The God who searches out & The people who come out
"Gosh you're brave!"
"That must have taken an awful lot of courage."
Those comments were made by several members of my congregation a few Sundays ago. They were referring to the fact that at our 'New Fire' (Charismatic style) Mass that morning I had replaced the sermon with what was in effect a personal testimony.
I had decided to tell the story of my own spiritual pilgrimage thus far - up to and including the re-awakening of my Charismatic spirituality, which I thought I had abandoned once and for all many years ago. As I was about to disappear on three months' Sabbatical exploring Charismatic Renewal in churches of a Catholic tradition, it seemed right to me to set this in context for our Church family. It also felt like the right time to explain why I believed the development of the 'New Fire Mass' was so important and why I have been encouraging those who are so inclined to explore further the role of the Holy Spirit in their lives.
Whilst I certainly felt a certain vulnerability talking so openly about myself and my relationship with God - and whilst I knew that some of what I had to say would get a mixed reception - I can't say that I felt particularly brave in doing this. It felt right. It needed to be done; and whilst it required a certain trust in the Holy Spirit to give me the right words, courage didn't seem to have anything much to do with it. Interestingly, a couple of people commented afterwards that as I spoke it was in my most vulnerable moments that I seemed strongest, but this is a paradox with which Christians are very familiar.
Any anxiety I may have felt was dispelled as I got to the end of my talk. It gave way instead to a huge sense of relief, the relief that comes of being open and honest and absolutely true to oneself. Time alone will tell what impact, if any, this may have had on the congregation as a whole or how it might influence the future life of the parish. I'm happy to leave that (for now at least!) in the hands of the Almighty.
But all of this has set me thinking.
Giving this testimony was, in effect, what is commonly known as a 'coming out'. To borrow a phrase first used by my Curate, I am no longer a 'Closet Charismatic'; but the sense of freedom that comes with being released from the claustrophobic confines of the closet and breathing in the fresh air outside is nothing new to me. As a gay man who wasted too many years of his life living in the darkness and breathing the stupifying stale air of the closet - not least in, and because of, the church - I know what it is to 'come out'; and coming out as gay certainly did take courage - and still does - for contrary to the popular myth, 'coming out' is never a once-for-all event but rather a lifelong process, especially in a society that still makes heterosexist assumptions. (Only a couple of weeks ago at the On Fire Mission Conference, I was asked, "Do you have a wife?".) And while society has moved a long way in its attitudes to homosexuality over recent decades, hostile or awkward responses are still not unusual and indeed, tragically, are still particularly common in the Church.
Whilst the Church still has a long way to go in coming to terms with the realities of human sexuality, it has travelled quite a distance (even if it did so running on tip-toe behind a society that has changed radically over the last couple of decades). Though still divided on the rights and wrongs of same sex relationships, never mind the issue of equal marriage, the Church of England has, in its rather fudgy and muddled way, allowed lesbian and gay clergy to emerge from the closet and to at least be open about who they are and who they love. This is considerable progress on the "Don't ask, don't tell" mentality that prevailed when I trained for ordination over thirty years ago. Of course there is still the nonsense of the requirement for celibacy (or more correctly 'sexual abstinence') which too often results in absurd and prurient questioning in selection processes, and at job interviews and Ministry Development Reviews - a questioning that would be neither tolerated nor legal in any other situation. Underlying this is the belief that whilst sexual orientation is a morally neutral 'given' over which an individual has no control, expressing that orientation physically is wrong. This is about as logical as the attitude of teachers many decades ago who would say, "It's ok to be left-handed, but you must always write with your right hand." The distinction between orientation and practice is false, irrational and unsustainable, and the Church's current position is built on sands that are shifting fast. Although the Church of England always moves slowly, its onward trajectory on this issue seems pretty inevitable - something that is acknowledged - albeit very grudgingly - even by some of its most conservative members; hence their increasingly shrill cries of protest.
