Author Archives: Sarah and Lindsey

“Jesus is not a frying pan” and other notable moments from #GCNConf

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We’ve literally just returned home after an amazing weekend at the Gay Christian Network Conference in Portland. We’re sure to write some more reflections in the coming week, but we wanted to share some highlights for now.

First of all, all of the keynote speakers were incredible. We’re so glad that they were broadcast on live stream. For a limited time, you can watch them here. Jeff Chu kicked off conference with one of the most poignant, compelling, and thoughtful addresses we’ve ever heard. He has graciously provided a transcript on his blog. He modeled vulnerability, graciousness, and generousness. The love Jeff feels for his mother was palpable in the room as all those gathered listened with rapt attention to Jeff discussing showing love across differences. We’re still processing Jeff’s address ourselves. What we do know is that both Jeff and Tristan would be very welcome in our home; we, too, eat family-style. We’d also be sure to find some sweet tea to put on our table for Vicky Beeching. Vicky opened her story to us with humor, grace, and authenticity. Anyone who thinks that LGBT Christians have a superficial appreciation for their Christian tradition and shy away from earnest theological inquiry would be well-served by sitting down to listen to Vicky’s address. By God’s grace, may we all continue to wonder at a loving God who rejoices in four-year-olds who want to reach up and share a cookie.

Second, there were so many people. We’ve never gone to GCN Conference with the intention of counting chairs, but this was the first conference where “I’ll see you in the General Session” was much easier said than done. When two-thirds of the room stood up after Conference Director Trey Weaver called for first-times, we knew something had happened. As conference veterans, we did whatever we could to make connections with people who really need the GCN community. We connected with so many people who aren’t out to their parents, who don’t know which letter of the LGBTQ-alphabet-soup works for them, and who feel torn by worry that they have to choose between their faith and their sexual orientations. We also met first-timers who are straight allies committed to doing whatever they can do to make the church a safer place to wrestle with questions of sexual orientation and gender identity, who are parents committed to loving their kids who came out to them over the holidays, who are LGBTQ Christians from Open and Affirming traditions trying to understand experiences of other queer Christians, and who are seeking to converse with authors and speakers who have done so much work to help them reconcile their faith and sexual orientations/gender identities. The rich tapestry of humanity was on full display.

Third, there was love. Honestly, we don’t remember the last time we were wrapped in day after day of love. It was something else to walk around and see scores of parents wearing “Free Mom Hugs” and “Free Dad Hugs” buttons. People constantly checked in with one another to see how things were going. We saw so many people taking the 5 minutes, 10 minutes, hour, and hours to talk, hug, pray, and cry things out when another person was hurting. People loved without asking permission. It was a beautiful thing. We can’t remember the last time we heard so many earnest questions of “Do you need any help?” People got creative when it came to showing love, including dear friends who helped us out by livetweeting our workshop.

This year, we presented a workshop on Celibacy and the Church. We wanted to support dialogue about celibate vocations in general while helping people living and discerning celibacy access quality pastoral care. We shared about our own journeys into our celibate vocations and identified various dimensions of helpful pastoral care. One way to talk about helpful pastoral care is to talk about distinctly unhelpful approaches. The title of this reflection came as Lindsey was giving some suggestions about how to re-frame a particularly difficult and unhelpful approach: the celibacy mandate. When pastors think the only thing they need to say to an LGBT person is “Gay sex is a sin! Just be celibate,” they have embraced the celibacy mandate.

We regard the celibacy mandate as akin to hitting LGBT people over the head with a frying pan. It’s dangerous, dehumanizing, and destructive. Lindsey has been on the receiving end of many different pastors wielding the celibacy mandate and eventually got better at dodging the frying pan. Eventually, Lindsey realized that the message “Gay sex is a sin! Just be celibate.” is not the Gospel. Lindsey’s pastors who were delivering this message were not preaching Jesus. The frying pan approach excuses pastors of their pastoral responsibilities and cheapens the beauty of celibate vocations. We earnestly believe that LGBT Christians who experience a call to celibacy should be free to cultivate that vocation and have support in doing so. Choosing to follow a calling is choosing freedom in Christ. While Jesus calls us in ways that are challenging and not always immediately apparent, he also journeys alongside of us every step of the way. The Incarnation tells us a lot about how Jesus views the role of pastoral care. And Jesus is not a frying pan.

