a word to my friends about phil robertson...

Dear Friends,

I'm writing to you, my brothers, my sisters, my tribe. I'm writing to conservative, evangelical Christians. I've grown up in your churches, your schools, and your camps. I've worked for your ministries, and I attend one of your seminaries. I sit next to you in the pew on Sunday, and we take the bread and wine together in the Lord's Supper. Like you, I believe the Bible is the inspired, infallible Word of God, and I believe it is our only rule for faith and life. Like most of you, I believe that the covenant of marriage was instituted by God for relationships of one man and one woman. Like many of you, I was distressed to see A&E bow to pressure and suspend Phil Robertson from "Duck Dynasty" because of his expressed views on homosexuality.

However, my brothers and sisters, I must say this. I've been even more distressed and deeply hurt by many of your responses to Robertson's comments and his suspension.

First, although Phil's comments themselves aren't my biggest concern, I'll address why they still hurt, even as someone who ultimately agrees with him on the biblical view of sexuality. I've seen the response, "Why should they hurt? He was just quoting the Bible." Fair question. Yes, Phil's comments contained biblical references (1 Corinthians 6, for instance), and he correctly stated that homosexual practice is indeed sinful. However, I can't say that his comments were actually biblical. Why not? Because they were neither loving nor gracious. They lacked wisdom. They promoted false stereotypes. Phil's crude anatomical references were not just an inappropriate indiscretion, they painted God's beautiful gift of sex as something else entirely. We're left to assume from his words that Phil sees the main role of sex to be personal gratification. Can we commend a view of sex that reduces women to the usefulness of their body parts in gratifying the urges of their husbands? I reject that. I reject that completely. I reject that because the Bible has such a higher view of the sexual union between a husband and wife. It's a total union, body and soul. It's vulnerability and sacrifice and safety. Yes, it's pleasure, but it's much much more. Phil's comments insinuate that the only thing gay people are looking for is sexual gratification, not the intimacy and self-sacrificial relationship that I hope Phil enjoys with his wife. True, I never plan to pursue such a relationship with another man. I do not believe that is God's will or his design for marriage or sex. However, as Phil went on to describe his views of sin, he essentially equated the longings I have for intimacy and companionship with the sexual desires some people have for animals. It's clear that Phil rightly believes homosexual practice is a sin, but it's also clear that he doesn't understand the experience of same-sex attracted people in the slightest. He may claim to love and respect everyone (and I believe he is genuine in his desire to do so), but I would never feel safe or comfortable sharing my story or struggles with him after reading his comments. Why would I open up to someone who apparently finds my struggles so reprehensible and unfathomable, comparable to both bestiality and terrorism? Phil's comments did contain truth, yes, but they were incredibly insensitive and dehumanizing to anyone who experiences desires for their same gender. This is not how Jesus would have spoken...not even close. You can say a lot of true things, but if you're not speaking in love (the language of our Savior), you're not speaking the Truth. 

Secondly, while I found Phil's comments troubling, I do disagree with A&E's decision to suspend him. We can't have healthy dialogue if our first resort is always to silence and remove our opponents. I agree that A&E's move is a troubling sign for the future ability of Christians to speak publicly about our beliefs. However, as a Christian, I am far more concerned with the responses I have seen on social media from fellow Christians attacking A&E and rushing to defend Phil Robertson. I understand the concern, but I believe this is misplaced fervor. And you know what? I'll be honest...it hurts.

The Church would have far more credibility in her defense of free speech if she were actually seeking to create a safe place for vulnerability and dialogue in her own midst. Friends, there is a reason that this blog is anonymous! Maybe I would feel more sympathy for Phil Robertson if I hadn't always felt pressure to remain silent about my story within the very community where I should have felt the most freedom. We can rush to defend people like Phil as the victims in situations like this, but what about the hundreds and thousands of kids and young people and even adults who deal with their various struggles in silence out of fear of what other Christians will say? If we're looking at this from a biblical perspective, are they not the real victims here? The silent victims?

There is a swell of righteous anger when a reality star is suspended for his crude, insensitive defense of biblical sexuality in GQ, but where was this outrage when my friend was fired from his job at a Christian school because a parent found out he was same-sex attracted? Where was the outrage when another friend of mine was thrown out of his house in high school and shunned by his church because he came out as gay? Where is the outrage over the countless teenagers who are bullied (often by Christian teenagers) because of their sexuality? Where are the tears of remorse and contrition over those who ultimately find no hope and end their lives, convinced that no one could ever really love them? Where is our swell of righteous anger, Church?

I have been blessed with a loving family and incredibly supportive friends. More and more people know my story, and I attend a beautiful, grace-centered seminary that reminds me everyday that God is good and Jesus loves me. I have enjoyed blessings far beyond what most people with my struggle enjoy. But when you, my friends, seem far more concerned with protecting the rights of Mr. Robertson to express his beliefs than you are with making sure your brothers who struggle with homosexuality know they are loved, that they have dignity and worth...that hurts. It does. 

