Alan Chambers of Exodus International Apologizes to LGBT Community

Update: Exodus International announces it is shutting down

Wow. 

It takes a lot of guts to issue an apology as honest and as public as this one from Alan Chambers of Exodus International. 

An excerpt: 

Recently, I have begun thinking again about how to apologize to the people that have been hurt by Exodus International through an experience or by a message. I have heard many firsthand stories from people called ex-gay survivors. Stories of people who went to Exodus affiliated ministries or ministers for help only to experience more trauma. I have heard stories of shame, sexual misconduct, and false hope. In every case that has been brought to my attention, there has been swift action resulting in the removal of these leaders and/or their organizations. But rarely was there an apology or a public acknowledgement by me. 

And then there is the trauma that I have caused. There were several years that I conveniently omitted my ongoing same-sex attractions. I was afraid to share them as readily and easily as I do today. They brought me tremendous shame and I hid them in the hopes they would go away. Looking back, it seems so odd that I thought I could do something to make them stop. Today, however, I accept these feelings as parts of my life that will likely always be there. The days of feeling shame over being human in that way are long over, and I feel free simply accepting myself as my wife and family does. As my friends do. As God does.

Never in a million years would I intentionally hurt another person. Yet, here I sit having hurt so many by failing to acknowledge the pain some affiliated with Exodus International caused, and by failing to share the whole truth about my own story. My good intentions matter very little and fail to diminish the pain and hurt others have experienced on my watch. The good that we have done at Exodus is overshadowed by all of this.

Friends and critics alike have said it’s not enough to simply change our message or website. I agree. I cannot simply move on and pretend that I have always been the friend that I long to be today. I understand why I am distrusted and why Exodus is hated. 

Please know that I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for the pain and hurt many of you have experienced. I am sorry that some of you spent years working through the shame and guilt you felt when your attractions didn’t change. I am sorry we promoted sexual orientation change efforts and reparative theories about sexual orientation that stigmatized parents. I am sorry that there were times I didn’t stand up to people publicly “on my side” who called you names like sodomite—or worse. I am sorry that I, knowing some of you so well, failed to share publicly that the gay and lesbian people I know were every bit as capable of being amazing parents as the straight people that I know. I am sorry that when I celebrated a person coming to Christ and surrendering their sexuality to Him that I callously celebrated the end of relationships that broke your heart. I am sorry that I have communicated that you and your families are less than me and mine. 

More than anything, I am sorry that so many have interpreted this religious rejection by Christians as God’s rejection.  I am profoundly sorry that many have walked away from their faith and that some have chosen to end their lives. For the rest of my life I will proclaim nothing but the whole truth of the Gospel, one of grace, mercy and open invitation to all to enter into an inseverable relationship with almighty God.

I cannot apologize for my deeply held biblical beliefs about the boundaries I see in scripture surrounding sex, but I will exercise my beliefs with great care and respect for those who do not share them.  I cannot apologize for my beliefs about marriage. But I do not have any desire to fight you on your beliefs or the rights that you seek. My beliefs about these things will never again interfere with God’s command to love my neighbor as I love myself.   

You have never been my enemy. I am very sorry that I have been yours. I hope the changes in my own life, as well as the ones we announce tonight regarding Exodus International, will bring resolution, and show that I am serious in both my regret and my offer of friendship. I pledge that future endeavors will be focused on peace and common good.

You can read the letter in its entirety here. 

It sounds as though Exodus International will be making a big announcement tonight regarding its future. My prayer is that this will be a turning point in bringing an end to the evangelical “ex gay” movement, which I know from conversations with many of you, and with many other gay friends and their parents, has created a lot of trauma and pain. 

Much of this seems to have been prompted by a special report by Lisa Ling for OWN called “God & Gays,” which based on this clip, is going to be difficult to watch. (Hey, remember when Lisa was a reporter for Channel One – like the program you watched in high school in the morning?) 

Sneak Peek: Lisa Ling's Special Report - God & Gays

So much pain here.  

May this apology be a step toward justice and reconciliation. 

What do you think?  I’m especially interested in hearing from my gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender readers. What does this apology mean to you? 

 

Love Opens the Door: A Plea to American Churches Regarding Gay Scouts

First, let me commend the Southern Baptist Convention for passing resolutions this week to raise awareness regarding the complexities of mental illness and to call on pastors and church leaders to enact better policies related to child abuse. There is still much to be done on both of these fronts, particularly in regard to the troubling support of Sovereign Grace Ministries by some SBC leaders in spite of the organization’s apparent systemic sex abuse cover-up. But these seem to be good steps made in good faith which I trust will be followed by concrete actions within individual church communities.  I’m sure it can be frustrating for folks who spend days at such conventions working and praying through these resolutions to face criticism afterward, so I want to say at the outset that I trust these decisions are made with the best of intentions. 

That said, I think members of the SBC made a serious error in judgment this week by passing a resolution to officially condemn the leadership of Boy Scouts of America for their recent decision to accept openly gay boys into membership.  While stopping short of recommending that Southern Baptists drop ties with the Scouts, the SBC encouraged churches that choose to sever the relationship to expand their Royal Ambassador ministry, a Southern Baptist version of the Boy Scouts that would presumably ban gay participants. 

[You can read the full resolution here.] 

I’m thankful that the SBC recognized the autonomy of its individual churches in making decisions on this matter. (This is what makes them Baptist, and it’s a good thing!) My comments should therefore be read as something of a plea to the members of churches from a variety of denominations who will, in the months to come, make decisions about whether to stop sponsoring Boy Scout troops as a result of the organization’s policies. I speak not as a Southern Baptist or a “gay activist,” but as a fellow Christian concerned about our witness to the world and our care for the most marginalized among us. 

While the resolution expresses “love in Christ for all young people regardless of their perceived sexual orientation,” its condemnation of the Scouts only serves to further alienate those outside the Church from the gospel and to perpetuate the already dysfunctional and unhealthy culture of secrecy, fear, and shame within the conservative evangelical church as it relates to homosexuality. 

