On Sexuality and Authority of Scripture

What happens when the authority of Scripture is…assumed to be something it is not?

At the very least, people can become confused. In the worst situations, God is utterly misrepresented and people get hurt. Thankfully the story I’m about to share is more about confusion than getting hurt, though let’s be honest; being confused can be painful.

One major aspect of my story has been exploring my sexual orientation. Over the years I’ve called myself Gay, Queer, Same-sex attracted, or just conspicuously left out “Straight” when reciting my long litany of societal privileges. All that to say, since middle school I’ve regarded my fellow male-bodied friends with admiration, adoration, affection, envy, lust and attraction, which is to say – I like men the way most men like women.

My experience of this liking has been a journey. I’ve come out trembling, stuttering, wracked with fear, dribbling out the word “homosexual” to a single friend in whispered tones on the side walk late at night. I’ve set up whole dinner dates to inform a friend of this aspect of myself, and casually, even accidentally dropped it into conversations with others. One time, before two hundred Protestant pastors, I came out as both Orthodox and Queer in consecutive breaths, and most of them only really knew how to respond to the second.

Lately I regard my sexuality with something like wistful resignation, with appreciative undertones. I cannot change this thing about myself, though I have observed it changing. I did not choose to be this way, but I have discovered choice within it. I believe it to be significant to my identity, but not essential. I find that vigilance around my inclinations and interests is warranted, but I’m not in crisis over sexual matters.

But there was a time, back when I was trying to be an Evangelical, when I was more in crisis, when same-sex attractions did feel more urgent, when I was more troubled by choices and non-choices, and when I believed I was doomed to a more miserable life than I actually was. It was during this time that I kept a blog.

My blog was called Journey of Peace(which I think still exists) and then there was a brief stint as Elephant Space. One time my wife and I even wrote a brief series of articles for Christianity today about our status as “mixed orientation marriage.”

The whole time I wrote under a pseudonym…but my friends still always knew it was me.

Unfortunately so did my extremely conservative church elders.

The short of it is that my blog sparked some conversations that went more like debates and they were more heated than friendly. I fell under quite a bit of scrutiny and all my ministry activities were curtailed. Our conduct towards each other lacked humility, compassion and honor for each other.

My part in the conversation was to wrestle with how to resolve my experience of my sexuality with what I believed the Bible said my experience should be. Or at least what I believed the Bible said. I was searching for answers for myself, but by extension, I was searching for answers for other LGBTQ people also. I had developed several friendships among the queer community that were very dear to me. I knew(and still know) their stories, their heartaches, their pains, and the dangers they face. I knew that a high majority of them would never come to church again(because, trauma) but held out the hope that someday some of them might and when they did I wanted(and still want) them to be welcomed and given all the support they could need in searching out a relationship with Christ.

In my searching, I sought out Biblical justification for not cutting off the relationships, and not condemning them out right, or even reasons to not condemn them at all.

My elders at the time were perpetually mystified why I would not start off all my queer friendships with why they were displeasing to God.

In all of this drama, the Scriptures played a significant role. My elders referred to certain verses about why anything same-sex was just awful, and I referred to other verses about why showing love toward sinners was better. My elders brought out their champions, Tim Keller, John Piper, Rosaria Butterfield, and held them up as individuals who were intelligent, educated, well-read and who had studied the Scriptures fervently with prayer and seeking the Holy Spirit and had come to a “Very clear” conclusion that they were right.

In turn, I held up my champions, Justin Lee, Andrew Marin, Danny Cortez, Vikki Beeching, other individuals who were likewise intelligent, educated, well-read and who had studied the Scriptures fervently with prayer and seeking the Holy Spirit and had come to a “Very clear” conclusion that they were right.

The deeper I plunged into this debate over Side A and Side B, God blesses or God condemns a committed monogamous same-sex union, the more writers and thinkers I encountered who dearly loved Jesus, and who prized the Scriptures, and who studied carefully, diligently, and meticulously, on both sides.