I'm not asking you to change your beliefs on the sinfulness of homosexual practice. I share those beliefs, and I'm certainly not changing mine! My convictions here are firm. However, I do ask you to think about the message you are sending when you rush to defend the comments of Phil Robertson.

Jesus didn't die to give us freedom of speech...or even freedom of religion. He died to give us freedom from the bondage of sin and the law. "For you were called to freedom, brothers," Paul wrote to the Galatians, "Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Gal. 5:13-14) We were not set free primarily so that we could express our opinions and live a happy life; we were set free so that we could love our neighbors--sacrificially--as we love ourselves. Is Phil Robertson free to make these statements about homosexuality? Yes. Are you free to defend him and post #IStandWithPhilRobertson on your twitter? Absolutely. But friends, I would ask you to consider if that is the best use of your freedom. 

Let us follow the example of Jesus. Jesus always moved toward the poor, the broken, and the outcast. He defended those who could not defend themselves, those who had no voice. He broke the social and religious customs of his day to show broken, hurting people that he loved them. The religious leaders said terrible things about Jesus because of the people he spent time with, the people he stood up for. In the eyes of the religious, Jesus was always defending the wrong people. 

If you think Jesus would be shaking his fist at A&E right now for their treatment of Phil Robertson, I'm not sure if you have an accurate picture of Jesus' life and ministry. Wouldn't it be better to imagine Jesus seeking out and comforting the young teenager whose family watches "Duck Dynasty" religiously...the kid who doesn't understand the feelings and desires that he's experiencing for other guys...the child who hears Phil Robertson's comments and only hears further confirmation that nobody could ever love someone like him, least of all Jesus? I believe this is where Jesus would be if he was walking the earth today, and I believe that's where we as his followers are called to go as well.

We will face injustice in this world. Our rights may be infringed upon or taken away. That's been the majority experience of the Church throughout history. Jesus himself was the victim of the ultimate injustice ever perpetrated: a perfect, sinless man crucified for the sins of the world. Jesus wasn't interested in securing his rights. His mission was love and healing and grace and restoration. He was interested to speaking the words of hope and life to a world in despair. 

As your brother in Christ, your fellow sojourner in the faith and one who happens to experience attractions to other guys, please hear these words. Please consider your response to the Phil Robertson situation and other situations like it. Please know that you have many other friends, friends like me, who see your responses and feel deep pain and betrayal. You may not mean it that way, but that's how it is received. Trust me. 

May we all seek to follow our Savior humbly to the all the broken places and people of our world...and may God have mercy on us all.

Grace to you, brothers and sisters, and the peace of Christ,

Love, Your Brother Behind the Mask

Prejudice.

It was a little after 9:00 on a cold, Chicago winter night. Our college group was spending a week serving, learning, and living on the city's South Side with a local ministry, and we had just finished dinner at a couple's home. As we walked the few blocks back to the ministry's office, a woman came around the corner. She gave us one look, and, in a low voice, she warned, "You boys watch out. There's a cop back there." 

I was confused. Watch out? For a cop? Why did we need to watch out for a cop? In fact, I felt safer knowing that cop was there, because...well...you know. We were a group of white kids wearing expensive clothes walking through a black neighborhood late at night. Surely we weren't the ones the cops should be looking out for!

But then it dawned on me. I remembered what the ministry staff had told us earlier that week. White kids from the suburbs do come to this inner-city neighborhood on a regular basis. They come to buy drugs.

It suddenly made sense. I wanted to turn around and chase down this woman. I wanted to say, "Wait a minute! You have it all wrong! You think that we're here to buy drugs...just because we're white? As if that's the only reason we'd ever be in your neighborhood?"

Those words that I wanted to say, those perceptions and assumptions I wanted to correct...it all stuck with me for a few days. It made me uncomfortable, but as I reflected on that discomfort, I realized that it was temporary. It was limited. It was localized. At the end of the day, it didn't really impact my life.

In just a few days, I would be leaving this neighborhood and returning to my life in the majority. I would return to no longer worrying about society pre-judging me and my motives by the color of my skin. Store clerks would not watch me any more closely than anyone else when I went shopping. People would not lock their car doors when I passed by. Overzealous neighbors would not follow me with a gun when I walked around my neighborhood.

My mom never had to have the talk with me about how to avoid being seen as a threat simply by existing somewhere. I've never thought twice about getting into an elevator with a white woman...or anyone, for that matter. When driving through the gate of my Christian college after midnight, my friends and I could hold up slices of cheese instead of our school ID cards, and the security guard would simply wave us through, chuckling.

As I reflect on the aftermath of the Trayvon Martin verdict, I'm realizing just how much I don't understand. 

It's one thing for me, as a white man, to say, "this isn't about race!" It's another for me to realize that for thousands of my fellow Americans and brothers & sisters in Christ...it is most definitely about race. It's one thing for me, as a member of the majority, to say, "I don't care what color you are! It makes no difference to me!" It's another for me to realize that many of my fellow Americans and brothers & sisters in Christ care very deeply about what color they are...that it makes a very big difference to them.