The fact is, boy scouts are already forbidden from engaging in sexual activity—heterosexual or homosexual—and so the change in policy simply addresses sexual orientation. In other words, being attracted to the same sex does not automatically disqualify a boy from becoming a scout. 

Is this really a move to condemn? Would a Southern Baptist Church forbid a child from attending Sunday School based solely on his or her sexual orientation? Even among those who count homosexual behavior as a sin, there is usually at least some room in the fellowship for people attracted to the same sex. So why hold the Boy Scouts to more legalistic standards than many SBC churches? This resolution goes beyond the typical condemnation by the SBC of homosexual behavior to condemn homosexual orientation.

It also raises some important questions: Does the SBC plan to disassociate from any group that might have gay members? Will Alcoholics Anonymous be banned from meeting in the church basement because some of its members might be gay? Will children be asked about their sexual orientation or the sexual orientation of their parents before being enrolled in Vacation Bible School? Will churches drop all partnerships with community nonprofits that don't discriminate based on race, gender, or sexual orientation? 

What disassociation from the Scouts would communicate to a community, (perhaps inadvertently), is that people with same-sex attraction are under no circumstances welcome in a Southern Baptist church, even if it’s through a separate community organization like the Boy Scouts. Churches that choose to break from the Scouts simply because there may be gay boys among them will send a clear message to their respective communities that LGBT folks—even teenagers— are not welcome anywhere near their churches; the doors are officially closed to them. 

If that’s the message you want your church to send, then send it. But if it’s not, please reconsider embracing this resolution or disassociating from the Scouts. 

Furthermore, what all of this communicates to kids already in the church is that if they find themselves attracted to the same sex, (or in falling in any way outside sexual “norms”), they better keep their attractions, thoughts, and feelings a secret or else they will be ostracized, maybe even kicked out. 

In response to the Scouts’ decision, the SBC has been promoting its Royal Ambassadors program, a sort of Christianized version of the Boy Scouts that provides the classic “retreat” option for those interested in “protecting” their families from the outside world.  But what happens to the kid in Royal Ambassadors who is gay? What happens to the boy who finally musters the courage to tell his parents or a trusted church leader he is attracted to other guys? Will he be kicked out of Royal Ambassadors? Will he be kicked out of the church? 

I once met a young man at a Christian college who told me that to be gay in a Southern Baptist Church is like living every day in hell. He told me he woke up every morning and went to bed every night with a heavy, palpable fear in his chest. He was burdened by the shame of carrying around a secret he knew he could never tell anyone. As a kid, he was teased by the other boys, and little was done to stop it. The church, he said, was the worst place in the world to be gay, the last place he would ever choose to come out. As soon as he got the chance, he ran as far away from that unreachable white steeple as his legs would carry him. The fact that he remains a committed follower of Jesus, despite the hateful response he has received from many Christians because of his sexuality, astounds and challenges me. 

His is not an unusual story. 

It’s the story of thousands of young people who are both Christian and gay. They are told they have to choose between the two, and when they can’t, they often leave the church or, tragically, choose to leave this earth for good. We cannot continue down this path. It has created too many atheists, too many grave markers, too many grieving families, too many broken hearts.

Our churches should be the safest places in which to come out, not the most dangerous. 

My guess is that most Southern Baptists would agree with me. My guess is that most just haven’t thought through the implications of this resolution, the implications of potentially disassociating from the Boy Scout troops in their community, or the implications of consistently fighting this culture war against homosexuality. 

So if your church is in the process of making such a decision, I encourage you think about it, pray about it, talk with your fellow church members about it, and talk with your gay friends, neighbors, and relatives about it. I also recommend checking out the book Torn by Justin Lee, a young man who was raised in a Southern Baptist church and who is gay. 

Regardless of where one stands on the politics of gay marriage, or even the morality of same sex relationships, the message that a person has to become straight before becoming a part of the Kingdom is dangerous, untrue, and contrary to the Gospel. 

When God wrapped himself in flesh, strapped on sandals, and set up his tabernacle among us, he made a beeline for the poor, the sick, the marginalized, the despised, the sinners, the misfits, and the minorities. He ate with them and drank with them, and despite warnings from the religious leaders, he made them his disciples and friends.  

(And before someone jumps in with a friendly reminder that Jesus told those he healed to “go and sin no more,” let’s remember that no one actually went and sinned no more—not the first disciples, not us, not anybody. We aren't welcomed into the Kingdom on account of our worthiness, but on account of Christ’s worthiness.)

When we demand that people conform to a list of requirements before welcoming them into our churches we effectively “shut the door to the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces,” just as Jesus warned against. 

In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if what makes the Gospel offensive is not who it keeps out, but who it lets in.   Samaritans. Gentiles. Women. Tax collectors. Prostitutes. The poor. The merciful. Peacemakers. Drunks. Addicts. The sick. The uneducated. The persecuted. Slaves. Prisoners. The naked. The hungry. The marginalized. The troublemakers. The oppressed. The misfits. The powerless. Children. A self-important, undisciplined cynic like me.  An ethnic and sexual minority who, though the BIble forbade him from even entering a temple on account of his sexuality, turned to Philip and said, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?”  

Though Philip's mind may have raced - "you're a Gentile! you're a eunuch! you know very little about Jesus! - he responded only by following the Ethiopian eunuch to the water and baptizing him in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. 

Look, here is water: The Church is water. The whole world is water. 

What will we let stand in the way? 

Love need not agree or understand or have it all figured out. 

But love always opens the door. 

I pray my brothers and sisters in the Southern Baptist Church will not shut it in any more faces. 

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Be sure to check out Torn: Rescuing Christians From the Gays vs. Christians Debate by Justin Lee. You can also check out his Web site here. 

If you are a Christian and gay, check out the Gay Christian Network.  