I could dismiss the atheist and progressive liberal as not even remotely in my camp, but most of these people were committed Christians, like me! Each was saying they were studying with prayer and the Holy Spirit and still opinions were divided. The most puzzling thing for me was the certainty of each writer.

All that to say, when my elders angrily told me that I should just agree with them because the Bible was “Clear” in what it said, inwardly I laughed, outwardly I scowled, and ultimately, I no longer believed them.

This meant I came very close to no longer believing the Bible at all, no longer taking it seriously, and definitely not regarding it as having any credible or useful authority in my life. Even back then, I noted how people had been of thousands of split opinions about the Scripture for thousands of years, so why should I even care anymore?

Meanwhile I was still wrestling with my sexuality, wondering if I had the resolve to stay married to my wife, and more so wondering if I had the nerve to follow the example of my atheist-convert friends and abandon the problematic tradition of my childhood.

In the end, I stayed with my wife(and began a recovery process) because of the influence of a few very good, very loyal friends who listened and listened and made space for my story without encouraging me to over-react. I joined up with a group of men working to master their sexual urges and be good husbands, and being compelled by the power of the group, I began to change.

My questions and struggles with sexuality did not begin to find suitable answers until I stumbled into the Orthodox faith.

In the Orthodox tradition, I found myself having a response that surprised myself. Orthodox sexual ethic is extremely conservative and traditional. We hold marriage to be a sacrament,a mystery speaking of God, that takes place between one man and one woman, not just for life but for all eternity. Sex is regarded as a joining act that is only appropriate in this sacramental context, partly because sex is not about the people; it’s about God and saying something about God.

I expected myself to have a volatile reaction to this really high standard. Instead though, I found myself able to approach it with openness and curiosity, and to grow to submit myself to it.

What was different? Where they not saying the same things as my elders before?

Yes and no. They are upholding the same specific sexual ethic, and even referring to some of the same specific Bible verses. But there are differences.

In Orthodoxy, there is both a command against judging the sins of others, and encouragement to be in loving friendship with all people.

In Orthodoxy, we are given more than a command to just not have sex and especially don’t have gay sex. We are given a whole system of liturgy, ritual, discipline and practice to harness and tame the energies of the body, mind and soul. In short, while called upon to “Repress” certain sexual urges, we are given an abundance of other kinds of nurture, so that we can remain healthy connected people.

Orthodoxy has its heroes, champions of the faith who are intelligent, well-read, educated and who fervently seek the Lord with prayers and the Holy Spirit…a whole two thousand years worth of them. In contrast, my previous tradition only had the current generation to refer to. When Orthodox writers say “The church teaches,” they mean “the long historical tradition has held to, and discovered over time, and persisted through rial and error and much affliction to say…” In contrast, elders of my past tradition could only really cite their own opinions, and these were always suspect. They were straight white men with conservative, Republican political leanings; I could honestly never be sure how much of their teaching was God and how much of it was male privilege. In Orthodoxy, these issue becomes moot.

Further, in my prior tradition, I was lonely and isolated. Discipleship was done by books, not people, and I desperately needed connection. In Orthodoxy, discipleship uses books but is done by people, by the priesthood, the saints, the flesh and blood community. And driven by the power of the community, and the Holy Spirit binding us together, I begin to change.

Most of all, in my previous tradition, I did not know God. I only knew the threats of His wrath. In Orthodoxy, I know God and encounter Him every week in the Eucharist. In the context of the Living Sacraments, I can be called upon to pay any price, no matter how steep, and, while it is difficult to pay, it is no longer burdensome.

So then, what happens when the authority of Scripture is held as a higher authority than the Church that wrote, compiled, defended and interpreted it? This writer’s experience is that people only get a fragment of the truth of Christ and life in the Spirit that is possible, and that fragment often becomes used to inflict more pain than healing, more despair than hope.

The Scriptures are precious and our most revered text. But without the church, the sacraments and saints, the Scriptures are woefully incomplete.