It's one thing for me to say, "Justice was served! It was a trial by a jury of peers! Let's accept the decision and move on." It's another for me to realize that, regardless of the trial's legitimacy, the verdict does nothing to calm or assuage the deep-seated fear and pain of these fellow Americans, my brothers & sisters in Christ. If anything, the verdict confirms those fears, it intensifies the pain, and my callous words of color-blindness only spit in their wounds. 

If I'm going to love my brothers and sisters of different races, I don't need to explain and argue to them why I'm not prejudiced. I don't need to tell them why my words weren't intended to be hurtful and why they should give me the benefit of the doubt. I need to be quiet. I need to reflect. I need to pray. I need to cry. I need to sit beside and stand in solidarity. I need to listen. I need to listen a lot. I need to keep listening until I think I can't bear to hear anymore, and then I need to keep listening. 

Then...maybe then...I can speak.

I don't understand prejudice. I don't understand race relations in America. I can't understand the depth of pain and fear and anger generated by George Zimmerman's not-guilty verdict. I don't know what a black mother feels now every time her teenage son walks out the door.

But I can't be content to sit here in this lack of understanding. I must listen, I must ask questions, and I must learn. I must be willing to admit that I've been blind, that I've been callous...that I've been wrong. I must let myself be shaped by the love of our Savior, love that isn't color-blind, but love that sees and values the beauty of diversity he created...diversity that leads us to greater unity. 

I'll admit, as I move towards greater openness with my story as a same-sex attracted Christian...I fear some elements of prejudice myself. You may be aware of the stereotype that gay men have a far greater tendency to be pedophiles. This stereotype, as false as it is, has already left deep scars on my soul. "Maybe I can't be trusted," my subconscious whispers. "Maybe I am just a sex-obsessed reprobate." What will people think if I sign up to serve in the nursery or with the youth group? As I deal with the deeply painful prospect of never raising and loving kids of my own, I find myself avoiding opportunities to love and care for other people's kids for fear of being misjudged or drawing suspicion. Now yes, of course, I am a sinner. I am capable of just as much sin as you are, and I must rely on the grace of Christ just as much as you do, but this stereotype has slowly led me and many others to believe the lie that we're much more capable of sin than anyone else. Not only are we more broken...we're more dangerous.

I want to be very careful about equating my experience with that of racial minorities in this country. But I do want to add my voice as we speak about the deeply painful impact of harmful stereotypes. For a black man to have to explain why he doesn't want to shoot or steal from you...for a gay man to have to explain why he doesn't want to molest your kids...can we get a sense of the deeply dehumanizing effect that can have? 

There's a lot I don't understand about racism and racial prejudice, but I want to learn. Before I speak, I need to listen. Before I claim my innocence, I need to consider where I might be complicit...or even guilty. I need friends of different races and cultures who can tell me their stories, who can teach me, who can show me different aspects of the gospel that I've never seen.

I humbly ask for the same thing as the Church moves forward in its conversation on sexuality. I ask you to listen. I encourage you to build friendships with those of different sexual orientations, not to prove that you hang out with sinners like Jesus did, not to preach and convince, but to listen...to learn...to love and be loved yourself. Whether or not your beliefs or political positions change, you will be able to engage in the conversation in a way that truly reflects the love of our Savior. You will no longer just speak theoretically of "gay people," but you will have names and faces and stories....names and faces and stories of people who you love and who love you back.

As I do the same, as I seek out friends of different races and ethnicities, when I discuss the Trayvon Martin case, I won't just think of a generic "them." I will think of names and faces and stories and tears. I will think of people I care about so deeply that their pain becomes my pain.

Christians are called to identify with the outcast, to stand with the oppressed and seek justice.

We're called to weep with those who weep, to mourn with those mourn. Right now, the African-American community is mourning. It's hurting. What will our response be, people of God?

Let's start by listening.

Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask

***In the spirit of this post, I welcome your feedback. If you feel that something I've written lacks sensitivity or understanding, if I have a blind spot...I'll be the first to admit that I don't always understand. I welcome your thoughts and challenges, either in the comment section or via email at behind.the.mask.blog1@gmail.com. 

Struggle.

"I struggle with same-sex attraction."

These words have rolled off my tongue quite a few times over the past year. As I share my story with a growing number of friends and family, the hardest part has actually been figuring out what words to use to describe...well...this part of my story. There is a lot of bulky language and creative verbal tap-dancing to avoid labeling...well...the issue? Ordeal? Condition?

The label I finally settled on was "same-sex attraction." This is a very clean, scientific sounding term. It sticks to the basics and makes no assumptions. I am a person who is attracted predominantly to persons of my own sex. That about covers it, right?