Sadly, one of the things that has undoubtedly hindered this progress is the attitude of many bishops. Like any other group of Christians, they represent a variety of views on matters of sexuality as on anything else, and yet, with only a couple of honourable exceptions, even those whose instincts are liberal and supportive of change are totally unwilling to speak out truthfully in public (and sometimes even in private). It is claimed that the bishops need to speak with one voice in the interests of the unity not only of the Church of England but also of the wider Anglican Communion. That's fine in terms of voicing what current church teaching is; but surely it is also possible to say, "I uphold the Church's current corporate view on this matter, but in debating possible change, I will express my personal views."
I can think of no other subject where this has been such a problem, and it is generally acknowledged that the reluctance of progressively-minded bishops to speak out stems from a fear that conservative opponents to change will leave, taking their money with them. Setting aside the questionable morality of using emotional and financial coercion in a supposedly Christian context, many of us - and, if truth be told, many of those who make this threat - believe that this simply will not happen. I certainly know of so-called 'conservative' congregations that include people in active same-sex relationships and many others whose views, though unexpressed publicly, are totally at odds with those of their church leaders. In a Church that, for better or for worse, always makes provision for those who in conscience cannot accept certain developments, no clergy need to leave, but those who threaten to leave because they can't have the church entirely on their own terms are of course free to do so. In reality the chances are they would leave behind most of their congregations, as well, of course, as their church buildings, their homes, their status and their livelihood, and I suspect that they know this in their heart of hearts and hope desperately that the church leadership won't have the confidence to call their bluff.
Much more worrying, though, is the fact that our church leaders are indeed so fearful. If perfect love casts out fear (cf 1John 4:18) perhaps the converse is also true. The Church - or at least the Church's leadership - is failing to love its LGBTI members - to say nothing of its potential LGBTI members - because it is allowing itself to be driven by fear. We might well ask, "Where is the Christianity in that?"
The dysfunctionality of the church is betrayed by the fact that it cannot allow people to be themselves. Lesbian and gay or LGBTI -friendly members of churches with a conservative leadership have to live a lie, and many bishops daren't be themselves and say what they truly think when matters of sexuality are debated.
I believe, therefore, that sexuality is nothing more than the 'presenting problem' here; it is merely the present 'lens' through which a more serious underlying problem is brought into focus. From my reading of the Gospel, the Church should be the one place where everyone can be themselves; in reality, it is too often the last place in which they can do so.
Psalm 139 has long been a favourite of mine:
O Lord, you have searched me out and known me,
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar. (Ps139:1)
It reminds me that God knows me intimately and understands me far better than I understand myself. It reminds me that God loves me and goes with me wherever I go or wherever life takes me:
Where can I go then from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I climb up to Heaven you are there;
If I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there your hand shall lead me,
your right hand hold me fast. (Ps.139:6-9)
Over the years it has been this psalm - or rather the faith that it articulates - that has given me the 'courage' to 'come out' and to be who I truly am in a range of contexts including (eventually) the Church. It has given me the courage to be honest with others about my sexuality. It has given me the courage to talk to others about my faith. It gave me the courage to stand in front of that congregation and talk about my spiritual journey; and it gives me the courage to dare to go regularly into the confessional to bring my brokenness, sinfulness and dysfunctionality into the awesome, healing, loving presence of God.
In all of these situations, I have experienced the inexpressible joy of emerging into new light and fresh air, and the primary motivation has never been bravery - rather it has been the joyful expectation of the sense of liberation that awaits, and a belief that the truth will set me free (c.f.John 8:32b).
Just a few weeks ago we celebrated Easter. We heard once again about Jesus rising from the dead. We heard about an empty tomb where the stone had been rolled away, and by contrast we heard about a group of frightened disciples who effectively 'entombed' themselves in an upper room behind a door that was firmly locked. They were there through fear, but the underlying cause of that fear was a lack of faith, an inability to trust in the promises that Jesus had made to them, and it wasn't until the Holy Spirit rushed in and gave them the shove they needed that they started to be what they were called to be and to do what they were called to do.
My prayer is that there may be a new and powerful movement of the Holy Spirit in today's Church, that perfect love will cast out fear, and that everyone will have not the courage but rather the faith to be themselves and to burst out of whatever closet, upper room or tomb in which either they have locked themselves or been imprisoned by others. By doing so, we shall be liberated from the half-life of collusion with political expediency, from the cowardice of the status quo, and set free from the disabling fear that casts out perfect love. Then we shall indeed be a resurrection people!