And for scout troops looking for a new home, The United Methodist Church has opened its doors to those dropped by SBC churches. 

See also:  

How to Win a Culture War and Lose a Generation

"All right then, I'll go to hell" 

Is abolition biblical? 

On Mixed Orientation Marriages: Four Stories

As we’ve been discussing homosexuality as part of our yearlong series on Sexuality & The Church, I’ve been surprised by how many readers have contacted me about their mixed orientation marriages, both past and present. So today I wanted to yield the floor to several people with first-hand experiences in this area, each with a different story. 

Leigh Ann Taylor – Divorced (& Remarried) 

I had the privilege of meeting Leigh Ann when I visited Blacksburg, Virginia a few months ago and was struck by her warm, encouraging spirit. She and her ex-husband, Joe Cobb, have co-authored a book entitled Our Family Outing, which tells the riveting, heartbreaking, and hopeful story of a family that must face the reality that their husband/father is gay. When Leigh Anne met Joe, she never imagined that thirteen years into their marriage he would come out as a gay man. When Joe came out to Leigh Anne, he never imagined that thirteen years after their divorce, he and his partner James would choose Leigh Anne to be the godmother for their second child. I recently spoke with Leigh Anne: 

First, share with us your story. When did you find out that your husband was attracted to men, and what happened after that? 

Joe and I met when we were in seminary.  We fell in love shortly after we met and were married less than a year later.  Although I told him my whole dating history after we were engaged, he was vague about his.  Thinking that there might be some abuse in his past, I didn’t probe.  If I had, I would’ve learned that he’d been attracted to men since he was 10 years old and that he’d been in a sexual relationship with a man while he was in high school and college. 

He kept his secret and we were married for 13 years.  We became parents to two children, and we both had active careers in ministry.  In our twelfth year of marriage, both of us were on the staff of a large church in Kansas.  I was perpetually exhausted from juggling work and caring for two preschoolers, Joe was absent and totally focused on work.  I became depressed.  I got myself to the therapist and asked Joe to go too, so we could work on the emotional chasm in our marriage.  I was completely unprepared for what he said to me after his first visit: "I don't know if I'm gay or straight and I've been with a man."  

After I recovered from the shock of his confession, I was surprisingly relieved.  I finally understood why our marriage was suffering, and it wasn't me.  I said to Joe, "I'll stay with you as long as you’re in therapy to figure out if you're gay or straight.  When you come to some peace about that, we'll figure out what to do about our marriage."  I was hopeful early on that we would be able to continue our life as a couple, but as his therapy progressed, Joe became certain that he had to be with a man to be whole and I became certain that I could not stay married to gay man.  Soon after we divorced, the kids and I moved to Virginia so I could have the support of my family as I started a new season in my life.  Joe stayed in Kansas for two more years until he was asked to surrender his credentials as a pastor.  He moved to Virginia and has been a regular part of our kid’s lives ever since.

Tell us about your current relationship with Joe and his partner. 

In the 15 years since our divorce, we’ve both remarried. Joe and James and my husband Hugh and I make a pretty awesome parenting team for our two children, who are now 19 and 21 years old.  We get together in each other's homes for the kid's birthdays, milestones, and for holidays. Joe and James have two children, a son, 3 and a daughter, 5, who are James' biological children, born through a surrogate and an egg donor.  I am James’ son's godmother.  The older children adore the younger children and visa versa. My husband Hugh is a champ about it all, "I don't get it, but I don't have to. They're great guys and we're all part of the family."

One thing I loved about your book, Leigh Anne, is how you shared with readers some of the prayers you prayed as you journeyed through this experience of finding out your husband is gay, struggling through therapy, divorcing, and remarrying. They are beautiful prayers, applicable to all of us, even if our circumstances are different from yours. Tell us, what are some important things you learned about self-care through all of this? 

For the first time in my life, I learned that I really did have to put my own oxygen mask on before I could assist anyone else.  I still remember that moment in the produce aisle, when I said to myself, "Avocados....I like avocados."  I started in the vegetables aisle and moved right on up to a new bicycle and a fancy coat with a faux-fur collar!  I stopped waiting around for someone else to "make me happy” and found that I was quite capable of doing that for myself.  I was single for a long time and struggled with loneliness, but I learned from experience that I was far happier at home reading a novel than I was dating the wrong person.  When I took care of myself, I was able to be more calm and loving toward the children and best of all, when I met my husband Hugh, I had a lot more to offer to our relationship than just my need.

The most important thing I did to take care of myself was daily journaling and prayer.  I literally wrote my way to mental health in my prayer journal. 

And do you have a favorite, go-to prayer that helped especially during this journey with Joe? 

 "God be in my head and in my understanding.  God be in my eyes and in my looking.  God be in my ears and in my listening.  God be in my mouth and in my speaking.  God be in my heart and in my thinking.  God be at my end and at my departing."

I prayed this at the beginning of the day, taking a deep inhalation when the first half of each sentence and a deep exhalation on the second. I imagined Jesus breathing peace into me, just as he did the disciples. This prayer was and is a lifeline for me.

Another memorable part of the book is when you share the letter you wrote to your children explaining to them why you and Joe were getting a divorce. It was touching, heartbreaking, and (surprisingly) hopeful. Are there any words of encouragement you can offer to parents in mixed orientation marriages for whom divorce seems inevitable? 

Joe and I actually made a new vow when we signed our divorce papers, "to speak and act in loving ways toward one another and about one another," for the sake of the children and for our own wholeness, for the rest of our lives.  We released each other from the vows we made at our marriage with a blessing as we opened ourselves up to the possibility of new relationships, in which we could be whole.  To those for whom divorce seems inevitable, is there a way you can release each other from your marriage vows but hold on to the love that drew you together in the first place? Can you imagine what your lives would look like if love and honor remain the cornerstone of your relationship?

What advice do you have for other women (or men) who are either considering entering into a mixed orientation marriage or have recently learned that they are in one? 