Lest anyone get the idea that I'm okay with this arrangement, I've usually added the words, "I struggle with" to my description. See, I'm not just same-sex attracted...I'm fighting it. I'm dealing with it. Don't worry, I hate this part of myself just as much as you do.

That's what I'm trying to tell you when I say I struggle with same-sex attraction.

But is that right? Is it really a struggle? What does that even mean?

[Okay guys, I'm about to do something all of my college professors hated, but at least it's not in my introduction. Get ready...]

Merriam-Webster (ah there it is) gives the following definition of the word struggle: "to make strenuous or violent efforts in the face of difficulties or opposition." Also: "to proceed with difficulty or with great effort." Both of these definitions describe different parts of my life...but do they actually describe how I relate to my same-sex attraction?

Let's take the first definition...strenuous or violent efforts in the face of difficulty or opposition. I do see this kind of struggle in my life. I struggle with idolatry. I struggle with arrogance and pride. I struggle with lethargy and gluttony. I struggle with lust.

How about the second definition? Proceeding with great difficulty or effort? I have plenty of this kind of struggle to go around too. I struggle with insecurity. I struggle with my appearance. I struggle with loneliness. I struggle with the messiness of community. I struggle with fear and anxiety.

But none of this answers my question. Do I actually struggle with that fact that I'm attracted to other guys?

I don't think so.

It's not something I ever chose for myself...nor would I if given the opportunity. But it's there, whether I like it or not. It's been there--for as long as I can remember--and if the studies are right, it's probably not going anywhere.

You could call this my sexual orientation. In fact, it'd probably be helpful to call it that...because I'm pretty sure that's what it is.

I don't struggle with my height. I don't struggle with my skin color or my ethnicity. I don't struggle with the color of my eyes, the sound of my voice, or the size of my feet. I don't struggle with my family of origin. I don't struggle with the fact that I'm an INFJ. I don't struggle with the fact that I'm a man.

I didn't choose or decide any of these things, but they all impact my life--to various degrees. The part I sing in choir, the shoes I buy, the position I play in basketball, the high blood pressure that runs in my family, the privilege I have in modern American society...all of these things are impacted by forces outside my control, for better or for worse.

You could say these things are part of my identity. None of them encompass who I am, but all together, they start painting a vivid picture of what it means to be me.

At the end of the day, our sexual orientation--who we are naturally attracted to--is one of these integral parts of who we are. It doesn't define us, but it has a dramatic impact on our lives and relationships. If you're straight, the fact that you're attracted to the opposite gender plays a pretty important role in your life...am I right?

So why do I insist on referring to my sexual orientation in the same way I refer to my unhealthy diet or a sinus infection? Is it a bad habit...an illness...an enemy to be conquered? Like every other part of who I am, my sexuality has been bruised and broken by the Fall, but also, like every other part of who I am, it has beauty, it has purpose, and it is being redeemed. 

I wrote a post back in February (check it out here...it's one of my favorites) about coming to grips with my sexual orientation, about the first time I was able to write the words "I'm gay" in my prayer journal, and about the freedom and relief it brought me to pray those words.









But here's the thing...those words have stayed in my prayer journal. They haven't escaped the leather bound cover [except in the picture above...but you get my point] You see, I'm still torn about the word "gay." It's taken on all kinds of meaning and connotations in our society. It's packed with mental images and assumptions. Many of these assumptions are unfair and based in stereotype, yet there they are. People hear me say, "I'm gay," and they assume I want to date, marry, and have sex with a man. Some will hear me say, "I'm gay," and no matter how well they know me or for how long, they'll see me as part of an agenda...aligning with the enemy.

There will be churches that will not hire me, simply because of those two little words.

That makes me anxious...and it hurts.

Because honestly, saying "I'm gay" says no more about my lifestyle than someone saying, "I'm straight." Your grandmother and Kim Kardashian might both be heterosexual, but that's likely where the similarities end.

My "gay lifestyle" probably doesn't look too different than that of many single, straight, Christian guys in their mid-20's. I watch football. I hike. I shop at Goodwill. I eat frozen pizza and lots of peanut butter sandwiches. Grabbing a beer with a few friends is my idea of "night life." My room's a mess. I'm not a good dancer. I listen to Mumford & Sons. I've never had sex. I go to church every week, but I don't read my Bible nearly as much as I should. I'm not saying any of this makes me better than anyone else...it's just who I am. I'm gay, but I might not fit your stereotype.

I don't struggle with being "gay."

I do struggle with the implications of being gay, especially since I believe the Bible says that to act on my attractions would be contrary to God's will.

I do struggle with the loneliness that comes with singleness. I do struggle with the fear of what a life of singleness could look like. I do struggle with the shame of believing my brokenness is somehow worse than everyone else's. I do struggle with the insecurity that comes from living life behind a mask. I do struggle with anxiety in my friendships with other guys, always afraid of getting too close. I do struggle with anger when I hear fellow Christians make hurtful, ignorant statements about gay people. I do struggle to keep my heart pure...just like every follower of Jesus.

