Sunday, January 6, 2019

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

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