Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

gay marriage

Whew, That Was Tough

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bridgeatPioneers

Well hello there, friends…we’re all still standing after last week’s post, yes? Let me just say that I’m glad you are still here, truly.

In the aftermath of last week’s gay marriage post, a couple of people asked me why I felt the need to write on such a controversial topic. Their question wasn’t accusatory; they honestly wanted to know why I, a self-proclaimed controversy-phobe, would take on such a lightning rod issue. So here’s my answer to that question, in case you, too, were wondering.

For quite a long time now I’ve felt an increasing disconnect between how I present myself here and in other spaces online and who I am in “real life,” so to speak. And while I’ve never been intentionally dishonest here on the blog or on social media, I came to feel that some of my thoughts and beliefs, particularly those related to the LGBTQ community, had become something of an elephant in the room, like I was living the “don’t ask, don’t tell” philosophy. It felt disingenuous. Truthfully, I was beginning to feel a bit fractured – almost like I had an online identity and an in-person identity — and I was tired of keeping up appearances. I wanted to come clean here, to set the record straight.

It’s funny, back when I first began to claim my identity as a Christian, I hesitated to broadcast that to my “in real life” community, partially because I was afraid of being judged. The truth is, for non-religious people (which is not to say that my entire “real life” community is non-religious, but many of my friends and family are), the label “Christian” is not necessarily positive. As a person new to the faith, I was more comfortable claiming my Christian identity online, where I could talk about my faith with other Christians and not worry about being labeled in a particular way.  At some point during the last couple of years, though, something shifted as I began to realize that I was less religiously conservative than many of my online Christian peers.  At one point I even felt like I was “too Christian” for many of my in-person peers, and “not Christian enough” for my online community. That was fun.

Long story short, I reached a point in which I didn’t feel that I was being true to myself, and I didn’t feel like I was being true to you. And let’s be brutally honest about this: part of the reason I maintained this split identity for so long was because I didn’t want to lose readers. I know, it’s gross, but it’s the truth. I felt pressure — pressure to keep building my platform, pressure to grow an audience, pressure to present the best possible scenario of potential readers to my publishers. I’m not blaming the publishing industry entirely – my own ego certainly plays into this (i.e. more readers and more subscribers means I am more popular and more successful – yay, me!) — but the need to build a viable platform was definitely a factor.

The harsh reality was that last Thursday’s post about gay marriage was a huge risk for me. I lost 47 blog subscribers in two days, and that hurts – not only because my platform is still small and that loss is big (to put it in perspective, it would typically take around 6 or 7 months or longer to add 47 new subscribers to my email subscription list), but also because, well, it’s hurtful. I took the time to look at some of those readers who unsubscribed – I was curious if I knew any of them personally, or if they’d been long-time readers. And it hurt to know that in many cases, one post was enough to prompt longtime, loyal readers to unsubscribe. These were readers who had, up to this point, ostensibly found spiritual or other sustenance in my writing, in some cases for years, but were willing to or felt compelled to sacrifice that because of one point of disagreement (albeit a substantial point, but still). That was painful.

On a more positive note, however, I also feel relief. You know where I stand now, and even if we don’t agree on this particular issue, I don’t feel like I’m hiding anything important anymore. We can move forward in a more authentic, honest way. And as I said at the start of this blog post, I deeply appreciate those of you who have stuck around, particularly those of you who disagree with me. I really do believe that we can disagree, even on important issues, and still move forward in authentic relationship and in Christian faith, learn from one another and love one another.

So. For the record, I will not be making a habit of writing LGBTQ/Christian/same-sex marriage posts in the future. This is not my new “thing” – frankly, I don’t have the guts for it. I much prefer to delve into other deep issues, like the spiritual discipline of walking my dog.

I am heartened to know, though, that if I do step into a tricky topic every now and again, this is a place where we can engage in conversation, a place where we can come to the table, and a place where something that begins as a chasm might just become a bridgeable gap.

I Am a Christian and a Supporter of Same-Sex Marriage {and why I think it’s possible to be both}

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So remember on Monday when I said here that I might dip my toe into some unexpected topics? Well, here’s one, and it’s kind of a biggie. For the record, since I’ve been asked explicitly in the past, I will state: I am a Christian and a supporter of same-sex marriage, and yes, I do believe I can be both in good faith. You can read part of my reasoning in the following piece, which ran recently in the Lincoln Journal Star (the post below is a slightly edited version). When this article ran in the newspaper two weeks ago, I received emails from readers on both sides of the debate, and in every case, the emails and the conversations that ensued were respectful and gracious. So I would ask the same of you here. I welcome your comments, even if you don’t agree with me. And I would ask that each one of us make every attempt to be as kind and grace-full as possible. Thank you.