My identity is not found in my sexual orientation. I am not defined by the fact that I'm attracted to guys. My identity is found in Jesus Christ, and I am defined by His record. He is the foundation, the rock that the rest of my identity is built on. 

There are many different parts of my identity, many different facets that make up who I am. My sexual orientation is one of those parts...and it's an important one! But my identity is centered and built on Jesus. Each and every aspect of our identity is subject to His authority. My sexuality must be subject to Jesus, just like yours must. As I seek to take up my cross and follow Him, I believe that means laying down my sexuality at His feet...giving up my desires, ever for a committed, monogamous same-sex relationship, and trusting that He is sufficient.

That is not easy. It's quite difficult, actually*, and it's rather controversial too. It's a struggle. 

So no, friends, I don't struggle with my same-sex attraction. I struggle with living faithfully as a child of the King. 

And that's what we all struggle with.

Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask

Belonging.

My heart pounded as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I stood before the director and his assistant in the otherwise empty room, waiting nervously for the accompaniment to start and trying to avoid eye contact. I had been convinced to audition for a role in a local high school production, but I was starting to think I'd made a big mistake. 

It wasn't the singing or acting that had me so worried, though. I was entirely outside my comfort zone. I only knew a few of the other people auditioning. This wasn't my crowd. My school didn't have a drama club. I wasn't a "drama kid." Sure, I had always been a fan of musicals, but I was a basketball player. I didn't know the theater lingo or etiquette. I didn't understand the inside jokes. I had never heard of "Wicked." I was an outsider. 

A piece of me dies every time I remember this scene.

It was my own High School Musical story...except I wasn't particularly stellar at basketball, I wasn't all that great at singing or dancing, my hair looked nothing like Zac Efron's, and thankfully, none of our basketball practices ever involved choreography.

There was another component to my discomfort too. While many of my fellow cast members were also believers...many were not. Up until that point in my life, my social circles pretty much consisted of church friends and classmates at my small Christian school. It was my first time in a social environment that wasn't specifically religious, and that kind of freaked me out.

I'm not entirely sure why it freaked me out. I don't know what I was scared of. Maybe it was because I knew how the kids in my Christian school tended to treat people who were different. Maybe it was because I knew how I treated outsiders--no open hostility, of course, but polite indifference. And if we were the Christians, how would they treat me now that the tables were turned?

I had bought in to the narrative that the real intolerant people were the unbelievers, the liberals, the secularists. They preached tolerance for everyone except for us, the oppressed moral majority.

Imagine my surprise when I ventured outside my Christian bubble and found a greater sense of welcome and belonging than I ever had back inside.

I'm not even talking about my sexual orientation here. I was still in deep denial about that, and not another soul knew about the battle raging in the deep, dark corners of my heart. No...I just mean welcome. Plain, old-fashioned welcome. I mean coming in as an outsider and almost immediately feeling like an insider, without having to prove anything first.

What a concept, huh?

For the first time in my life, I had friends who weren't religious. I had friends who didn't go to church on Sunday, didn't know who John Piper was...friends who didn't know all the words to "Here I am to Worship" or the Veggie Tales theme song. Some of these new friends were believers but had grown up with unbelieving friends; they were used to the tension.

These friends didn't make me earn my place among them. They were themselves around me, and thus, I felt free to be myself around them. They invited me to parties...and no, not wild, drunken parties with Top-40 hits and cigarettes, but pool parties and movie parties. We watched musicals, and for the first time, I could sing along without shame because everyone else was singing along too. We didn't "hit any clubs," but they took me to Applebee's for my birthday and we stayed until after midnight, laughing, talking, and eating enormous brownie sundaes. They liked me. They appreciated me, and they went out of their way to let me know that.

This is not a story about poor-little-outcast-me, because for all the lack of acceptance or affirmation I felt in my Christian bubble, I was just as guilty. I can't tell you how many "do-overs" I wish I could have, for people I hurt with my words, my anger, my arrogance, my judgment. I thought that I was a welcoming person, but my welcome was limited to those who got with the program and conformed to our system. If they wanted to play our game with our rules, then sure, they could join our team. Otherwise, it was live-and-let-live.

Of course, for the sake of illustration, I'm painting a rather black-and-white picture (please see note at the bottom**). I'm leaving out some important nuances. I had some very loving and accepting Christian friends, and I knew many non-Christians who were anything but loving and accepting.

But nuance aside, this is how I felt:

In my Christian school and church circles, I felt like I had to perform, to fit a mold, to play a part in order to be accepted. In my eagerness to be accepted, to have others seek my acceptance, I only continued the vicious cycle. 

In my non-religious theater circle, I didn't feel like I had to perform (well, except on stage). I felt like I could be myself, that my self was welcomed and valued, and that I could be honest. I didn't have to earn my way in. I was already in. 

Which circle do you think I was most drawn to?

