faith – Page 22 – Southwest Conference Blog

How My Gay Brothers and Sisters Bolster My Faith

“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”

I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.

My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.

As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).

So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.

I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”

I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.

I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.

And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.

Why I Bother

by Karen Richter

Do you ever have those days when you ask yourself, “Why am I going to all this trouble?”

When I was in 8th grade (worst year of my life – true story!), my teacher Ann Andrews asked us to write five things about ourselves on an index card. My fifth thing was ‘I am an eternal optimist.’ It’s still true, but I do have those days when I wonder if I’m just talking to myself around here.

“Around here” is a church, a wonderful place filled with laughter and grace and people walking their talk. I do love this place. My lungs fill a little deeper when I pull into the parking lot.

But every year it gets a little harder. Every year attendance is down just a bit. Every year we have to struggle just a little more to make the budget. Every year I’m sweet-talking just a few more to get people to participate in spiritual formation (Sunday School, classes, and retreats and such).

At least that’s the way it seems some days. I assume that you have “some days” too. Maybe today is one of them. Just in case, I’m answering the question TODAY so I can remind myself when I need to hear this answer.

1. First, some non-reasons. These are completely irrelevant (to me).

Because I don’t want to burn in hell.
Because I want my kids to be “good”.
Because I don’t want my kid to have sex outside of marriage.
Because Christianity is the only answer to the meaning of life.
Because I’m afraid of / superior to other religions and cultures.
Because I fear.

These might be legitimate reasons for some people, but they aren’t mine. I list them here just to deal with the baggage.

2. I stick around church because it grounds me.

Human beings are funny creatures. We are, in the words of the Psalms, “made just a little lower than the angels.” According to evolutionary thinkers, we are the universe becoming self-conscious for perhaps the first time. We are simultaneously selfish, greedy, obsessive, mean, short-term thinkers who can’t get our shit in squares to save our own sorry lives, much less the whole darn planet.

My faith does a great job of keeping me in this middle place: knowing and hoping for the best part of humanity and acknowledging that we are flawed and more than a little dangerous. Yeah, I could have faith without church, but that seems like a lonely answer.

3. I stick around church because it answers my questions and encourages me to ask better, deeper questions.

At its best, Christian faith helps me develop a healthy relationship with my experiences. With a rich history of contemplation and mysticism, Christianity gives me tools with which to grapple with the biggest questions life has to offer. These tools aren’t the only ones out there, but they’re mine: prayer, meditation, centering, lectio divina, acts of mercy and service, spiritual direction and companionship.

4. I stick around church because it makes me a better person.

There’s always a tug between being real and being kind. At least there is for me. Maybe some people are naturally kind, and good for them. Being part of my faith community gives me lots, LOTS of opportunities to practice kindness. I tell my kiddos all the time that the best thing someone can say about you is that you are kind… not smart or beautiful or accomplished or wealthy or popular or athletic. The more that I’m around these wacky church people (I’m talkin’ about you, Southwest Conference!), the more I feel the impulse to kindness. The more I practice kindness, the more I progress along the path to being an actual, real life kind person. Then kindness becomes part of the real me. It’s a slow process; just ask the people who know me!

Church folks are not the only people serving peace and justice in the world, but it’s a good bet that if you scratch the surface of a church, you’ll find people who care… and put their caring into action.

5. I stick around church because it is a human thing to do.

Darn us humans with our existential angst! We just can’t help it. We are always looking for meaning. Sometimes we have a hard time finding meaning and we just make some up. We’re meaning-making, meaning-sharing, narrative-telling critters. We’re hard-wired for connection and community. We long to belong and to become whatever it is we’re meant to be.

On the big scale, we’re still a species in our infancy. We’re still growing and evolving. Church is helping me do my part. It’s a lot of trouble, but I’m sticking around. I hope you are too.

Karen Richter is Director of Spiritual Formation at Shadow Rock UCC. She has worked previously in a variety of educational and nonprofit settings. Her interests include peaceful parenting, theology in pop culture, and adult/adolescent faith formation. She is also active in Shadow Rock’s sanctuary ministry and Whole Life Center. Karen lives in Anthem, Arizona with her husband, children, and tiny dog.

You may contact Karen at karen@shadowrockucc.org

Failure

by Kelly Kahlstrom

Does it hold true, that when we have room to address our existential questions that suffering is eased? One great existential question is “what does it mean to be human?” As the following essay suggests…failing is part of the human experience.

“So last week I tried to hang myself on a stretch of land off I-35,” said my friend, who I call my cousin.

“Jesus,” I swore. “Why?”

But I already had an inkling that I knew the answer. My cousin’s story wasn’t very new to me anymore.

“I was tired of feeling like a failure,” he said.

And there it was, the F-word.

I heard him and knew his pains like they were my own. It remains one of my greatest regrets that my scholarly father lived to see his son enter college at an early age but died before he could see him leave at a late one. In my short life I have failed at more projects than I have accomplished, and even my accomplishments don’t look like much in retrospect. I work two jobs, one in a tenuous entry-level position, the other as a janitor. I have never had a romantic relationship that lasted over a year, and I drive a beat-up vehicle. Look for a picture of success online and you will not see the face of Raziq Brown.

I have stared into The Abyss known as Failure and Loss many times. Not only has it stared back, but it has pulled me down into its murky depths just as it did my cousin, several times in fact. I have seen at least one friend claimed by The Pit, know several who are spelunking it by way of various intoxicants, and know a few more who have thrown themselves in, only to be spared by grace in its various forms.

I come from a generation of people who are often called lazy, selfish, and impractical; not unlike those from many generations before. I cringe every time I hear such things. I know there is an entire population of young people literally killing themselves to prove their inherent worth to the world and to become successful by whatever means and in whatever mode they can.

They say my generation expects too much for too little. They say we are children who refuse to grow up.

I think back on my own life, and I know they are wrong.

Would the boy I was approve of the man I am? No, the boy I was would have thrown himself off the nearest bridge just to save himself from future embarrassment. The adolescent I was would have driven the car to get him to the bridge, and the man I was the year following my father’s death would have piled the boy with strong spirits so the fall wouldn’t hurt so bad. But I am not the child I was, the teen I was, nor the man I was then.

I am the man I am now. It is all I can ever be. It’s all any of us can be…Raziq George Brown.*

I leave you with this thought…”Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds.” Orison Swett Marden.

* Parker, Kayla ed. “Becoming: A spiritual guide for navigating adulthood”. Unitarian Universalist Association. 2014 pp 12-13.

Kelly is a recent graduate of Iliff School of Theology. She is the Justice Coordinator for Rebel and Divine UCC, a ministry in formation committed to the health and wholeness of at-risk youth and young adults. She has been a nurse for over 30 years and is currently employed by one of AZ’s Medicaid programs working with young pregnant women. Her passion is forming connections and playing with language in the liminal space between humanity and divinity.