Over the last few days, the issue of gay marriage has acted as a touchstone for an avalanche of strong emotions from Christians with widely-differing viewpoints. Comments and disagreements lie strewn across Facebook, sometimes reasoned and courteous, at other times more barbed, graduating to the downright insulting and apoplectic.
Christians who shout down the idea of gay marriage, or gay sexuality in general – often peppering their views with Levitical texts – are usually perceived to be harsh, controlling characters. Sometimes they are. I was once stalked in my media career by a ‘Christian’ spokesperson who believed that the reason we had such a homosexual ‘problem’ in the UK was that we refused to take the Old Testament seriously. So what was he proposing, exactly? ‘String them all up’ he bellowed, ‘and the problem will disappear overnight!’
Hate-filled extremes exist. But I often find myself focusing on ‘controlled’ church members, rather than ‘controlling’ ones… those who, hand on heart, would dearly love not to stand in judgement on anyone, but have been convinced that this is what the bible demands of them. Caught in a cruel double-bind, they believe that keeping quiet would not merely threaten their own eternal destiny, but potentially those of others, too.
Fundamentalists are so often trapped in a life and personality-cramping fear of hell. I know – I experienced it. For many years there were two of us slugging it out in my body: the real, flesh-and-blood me, who instinctively resonated with people from all walks of life and longed to respond to them warmly and spontaneously; and the fearful legalistic side of me that felt weighed down with responsibility for their ticket to eternity.
As, mercifully, I finally clawed my way out of this angst-ridden black hole, I found myself drawn to others trapped in the same crippling mindset. One of the earlier encounters still lives with me. I was speaking at a church on ‘colouring outside the lines’ – on the impossibility of reaching the limits of God’s love – when I noticed one of the visitors shaking, almost imperceptibly. I had spotted her immediately – a serious-faced girl with long blonde hair and ethereal model looks, enigmatically dressed in shapeless nondescript clothes. I started multi-tasking, trying hard to stay on-message while also keeping an eye on her as she variously welled up with tears, sat upright suddenly, and glanced knowingly at her husband, continuing to shake gently throughout.
It transpired that the couple were from the US; they belonged to a strict fundamentalist church where pretty much everything that wasn’t compulsory was forbidden. Somehow the girl had discovered Rob Bell’s ‘Velvet Elvis’ and was riveted, her soul sensing the promise of liberation. Her husband shared her excitement – but they had been conditioned to be wary: what if this was all just too good to be true – a ‘snare’? With hell always snapping at their heels, there was just one thing for it – they decided to consult with a church leader.
Unsurprisingly, the rug of hope was swiftly yanked out from under them as they were set straight: engaging with Rob Bell’s deceptive message, they were told, would hurl them onto the slippery slope towards Liberalism and ultimately an eternity without God.
So near and yet so far. The girl confided that at that point she had felt herself sinking into utter hopelessness. But her spirit had been too stirred to let go entirely. She informed God that she would indeed steer clear of Rob Bell – but asked that if there was any truth in his message, that somehow this would cross her path another way.
The couple prepared to visit their friends in England, where they accompanied them to their church – and were amazed to hear a very similar message. Since Rob Bell’s book had just been published, they assumed I had drawn from it for my talk. The fact that I hadn’t heard of him seemed to encourage them – this must be bigger than Rob Bell! As the girl sat, wondering at just how quickly they were hearing the unfamiliar message of God’s unconditional love yet again, her soul soared, and she described how she shook as she felt the sensation of bonds snapping off, liberating her from the harsh, legalistic spirituality that was all she had known.
Conforming to church teaching her entire life meant she would have come across to her non-church friends as a dour, judgemental kill-joy. Yet part of her motivation in taking an uncompromising stand for her beliefs was to save others. It’s an irony that the most sensitive people can be the very ones liable to take such a stand – the predicament of others is of far more importance to them than their personal popularity.
With the backdrop of my own experience and this girl’s dramatic personal story, I was maybe less surprised than some to see earlier this week that even in Westboro Baptist church, people can be more complex than they appear.
Megan, the daughter of the notorious Fred Phelps, who regularly turned up to carry placards on their obnoxious, high-profile ‘God hates Fags’ demonstrations, and twitter her extreme religious views, has apparently made a dramatic theological u-turn, extricating herself from both her family and her father’s church. In an interview, she explains how she finally woke up to the deep flaws in their beliefs and practices. But why had she aligned herself with this group for so long, harassing gay people and the churches that supported them? She had just wanted to use her life for good. Now that she and her sister are free to think for themselves, they are taking time to process their recovery, and consider more positive, loving ways to make their lives count.
A timely reminder that sometimes even the most apparently opinionated, intolerant and judgemental may just be idealistic, well-meaning people cruelly skewed by a harsh, controlling theology…