What if the Church was seen as a place of such welcome? What if people knew that they didn't have earn their way into our fellowship and community? What if, simply by showing up, they knew they were already in?

I'm not talking about church membership. I'm not talking about changing our beliefs our softening our doctrinal standards. I'm certainly not talking about watering down the gospel, because I believe this kind of welcome is the fruit of a gospel-rooted heart.

We have to be able to say, "You are welcome here" and "We love you" as complete, stand-alone sentences. Not "you are welcome here, if..." or "We love you, but..." There is a time and a place for so-called "tough love," but it is not at the beginning. When we open with our list of must's and must-not's, we're communicating that people have to clean themselves up before they can come join us, and that lie of the devil then gets attributed, by association, to Jesus.

Jesus, who didn't require a public apology from the prostitute before he let her wash his feet with her tears.

Jesus, who told the woman caught in adultery to go and sin no more, but who did so after publicly defending her against the judgment of the religious leaders.

Jesus, who called the selfish, swindling Zacchaeus down from the tree and invited himself over to his house for supper, bewildering and infuriating the religious elites.

Jesus, who called you and me out of our own slavery before we could do anything to earn it ourselves. 

from the "Jesus Storybook Bible"

We must stop excusing our arrogant, Pharisaical behavior, and we must stop excusing our kids. Maybe our church's teenagers are faithfully attending youth group and Bible studies. Maybe they've all signed True Love Waits pledge cards and listen to Christian music. Maybe they don't drink, smoke, chew, or go with girls/boys that do, but this is not mission accomplished. 

Have their hearts been transformed by the grace of Christ? Are they welcoming to other students who aren't like them? When they're at school, are they standing up for the bullied and ostracized? Maybe they memorize Bible verses, but is there evidence of heart change? Maybe they don't cuss or tell dirty jokes, but are they telling jokes that are hurtful or demeaning to people who are different? Are their lives moving toward the outsiders or the insiders?

Which teenager is closer to the Kingdom of God? The one who has kissed dating goodbye and is outspoken about his Christian values (that was me)...or the one who sits down and eats lunch with the openly gay kid who came to school that morning with his eyes red from crying? (that was not me)

Now I understand that these two scenarios aren't mutually exclusive, but we continue to celebrate and promote this "outspoken" Christian witness to our youth over and above the sometimes unspoken witness of a life rooted in the radical grace of God. We beam with pride when our young people follow in our footsteps of culture war, rather than the footsteps of Christ...footsteps that lead to love, to sacrifice, to the Cross.

Yes, we must continue to preach a message of holiness and obedience to our youth, but that message must include the call to love the outcast, to welcome the outsider, to defend the defenseless. Imagine if hurting young people, especially hurting young people who carry the shame of same-sex attraction (like me), found in our churches the same kind of warmth and welcome and belonging that I found in that drama club.

We don't have to choose between truth and love. We don't have to emphasize either justice or mercy. All of these are united in the person and work of Jesus Christ. We don't have to choose between "fixing" same-sex orientations (like Exodus International) or "celebrating" them (like Glee). The gospel calls our churches to be even more open and welcoming than the Glee club, and even more committed to the truth of Scripture than Exodus International. 

For this, we pray.

Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask


**Re: the missing nuance from this piece. I'm writing this note in 2016, and I want to reiterate the point that I was purposefully painting a black-and-white picture for this piece. I want to make it perfectly clear that I had wonderful friends in my church and Christian school who loved me well, loved me unconditionally, celebrated me, enjoyed me, etc. I could not have survived high school without these friends, and I know, without a doubt, that had I decided to come out to them in high school, they would not have rejected me. They probably would have been even better friends to me had I let them that far inside my world. I love them fiercely, and I am so thankful for them. 

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(Update 8/18/16): Below are some pictures from my summer with the theater kids...Summer Stock Theater's 2005 production of "Beauty and the Beast."

Me & Belle

Me, Charlana, & Mimi (a.k.a. the Wardrobe and Silly Girl #2)

Practicing "Be Our Guest"

The Whole Gang

Casualties.

Every war has unintended casualties. 

Military commanders may try to limit civilian deaths, but it's inevitable that innocents will be caught in the crosshairs of almost any armed conflict. World War 1 alone left more than 6.5 million civilians dead across the European continent. 6.5 million. That's the whole state of Tennessee. And what exactly was accomplished by World War 1? We're still not entirely sure.

The Culture Wars are no different. The battle lines are drawn. The trenches are dug. Opposing sides take aim...and fire. Victories and half-victories are won...or at least proclaimed. Just like scorched ruins of Europe's cities, devastating destruction is left behind...and for what exactly?

We find ourselves in the heat of yet another Culture War battle. It's a battle that's been raging for quite some time, but the recent decision by Boy Scouts of America to allow openly gay scouts has touched off quite a firestorm. 

