Showing Love in the Midst of Difference

A few weeks ago, we published two posts on ways people could be more supportive of celibate LGBT Christians. Our target audience for these posts was straight Christians with both traditional and progressive views on sexual ethics. Not long after publishing these, we heard from several non-celibate LGBT Christian readers who wanted to know if there are any ways they could be more supportive of celibate singles and couples within the LGBT community. In response to these inquiries, we wanted to share some positive examples of how non-celibate LGBT Christian friends have shown us encouragement, kindness, and compassion.

As we reflected together before drafting this post, we concluded quickly that we have lots of awesome friends. We decided to keep our comments as generalized categories instead of stating names because we hope that many of our friends will see themselves in multiple categories. We’re so very grateful to all of the people who have shown us love, even across various theological differences.

With Lindsey being between jobs right now, we’re deeply appreciative of how our friends have stepped up to the plate to offer help when we’ve needed it. Our friends have been there with love, prayers, and significant financial support. We have been amazed at how this generosity has crossed all borders that divide Christians. Several friends even approached us with gifts before learning about our exact needs. To say we were blown away is an understatement. We remain profoundly grateful and look forward to the day of being able to pay their generosity forward. These folks can testify to the fact that you don’t have to be living the same kind of life as another person, or even understand his or her way of life, in order to extend to Christian charity.

We’ve also been humbled by friends who have shown us an earnest belief that every person matters, has value, and is worth getting to know. These folks will ask us questions about our way of life, knowing that our answers do not come from a place trying to convince them that they must adopt our way of life for themselves. They are legitimately curious when asking us about what we did the previous weekend, which books we’re reading, how God is challenging us to grow spiritually, and other such questions. Many of these friends neither understand nor agree with our approach to sexuality-related issues. Nevertheless, they exemplify that having the same theology and the same way of life is not a prerequisite for meaningful friendships. Their relationships with us showcase that it is in fact possible to experience authentic intimacy and care for another person without focusing on who’s “right” and who’s “wrong.”

We have also been so grateful for friends who have thrown themselves selflessly into supporting us through some really hard stuff. As our regular readers can attest, the last several months have been trying and stressful for us. It’s been great to have friends we can turn to whenever we need a listening ear regardless of what’s going on. If we’re experiencing a major problem in our lives or in our relationship, these friends are our “go-tos” when we need a sounding board. It’s also fantastically mutual in that they will call us whenever similar shit is hitting the fan for them. We’re able to take the time to listen, pray, be present for, and find solutions together when necessary. This arrangement works almost flawlessly because we know that these friends view us in identically the same way as they view all of their other close friends rather than conceiving of us as “that weird celibate couple.”

Another trend we’ve noticed in our close non-celibate LGBT friends is that they are fiercely protective of us. Mother bears have nothing on some of these folks. It’s comforting to know that we have friends we can turn to when we want to feel outraged about something that has happened. We have friends who don’t need to have all of the details before offering to readjust some heads, eyes, ears, or other body parts. When Sarah’s tires got slashed several months ago, it brought a smile to our faces that we had friends offering (in jest) to fly into our metro area to seek some vigilante justice. Though we’d never want someone to incite violence on our behalf, we are glad to have friends who will defend us if we’ve been wronged, support our choices as we deal with the aftermath of being wronged, and move into our emotional space with us when we just need to be majorly irked for a few minutes (or hours or days, as the case may be). Even though they certainly would not choose celibacy for themselves, we know they’d go down swinging to defend us as a celibate couple.

We’re amazed at how many specific individuals came to mind as we wrote this post. We lost count at 28. All of these people are LGBT Christians. Some are partnered, some are dating, and some are hoping to find that special someone. They come from virtually every Christian tradition under the sun. Some are out in very public ways, and others are not. Some have decided to transition their genders socially, medically, legally, or any combination therein. They are scattered across multiple countries. Some are incredibly active in church, some rarely attend religious services of any kind, and others are everywhere in between. We are incredibly blessed to share our life with so many people who can see beyond right and wrong as they look into the heart of Christ.

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Green Leaves, Red Flames, and Glimpses of Vocation

A reflection by Sarah

One of the many lessons I keep repeating is that God often uses unpredictable means to get my attention. This was especially true during a season of my life when I was feeling strongly pulled towards a celibate vocation but knew I wasn’t going to be able to live it at that time. As I’ve written before, I’m glad I waited to commit fully to a celibate vocation because being ready for this way of life takes time. I wanted to be reasonably sure that God was in fact calling me to celibacy before completely embracing some form of celibate life as my vocation. At the time of this story, I thought I was crazy for even contemplating celibacy, as I was in a non-celibate relationship with a woman I’ve chosen to call Leah.

One summer while on retreat, I sat at the dinner table nearly every evening with a priest who seemed to understand my uncertainty intuitively. Frequently, I asked him questions about how he understood the role of celibacy in his vocation to the priesthood, if he experienced loneliness, and if he had any regrets about forgoing marriage. This priest could tell that I wasn’t casually exploring monastic life with no real intention of committing to a celibate vocation of some kind. Though I never shared anything with him about my sexual orientation or relationship, I believe that he could actually tell I had a sense of where God was leading me, and was trying to figure out how to get there despite doubts about meeting my need for human companionship along the way. One evening after our meal, he pulled me aside and drew something from his satchel: an icon of the Mother of God the Unburnt Bush, though I did not yet know this name for it. Then he said to me, “I’m leaving tomorrow to go back home to my parish, and I feel very strongly that the Mother of God would like you to have this icon.”