[For those interested in a more complete summary of our workshop, we’ll be posting one reasonably soon. If you’re interested in seeing our notes from our Celibacy Involves Family workshop from Chicago’s conference, feel free to take a look.]

We left Portland feeling refreshed, renewed, and revitalized. So many people we met took time to hear our stories about the difficult parts of this past year, to pray with us, to encourage us, to cry with us, and to hug us. GCN is truly a family for us. We’re so grateful for everyone at the conference.

It didn’t take much web browsing today to realize that we still have significant work to do such that all LGBTQ Christians know that they are fiercely and wholly loved by God. We know that there are LGBT Christians returning to congregations that post this article (that honestly needs to come with a content warning for extreme homophobia) front and center on their notice boards. Attending GCN Conference gives us the courage to keep sharing our stories, to press on towards Christ, and shine Christ’s light to all. And when we see intolerance and bigotry, we’ll choose to remember the love, the life, and the colors of #GCNConf in Portland while doing what we can to make a difference. When words escape us, we’ll warm up with the heavenly choir singing LA LA LA in rhythm and glorious harmonies.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

A Queer Calling at the Gay Christian Network Conference

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We have been having a phenomenal time at the Gay Christian Network conference in Portland. We relish in the time we get to spend with people here. We’d love to connect with you today in one form or another.

With over 1300 attendees, spotty internet access and temperamental cell phones, it’s been hard for us to finalize plans with people at the last minute. If we’ve missed your tweet, text, call, email or owl, please accept our apologies. We wanted to let you know how you could find us.

Visit Art Coming Out the Ears in the exhibit hall! Sarah is selling fantastic art prints. We have full-size prints, greeting cards, and postcards. The exhibit hall opens at 800. The best times to catch us in the exhibit hall are before the general session and during lunch. If you miss us in the exhibit hall or can’t join us in Portland, know Sarah’s art is also available on Etsy. Use coupon code GCNCONF to save 15% on Etsy orders over $30. The coupon code will be available for one week after the close of conference.

Attend our Celibacy in the Church workshop during workshop Session C in room C121. Our primary goal in our workshop is to help people living and discerning celibacy access quality pastoral care. Our workshop is not a theological apologetic, an attempt to convince you that you are called to celibacy, or the final word on celibacy in the church. If you want to follow along with the conversation, look for the #AQC hashtag on Twitter. We’ll be hanging out afterward to talk with folks who want to talk with us.

If you’re looking for some concrete ways to bless us today, please consider praying for us. We think it’s so important to be able to have different kinds of conversation about celibacy in the church. Sarah has also had an incredibly hard time hearing while we’ve been here. We’d love to have people fluent in ASL who can interpret our workshop. We would also appreciate some help staffing our booth in the exhibit hall, especially at 300 today.

Thank you so much for all you do to support us! If you’re new to our site, please be sure to read our comment policy before jumping into conversation with us.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

What “Being White” Taught Me about “Being LGBT”

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A reflection by Lindsey

One thing that I love so much about the Gay Christian Network Conference is that I spend a lot of time thinking about landmarks in my spiritual journey. Portland marks my sixth GCN conference in 8 years. I’ve grown and changed a lot in that time.

This year, I find myself thinking about reconciliation. What does it look like when two Christians with completely opposite life experiences sit down together at the table? How can we find common ground amidst profound disagreement, hurt, confusion, and misunderstandings? What happens when the axes of privilege and oppression intersect?