You don't have a war without warriors, though. So who exactly are the warriors in this Boy Scout battle? Let's take a look... [emphasis added]

• Al Mohler, president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, wrote on Wednesday, "The culture wars came to the Boy Scouts many years ago. For the last few decades, the Boy Scouts have had to fight battles with both secularists and homosexual activists."

• Back in March, Texas Gov. Rick Perry made headlines by going after Madonna, who had recently dressed up in a Cub Scout uniform and called the organization's ban on gays "stupid."

• Yesterday, Bryan Fischer of the American Family Association tweeted: "BSA now stands for Boy Sodomizers of America, because that's what will happen. Mark my words."

• Michelangelo Signorile, editor-at-large for Huffington Post's Gay Voices, wrote last month, "the BSA must be considered an enemy of civil rights. Any parents in good conscience must continue to realize what they are a party to by enrolling their kids in an organization whose policies would help drive hostility toward a minority group."

Wow. So what we have here is a fight between homosexual activists and an enemy of civil rights. Sodomizers and secularists joining forces against the backward, "stupid" Boy Scouts. We see opposing crusaders as diverse as the Governor of Texas and the Queen of Pop.

Of course, both sides are guilty of wildly overblown rhetoric and unhelpful caricature, but I'm much more concerned with the response of the church. Why?

FIRST-- Important disclaimer: I certainly don't claim to speak for the entire Church. Many committed followers of Christ find themselves on different sides of this issue. However, as a conservative, evangelical Christian of the reformed tradition, I am saddened particularly by the responses of many who share my little corner of Christendom. 

I realize the evangelical church isn't waging this culture war single-handedly, but far too many of our churches are ready allies in this shock-and-awe, scorched-earth campaign against the "homosexual agenda." We shoot first and ask questions later. We launch our theological missiles at the "homosexual activists", secularists, and other assorted degenerates we see on the news. We forget the real boys and real girls that are collateral damage in our war of words and litigation. 

Boys and girls with names, faces, and stories. 

Boys and girls who didn't sign up to be soldiers in a culture war.

Boys and girls who look an awful lot like you and me.

What's missing in so much of the pro-gay-ban rhetoric is any acknowledgement that these gay scouts are real boys, not just simple pawns in a chess match.

Tony Perkins of the Family Research Council wrote last month that "this decision would send the wrong signal from the national body: that political correctness ultimately triumphs over character...Scouting has never been about political correctness. Making it so today would have disastrous results for the organization." 

Is that really what this is about? Political correctness? What about the life-long scout who fulfills all of his Eagle Scout requirements only to be denied the honor because he chooses not to hide his sexual orientation? Is this debate about political correctness for him? Is he trying to advance the "gay agenda" or does he just want the final honor that he's spent much of his childhood striving for, like all his fellow scouts? Is he an activist or a just a responsible teenager? Do we view him as an enemy solider or an image-bearer of God? It's an important question, because an enemy solider demands our firepower, but an image-bearer of God demands our love.

Here's the thing: the Boy Scouts are not condoning homosexual activity. They maintain that no form of sexual activity, gay or straight, is acceptable for a scout. They are not trying to teach a deviant sexual ethic or advance a political agenda...they are giving their scouts the freedom to be honest about themselves. Part of growing up and becoming a man is learning how to deal graciously with people who are different than you, and thus, becoming a healthy and productive member of society.

In the wake of the BSA's decision, thousands of Christian scouting families are mulling their options. There is talk among some like-minded families opposed to the change of forming a new "character development organization for boys," and many other church-based scouting programs are expecting boosts in membership from scouts leaving the BSA. Of course, families have the right to enroll their children in the programs of their choice...but what message does this mass exodus send? As families boycott the Boy Scouts, what message are the boys hearing, both those who leave and those who stay?

Mark Makela for the New York Times

This New York Times photo shows the smiling Mackey family of Pennsylvania. One son is an Eagle Scout, three are currently involved in scouting, and the youngest is hoping to join one day. According to the Times, "All the sons said they were willing to abandon the Boy Scouts if openly gay members were allowed." I've never met the Mackey family, and I don't know what they believe. However, are these the values that we really want to instill in our children? --If they are included, then I will leave-- Maybe we as adults can grasp the complexity at work here, but what is being ingrained and reinforced into the worldview of these young boys? "I am respected for standing against 'the gays.'" Not for standing against homosexuality, but against homosexuals. Fellow scouts. Their friends.

Maybe the homosexual-oriented scouts aren't the only "civilian casualties" of this culture war battle. Maybe we are also harming these other boys by elevating the virtues of purity and personal righteousness over those of humility and social righteousness. The Old Testament prophets had some things to say about that...

Tony Perkins continued, "An organization that teaches character, courage, and conviction shouldn't be exploited for the purpose of sexualized political correctness. For decades, the BSA has kept the interest of the boys it serves as the focus of all its actions." 

What about the character of humility and compassion? What about the courage to be honest about your story or struggle in an organization where such simple honesty is frowned upon as activism? What about the conviction that we are called to love those who are different than us...even those who might consider themselves our enemies? What about the boys already involved in Scouts who are gay? Is this ban really in their best interest? Are they not some of the boys who could benefit most from scouting?