 

balloon

Two years ago this past May I rejoiced with two dear friends as they exchanged vows and celebrated their love for and commitment to one another. The wedding took place in Iowa, not just because the couple has family there, but also because my friends are gay. They could not legally marry in Nebraska, though they live here, work here and have made their home here for many years.

As many of you know, same-sex marriage has once again come to the forefront of political and religious debate here in Nebraska, and it’s an issue fraught with tension and discord. I’ve considered this debate from many angles and through many different lenses – theological, political, historical — but for me, the lens that resonates most with my heart is Jesus.

Whether you consider homosexuality a sin or not, the fact is, Jesus didn’t spend his precious time on earth talking about it. In fact, Jesus didn’t spend much time talking about sex or sexual sin at all. He touched on sexual sin just twice in all of the Gospels: when he spoke to the crowd about the adulterous woman who was about to be stoned (and suggested that those without sin should feel free to cast the first stone) and when he talked with the Samaritan woman at the well who’d had five husbands and was currently living with another man. And in neither case was Jesus’ primary point about sexual sin, but rather, about the larger issues at hand: judging others and seeking truth.

I realize that just because it didn’t make it into the Gospels doesn’t mean that Jesus never commented on homosexuality during his thirty-three years on earth. On the other hand, I have to wonder: if homosexuality was as important to Jesus as it seems to be to many 21st-century Christians, wouldn’t there be a record of that? The truth is, we seem to spend an awful lot of our time and energy debating an issue that clearly wasn’t even close to the top of Jesus’ list of hot-button topics.

So if Jesus didn’t spend his time talking about homosexuality or sexual sin, what were his most pressing concerns? What was the focus of Jesus’ ministry during his time on earth?

Think, for a moment, about what most often prompted Jesus’ anger and to whom that anger was directed. Jesus was often frustrated with his disciples, but he reserved his most ruthless criticism for the Pharisees, the teachers of religious law.  In fact, in one lengthy diatribe, he called the Pharisees “a brood of vipers,” “blind guides,” “fools,” and above all “hypocrites,” condemning them for their arrogance, self-righteousness, and judgment of others. The Pharisees claimed to know who was wrong and who was right, who was going to heaven and who was going to hell.

If there was one thing Jesus could not tolerate, it was the sin of pride and pride’s offspring:  self-righteousness, arrogance, hypocrisy, judgment, and greed.

Consider, as well, the people with whom Jesus chose to spend his time during his ministry: tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers, women, children, the poor, and the underprivileged – in short, all the people the Pharisees considered less-than: the misfits, the outcasts, those on the fringe, those unwelcome, marginalized, and unloved. The people most ostracized by society were the people Jesus most loved and most welcomed into his company.

And finally, consider the main components of Jesus’ teaching, the points he reiterated again and again: love, grace, forgiveness, empathy, acceptance, compassion and mercy.

You might argue that I am oversimplifying, that the issue of same-sex marriage is far more complicated and nuanced than I am making it out to be. And you are right. It is complicated. There are other biblical verses to consider – Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Corinthians, for example — as well as cultural and historical context.

But to debate same-sex marriage so heatedly is, I think, to miss the bigger picture, the picture Jesus modeled for us day in and day out during his thirty-three years on earth. The truth is, it’s not that complicated. Jesus made it easy for us when he consolidated the Ten Commandments into two: Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. 

Jesus especially loved and blessed those on the margins, those cast out and disdained by society. And he expects us to do the same. For me, loving my neighbor as myself looks like supporting my gay friends and family members who yearn to enjoy a privilege and a gift that, I admit, I’ve often taken for granted these last 18 years: the gift of commiting themselves to their soul mate in marriage; to love, cherish and honor, in sickness and in health, until death do them part.

She said, “I Do.”

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There were vows and rings. A best man and a maid of honor. Toasts and hugs and kisses. Brats and burgers, stories and laughter.

And there was love. Abundant love.  Exuberant love. Joyful, celebratory, smiling, laughing, weeping, I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you love.

The ceremony took place on a dock next to a pond. The couple wore tee-shirts and shorts, sneakers and flip flops. The preacher tucked his dress shirt into a pair of farmer’s overalls.

Two friends of mine, two women, got married on a dock in a small town in Iowa on Friday night. They slipped rings on each other’s fingers and vowed to love and cherish one another in sickness and in health, until death does them part. Their loved ones gathered around, teary and smiling, as the orange sun slipped behind the pine trees and a pair of geese honked and flapped into the azure sky.

The brief ceremony complete, my friends stepped into a wicker basket and were lifted into the Iowa sky beneath a roaring flame and a canopy of color. They rode off, gliding over the rolling cornfields and into the sunset. It was like something out of a movie.

I stood on the edge of the woods smiling like a fool. And I watched the balloon float soundlessly away, until it was just a speck in the vast, vast sky.