<p>I find the idea of celibacy very honorable – people who have the call to remain celibate to be able to use more of their available time and energy to serve the Lord. I also believe that celibacy is a call – and I don’t think that it is something you can just walk in, if you are not really called to walk in it.</p><p>During my Bible college years I was wondering if God wanted me to remain celibate. I was praying a lot and asking Him to speak to me concerning this – not because I was gay (because I was still very ignorant and in serious denial about being gay) – but because I wanted to dedicate my life to serving the Lord. At that time, I honestly felt like the Lord did not want me to make a lifetime commitment to celibacy. I decided to commit to not pursuing a relationship for the first five years of being in ministry and focused only on serving the Lord and it gave me an extreme level of flexibility… I could change travel plans immediately and didn’t have to worry about how it might affect or complicate things for a partner or my family – and during my years in ministry I had amazing adventures that were possible because I was living a celibate lifestyle.</p><p>I was doing my best to live celibate, but I don’t think I was very good at it and I always knew something was missing. I felt extremely lonely, but I tried my best to smother and suppress these feelings in my heart, and to a certain degree I succeeded.</p><p>I tried dating some girls too which ended in disaster every time, since they got emotionally involved in the relationship and I just couldn’t. I am thankful I didn’t ever push through any of these awkward dating periods and end up marrying one of these girls, because it would have been very unfair to them, since they all deserved husbands who could truly love them and are attracted to them. The best I could ever offer was a high level of friendship.</p><p>When I finally came to accept that I was gay, I thought I had no choice but to remain celibate. I did well for about 6 months. I had intimate heart-to-heart conversations with my Side B friends and that sustained my need for intimacy for a while, but soon it was also not enough. I deeply desired someone to do life with, someone to go on walks with, someone to go to events with, someone to share my dreams and frustrations with, someone to lay next to me when I fall asleep at night and someone who would be there when I wake up. Celibacy started to feel like a death sentence. I did not (and still do not) feel called to a life of celibacy.</p><p>Most churches I have been to (and I have been to many, internationally and from various denominations) would see mandatory celibacy as the answer to a gay person’s problems. </p><p>I recently read Sally Gary’s book “Affirming: A Memoir of Faith, Sexuality, and Staying in the Church” and I would like to share excerpts that were very encouraging to me:</p><p><i>“I walked into the room where the elders were already seated around long tables. I had been invited by the leadership to give a workshop on ministry to LGBTQ people. This church had selected twenty men to serve as shepherds, and they were all present. They varied in age, with a few younger than I, but most were somewhat older. </i></p><p><i>I shared my story and discussed the importance of open, honest dialogue about faith and sexuality in our churches.”</i></p><p><i>“When I finished the presentation, I opened up the floor for questions. One elder expressed confusion about why some people consider the expectation of celibacy for gay people a problem. “Why is expecting people who experience same-sex attraction to be celibate unfair?” he asked. “It’s no different than being heterosexual and single, is it?” </i></p><p><i>A few other elders began speaking up, insisting that it wasn’t the same. “Well, it’s different because they have to keep how they feel a secret,” one elder commented. </i></p><p><i>The elders continued to engage the question. Everyone listened politely, sincerely trying to understand where each person was coming from. </i></p><p><i>The one who initiated the question continued. “You know, I have family members who are single, who have never been married in their lives, and I don’t feel sorry for them. Maybe they didn’t choose to be married or didn’t have the opportunity, but they’re not hurting because of that. Why is it so different to ask a gay person to be celibate?” </i></p><p><i>I wanted to ask if he had actually had those conversations with the single members of his family, inquiring about their happiness in being single, or if he was perhaps making an assumption. I wanted to tell him that no one had ever asked me if I was okay being single. Or if I ever got lonely or wished I was married and had a family. Maybe that’s because I gave the impression of being perfectly fine with my singleness and being independent, even when that’s not how I’ve always felt. </i></p><p><i>I waited to see if the elders had any further comments, then offered a response. “It’s different because for a heterosexual person who’s single, there’s always the chance that they will meet someone, fall in love, and then have the option to marry. That’s always a possibility, with nothing hindering them except finding someone. But for an LGBTQ person who is a Christian and believes in a traditional sexual ethic, there’s no hope,” I said. “There’s no hope in ever being able to have the companionship that