It’s not the first time I’ve considered such questions. When I was in college, I found a sense of spiritual home in a multiethnic chapter of Intervarsity Christian Fellowship. I quickly plugged in, figuratively and literally, as a freshman by participating regularly in small group Bible studies and playing the electric bass on the worship team. I looked forward to participating in just about every Intervarsity-sponsored activity that I could fit into my schedule as an engineering student. Overall, our fellowship had a decent population of white students, Asian-American students, and international students. We were mostly content to continue on our course… until one day during Spring semester when a group of African American seniors expressed considerable frustration that our group had incredibly few Black students. I remember being absolutely shocked that my friends would feel so isolated, alone, and unseen in what I perceived to be a vibrant and thriving Christian community. Hadn’t the fellowship made a special and concerted effort to attend the university’s Gospel Choir concert? Didn’t we encourage every student leader to create a small group of his or her choosing? Were not all welcome to give their gifts to our fellowship as they saw fit? What were we not doing that we should be doing? Why was I so taken aback?

As I plunged into the questions, I couldn’t help but see the problem: I was white and I had never thought much about it.

I remain forever grateful for how that fellowship challenged me to grow spiritually over the next three and a half years by encouraging me to think about what my whiteness meant to me. I developed a relationship with my white heritage, learning to appreciate the various contradictions found in my own embodied history. I thought about how, as a direct descendant of those who arrived on the Mayflower, I regularly heard the story of my people in my American history class in an incredibly positive light. I began to see how, at so many junctures, my people came out “on top.” My ancestors were the “good people” who braved the American frontier as simple farmers, settling the wilds of Wisconsin. The good-people-of-the-North conquered the impossibly-oppressive-slave-owners-of-the-South in the Civil War. Industrialization continued to pave the way to the American Dream. I lived in towns with good schools where it was reasonably possible to earn a solidly middle class income by putting in hours at the factory. Most of my friends came from two-parent homes and avoided problems with the law provided that they made good decisions. I didn’t have much experience putting myself in the shoes of others who were different from me. And honestly, I had never considered the cost of my privilege until I was at a great university in Boston because of hard-won solid financial aid package.

I don’t think I would have started to ask questions about my own heritage unless my friends would have had the guts to tell me that I was blind to their experience. All of a sudden, I realized that I was missing out on something big and important about following Christ if I didn’t take time to query what it meant to be a Church of every tribe, tongue, and nation. I started by asking hard questions about what it meant for me to be white. In humanizing my history, I connected more with my own humanness. I saw, and still see, so much to celebrate in my history. There was something profound about coming to see my ancestors as flesh-and-blood people who made a lot of mistakes along the way.

It was also in college when I could no longer avoid the reality that I was definitely somewhere on the LGBT spectrum.

I’ll freely admit that I’m a nerd who grew up relatively sheltered. Ellen and Rosie were the first examples of real-life gay people I had ever encountered. The vast majority of adults in my life questioned why it could possibly be important for gay people to “come out.” Why would anyone make a public declaration of his or her sex life? Who could possibly be bothered by something happening behind closed bedroom doors?

Through a long and arduous process, I realized that I had to start thinking about what it meant for me to be LGBT (even though at that time “gay” was the catch-all category). I remember searching on AOL with different whisperings of “I think I might be gay…” Being a sheltered kid from Minnesota whose idea of a really good time involved going night skiing with my family, I was totally taken aback by discussions focusing on gay bars, gay dating, and gay sex. I searched and searched and searched, growing ever more bewildered because I felt trapped between an overarching sense of “This isn’t me” constantly trading with an overwhelming sense of “Oh God, I know that somehow gay describes something about me.”

The world I grew up in felt absolutely heterosexual. Every adult in my large extended family was married or had been married at one time. Nearly all of my teachers were married, unless they were totally eccentric. Each of my friends had a mom and a dad. The vast majority of my friends’ parents were together, but there was a handful who spent the week with their mom and the weekend with their dad or vice versa. Every bit of dating drama I heard about in high school was between a guy and a girl. The world was straight, and no one was thinking much about it…

Except me. I was thinking about it, and it was tearing me up inside that I couldn’t make heads or tails about why I felt so different.

Eventually, I came to understand that difference in a range of ways. Meeting people in the Gay Christian Network showed me so many different ways of being LGBT. I started sharing my life and asking my questions on GCN in 2007. For the first time, I met people who seemed okay with the idea that being LGBT had to fit into my broader senses of who I am. It was okay that my internal world differed significantly from the world I grew up in. GCN gave me space to ask my own questions and seek God’s illumination. I realized I struggled to make sense of marriage because, truth be told, I wasn’t that interested in getting married. Entering a marriage struck me more about conforming to social expectations than living my life. It took a few years before I was introduced to the concept of celibate vocations. When I finally saw people living out a celibate way of life, I dared to risk hope that I would find space to live out my vocation.

