When I first came out I had some grasp of the fact that my place of belonging in the evangelical community would change. I was so immersed in that community that the thought of losing my spiritual home was more than a little disconcerting. Still, I knew I needed to tell the truth about who I was, and I believed it was the worth the risk.
What I also believed, on some level, was that I would be welcomed into this mythical "gay community" I had heard so much about (mostly bad things, but that was irrelevant). I imagined that after taking the brave steps of coming out to my family and church community I would stroll into the local gay bar in my community where the dance music would be pounding and a whole entourage of fashionable, sophisticated and sensitive gay men would throw me my very own gay pride parade, complete with rainbows, streamers and even a few chiseled backup dancers (obviously extras from the most recent Janet Jackson video)!
This was not what happened. I did stroll into the local gay bar and I did meet people, but for the most part what mattered to the guys I met was the fact that I was gay, and a new (reasonably cute) gay at that. Some people were friendly and others were flirty, but with most people I met in "the scene," the moment the conversation shifted (in a rare moment of sobriety) to my interests and life experiences, things came to a screeching halt at the mention of my Christian faith. When I say a screeching halt, I mean you could actually hear crickets once the words Christian or Jesus left my lips. And the cricket sounds were quickly followed by either snobbish looks (you've seen these looks from gay caricatures on television) or even worse, half-baked theological arguments which were almost too painful to listen to as a former pastor with actual theological training.
The lesson in all of this? My sexuality had no place in the church, and my Christian faith had no place in the gay community. And there I was, clamoring for acceptance from both. Now I realize these are sweeping generalizations, but the church community I had been immersed in really did not have a place for me as a gay man, and the gay party scene I had stumbled upon with false hopes was not the place to be "outed" as an evangelical! I would have gotten less dirty looks if I'd walked in and asked the nearest gay guy to follow me into the bathroom and do coke off of the toilet seat!
There are lots of reasons why the gay and Christian communities have such animosity for one another. In fact, if you're interested in learning more about this conflict I recommend picking up a book entitled "Love Is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation With the Gay Community
" by Andrew Marin, an evangelical Christian who has committed his life to building bridges with the gay community in Chicago. While this is a good read, especially for evangelicals, this book stops short of fully addressing the experiences of people like me who have always identified as both Christian AND gay. As a young, gay Christian fresh out of the closet, I found myself on an island of misfit toys where I experienced equally sharp pains of exclusion from both the Church and the gay bar scene. And depending on the day, I longed to fit in just as much in one as I did the other. I wanted more than anything to belong, and I ended up making a lot of harmful decisions while trying to do just that.
It's been a full decade since I entered that no man's land of not belonging. Sadly, the first half of that decade was a painful time marked by deep depression and a sort of flailing around in an angry haze of depression, drinking and prescription painkillers. Not a good look for someone who’s been nothing but the Christian Golden Boy all of his life. Thankfully, about three years into that journey came the first of what I consider two "breakthroughs of belonging" as a gay Christian.
My breakthrough of faith came just a few months after setting foot in what is now my spiritual home, LaSalle Street Church, in Chicago in 2004.
My breakthrough of friendship came just last year when I stumbled into the unexpected; a group of gay men who embraced me as a gay Christian with the kind of unconditional friendship I had heard about in the gay community but which for me had been nothing more than an elusive longing for so many years.
What I also believed, on some level, was that I would be welcomed into this mythical "gay community" I had heard so much about (mostly bad things, but that was irrelevant). I imagined that after taking the brave steps of coming out to my family and church community I would stroll into the local gay bar in my community where the dance music would be pounding and a whole entourage of fashionable, sophisticated and sensitive gay men would throw me my very own gay pride parade, complete with rainbows, streamers and even a few chiseled backup dancers (obviously extras from the most recent Janet Jackson video)!
This was not what happened. I did stroll into the local gay bar and I did meet people, but for the most part what mattered to the guys I met was the fact that I was gay, and a new (reasonably cute) gay at that. Some people were friendly and others were flirty, but with most people I met in "the scene," the moment the conversation shifted (in a rare moment of sobriety) to my interests and life experiences, things came to a screeching halt at the mention of my Christian faith. When I say a screeching halt, I mean you could actually hear crickets once the words Christian or Jesus left my lips. And the cricket sounds were quickly followed by either snobbish looks (you've seen these looks from gay caricatures on television) or even worse, half-baked theological arguments which were almost too painful to listen to as a former pastor with actual theological training.
The lesson in all of this? My sexuality had no place in the church, and my Christian faith had no place in the gay community. And there I was, clamoring for acceptance from both. Now I realize these are sweeping generalizations, but the church community I had been immersed in really did not have a place for me as a gay man, and the gay party scene I had stumbled upon with false hopes was not the place to be "outed" as an evangelical! I would have gotten less dirty looks if I'd walked in and asked the nearest gay guy to follow me into the bathroom and do coke off of the toilet seat!
There are lots of reasons why the gay and Christian communities have such animosity for one another. In fact, if you're interested in learning more about this conflict I recommend picking up a book entitled "Love Is an Orientation: Elevating the Conversation With the Gay Community
" by Andrew Marin, an evangelical Christian who has committed his life to building bridges with the gay community in Chicago. While this is a good read, especially for evangelicals, this book stops short of fully addressing the experiences of people like me who have always identified as both Christian AND gay. As a young, gay Christian fresh out of the closet, I found myself on an island of misfit toys where I experienced equally sharp pains of exclusion from both the Church and the gay bar scene. And depending on the day, I longed to fit in just as much in one as I did the other. I wanted more than anything to belong, and I ended up making a lot of harmful decisions while trying to do just that. It's been a full decade since I entered that no man's land of not belonging. Sadly, the first half of that decade was a painful time marked by deep depression and a sort of flailing around in an angry haze of depression, drinking and prescription painkillers. Not a good look for someone who’s been nothing but the Christian Golden Boy all of his life. Thankfully, about three years into that journey came the first of what I consider two "breakthroughs of belonging" as a gay Christian.
My breakthrough of faith came just a few months after setting foot in what is now my spiritual home, LaSalle Street Church, in Chicago in 2004.
My breakthrough of friendship came just last year when I stumbled into the unexpected; a group of gay men who embraced me as a gay Christian with the kind of unconditional friendship I had heard about in the gay community but which for me had been nothing more than an elusive longing for so many years.
I’ll start with my breakthrough of faith, because this is truly the reason I'm even around today to write these words…
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