If you’ve recently learned that you’re in a mixed orientation marriage, please reach out with the truth of your story to someone you trust.  A therapist is a good place to start.  Be gentle with yourself and do the things that bring you comfort.  Though this feels like a death, and it is in some ways, it’s not the end of everything.  It’s a transition and there is life on the other side. It may not be the life you thought you were going to have, but it has the potential to be better than you ever dreamed. Pray. Pray. Pray.  You are not alone.

Be sure to check out Leigh Anne and Joe's book, Our Family Outing.

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John – Married 

John and his wife Anna are both 30 and live in the Denver area. (Additional details have been withheld to protect their privacy.) You can follow John on Twitter here. 

Share with us a little of your story. How did you and your wife meet, how long have you been married, and did you both know ahead of time that you were entering a mixed orientation marriage? 

My wife and I have been married for almost seven years. We originally met in high school. We were involved in the prayer club at the public high school and ended up going to the same youth group and church. At that point in my life I was aware of my sexual attractions for guys, but I was of the belief that it was sinful. I was "saved" when I was 14 and immediately starting sharing my testimony of "being set free from homosexuality". I was very enthusiastic in my newly found faith and really loved opening up, especially with other "on fire" Christians my age, about my story and my "struggles" with homosexuality.  So my wife, Anna, knew this about me before we were ever involved in any kind of romantic relationship. 

After knowing each other and being involved in the same church for several years, we started dating and got married. Basically, as a charismatic evangelical, I had an "ex-gay" paradigm for understanding my own homosexuality. My wife was of a similar faith at that time and I was able to communicate what I believed about this particular issue. So all in all, we sorta knew what we were getting in to, but neither one of us understood it or labeled it as a "mixed orientation marriage". We thought of it as a marriage between a man and woman as God intended, accomplished through his grace even in the midst of my "same-sex" attraction. It is probably important for you to know that about three years ago, our understanding and beliefs about homosexuality underwent a major shift. Our "faith" has also recently been deconstructed.

What are the biggest challenges of a marriage like yours? What are the biggest rewards? 

We have had several challenges along the way. They have ranged from my struggles with compulsive sexual behaviors at times (though I have never had sexual contact with anyone outside of our marriage nor have I put my wife/family at risk for any STDs), to run-of-the-mill communication problems. My wife has endured long seasons of dealing with my anxiety, depression, and detachment. I have at times felt stuck and unable to really be me. 

On the other hand, we have also enjoyed so many things together. We have created three amazing and beautiful children. We have shared the joy of life's accomplishments together, we've faced questions and doubts together, we have had each other to cry with. I think our marriage offers us the unique ability to have a marriage that really doesn't have to follow some of the "heterosexual" rules and expectations--especially when it comes to gender roles. The best part, and bottom line, is that we love each other and enjoy "doing life" together.

What do you most want us to know about you, your marriage, and your spouse? 

What I most want people to know about me, in regards to my marriage, is that I am not living a lie. At the time we got married, I was as truthful with myself, my wife, and with everyone else, as I knew/understood to be at the time. Even now, my marriage to my wife is just as real and a part of me as my being gay. Sometimes I get asked why I remain married, and again, in addition to loving my wife, the truth is we are committed to each other. I understand true love to be the kind of love that endures all things and doesn't end. What I want everyone to know about my wife is that she is the most kind, loving, patient, gracious, intelligent person I know. I think she is beautiful, and I very much want to and enjoy spending my life with her. And no, my wife is not gay! We get asked that a lot. Also, we are aware that our marriage is not "typical" when compared to a heterosexual norm, and we are really okay with that and mostly really enjoy it.

What advice do you have for other couples who are either considering entering into a mixed orientation marriage or have recently learned that they are in one? 

I think in most cases, I would strongly discourage anyone from getting into this kind of marriage, if they aren't already in one. There are so many contributing factors for how folks end up here and, in my experience, it's usually because the gay spouse believes their homosexuality to be wrong and something they are either ashamed of and hide altogether or something they believe will change or go away. There is no reason at all, that I can think of, for a healthy whole gay person to enter in to a marriage with someone of the opposite sex. 

It's a bit harder to offer advice to folks who have just discovered they are in a mixed orientation marriage, or are coming to terms with being in one, because the circumstances are always so different. What I have found is that each couple in this situation really has to do what is best for them...whatever that might be. I know some couples who continue to live together but sleep separately. Some have "open marriages," while others truly have no better option, given their circumstances, than to divorce. Basically, do the best you can with what you have. I happen to have an amazing wife, a beautiful family, and the best I can do is remain here with them and do my best to love them better and better each day.

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"Doxy" - Divorced (& Remarried)

"Doxy" is a longtime reader of the blog.

Share with us a little of your story. When did you find out that your husband was attracted to men, and what happened after that?

Some background may be helpful. My ex (I’ll call him “Paul”) and I attended the same fundamentalist Christian school and church, although we only began dating toward the end of college. (We both went to a large, urban public university in the southern city in which we grew up.)

I want to say up-front that Paul was my soul mate. We shared so many loves—ideas, music, politics. He always treated me as if he thought I was the smartest, most amazing person on the planet. He was firmly convinced that I could hang the moon if I wanted to—and because he believed so strongly in me, I slowly learned to believe in myself. This was a great gift, especially given what I would term the “anti-woman environment” in which we had grown up.

When we were dating, Paul confessed that he had had some sexual experiences with an older, male relative. He framed these experiences as “just playing around,” and the only reason he even confessed them was because this relative had become bitterly jealous of our relationship and was engaging in stalker-like behavior.

As part of my studies in college, I had read the Kinsey studies about how common homosexual experiences were among straight men—and I fancied myself something of a sophisticate at the ripe old age of 21. I figured Paul’s experiences were just a blip on the radar screen, and he did nothing to discourage that perception. We talked about fidelity and monogamy, and we seemed perfectly in sync on the need for both in marriage.