I keep getting to know myself better more and more every day. I’ve thought long and hard about faith, sexuality, gender, and my sense of self. I hope I will always have questions about living my life in Christ to the fullest.

The more questions I ask myself, I wonder to what extent people from every marginalized minority probe deeply into their inner universe to make sense of the world around them. I’m grateful that God has shown me the value of searching for my sense of self in my majority identities as well. Perhaps doing the work of reconciliation means listening to minority voices tell you about things you’ve never thought much about before. Learning to appreciate my whiteness gave me the courage to seek God in an effort to appreciate my sexual orientation, gender identity, and vocation. I’m so grateful to be learning still.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

Celibacy Involves Family — Madonna House

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As you may have noticed, we’ve gotten a little off our normal posting schedule this week. Our apologies! We’re eagerly counting down days to the Gay Christian Network conference in Portland. We hope to see many of you there. We thought this week would be a good opportunity to share a bit about the workshop we gave at the 2014 conference. Many people approached us after our workshop wanting to hear more about how we experienced living in a celibate partnership. We were totally caught off-guard but decided to experiment with blogging about our life together. At the 2014 conference, we presented a workshop called “Celibacy Involves Family” where we discussed how celibate people maintain and craft meaningful family ties. Our goal in this post is to share a bit of what we talked about in that workshop while simultaneously featuring Madonna House, a Catholic lay association of the faithful, as part of our celibate profiles series.

The purpose of our workshop was not to make an argument for celibacy, but to support people currently living, discerning, or interested in celibacy as a temporary or perpetual way of life. A secondary purpose was to show an example that counters the misconception that celibacy is marked by a life of loneliness and misery. People who attended our workshop had diverse perspectives, and some attendees were straight allies and non-celibate LGBT people interested in learning how to be more supportive of celibates.

We began the session by asking what words, images, and associations do we think of when we hear the word celibacy. We collected responses to this question on a large sheet of paper, and then repeated the process focusing on the word family. Words like unsupported, singleness, misunderstood, isolation, outsider, sexually frustrated, loneliness, and oppression filled the sheet dedicated to celibacy and words like children, commitment, intimacy, quality time, belonging, community, love, affection, and safety filled the sheet dedicated to family. It didn’t take long to see that people tended to have more negative associations with celibacy and more positive associations with family.

Workshop participants's association with celibacy

Workshop participants’s association with celibacy

...and with family

…and with family

We then suggested a four-part framework for thinking about family that included family of origin, family of choice, proximate family, and distant family. Family of origin means the family in which one is raised. Family of choice is compromised of the rich relationships one makes a conscious effort to maintain and often pulls on a person’s network of friends. Proximate family are the people you are physically close enough to share rhythms of daily life while distant family are the people who live much farther away. We used this framework to ask four organizing questions:

  • How do we strengthen ties with our families of origin?
  • How do we build our families of choice?
  • How do we cultivate a way of life with our proximate families?
  • How do we honor connections with our distant families?

After we asked those questions, we dove into discussing how the Madonna House Apostolate provides insights into living these questions out as celibate people.

Madonna House was founded in 1947 by Catherine de Hueck Doherty and her husband Eddie. The main house is located in Combermere, Ontario, Canada and has smaller branches in places around the world. The Madonna House is a lay association of the faithful recognized by the Catholic Church, which means that it is compromised primarily of lay members. Madonna House focuses on serving others through hospitality and charity. All members have made commitments to celibacy. The family of Madonna House has a diverse membership, including male and female lay apostles, male and female applicants, and priests — all hailing from many different countries. Additionally, there are associate bishops, priests, and deacons who do not live at Madonna House but are affiliated by their support of Madonna House’s mission. Year-round, male and female visiting volunteers and working guests stay at and engage in the work of Madonna House, although these people are not formal members of the Apostolate. Catherine Doherty once described Madonna House in the following manner: “Our spirit is that of a family, modeled on the Holy Family of Nazareth, which was a community of perfect charity and love.” At Madonna House, which Sarah has visited, one finds plentiful examples illustrative of a rich family life.