God designed us to need. For LGBTQ people living under a traditional Christian sexual ethic, that possibility doesn’t exist. We know this early on, when we are still young, in our teens and twenties, that if we live under the traditional guidelines of the church that confine marriage to a man and a woman, we will never be able to have that type of relationship.” </i></p><p><i>There was silence in the room. </i></p><p><i>“You know, Sally, being single is a whole lot easier to talk about when you’re married,” one of the older elders interjected. A smile came across his face, and I smiled back. Several others grinned and nodded their heads. </i></p><p><i>“I think you’re right, Roy,” I answered. “Maybe some people can live a single life more easily—maybe they’re just fine with it. But I know lots of people who are desperately lonely as single persons.” </i></p><p><i>More heads nodded. I could tell this was a room full of men who took their job of listening as shepherds seriously. </i></p><p><i>“When we call LGBTQ people to celibacy, we’re not just saying, ‘You can’t have sex.’ It goes so much deeper. We’re telling someone, ‘You’re going to have to live your life alone.’”</i></p><p>Most churches simply reason God created “Adam and Eve” and not “Adam and Steve”. Here is another excerpt from Sally Gary’s book that I think holds so much truth:</p><p><i>“Over the years I’ve had the opportunity to form friendships with people far more knowledgeable of Scripture than I am. People who have studied the Bible longer, and studied it more deeply, than I have. People who have preached more sermons than I have heard in my lifetime, and I’ve heard plenty. These are the people I have trusted and sought out to help answer my questions, to help resolve the tension I have felt between my faith and sexuality. One of my most faithful conversation partners is a former Bible professor. </i></p><p><i>“Sally, the one passage that I believe is controlling in the question of same-sex marriage is Genesis 1–3,” Terry said. “The creation story of Adam and Eve sets the parameters for marriage right there—marriage is between a man and a woman.” </i></p><p><i>We had barely finished lunch before Terry wandered back into the living room to continue our conversation. For the last two days we had been talking about all the passages of Scripture dealing with same-sex sexuality, but now we were approaching the topic of marriage from a much broader perspective, looking at the “totality” of Scripture, as Terry insisted. After his wife, Joan, finished clearing the table and putting our lunch dishes in the dishwasher, she joined our conversation. </i></p><p><i>“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll give you that. Let’s say that the first three chapters of Genesis do dictate what we need to know about marriage.” </i></p><p><i>Terry stopped pacing around the room and came over to sit down on the end of the sectional sofa next to Joan, folding his arms and putting one finger over his lips, looking very professorial. </i></p><p><i>“If Genesis 1–3 tells us what to believe about gender and marriage, why do we not hold as rigorously to what God says about loneliness right in the same passage?” I asked sincerely. “In Genesis 2:18, God says it isn’t good for man to be alone. That’s the whole reason he made Eve, to be a companion for Adam, right? So that means God recognized that Adam needed someone besides the animals, right? And that not even God himself could meet Adam’s need for companionship, doesn’t it?” </i></p><p><i>“You’re right, Sally,” Terry said. “That’s the way I understand the passage.” </i></p><p><i>“But why doesn’t the part about God saying ‘It’s not good for man to be alone’ stand out as equally important?” I wanted to know. “You’re favoring one part over the other.” </i></p><p><i>Terry told me he believed the passage was specifically talking about the man and the woman being suitable companions for one another, and that this was the most important part. “But what if,” I continued, “the most important part is about not being alone? What if that’s the lens that should dictate our interpretation of Genesis?” </i></p><p><i>It was quiet, and I saw Joan glance at her husband. Terry stared at me, and soon I could see the twinkle in his eyes, his hand still hiding the slight smile on his face. </i></p><p><i>“I don’t know,” Terry said. </i></p><p><i>We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the human need for companionship.”</i></p><p>There are much more Jesus loving LGBTQ people out there, who feel alone and rejected, than I ever realized. Over the past two years I have met so many Jesus loving men and women who are desperately alone – many of them feeling that the burden of mandatory celibacy has been placed on them.</p><p>A song that stuck with me the last while is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5im_tBINf80" target="_blank">“Hey Jesus” by Trey Pearson</a>, that speaks of the desire for love and companionship that many LGBTQ Christians experience, but is only met with loneliness and (in many cases) rejection.</p><p>May we become less focused on the rules and laws (like the Pharisees) that we have become culturally accustomed to – and our focus and attention shift more and more to the actual needs of people – which is what Jesus was always focusing on and ministering to.</p><div><br></div>
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