To be fair, Mohler does cut the BSA a little bit of slack: "We must sympathize with the organization's rightful hope to include as many boys as possible within its honored and respected program. At this point, we should remember that homosexual scouts and scouts with any number of sexual confusions have always been involved in Scouting. But this new policy relates to openly homosexual youth. Bringing that advocacy within an organization for boys is both unwise and calamitous."

I'm glad Dr. Mohler recognizes the fact that there are plenty of homosexual-oriented boys already in the BSA who must remain silent (although I would argue this imposed silence is more harmful to these boys than he might imagine) I also agree that some scouts and leaders will likely use this policy change as a platform to advance their political or social agenda...which I agree is harmful to the organization. Boy Scouts is no place for political agendas. 

But here's where we come back to the main point. I don't deny that there's a real honest discussion to be had here. I'm not saying that lifting the ban will or won't be a great decision in the long run. I'm not here to fight the war...for either side. I'm here to say "please watch out for the civilians! for the innocents!" No matter how much Madonna tries to hog the spotlight, Madonna is not the real face of this issue. Neither is the American Family Association. It's not the men wearing leather and waving rainbow flags or the Southern Baptist Convention. It's so easy to get sucked into battle-mode. We see outlandish activists and demonstrations, we hear dramatic speeches and rhetoric, and we instinctively reach for our weapons. 

We take to our platforms and pulpits to fire back at the enemy. We drop bombs. Big bombs. We can't look weak. We have to send a strong message to the other side. But it's not just the "homosexual activists" who receive this message...it's also the scared and confused young kids sitting in our church pews and on our youth room couches every week who hear our message loud and clear. 

We've so caricatured the other side that our perceived enemies hardly resemble reality anymore. We're firing nuclear missiles at Madonna and flamboyant drag queens, when it's the lonely and confused 16-year-old boy, with no one he can talk to, who is absorbing the full impact of our warfare.

Maybe some scouts or scout leaders will take this as an opportunity to push a political agenda. I hope not, but of course, that's a real possibility. However, in our efforts to thwart an agenda, let's not sacrifice the boys caught in the middle who really are struggling with their sexual identity, struggling with who God made them to be and what He expects of them. And let's also not sacrifice the boys who need to learn the importance of love and compassion toward their fellow man in addition to the importance of truth and piety.

Yes, as Christians, we must engage the conversation. We need to be a part of the discussion, and we need to be honest. There are dangerous worldviews out there that must be challenged, and there is innocence that must be protected. However, we must limit our warfare to appropriate levels and accurate targets. 

I love these words from the hymn "O Church Arise,", describing the nature of the Church's "war." 

With shield of faith and belt of truth
We'll stand against the devil's lies;
An army bold whose battle cry is "Love!"
Reaching out to those in darkness.

Our call to war, to love the captive soul,
But to rage against the captor;
And with the sword that makes the wounded whole
We will fight with faith and valor.

We have proven ourselves excellent at mobilizing as an army...but is our battle cry "Love"?  We've shown ourselves adept at waving our swords...but are we wielding the sword that makes the wounded whole? 

Yes, we must stand against the devil's lies. We must rage against the captor. But if in our fervor we start causing collateral damage, we should not be silenced by political correctness, but we should be silenced by love. We should silence ourselves for a season to seek God's guidance on continuing the fight in a way that truly loves the captive soul and seeks to make the wounded whole.

I've never been a Boy Scout, so maybe that takes away some of my credibility here.

But I do know what it feels like to grow up with sexual attractions that I don't understand, that I didn't ask for. I do know what it feels like to live a lie, to have to pretend...to live in fear of being discovered. I know what it feels like to be drafted as a soldier in a war I didn't sign up for. 

I also know the freedom that has come from sharing my struggle with my friends and loved ones. I know the ways I've seen Jesus in the love and support of my friends. I know the ways my friends have learned and grown from me sharing this part of my life with them.

I know I am a better man today because I've been started being honest with others about my sexual orientation. I know I have seen Jesus more clearly in the process, and I've grown to be more like him. I know how I've seen sinful behaviors lose their grasp in the light of Christian community. I know I've learned to be more Christ-like toward those who are different than me or those I disagree with. I know I am more convinced of the Truth of the gospel now than I have ever been before.

It's my prayer that all young men who share my struggle would know these same things, and it's my prayer that the Boy Scouts of America would be a place where all young men could learn these things in a safe environment, with friends and mentors to show them the unconditional Christ-like love that should characterize any organization claiming His Name.

Friends, there is indeed a war to be fought. There is a war going on for the souls of men and women all around us, men and women and children who are lost and searching for hope. Let's focus on this war, a war that will only be won with the self-sacrificial love of Christ. When our weapon is Love, casualties are a good thing...a very good thing, indeed.

Grace and peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask