Dear Church,
I have a close loved one who is gay.
It was not good – not good – for me to have heard about a mass shooting at a gay club as a case in point in a lesson on God’s judgment. No other details. Nothing except why these men weren’t home at that hour, some general anecdotes about gay people, and a whole lot of muttering.
It seemed like all anyone wanted to talk about was all of the things gay people are doing wrong, not the fact that these were fathers and brothers and sons and uncles and nephews. It was like it was my loved one being talked about, and I couldn’t sit through it.
It was not good to find out that it happened early this morning, but still with no details, though thankfully someone called it what it was:
I had a horrible thought then, not being sure where the shooting had taken place (just that it had happened in another state), and wondering if my loved one was safe. I couldn’t sit there. I had to get in touch with my loved one. (I eventually did, and he is fine, if you care to know.)
But I’m still stuck. You know, to their families, these men are people. My loved one has been in my life for 25 out of my 27 years. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t deserve to die any more than I do.
We certainly wouldn’t call a mass shooting anywhere else God’s judgment. But we’re willing to label it as such in this case. Let me tell you, though, doing so robs us of our compassion and grace.
I have a loved one who is gay. Many loved ones, actually, but one very close. A loved one who struggles with his sexuality, and whose struggles may some days lead him to a nightclub and some days lead him to church. Who may not have an identity in Christ, or maybe hasn’t fully understood it yet. These are the things I labor for in prayer, day in and day out.
I wonder how many woke up today to have lost the loved one they were praying for in this morning’s shootings? And not praying because they’re gay, but because they’re people who need a Savior like everybody else.
Church, we all have gay loved ones, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. It might be family, might be friends; they might even share a pew with us. They are not anymore disgusting or messed up than you or I. They aren’t an act at the circus, and we, the spectators.
Just like YOU do.
What do you think, Church? Can we not be so quick and bold in our judgment of others, as if they stand or fall before us? Can we not hold ourselves apart from them, as if we’re something special and they’re something especially disgusting? Can we remember our own need, our own brokenness, our own sin, our own inability to make anything right, not even ourselves? Can we walk like Jesus did, submerged in the full current of human life? Can we show them the way to a Heavenly Father who cares about them, who will give them the power to overcome and the grace to get through?
I think we can. I think we have to.
Sincerely,
The Girl in the Church Pew
*This was a Facebook post from a dear friend. I thought her words needed to be shared. She gave me full permission to use her words, but she did ask that I keep it anonymous. Thank you, friend, for bravely sharing what so many of us were thinking. So glad I have the honor of doing life with you.
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