A while back, Jeff Munroe, one of the RJ editors, wrote an article entitled, “How Big a Jerk Will Your Reading of the Bible Allow You to Be?” A very good question, because even though I am conservative on human sexuality issues, I’m well aware that it’s easy for us conservatives to act like jerks. Some of my “allies” in these discussions are an embarrassment.
One night after a heated synodical session, I was on a walk with a friend who was moderate on LGBTQ issues. Suddenly we were accosted by one of my “allies.” The antagonist demanded to know where my friend stood, and when my friend failed to readily pledge his allegiance to the cause, this man proceeded to read him chapter and verse (literally) from the Bible—informing him about the Greek words that backed his interpretation. It’s arguable whether or not the content of his message was correct, but there is no arguing that his tone undermined any chance of being persuasive. I may be a conservative, but I don’t want to be a jerk like that.
The primary way to avoid being a theological jerk is by growing the fruit of the Spirit, which is deeper than superficial niceness (Galatians 5:22-23). Jerks, however, are lacking in this fruit. They are not acting in love, but in self-serving hatred. They are not joyful, but are griping and complaining about their opponents. They are not peace-makers, but are war-mongers eagerly seeking satisfaction in vanquishing others. Nor can jerks be characterized as kind, good, faithful, gentle, or able to control their bitter impulses. Instead, they are mean and demeaning, liars who paint others in the worst possible light, proud of their positions, and unable to control their tongues long enough to listen to others. I have tried, by God’s grace, to avoid acting in nasty ways and have sought instead to cultivate life-giving spiritual fruit. I’m not sure how successful I’ve been.
I preached on LGBTQ issues four times in forty years, once in each church I served. I tried to model how to talk about these matters in a non-jerk way. I preached about same-sex relationships because they were widely talked about and I thought the congregation needed to hear from the appropriate biblical texts. I only preached on it once in each congregation because I didn’t think the church should make same-sex issues a primary concern. In those sermons, only half of the content was about my understanding of God’s will for living out our sexuality; the other half was about treating the LGBTQ community with love and respect, instead of hatred and judgment.
Still, Munroe’s article challenged me to ask whether I have practiced what I preached when it comes to interacting with the LGBTQ community. Immediately, my self-evaluation runs into a complicating factor: I might think I have avoided acting like a jerk, but the person I’m interacting with might perceive me as a jerk anyway. Being a jerk and being perceived as a jerk are not the same thing, but they are closely connected.
As I do a little self-reflection, I will share a few of my interactions with the LGBTQ community, some of which I thought went well, while others did not. My aim is not to persuade you that my position or my actions were right. (You might read what I write and shake your head about how misguided I am.) My hope is that you might gain a little understanding of how I, as a conservative, attempt to minimize my “jerk-iness.”
One summer, between college and seminary, I lived in a Christian commune. I knew my roommate from my home church and the “Jesus freak” coffeehouse I had been involved in during high school. Other people had told me that my roommate was struggling with his sexual identity and that he believed he was gay. That summer we spent a lot of evenings discussing many matters of faith. Never once did homosexuality (as it was more commonly called then) come up. I didn’t feel compelled to talk about it, and he must not have either. He already knew what the Bible said and what I believed, so I didn’t see any reason to belabor it. If he had wanted to know more about what I thought, I would have told him, but it didn’t come up. After I left for seminary, he sent me a note thanking me for never bringing up the issue and instead just being his friend. A few years later, when he was dying from AIDS, I counted it an honor when he asked me to preach at his funeral. I learned that while there is a time to speak the truth in love, there’s also a time to be silent in love. We conservatives become jerks when we forget that.
In the second situation, a good friend decided to come out, and decided I would be the first person he would talk to. Before we talked, I had assumed he was a life-long bachelor. He was telling me, he said, because he knew I would not hound him until he “agreed” with me. What I remember most about that conversation was being a listener. I tried not to make any judgments while at the same time not expressing approval. I assured him of my love and thanked him for trusting me enough to tell me. The next day, I added one brief comment (short comments go much further than long sermons). It was basically this: we get our sense of identity from what “tribe” we attach ourselves to, and I was hoping that he would find his identity in Jesus and not in any social group’s expectations. I expected God to work on his heart, and, as I see it, the Lord did. He talked with a few other people, including his pastor, about being gay, and within a month he reported that the Lord had changed his heart. Not long afterwards, he married a woman, and was very happy in that relationship until his death. I know many scoff at stories like this and wonder if he was truly gay, but I believe this was a work of God.
My next two encounters didn’t go as well.
A father sat in my office to talk. We had always been on good terms, but we had never had a conversation about his teenage son’s journey concerning his sexual identity. The son had been coming to church in women’s attire, and his father wanted to talk with me about this. I thought maybe someone had made some rude remark to him, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
The father was hoping the church would take some kind of public stand affirming his son’s journey. I told him as gently as I could that I wouldn’t do as he asked. I immediately began to talk about how much I liked and loved his son. He was a gentle spirit and very talented, and he and I had always gotten along well.