"That must have taken an awful lot of courage."
Those comments were made by several members of my congregation a few Sundays ago. They were referring to the fact that at our 'New Fire' (Charismatic style) Mass that morning I had replaced the sermon with what was in effect a personal testimony.
I had decided to tell the story of my own spiritual pilgrimage thus far - up to and including the re-awakening of my Charismatic spirituality, which I thought I had abandoned once and for all many years ago. As I was about to disappear on three months' Sabbatical exploring Charismatic Renewal in churches of a Catholic tradition, it seemed right to me to set this in context for our Church family. It also felt like the right time to explain why I believed the development of the 'New Fire Mass' was so important and why I have been encouraging those who are so inclined to explore further the role of the Holy Spirit in their lives.
Whilst I certainly felt a certain vulnerability talking so openly about myself and my relationship with God - and whilst I knew that some of what I had to say would get a mixed reception - I can't say that I felt particularly brave in doing this. It felt right. It needed to be done; and whilst it required a certain trust in the Holy Spirit to give me the right words, courage didn't seem to have anything much to do with it. Interestingly, a couple of people commented afterwards that as I spoke it was in my most vulnerable moments that I seemed strongest, but this is a paradox with which Christians are very familiar.
Any anxiety I may have felt was dispelled as I got to the end of my talk. It gave way instead to a huge sense of relief, the relief that comes of being open and honest and absolutely true to oneself. Time alone will tell what impact, if any, this may have had on the congregation as a whole or how it might influence the future life of the parish. I'm happy to leave that (for now at least!) in the hands of the Almighty.
But all of this has set me thinking.
Giving this testimony was, in effect, what is commonly known as a 'coming out'. To borrow a phrase first used by my Curate, I am no longer a 'Closet Charismatic'; but the sense of freedom that comes with being released from the claustrophobic confines of the closet and breathing in the fresh air outside is nothing new to me. As a gay man who wasted too many years of his life living in the darkness and breathing the stupifying stale air of the closet - not least in, and because of, the church - I know what it is to 'come out'; and coming out as gay certainly did take courage - and still does - for contrary to the popular myth, 'coming out' is never a once-for-all event but rather a lifelong process, especially in a society that still makes heterosexist assumptions. (Only a couple of weeks ago at the On Fire Mission Conference, I was asked, "Do you have a wife?".) And while society has moved a long way in its attitudes to homosexuality over recent decades, hostile or awkward responses are still not unusual and indeed, tragically, are still particularly common in the Church.
Whilst the Church still has a long way to go in coming to terms with the realities of human sexuality, it has travelled quite a distance (even if it did so running on tip-toe behind a society that has changed radically over the last couple of decades). Though still divided on the rights and wrongs of same sex relationships, never mind the issue of equal marriage, the Church of England has, in its rather fudgy and muddled way, allowed lesbian and gay clergy to emerge from the closet and to at least be open about who they are and who they love. This is considerable progress on the "Don't ask, don't tell" mentality that prevailed when I trained for ordination over thirty years ago. Of course there is still the nonsense of the requirement for celibacy (or more correctly 'sexual abstinence') which too often results in absurd and prurient questioning in selection processes, and at job interviews and Ministry Development Reviews - a questioning that would be neither tolerated nor legal in any other situation. Underlying this is the belief that whilst sexual orientation is a morally neutral 'given' over which an individual has no control, expressing that orientation physically is wrong. This is about as logical as the attitude of teachers many decades ago who would say, "It's ok to be left-handed, but you must always write with your right hand." The distinction between orientation and practice is false, irrational and unsustainable, and the Church's current position is built on sands that are shifting fast. Although the Church of England always moves slowly, its onward trajectory on this issue seems pretty inevitable - something that is acknowledged - albeit very grudgingly - even by some of its most conservative members; hence their increasingly shrill cries of protest.
Sadly, one of the things that has undoubtedly hindered this progress is the attitude of many bishops. Like any other group of Christians, they represent a variety of views on matters of sexuality as on anything else, and yet, with only a couple of honourable exceptions, even those whose instincts are liberal and supportive of change are totally unwilling to speak out truthfully in public (and sometimes even in private). It is claimed that the bishops need to speak with one voice in the interests of the unity not only of the Church of England but also of the wider Anglican Communion. That's fine in terms of voicing what current church teaching is; but surely it is also possible to say, "I uphold the Church's current corporate view on this matter, but in debating possible change, I will express my personal views."
