During a recent doctor visit I noticed that the Physician Assistant taking my blood pressure wore an Archie Watch, purple wristband, and Batman necklace. “You like cartoons?” I asked.
“I love comics,” he said, “don’t you?”
We bantered about comic book characters, then I asked about his wristband. Oh, it’s a ”pride” bracelet, he gushed.
His eyes glittered.
I said, “What are you proud of?”
He bowed his head. “It’s a gay pride bracelet!”
He pulled off the blood pressure cuff and stepped back. He twinkled like a playful puppy.
My mind glazed as I remembered the “controversy” at our church. The national denomination had voted to allow women and gays to serve as ministers and marry same-sex couples.
Local leaders threw a fit. They said things like: The Bible says… We cannot in good conscience… God will judge… remember Sodom and Gomorrah… etc. etc.
They arranged meetings, made phone calls, fired-off texts, e-mails, and scrambled into Chevy Suburbans to meet like-minded others to make plans and discuss strategies.
What were their options? What to try next? How would they shape the congregation to challenge heresy?
At a meeting I suggested that breaking with the denomination seemed like divorce, at least to me. I asked, “What about unity? Doesn’t commitment count for anything?”
It didn’t. Not when commitment countered God’s Word.
Every question, each objection, all challenges met articulate response. The Pastor and Elders were ready, prepared, determined. They would do God’s Will come Hell or high water.
The PA turned to go. I blinked my eyes. “Say”, I called after him. “…ask a question? No need to answer.”
He turned. “It’s ok.”
I cleared my throat. “Well… religions…all religions… are conservative about sex, right?” I stammered. “You know… it’s true… Christian churches especially. They don’t believe in sex until married.” I shrugged. “It won’t change anytime soon.”
“Listen!” he interrupted. “I don’t care about religion. I have my beliefs. I’m comfortable. What Christians think, I don’t give a shit.”
“Oh”, I said.
I gathered my thoughts and pushed on. “Well, hear me out, OK? A second of your time, that’s all. I want to ask… really, what can Christians do to make it better for gay people?” I tried a sweet smile. “What can we do to show love?”
“That’s easy,” he said. “Stop judging.”
His eyes darkened.
“I don’t like it. It makes us feel bad.”
He took a quick breath.
“Marry us. In churches… really.” His eyes settled, then he paused. He raised his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. Right now, I don’t want marriage.” He blushed and looked away. A vein in his neck throbbed.
He showed his teeth. “I have issues with commitment, OK?”
I waited for more, but he stopped. He turned to leave, then paused. He clenched his fists and twirled. Eyes wet, he seemed to cry. Maybe… I wasn’t sure.
“Why can’t anyone marry the ones they love?” Rising on his toes, he glared, pirouetted, and walked away.
Billy Lee
Never had a problem with the acceptance of many things that churchs have issues with. But then, I’m not a Christian. I’m agnostic.