The father seemed a bit relieved by my words and said something like, “Well, then, at least we can agree that it all comes down to love.” Yes, it does. But I didn’t think it would be helpful in the long run to just paper over our deep disagreement with generic ideas of love. So I said, “Yes, it is about love, but that doesn’t necessarily resolve everything, because love has so many facets to it.” We may not agree on how best to show love in any given situation or to any given person. Love is always a mixture of honoring, accepting, affirming, approving, overlooking, challenging, correcting, warning, and even rebuking. In loving a person involved in same-sex relationships, there may be much I affirm and some things I overlook, but if I have earned the right to be heard by that person, there may also be a time for disagreement. I would want others to do the same for me. The father and I parted on good terms, but the family looked for another church that would do what I was not willing to do.
One more interaction comes to mind. After getting to know a lesbian couple in our small town, I sat with one of them in the hospital for a number of hours after a car accident. Later I went to their home and prayed with them when one of them lost a job. Perhaps because of these actions they began coming to worship and family night events with their children. I was pleasantly surprised by how welcoming my conservative congregation was towards them. But one day they phoned to ask if they could use our church building for their wedding reception. That was a bridge too far for me and the congregation. I tried to tell them “no” gently, and offered to explain why in person; but I could tell that the few words I said were interpreted as rejection. They never came back, and I’m sure they thought I was just being a jerk.
I felt badly about that, but didn’t see any way to respond differently. Prior to this, I felt no compulsion to correct or rebuke this couple, but when they wanted to pull me and our church into celebrating what I regarded as lamentable, I just couldn’t do it. Let me give an analogy, but please don’t take the analogy to mean that I regard the behaviors involved as morally equivalent. I only offer the analogy so you can understand my resistance to changing my beliefs. How would you respond if a member of your church asked the pastor to use the pulpit to endorse President Trump and his immigration policies? If you refuse, they might think you’re a jerk, suspect the orthodoxy of your faith and leave the church. I’m guessing you would not bend your convictions. Neither would I.
Could my convictions be wrong? Undoubtedly. But I have to live by my perception of what God calls me to believe and do, just as you do.
One of the things that make conservatives seem like jerks to the LGBTQ community is that we can come off as thinking we understand them better than they understand themselves. LGBTQ people believe their sexuality is just the way they’re wired. Then a conservative comes along and says, “No that’s not it; God has something better for you.” It sounds so arrogant, like conservatives know what’s better for people. But that’s actually the dilemma of every Christian who believes Jesus is calling the world to come and follow him. The mission of God is to let others know in a loving way that God in Christ made a better path than their own self-defined path. At some point, the conversation must go there.
I’m not talking about aggressively going after people and telling them to think and act rightly. I don’t like be told what to do and I don’t like telling others what to do. That’s what jerks do. That may sound strange coming from a preacher—isn’t the function of sermons to tell others how to live? In a way, yes, moral guidance and direction should be found in sermons. But the primary purpose of a sermon is for people to know God in Christ as the Way, the Truth and the Life. Otherwise, all we’re sharing is our moral agenda. Ideally, the Holy Spirit speaks through the words of the sermon so that the hearers are confronted and consoled by God. God is the one who will tell people what do, not me. As a preacher, I hope to facilitate that without getting in the way. God uses my words to create a shoe, and if the shoe fits, the Spirit will help someone wear it. My job is not to force someone to put on the shoe. That’s what jerks do.
I must confess that I do feel some jealousy toward those pastors who have few, if any, qualms about same-sex behaviors. I like to be liked. It would be nice to avoid difficult conversations and the potential of looking like a jerk. It would be more comfortable to say to myself, “Leave people alone and things will work out just fine, and then people won’t be resenting the church for sticking its nose into their business.” But I have a hard time picturing Paul or Jesus doing that.
So I guess my answer to Jeff Munroe’s original question is this: my reading of the Bible does not allow me to be a jerk, but it certainly does allow for me to be perceived as a jerk. I apologize if I said anything you found hurtful and tone-deaf in this article. I mean no harm, but I know I am capable of causing harm anyway. I pray for the fruit of the Spirit to grow in my life so that others may see past my failures and instead give glory to the Father who is in heaven for any fruit they find (Matthew 5:16).
One Response
Thanks for writing this piece, David. It was full of grace, humility, truth, and love. Thanks for publishing it in the Reformed Journal too. It’s so important to hear voices like this that speak to the present moment of cultural divide regardless of stance.
May we all have the grace and wisdom to be able to follow your words during polarizing topics: “Could my convictions be wrong? Undoubtedly. But I have to live by my perception of what God calls me to believe and do, just as you do.”