Wrestling with my place in the body

Before I became an adult born again Christian in 2006, I was an agnostic, politically liberal woman with a strong feminist ideology. My favorite singers in college were Ani DiFranco and the Indigo Girls, whose messages of female and queer empowerment resonated with me (and still do). Enter Jesus into my adult life - I was moved by the message of the gospel, which I had never understood before despite lots of church experience in my childhood. I wanted to be a "Jesus freak," as my ex-boyfriend labeled me when we broke up shortly after my conversion. But as much as the gospel moved me to make a huge spiritual commitment, I began to wrestle with The Church, trying to figure out my identity in it.

photo by János Csongor Kerekes

For example, a few years back, I was reading some Facebook posts by an acquaintance about leaders in Church history who lived out an inspiring vocation as a result of their faith (e.g., William Wilberforce was among those profiled). I was struck that they were all men. I commented that he should consider entries on women in Church history, and he invited me to write such a profile myself. I had always wanted to read more about the American women's rights movement, so I told him I intended to research Susan B. Anthony for a profile, who is a well-known American suffragist and was a Quaker. Of course (being me), I could not just do a Wikipedia-based profile of her. I set about reading her official biographies, written by a fellow suffragist and journalist who Anthony charged with writing her life story. Her biographer had access to Anthony's journals, speeches and personal friendship, so it was an amazing multi-volume biography that is over 1500 pages.

As I dug in to Anthony's biography, it began to dawn on me that I could not profile her for my acquaintance's purposes. Though Anthony was raised and remained a Quaker, I could not write a profile arguing that her vocation as a suffragist and abolitionist was connected in any way to her faith. I could cite several passages in her biography to explain my reasons, but one short anecdote illustrates well the relationship between Anthony and the Church. Anthony and her close friend and fellow leader in the movement for women's rights, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, attended a sermon by a well-known preacher of the time on "Women and Skepticism" in which the preacher argued if women left their natural sphere, they would become skeptical and even immoral. He believed this was a black and white issue biblically, and cited the suffrage movement as evidence of his claims that when women leave their proper sphere, they become skeptical and immoral. Anthony and Stanton confronted the preacher afterwards, and Anthony informed him that his mother should give him a good spanking for the sermon. Stanton reportedly followed Anthony's rebuke with, "'O, no, allow me to congratulate you. I have been trying for years to make women understand that the worst enemy they have is in the pulpit, and you have illustrated the truth of it.'" (The Life and Work of Susan B. Anthony (Vol. II), p. 596)

Male American church leaders were very often the enemy of Anthony's and Stanton's efforts for equality in property and voting rights, not their allies. In fact, I found that Anthony's biography detailed many examples of her doubts and disappointments in her faith, and in reading the many accounts of the roadblocks men in the American church leadership put in her way, I wasn't surprised. How could she not have had significant doubts in an institution that was frequently her enemy as she fought for justice for women? I left the research project full of admiration for Anthony, who died before American women won the right to vote, and disgust for the role (or lack thereof) that the church played in the women's movement.

When I was a newly minted Jesus follower, I didn't know where to situate myself and attended lots of churches to figure out where to go on this journey. I ultimately began attending a non-denominational church, where a spiritual mentor was attending. I was learning a lot about the faith and loving meeting people in the community. However, early on in my time in the church, the issue of women in leadership came up in an all-female small group I was participating in. Ironically, the leader of the group argued (citing scripture) that women couldn't be leaders in the church, and I realized in my time attending the church, I had never once seen a woman on the pulpit. This was so jarring to my identity and beliefs that I called the church and asked to speak to a pastor about the church's position on the issue. The church's position was that women could be pastors and leaders, but not the lead pastor. I chewed on this and wrestled with it. As I got more involved, I attended a church board meeting and was disappointed when I saw all the elders and deacons were men. As I continued to attend, I never once saw a woman give a sermon. Yet, I stayed because I loved the community, despite the cognitive dissonance I felt within it as a woman and a feminist.

A crisis point for my cognitive dissonance in the community was a sermon in a series entitled "Black and White" in which a pastor preached that "homosexuality" is not biblical, and that this was a black and white issue as far as the bible was concerned. Without getting in to the theology here (as there has been much written on this by scholars), as far as I was concerned, biblically this was just as "black and white" as whether women could lead (or have their heads uncovered or even speak) in church. I thought of all the LGBTQ friends and family in my life, and imagined what it would be like for them to be sitting in the congregation and hearing that this issue is black and white. I knew they would be offended and hurt. Much like I was offended and hurt to see women marginalized in a community I loved. I didn't know how to be me in this community.