Though Madonna House lay apostles live in community year-round rather than with their families of origin, this celibate family encourages connection with members’ families of origin. Members visit their families a few times each year. Families of origin are invited to ceremonies and can participate in the community life as working guests. Additionally, families of origin assist in planning end-of-life care and funerals for their loved ones who have become Madonna House members. Remembering and honoring the origins of its members is an integral part of Madonna House life as well. The spiritual life of the community involves practices of both Eastern and Western Catholicism, and efforts are made to integrate important cultural customs associated with holidays and feasts.

Regarding building family of choice, Madonna House excels at creating ways to welcome new people into its family. Every person, even the newest guest, has a job for each day. Daily work performed by both members and guests benefits the entire Madonna House family and the surrounding local community. For guests who decide to explore a deeper commitment to Madonna House, spiritual direction and opportunities for prayer and discernment are available. All members of Madonna House participate in continuing spiritual, intellectual, and practical formation. When a person decides to become an applicant, he or she is welcomed to the family with a cake that symbolizes one’s continuing life with the Madonna House family. After one’s time as an applicant has come to an end, he or she may decide to be fully integrated as a member of Madonna House, making a 2-year commitment with promises of poverty, chastity, and obedience. This commitment can be renewed a second and a third time before a member is able to make final promises — a lifelong commitment to the Madonna House family.

The proximate family of Madonna House is not only members and guests, but also people in the local community who seek out Madonna House for prayer and assistance. There is a thrift bookshop and clothing store on site where people in the local community can come and find necessary items priced for pennies. As for cultivating a way of life amongst proximate Madonna House members, the community is organized by a shared spiritual life, practical daily work, and shared community time. Each of these facets creates opportunities for the family to bond. Members are expected to be able to give and receive brotherly correction. The community gathers several times a day for communal meals, daily recreation time, daily prayers, and Mass.

Madonna House has an extensive network of people in its distant family. Honoring connections with distant family members frequently means maintaining ties with families of origin. As mentioned previously, family members of lay apostles are frequently welcomed as working guests. During Sarah’s time visiting Madonna House, Sarah heard many stories from members about their past and present relationships with their parents, brothers, sisters, and cousins. Members living at the main house also honor other Madonna House members in different locations. In front of the house stands a direction post that lists all Madonna House field houses by having signs that point toward each.

After discussing the Madonna House example with workshop attendees, we asked them to consider again the four questions we asked at the beginning. We spent time in both small and large group discussion. We concluded by providing a list of reflection questions before asking people to share as they felt led.

For those readers who want to play along, we ended our workshop with the following questions geared towards exploring how people living celibacy might facilitate a rich family life:

  • With whom do you have meaningful relationships?
  • How do we discern what kinds of relationships we need given a particular season of life?
  • How can you find models for living a celibate life?
  • How does your faith inspire and encourage you in living a celibate life?
  • What pathways might be available to you for repairing and strengthening your relationships with your families of origin?
  • What might prevent you from building a family of choice?
  • What fears do you have about cultivating a way of life within your proximate family?

We hope that you’ve enjoyed seeing a bit about what we presented at the 2014 conference. This year, we’re presenting a workshop on Celibacy and the Church. As was true last year, we are not interested in making an argument for celibacy. We are interested in helping celibate Christians, people who are exploring the possibility of celibacy for themselves, and other Christians and churches who want to support people in celibate vocations. We’d love to see you!

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

“They are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome”: an easy way out of a challenging conversation

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Since the Washington Post article on celibate gay Christians from a few weeks ago, we have seen quite a range of responses from all kinds of perspectives. They have been so voluminous that at first, we had decided not to respond to any in particular. However, this evening a Facebook friend made us aware of a newly-published blog post that we had not yet seen. This piece by Kimberly Knight, titled, “Why this Christian will never celebrate gay celibacy,” is particularly problematic in its assumptions, and both of us felt that it warranted a response. This post will serve that function and will also point out some ways in which celebrating gay celibacy would benefit Christians and the Church as a whole.

