with you spiritually, I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I think for most gay people raised Christian, the problem isn't that we refuse to repent--it's that we can't stop repenting. Because how can you not obsess over something that you are told jeopardizes your very soul? It is terrifying, even if you have been saved. I was taught to be disgusted by what I later found out I was. I wouldn't wish that pain on you, but I do wish you knew you could sympathize.

I wish you knew how much anti-gay teachings are hurting us. How many hour-long sermons are dedicated to other sins? Even with abortion and divorce, these sermons are not nearly as common. And that is not counting what we hear in your voice when you talk about us or our love. Some Christians even defend their disgust at us. How many other sins, if they're being honest, do they find just as disgusting? And we are subjected to these things by others, even if not by you personally. Even if homosexuality is said to be equal to other sins, it is treated as if it were much, much worse. 

A lot of you may assume that I am a "cultural Christian," or that, like a character in a Christian novel, I never knew that I had to have my own relationship with Christ. I, too, have accepted Christ as my Savior, and if sincerity counts for anything, I know I have been saved. I, too, have a relationship with God. And He tells me that I am a beautiful and beloved creation--no ifs, ands, or buts. And that He loves me--and likes me--just the way I am. I have been saved, and I hold my beliefs as strongly as you hold yours, even if you don't agree with me. And I do read my Bible--in fact, I research the original Greek and Hebrew words of the Bible. I hope you know all this about me.

And most of all, I wish you knew you didn't have to hurt us. I know your first instinct is to say that you're not hurting us--but how would you know? You're not us. I have seen many anti-gay Christians praised as gentle and compassionate--by straight people. But how do they know how their words impact the people they are actually talking to? They usually don't even ask.

I have never liked the "No Hate" campaigns, because hatred is not the point. Please don't tell me that you don't hate me. I don't hate you either. I love you too. But the pain is just as great, whether you love us or hate us.

There is no way to be anti-gay, and outspoken about it--or refuse to come to someone's wedding--and not cause pain. And I know that some of you really wish otherwise. I know some of you tell the truth when you say that you love us. And I love you too.

I know it often hurts you, too, to be anti-gay, though not as much as it hurts us. (I've been on both sides of it, and it hurts more from this side. It hurts more when the "sin" is in you, and not the other person.)

That is why I wish I could simply fellowship with you, and be accepted as a fellow believer. Not "confronted" or "lovingly rebuked." Simply accepted, like any straight person who professes the name of Christ. I can also wait for marriage, and not lust, even if you think my marriage is fake.

And most of all, I wish you knew you didn't have to hurt us.

I'm praying for you, fellow believer. Arguments probably won't do it. I know I am using words against the strong forces of either anger--bordering on hatred--or fear. And I assume you are not one of the angry Christians. You fear for us, or yourselves, if you should become affirming of our love. God did not give us a spirit of fear, and only God can deliver you from this fear.

I hope I have been compassionate but not condescending, as I wish others to do unto me.


With much love,

A Gay Christian