A few months later when Jeff and I got married and began our life together in Ann Arbor, we sought a spiritual home where women were affirmed in leadership. We found a new church home, and we appreciated that early in our time attending, there was a sermon series on the book UnChristian in which leaders in the church invited conversation about the issue of the LGBTQ community in the church. The church leaders acknowledged differences of opinion, presented multiple perspectives, and invited members to discuss with each other in small groups. However, a few years later, the national denomination of our local church affirmed the belief that gay marriage is immoral, and our local church preached that the leadership agreed. I prayed for months about whether I could stay in a community full of people I love that would exclude from leadership and marriage friends and family who I also love. As I prayed about this, many times a scripture kept coming to me. When Jesus was asked the greatest commandment, he said the most important is, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Mark 30-31). I didn't feel I was loving my LGBTQ neighbors, friends and family members as I myself would want to be loved if I stayed in a community that pronounced they were immoral and could not lead in the community, even if God gave them the gifts and passion to do so.

I had several conversations with close, straight friends in the church as I wrestled with these issues. Oftentimes, I heard people say that it was not an essential issue. In other words, rather than a basic theological position that is required for Christian orthodoxy (like the crucifixion of Christ), it is a non-essential belief. I concede that point. There are lots of non-essential beliefs I often disagree with people in the church about, like how to reconcile the God of the old and new testaments, predestination, the role of God in suffering, etc. There is no such thing as a spiritual community where I am going to agree with every interpretation and issue (I can't even find that community in my own marriage!). Yet, while they might not be "essential," the issues of women and LGBTQ people in leadership are about who belongs in the church - who can embody and represent Christ in and outside of the church body. When communities say that entire identity groups are excluded from being able to use their spiritual gifts within the community, that is striking to the very essence of who can bring the kingdom here on earth. This feels quite different than other non-essential doctrinal disagreements, like how we reconcile scripture about predestination with passages about free will.

And then there is the treatment within the church towards these identity groups based on such so-called non-essential beliefs. Denominations and churches splinter, excommunicate members who come out, deny women the ability to use certain spiritual gifts, fire pastors who identify as LGBTQ or sanction LGBTQ marriages, remove LGBTQ Christians from positions of leadership if they reveal their identity, and/or turn a blind eye and hope that members will live closeted so these issues don't have to be confronted. Jesus said, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35) Outsiders see how the church treats its LGBTQ members and typically conclude the exact opposite about how disciples of Jesus treat one another.

My feelings on this issue have only strengthened since becoming a mother. I see that those who typically speak out on behalf of the LGBTQ community either self-identify as LGBTQ or they have a child who does. If my own children do not identify as cisgender or straight, I will love and support them unconditionally. Jesus didn't put conditions on who he died for on the cross. Unearned, unconditional love and blessing is what grace is all about. To put conditions on who we embrace in the church is the ultimate un-Christlikeness. I like how Greg Boyd put this in Repenting of Religion: "We have seen that the church is called to be the corporate body of Christ that unconditionally loves and embraces all people, regardless of their sin, and invites them into its own celebration of the cessation of the ban [on judging others]. The only exception to this otherwise unconditional embrace is the sin Jesus confronted in the religious leadership of his day. (...) Religious sin [judging others] is unique in that it is the only sin that can keep a community from fulfilling the commission to unconditionally love and embrace everyone.” (p. 204)

I don't want to be the kind of person that only speaks out against injustice or abuse when it affects me or my own kids. In fact, if I take seriously Jesus's call to love my neighbor as myself, I would strive to see and love every person as I would myself or my own children. It grieves me that so many straight, cisgender believers just dismiss this as a non-essential issue and leave the battle to those who themselves identify as LGBTQ or their parents.

It's been about a decade since I began to wrestle with figuring out my identity in the church. I know I'm not there yet, and I've failed in how I myself have done the wrestling. I haven't spoken with church leaders I disagree with, I haven't put myself enough in conversation with LGBTQ Christians, and I haven't tried to change the church from within through loving dialogue with those with whom I disagree. I've stayed silent many times when I felt called to speak out. I would ask forgiveness for these failures from both my LGBTQ loved ones and from those I have silently disagreed with in the church. Jesus's prayer for the body of believers in John 17 was that we may be one, and even brought to complete unity. My hope at this point in my faith journey as I see the church ripped apart over the issue of LGBTQ rights is that I can do a better job of being a part of the effort for unity while still being true to my belief that women and LGBTQ people are unconditionally loved, called and qualified to lead in the body of Christ.