We were married in our home church in front of 400 people we had known for most of our lives. Then we promptly moved away so that he could attend law school and I could begin graduate school.

Over the course of the next three years, he became more open about the fact that he was attracted to men. He admitted that people in the church with whom he had discussed his same-sex attractions had urged him to get married and to avoid both gay people and pornography. They were sure that he would be “cured” if only he would commit himself to heterosexuality and ask for God’s guidance—but it wasn’t working.

At the same time, Paul was also very clear that he loved me and was happy in our marriage. But I began to feel more and more worried about our relationship—especially the sexual aspect of it. Our sex life had always been good, but I was increasingly troubled by the notion that maybe he was fantasizing about men when he was with me, that maybe he HAD to fantasize about men in order to be with me...

And then, as law school graduation loomed and we were planning our post-school life, the inevitable happened.

Paul fell in love with another man.

I started hearing a certain name more and more in his conversation. He got that glow you only have when you are newly enraptured with another human being. It seemed as if his feet hardly touched the ground, and he was distracted and giddy.

I had never asked Paul point-blank if he had been faithful to me during our marriage. I had gotten a law school education by osmosis, and one of the first things law students learn is “Never ask a question to which you don’t already know the answer.” The truth is that I hadn’t wanted to know—but I knew I couldn’t remain in a state of willful ignorance any longer.

So I screwed my courage to the sticking place and said: “How have you managed to remain faithful? Or have you?”

The answer hurt worse than I believed possible. Not only was he having an affair with the object of his affections, but it turned out that Paul had been having sex with other men the entire time we had been dating and throughout our marriage.

This was in the late 1980s, when the AIDS epidemic was decimating the gay community. An AIDS diagnosis was still considered a death sentence then, because there was only one treatment at that time (AZT) and it was more of a stop-gap measure than anything else. I had been having unprotected sex with my husband all the while. (For the record, both of us were—and continue to be—HIV-negative.)

I was devastated. I had honestly never suspected him of anything until he fell in love and couldn’t hide it anymore. The fear of getting AIDS paled next to the realization that I had been betrayed by the man I loved most in the world.

For the next few months, I teetered back and forth between the belief that we could somehow repair the damage and make our relationship work and the urge to bolt out the door and never look back. One minute I was tearfully begging him to stay with me. The next, I was feeling anger for which the word “rage” was a very pale description.

Paul actually didn’t need to be begged. He wanted to stay married—but he also wanted to have his boyfriend too. He had always been something of a sunny optimist, and he truly believed that the three of us could take a house by the sea and be happy together.

As much as I loved him, I could not be that person. I took a job in another city on the other side of the country, and our marriage was over.

What do you most want us to know about you, your marriage, and your ex? 

My marriage was a real marriage, and it was a very good relationship in many ways. My husband loved me. We had a good sex life. We were good for each other. Paul believed in me so much that he made me believe in myself, and I tried to return the favor. He was—and is—a sweet, kind, and generous man who is beloved by many.

But none of that was enough. Because no matter how much we wanted to make it work, the very core of his heart could never belong to me. He could not love me the way I needed and deserved to be loved by a husband. And I could not give him what his heart, soul, and body cried out for.

I was—and remain—angry at religious leaders who tell same-sex-attracted people that they can, and should, “choose” heterosexuality and marry an opposite-sex partner. I have no idea how my life would have been different if Paul had not been steered to marry me as a means of “becoming normal”—but I suspect that the heartbreak of another failed marriage 15 years later might have been avoided. In trying not to repeat the mistakes I made with Paul, I went too far in the opposite direction and found myself in a relationship that nearly drove me to suicide before God stepped in and helped me find my way out.

The price we both paid for our mixed-orientation marriage was high—and so much of the damage was caused by the church and by people claiming to speak for God. In all things, however, God was gracious—turning our personal tragedy into something redemptive and healing.

I came to recognize that being gay was not a choice, so I delved deeply into biblical scholarship and theology to find what the Bible had to say about homosexuality. The answer was: very little. Certainly nothing like the extent to which it talked about loving your neighbors and recognizing those who love God by the way they live their lives. Since I saw LGBT Christians being faithful to God, and I saw their relationships bearing such good and holy fruit, I could no longer sit by and let the whole world believe that all Christians think being LGBT is sinful. So I became an ardent LGBT ally and advocate. I hoped that social acceptance of LGBTs would lead to an acceptance of their relationships—and prevent anyone from ever again being coerced into a marriage to appear “normal.”

I may have lost a husband, but I did not lose my friend. Over time, Paul and I managed to build a very strong friendship on the wreckage of our marriage. We are still in regular touch with one another. We call, e-mail, and visit, and my children call him and his partner of 20 years “Uncle Paul and Uncle Steve.” We still joke—as we always have—that we will end up in the nursing home together, racing our wheelchairs down the hallways.

I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if we did.

What advice do you have for other women (or men) who are either considering entering into a mixed orientation marriage or have recently learned that they are in one?

If you are a same-sex-attracted person who is considering entering a mixed-orientation marriage, I would say “Please don’t!” Being married will not make you straight. If you are primarily attracted to people of your own sex, you will be denying yourself the possibility of being TRULY known and loved, for all that you are.

And you will be denying your opposite-sex spouse the same thing. No matter how much you love each other, there will always be something missing for you both. Marriage is hard enough—entering into it when you cannot honestly commit to it mind, heart, soul, and body is a recipe for heartbreak for the two of you, your families, friends, and any children you may have.

(I am well-aware that there are bisexual people who can and do commit to an opposite-sex partner and remain faithful in marriage. My advice is directed to people who are primarily attracted to members of their own sex.)

If you are a straight person who is considering knowingly entering a mixed-orientation marriage, I would caution you to reconsider. You may not have experienced the terrible feelings of insecurity you can have when your spouse is out with other people of the same sex, while you sit at home and stare at the clock. You might not know how it can feel to be in an intimate moment with your spouse and to suddenly wonder if you are truly desirable. Both of those things were soul-crushing for me, and for other straight spouses I’ve talked to since then.

But mostly, I caution against it because you will be denying yourself the possibility of knowing the kind of all-out, no-holds-barred love I believe that God wants us to experience in marriage. You deserve that. We all do.

Finally, if you have recently discovered that you and your spouse have different orientations, my advice is:  “Take your time before making any big decisions, and try to be kind to one another.”

Recently, I told a friend that, if Paul and I had been married for over two decades before I found out that he was gay, the decisions I would make might well be different. It was (relatively) easy to walk out at age 27 without any children. Would I do that now, at age 49 with two kids, two dogs, and a mortgage? I honestly don’t know.

I would ask: Do you both want to remain in the relationship? What matters most to both of you about your marriage? What will you do if your spouse says that having sexual relations outside the marriage is a part of the bargain? What can you live with? What is completely off the table?

These are not easy questions to answer. You will need a lot of support, whether you choose to stay together or not. There was no Internet when I learned my husband was gay, and I had to walk through the dissolution of my life by myself—now you can find thousands of others who are in your shoes and who are also looking for help and understanding. I would say the most important thing at first is don’t rush into anything. You need time to think, to weather those first storms of emotion, and to seek help.

###

Josh and Lolly Weed – Married 

In addition, you may be familiar with Josh and Lolly Weed, a Mormon couple that has been open with the press about their mixed orientation marriage. They recently participated in an extended interview with the Mormon Stories podcast, which you can watch here. 

Note: I realize each of these stories is about a gay man and a straight woman. I reached out to several couples, and these were the ones who responded. Check out the comment section for links to additional resources.

Sexuality and the Christian Body, Part 1: “Contrary to Nature” (by Richard Beck)

Within about four minutes of announcing our yearlong series on Sexuality & the Church, I realized I was in over my head. You just don’t realize how many books there are to read, angles to take, and people to interview until you’ve gone and committed to yourself to exploring a multi-faceted, hot-button issue like this one. 

So I emailed Richard Beck (and some others writers I respect) and asked for help. Richard’s blog, Experimental Theology, consistently falls into my personal Top 5 list and I can’t recommend it enough. Richard is a psychologist, and so his reflections on theology, the Bible, church, community, and spirituality always include some new angle I never considered before. (For example, recently he’s been discussing “the impossibility of Calvinistic Christian psychotherapy!”) I  had the privilege of meeting Richard and his awesome wife Janna when I visited Abilene Christian University a few years ago. Richard is Professor and Department Chair of Psychology there. He and Jana have two sons, Brenden and Aidan. Richard's area of interest--be it research, writing, or blogging--is on the interface of Christian theology and psychology, with a particular focus on how existential issues affect Christian belief and practice. Richard's published research covers topics as diverse as the psychology of profanity to why Christian bookstore art is so bad. His books include Unclean: Meditations on Purity, Hospitality, and Mortality and The Authenticity of Faith: The Varieties and Illusions of Religious Experience. 

Last year, Richard posted a review and some reflections on Sexuality and the Christian Body by Eugene Rogers—a book that has been recommended to me for the series, but which I just haven’t found the time to read. (Also, it costs 40 bucks.) Richard did such a good job discussing it on his blog, I asked if I could repost Part 1 of his reflections here. (You can read Part 2 over at Experimental Theology.) I hope you learn as much as I did. 

Sexuality and the Christian Body, Part 1: “Contrary to Nature”

by Richard Beck 

Recently, I finished Eugene Rogers' book Sexuality and the Christian Body. I thought I'd devote a few posts to some of the main ideas in the book for any who are interested.

The book is a theological argument advocating for the inclusion of same-sex marriages into the Christian communion. Consequently, I don't expect everyone to agree with Rogers' argument. Regardless, what I found encouraging in Sexuality and the Christian Body was a vision of marriage that inspired me in my own marriage to Jana. More, Rogers offers a view of marriage that also lifts up singleness and celibacy. In short, regardless as to what you think about Rogers' views on same-sex marriage, his theological treatment of marriage is, from a theological perspective, very inspiring. Or at least I found it so.

A key notion in Rogers' book is that the vast majority of Christians need to recover their identity as Gentiles. This is important for a few different reasons. First, this recovery highlights the fact that we are not "by nature" children of God. We've been chosen and adopted. In the language of Paul we've been "grafted into" the tree of Israel. Second, this action of God, grafting in the Gentiles, highlights how the grace and election of God determines the people of God. We are not God's children because of nature. We are God's children because of election. This places election at the center of Christian notions of marriage (and celibacy) rather than a Darwinian focus on procreation. Marriage is grace, not biology. Finally, a recovery of our identity as Gentiles helps us understand why God's actions toward the Gentiles was such a shock and offense to the Jews (both Christian and non-Christian). Importantly, this shock was very much focused on issues of holiness and morality.

Early in the book Rogers has us consider what he calls "the standard argument." The argument is standard because it has been used throughout history, at various times and places, to argue for the moral inferiority of a marginalized class of people. Gender and race have been common targets. And a common example of this moral inferiority is evidence of sexual licentiousness. Thus, in the Middle East today we see the standard argument applied to women. Women are sexually promiscuous and, thus, require a variety of social restraints to keep them in check. This is also why women are blamed for adultery. The woman's lust for the married man causes him to falter. A woman is a Jezebel, a temptress.

The standard argument was also applied to blacks in the American South during slavery and segregation. In particular, the black male had a voracious sexual appetite for white women. And blacks generally were considered to be more promiscuous than whites.

In both cases we see how immorality generally, and sexual licentiousness in particular, get attributed to natural kinds (e.g., race, gender). In the Old and New Testaments this same reasoning was applied to the Gentiles. As a natural kind the Gentiles were considered to be naturally prone to immorality and sexual deviance. Paul gives us the standard Jewish view of the morality of Gentiles in Romans 1:

Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen.

Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.

Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them.

The important thing to note in this passage is that this is a description of the Gentiles as a natural kind. They are naturally depraved and deviant. Consequently, they engage in acts that are "contrary to nature." In all this we see another example of the standard argument, an argument that has been applied to all sorts of despised groups. Women. Blacks. Jews. And homosexuals in our time. What is important to note in all this is that it's not just that Gentiles do unnatural things. It is, rather, that they are morally inferior by nature.

This understanding helps us recover the moral shock of God's excessive grace in Galatians 3.28:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

We tend to read this passage as a condemnation of slavery and as a call for egalitarian gender relations. No doubt that is a part of the story. But what Rogers argues is that what we are seeing in Gal. 3.28 is a fusion of natural kinds. More, we are seeing a fusion of the morally inferior with the morally superior. In the 1st Century slaves, women and Gentiles were all considered to be morally inferior to the highest natural kind: The male Jew. For example, each group was characterized by the sexual perversions we've seen Paul describe in Romans 1.

So what we are witnessing in Gal. 3:28 is something really quite shocking. Galatians 3:28 isn't about slavery or gender relations. It's about morality and holiness. More, it's about God's fusion in Jesus Christ of natural kinds, kinds that were believed to represent either holiness or depravity.

And the shock of God's actions goes even deeper. Later in Romans the phrase para phusin ("contrary to nature") reemerges. Only this time it is applied not to homosexuality but to God! In Romans 11.24 Paul describes the action of God in grafting in the Gentiles to the tree of Israel (the vision of Galatians 3.28):

 After all, if you were cut out of an olive tree that is wild by nature, and contrary to nature were grafted into a cultivated olive tree, how much more readily will these, the natural branches, be grafted into their own olive tree!

Does Paul know what he's doing here? Is he intentionally pulling para phusin from Romans 1 to make a parallel to God's grace in Jesus Christ? The Gentiles behave "unnaturally" and God, in his grace, does something just as "unnatural," he overrides the category of natural moral kinds to create one body in Christ. Surely the readers of Romans would have heard the overtones between Romans 1 and Romans 11, that their biases about what is "natural" or "unnatural" have been unnaturally reconfigured in the Kingdom of God.

How does Paul's argument apply to the case of modern day homosexuality? Rogers is clear that Paul is not offering his arguments in Romans to legitimize same-sex unions in the church. But what he does argue for is that Paul's arguments in Romans 1, Romans 11 and Galatians 3 are broadly isomorphic with the arguments offered to exclude same-sex unions from the church. That the arguments being made by the Jews to exclude the Gentiles are the same arguments being used to exclude same-sex couples from the life of the church.

In light of this, what we see in Paul is how the grace of God undermines the standard argument, an argument that there are kinds of people who are, by nature, morally inferior. And that these morally inferior natures cannot be "grafted into" in the church.

This is by no means the end of the discussion, but it does suggest that God does some very strange things when it comes to "nature." In fact, God himself often acts "contrary to nature" to erase our judgments about what is or is not natural or unnatural. This suggests that in the same-sex union debates we may have to rethink "nature" in light of God's election. God has chosen the Gentiles, by nature sexually deviant in the eyes of the Jews, and has grafted them into the tree of Israel. God overrides the standard argument in the minds of the Jews and, in doing so, also acts "contrary to nature." Such actions on the part of God should give us moderns pause when we reason about "nature" in the same-sex attraction debates.

How can you be certain of what is natural or unnatural worshiping a God who acts para phusin?

***

Leave a comment with your thoughts if you like, and then be sure to jump over to Richard’s blog for Part 2: “Grace and Election.”

You might also like Richard’s previous guest post, “A Non-Zero-Sum Conversation Between the Traditional Church and the Gay Community”

Check out the rest of our Sexuality & The Church series here. 

Are we there yet?

Today I am pleased to introduce you to Jeff Chu.  Jeff is the author of Does Jesus Really Love Me?: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America—a fantastic book that is part-memoir, part investigative analysis. The book, which just released last week, explores the intersection of faith, politics, and sexuality in America in a way that is thought-provoking, well-researched, colorful, and deeply personal without being indulgent. I highly recommend checking it out. 

Over his eclectic journalistic career, Jeff Chu has interviewed presidents and paupers, corporate execs and preachers, Britney Spears and Ben Kingsley. As a writer and editor for Time, Conde Nast Portfolio, and Fast Company, he has compiled a portfolio that includes stories on megahit-making Swedish songwriters (a piece for which he went clubbing in Stockholm); James Bond (for which he stood on a Spanish beach and watched Halle Berry emerge from the waves over and over and over); undercover missionaries in the Arab world (he traveled to North Africa and went to church); and the decline of Christianity in Europe (he prayed). On the wall of his New York office, you'll find a quote from former Senator John Warner, who once told Jeff: "You're a good little interviewer!"  A California native, Jeff went to high school at Miami's Westminster Christian, where he sat behind Alex Rodriguez in Mr. Warner's world history class. A graduate of Princeton and the London School of Economics, Jeff has received fellowships from the Phillips Foundation and the French-American Foundation, and in 2012, was part of the Seminar on Debates in Religion and Sexuality at Harvard Divinity School.  The nephew and grandson of Baptist preachers, he is an elder at Old First Reformed Church in Brooklyn, New York. He loves the San Francisco 49ers, the Book of Ecclesiastes, and clementines. And he detests marzipan more than he can explain in words.

I hope you enjoy this post as much as I did. 

Are we there yet? 

By Jeff Chu

 “Jesus will not accept you, because of your hard heart and hate for him.”

“We must treat homosexuals like those suffering a mental disorder, because that is exactly what it is. If anything, we should have pity on these people.” 

“You need a good ex-gay therapist.”

Last week, messages like these filled comments sections of websites where my writing was being discussed. On Facebook, I was informed that I was clearly not saved. My inbox brought warnings that I needed to repent. 

I interviewed more than 300 people for my book, but intertwined with their stories is my own. I’ve never written about my life or my faith before, and naively, perhaps, I didn’t expect this onslaught. The night before my book came out, I sat at my desk in my office and did something that I haven’t done in years: I wept. 

For almost an hour, the tears rained down my face. I held my head in my hands, and I shook. Then, inside, I heard the softest echoes of my beloved late grandmother’s warbly voice, speaking to me in Cantonese as she had when I was 8: “You’re a big boy. Don’t cry. Big boys don’t cry. Crying doesn’t do anything.” 

Well, this big boy does cry—and on that day, it did do something. These were, at first, tears for fears—fears of being judged, fears of being condemned, fears of what might happen when the world saw me, through my book, for who I was and no longer for who I’ve long tried to be.

Then they became tears of grief. In some ways, I felt as if I were being excommunicated from my church—these messages all came from people who would place themselves in the evangelical part of the church that I grew up in. But in truth, they couldn’t kick me out. In soul and spirit, I’d already left those precincts of the church, and I was belatedly mourning that departure. I was also weeping for the loss of certainty—or at least the illusion of it that I once worked so hard to maintain. 

***

When I was a young journalist, I was taught to “kill your darlings.” Sometimes we writers will concoct a pun or a phrase that we just fall in love with. Applaud your own unparalleled cleverness, your unmistakable wit, I was told. Then cut what you just wrote. Your infatuation is also often the enemy of clarity—and sometimes truth.

One thing I had to mourn last week was the killing of perhaps my greatest darling: the persona of the Good Christian I long maintained, under the theory that it could somehow help preserve my faith.

This is, of course, a fallacy: Sometimes we speak as if our faith—and the faith—is unchanging. God may not change, but our beliefs and our understanding of Him do. Faith can’t be preserved, as if it were strawberries in jam or an unlucky beetle in ancient amber. It’s dynamic. It struggles and stumbles, waxing and waning, colored by circumstance, shifted by our spirits, and shaped (we hope) by the Spirit. I think, for instance, of Roman Catholicism, and how the Virgin Mary officially became retroactively and posthumously sin-free in the 19th century. And I think of the denomination I grew up, the Southern Baptist Convention, whose own less-than-immaculate conception was rooted in unfortunate disagreements with their northern brethren over slavery. 

For a long time, I resisted change. Though I felt alienated from the church and culture of my childhood, I played the image game well. I was treasurer of my college evangelical-fellowship group. I mentored younger students, my mouth saying things with far more surety than my heart ever felt. I even had a (shortish) string of long-term girlfriends—wonderful, godly women who, thank God, found much more suitable men to marry.

My semblance of pious normality reflected a Sunday-best mentality spilling over into the rest of the week. I thought that if, perhaps, I did a goody-goody-enough job with the façade, maybe it would percolate into the rest of me, preserving my faith. On some level, I guess I naively thought that I might even be able to fool God. 

I had to kill that person, that darling. I had to stop lying. And when I cried, I guess some of the tears were for that old Jeff. That costume, more comfortable than I’d like to admit even now, was a great hiding place, a cocoon that I convinced myself was safe. It was a big game of pretend, and I was pretty good at it, except that all games get old—or maybe you just get too old to play them.

***

A church of costumes and hiding places isn’t a place I want to be.

What we need, more than ever, is a church where we can shed the pretenses, and bring our doubts, our big questions, and our bigger fears. I don’t think I’m alone in desiring that. What I suspect many of us crave is a church where we can be our whole, ugly-beautiful selves.

This is who I really am: I am not an issue. I am a follower of Jesus. I love my husband like you love your husband. Sometimes I daydream during church, which I feel especially guilty about now that I am an elder. I am afraid to go to India because I don’t know if I am man enough to handle that much poverty in my face. I like to load the washer, but I’m terrible at unloading the dryer. I am really judgmental. I use the F-word a little too much. Sometimes, if I find a very old French fry, I will be tempted to eat it. (I will neither confirm nor deny that I ever have.) I love the Bible, and I believe that sin is a real thing, but I wish I understood better what God meant by it. I went to a Taylor Swift concert last week—for my job—and enjoyed it more than I’d like to admit. I need a good editor.

And who are you? Maybe you laugh too loudly. Or you cry too much. You love, even though you’re not always sure how to show it. You belch when you think nobody is listening. You love justice, but you’re not always sure what it looks like. You question your pastor. You watch too much Honey Boo Boo (which is to say, you watch it at all). You lie awake in bed some nights wondering whether God is as real as you want Him to be. You eat too many meals in your car. You say, “Bless her heart,” when you have no intention of blessing any part of her. 

Can we be these people in church? We must be—and the church that I’m talking about is not a building but the collection of the people who are trying their best to walk with Jesus. It does not end at 12:15 on Sundays. It’s wherever we and our hopes and our complicated, messy lives are. It’s a place where we aren’t afraid to say, “I don’t know.” 

Our church is a place where we’re unafraid to acknowledge that we’re always in beta. I was thinking about this during church this past Sunday. In his Easter sermon, my beloved pastor, Daniel Meeter, encouraged us to imagine “the life of the world to come … Imagine always trusting other people, without having to be careful, always being open and candid about yourself without having your guard up, and even knowing yourself with clarity and honesty and peace,” he said. “Well, you are not there yet.”

Indeed. 

Maybe I’ll end up in hell. Maybe I do have a mental disorder. Maybe their Jesus won’t accept me. But I still cling to a Jesus who will meet me—and will meet us all—where I am now. Can we build a church that welcomes our mutual strengths but also allows—and even embraces—our confessions of weakness? Can we be that community? Will you join me on this journey?

***

You can follow Jeff Chu on Twitter. And be sure to check out Does Jesus Really Love Me? which released last week!