I can think of no other subject where this has been such a problem, and it is generally acknowledged that the reluctance of progressively-minded bishops to speak out stems from a fear that conservative opponents to change will leave, taking their money with them. Setting aside the questionable morality of using emotional and financial coercion in a supposedly Christian context, many of us - and, if truth be told, many of those who make this threat - believe that this simply will not happen. I certainly know of so-called 'conservative' congregations that include people in active same-sex relationships and many others whose views, though unexpressed publicly, are totally at odds with those of their church leaders. In a Church that, for better or for worse, always makes provision for those who in conscience cannot accept certain developments, no clergy need to leave, but those who threaten to leave because they can't have the church entirely on their own terms are of course free to do so. In reality the chances are they would leave behind most of their congregations, as well, of course, as their church buildings, their homes, their status and their livelihood, and I suspect that they know this in their heart of hearts and hope desperately that the church leadership won't have the confidence to call their bluff.
Much more worrying, though, is the fact that our church leaders are indeed so fearful. If perfect love casts out fear (cf 1John 4:18) perhaps the converse is also true. The Church - or at least the Church's leadership - is failing to love its LGBTI members - to say nothing of its potential LGBTI members - because it is allowing itself to be driven by fear. We might well ask, "Where is the Christianity in that?"
The dysfunctionality of the church is betrayed by the fact that it cannot allow people to be themselves. Lesbian and gay or LGBTI -friendly members of churches with a conservative leadership have to live a lie, and many bishops daren't be themselves and say what they truly think when matters of sexuality are debated.
I believe, therefore, that sexuality is nothing more than the 'presenting problem' here; it is merely the present 'lens' through which a more serious underlying problem is brought into focus. From my reading of the Gospel, the Church should be the one place where everyone can be themselves; in reality, it is too often the last place in which they can do so.
Psalm 139 has long been a favourite of mine:
O Lord, you have searched me out and known me,
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar. (Ps139:1)
It reminds me that God knows me intimately and understands me far better than I understand myself. It reminds me that God loves me and goes with me wherever I go or wherever life takes me:
Where can I go then from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I climb up to Heaven you are there;
If I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there your hand shall lead me,
your right hand hold me fast. (Ps.139:6-9)
Over the years it has been this psalm - or rather the faith that it articulates - that has given me the 'courage' to 'come out' and to be who I truly am in a range of contexts including (eventually) the Church. It has given me the courage to be honest with others about my sexuality. It has given me the courage to talk to others about my faith. It gave me the courage to stand in front of that congregation and talk about my spiritual journey; and it gives me the courage to dare to go regularly into the confessional to bring my brokenness, sinfulness and dysfunctionality into the awesome, healing, loving presence of God.
In all of these situations, I have experienced the inexpressible joy of emerging into new light and fresh air, and the primary motivation has never been bravery - rather it has been the joyful expectation of the sense of liberation that awaits, and a belief that the truth will set me free (c.f.John 8:32b).
Just a few weeks ago we celebrated Easter. We heard once again about Jesus rising from the dead. We heard about an empty tomb where the stone had been rolled away, and by contrast we heard about a group of frightened disciples who effectively 'entombed' themselves in an upper room behind a door that was firmly locked. They were there through fear, but the underlying cause of that fear was a lack of faith, an inability to trust in the promises that Jesus had made to them, and it wasn't until the Holy Spirit rushed in and gave them the shove they needed that they started to be what they were called to be and to do what they were called to do.
My prayer is that there may be a new and powerful movement of the Holy Spirit in today's Church, that perfect love will cast out fear, and that everyone will have not the courage but rather the faith to be themselves and to burst out of whatever closet, upper room or tomb in which either they have locked themselves or been imprisoned by others. By doing so, we shall be liberated from the half-life of collusion with political expediency, from the cowardice of the status quo, and set free from the disabling fear that casts out perfect love. Then we shall indeed be a resurrection people!
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