We agree with a small handful of the claims that Knight presents in her post. For example, it is true that celibate gay Christians are not a new movement. We’ve been around for years, mainly in corners of the internet that most people found entirely uninteresting until very recently. And it’s likely that we’ve been around for generations. Knight is also correct in stating that not all people are sexual beings, and that there are some people who are called to celibacy. We also agree that it is manifestly inappropriate to weaponize the story of any celibate person to manipulate an LGBT person into living a celibate life. But we find every other point in her post problematic, and some of the post’s implications are demonstrably false.

First, Knight conflates celibate gay Christians with “the same old ignorant and homophobic expectation that LGBT Christians should hide their sexuality in the dark and try to change their created orientation in order to be in relationship with God and community.” In reality, we and other celibate gay Christians have written a number of articles and blog posts demonstrating that we desire neither to hide nor change our sexual orientations. We’ll not rehash the arguments that have already been made here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Knight claims to view “so called “Side B” gay Christians as misguided literal/factual readers of scripture that are yet unable to grasp that such reading is unbiblical and frankly unfaithful.” This is one of the most shortsighted assertions we have ever seen from an opponent of gay celibacy because of the simple fact that gay celibates (or Side B, or whatever term you prefer) come from a wide variety of Christian traditions, many of which do not teach biblical literalism. The idea that the entire Side B perspective is based upon a literal/factual interpretation of the Bible is particularly odd considering how many gay celibates are Catholic, Orthodox, and Anglican — traditions that discourage literalist approaches to scripture. These traditions were well established before literalist interpretations of the Bible — which are relatively new phenomena — became an issue. We do not typically use “Side A” and “Side B” language on this blog, but it’s reasonable to assume that Knight would include us in this category as we were featured in the news article she has critiqued. Speaking only for ourselves, we’ll clarify that the two of us are not literalists and literalism has never been the interpretational method for scripture in our Christian tradition.

Although Knight states in her post, “Yes, there are some people who are called to a life of celibacy for all sorts of reasons and I am not saying that celibacy is wrong for all people,” the title “Why this Christian will never celebrate gay celibacy” makes it impossible for Knight to affirm that people like us experience profound and lasting calls to celibacy. It seems that Knight regards celibacy as a deliberate disavowal of one’s sexuality where an otherwise sexual person should not be celibate. The idea that celibacy involves excising one’s sexuality is a rather common misconception about celibacy. The video below features many examples of people choosing celibacy for different reasons. While many people shared about temporarily embracing celibacy, the nun who shares about her vocation makes it clear that she does not view celibacy as renouncing her sexuality.

Knight also seems to believe that all celibate LGBT Christians are advocates for abusive celibacy mandates. We have robustly stated that we object to the celibacy mandate and that it is inappropriate to assign a person a vocation based on sexual orientation. Vocations are discovered, and the manner in which that happens differs from person to person. We have also noted that LGBTQ Christians are free to make many choices in response to how Christian traditions approach the intersection of faith, sexuality, and gender identity. All LGBTQ Christians discern the ways they answer these questions for themselves. From our read of Knight’s post, she seems to be under the impression that a gay Christian cannot choose celibacy as a way of life while still respecting (though sometimes disagreeing with) the decisions of others.

The most problematic assertion in Knight’s post is:

By choosing celibacy in an otherwise sexual body, the gay Christian has submitted to their abusers out of fear and self-preservation, appeased the abuser with vows of celibacy hoping that if they are just good enough the abuser will stop hurting them, sacrificed their personhood to maintain relationship with and love those who are abusing them and have chosen to conspire with their abuser to perpetuate the spiritually and psychologically devastating lie that gay sex is evil.

Knight’s wording conjures up an image of a gay Christian who has kelt before a leader (or tradition), begging for a particular kind of treatment to stop, and made vows of celibacy with the intention of preserving relationships with that leader (or tradition).

We both have experiences in ex-gay ministry, and Lindsey’s story is particularly illustrative of why Knight’s assertion is so problematic. In the past, Lindsey was a part of a Christian tradition that encouraged any gay person to undergo efforts to become straight. In this tradition, being gay was treated with absolute suspicion and a sign that a person was probably not a real Christian. In this framework, a Christian was obligated to do everything possible to become straight. Lindsey tried for a bit, recognizing that spiritual growth occurs over time. When it became increasingly evident to Lindsey that the spiritual exercises recommended by this ministry were harming Lindsey’s spiritual life, Lindsey started querying the limitations of the approach with the people in charge. Their answers were entirely unsatisfying and lacked substantive engagement with the Christian tradition that supposedly justified the ministry’s approach. Specifically, the ministry had superficial interpretations of key biblical texts and no space to affirm that some people might not be called to heterosexual marriage.

Lindsey ran and has had no further engagement with that particular ministry save reconnecting with other participants and critiquing its pastoral approach. Breaking ties so quickly with one ministry created a challenge within Lindsey’s church. This church expected that all members “struggling with same-sex attractions” actively sought help from ex-gay ministries. Lindsey began looking for alternate churches in the area. Over time, Lindsey found refuge at the Gay Christian Network and had space to ask previously forbidden questions about faith and sexuality. Lindsey found a new Christian tradition and has managed to make a clean break with the particularly problematic parts of Lindsey’s former Christian tradition.

We share Lindsey’s story because Lindsey was affiliated with a Christian tradition that actively promoted an expectation that LGBT people would make every effort to hide and denounce their sexuality. Leaving that tradition behind allowed Lindsey to begin the work of discerning Lindsey’s vocation. We’d never hesitate to describe Lindsey’s experience in ex-gay ministries as spiritual abuse; we’ve written elsewhere about healing from spiritual abuse. We don’t believe that it’s essential for LGBT Christians to align with a different Christian tradition full-stop, but Knight’s assertion that any celibate LGBT Christian is essentially bargaining with key teachers within their tradition is false.

We believe that gay celibacy can and should be celebrated. We know many celibate LGBTQ Christians. We’ve seen remarkable creativity as every person we know has discerned, with God’s help, a life-giving vocation. We’ve taken great joy in discerning our vocation as a community of two. We frequently remark that we feel like we’re building the plane while flying it. It’s been entirely empowering to define celibacy as we go along. We know other LGBTQ people thriving in celibate vocations and find it entirely appropriate to celebrate their discernment processes with them. Celebrating gay celibacy has lead to more churches being willing to talk about celibacy in general. Some Christians appear to be more willing to consider the diversity of celibate vocations after engaging in conversations with gay celibates. Far too many churches have relegated celibacy to the background, effectively making marriage the default vocation. Embracing the vocations of queer celibates makes space for more stories. Not all LGBTQ people see a same-sex marriage or a sexually active same-sex relationship as essential to their flourishing, and dialogue needs to move beyond the assumption that sex = liberating; celibacy = oppressive.

Stating that celibate LGBTQ Christians suffer from Stockholm Syndrome is the easy way out of engaging in a conversation about how LGBTQ Christians understand their celibacy, their reasons for choosing celibacy, and their experiences within their Christian traditions. Scholars have noted Stockholm Syndrome is not found in any international diagnostic system for psychiatric disorders, lacks clear diagnostic criteria, and appears to be a media phenomenon. It’s easy to suggest that a person has fallen in love with an abuser if that person has made a choice you wouldn’t make for yourself. Knight wrote about how she has used Stockholm Syndrome as a way to make sense of her decision to enter a mixed-orientation marriage, and we agree that many LGBTQ Christians find themselves in spiritually abusive circumstances. Unfortunately, Knight seems unwilling to consider how her own story could be weaponized to convince other people in vaguely similar circumstances that they should follow her path. Asserting that gay celibacy can only exist in an environment marked by biblical literalism and spiritual abuse hides the experiences of many LGBTQ celibates. Overall, Knight’s post reflects more of her own experience in entering and exiting a mixed-orientation marriage than thoughtful engagement on issues pertinent to celibacy and the LGBTQ Christian community.

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