Icon of the Mother of God the Unburnt Bush

I was totally surprised, completely flattered, and taken aback. The icon was absolutely beautiful. What could have inspired this priest to leave me—adrift and pitifully clueless—with such an amazing gift? I’m not sure anything else in the world could have spoken to me in that moment as this icon did. Throughout my life, one of the ways I’ve felt God’s presence most strongly has been via my perceptions of color. The Mother of God the Unburnt Bush icon remains to this day one of the most colorful I’ve ever encountered. Even more captivating than most I’ve seen, it is packed full of action, containing a multiplicity of stories on a mere 9” by 12” wooden panel. Simultaneously blown away and honored, I asked if he could tell me more about the meaning behind different images within the icon. He responded by directing me to take the icon back to my bedroom and let the Mother of God teach me about it herself. In time, the icon would tell me the fullness of its own story. I received the gift with gratitude and carried it away.

As I sat on my bed staring down at the image, the first sight that caught my eye was the Mother of God, surrounded by green leaves and red flames. I realized that this icon was a representation of Moses and the Unburnt Bush from The Book of Exodus. I recalled that Exodus describes the bush as burning, yet unconsumed. Gears turned in my head, and it clicked that the Unburnt Bush was a prefiguring of the Mother of God in the paradox of her virgin motherhood. At that time, I found myself focused on the primary images of the icon rather than those in the background. I noticed Moses, removing his sandals, kneeling below the Mother of God as she holds her infant Son. As I contemplated the three central figures in this icon, I felt inspired and convicted that saying yes to God’s call would not always be easy. Sometimes doing what God asks is incredibly hard and involves saying, “I’m committed,” even when that means arduous tasks and frightening possibilities. I thought about how Moses stood before the Unburnt Bush in preparation for leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Perhaps I was beginning my own period of preparation for what God would have me do even if I wasn’t able to do it yet at that point. I also thought about how two celibates are central images in the icon: the Mother of God and Jesus himself. As I gazed into the eyes of the Mother of God and of Jesus in the icon, I caught the first glimmer of hope that perhaps a celibate life could be worthwhile and fulfilling even if those qualities seemed fleeting and out of reach at the time. Surprisingly, I also felt an overwhelming sense of peace even though life seemed uncertain and my questions of vocation were far from settled. In that moment, God reached into my heart and assured me that things were in process, and I was in process.

Over the past four years, that icon has been a source of strength for me almost daily. Within that span of time, I’ve experienced beginnings and endings of relationships, a move halfway across the country, a reevaluation of my own sexual ethic, and the beginning of my celibate partnership with Lindsey. The Mother of God the Unburnt Bush icon currently hangs in Lindsey’s and my living room, alongside many other images that are spiritually significant for both of us. Sometimes when I walk by this image, I catch the eyes of the Mother of God for a moment, and I get a reminder that she’s here praying for me and helping me to find strength at times when the demands of a lay celibate vocation are at their greatest.

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Maturing Towards Celibacy

A reflection by Lindsey

As we’ve shared in many places, we regard both marriage and celibacy as mature vocations. I have made arguments that I think the Church should consider offering pre-celibacy counseling in order to help people discern a sustainable celibate way of life. My own journey into celibacy has been challenging. I’ve mostly found my own way, and I still regard myself as building the plane while I’m flying it.

Maturing towards celibacy has required me to take many deep looks into myself. Moving through many Christian traditions along the way, I’ve been confronted by different questions that demanded answers. I’ve also learned that some traditions asked better questions than others.

How can I align my mind, heart, soul, and body? Along the way, I’ve learned that God in a wondrous act of mercy has given us incredible tools to discern our vocation. My mind, heart, soul, and body seem to have a system of checks and balances that I could employ to test the claims made by various well-meaning Christians. When Christians suggested that my being LGBT could only be the result of demonic possession, I could search my heart and soul to know that I had earnestly committed my life to Christ and his care. As I began to study the meaning of 1 Corinthians 6 in light of Jesus’s teachings in the Sermon on the Mount, my mind told me that even if I were to come to regard myself as a cisgender, heterosexual person, I would still find myself liable for losing the Kingdom of Heaven because of other kinds of sins. My mind saw that it was incredibly difficult for anyone to obliterate all traces of greed, slander, and envy. My journey towards celibacy has involved finding my own story that unites my experience of mind, heart, soul, and body with Christ.

Where do I experience abundant life in the Kingdom of God? This question has been one of the most paradoxical for me. I first started with trying to listen to my Christian tradition tell me where I could most strongly encounter the Kingdom of God: go on missions trips, learn how to pray for other people, commit myself to regular patterns of Scripture study, share my faith with other people, etc. However, despite my best efforts, much of this counsel seemed ill-fitting. As an introverted engineer, I felt like I was constantly being forced to choose between different parts of myself. Journeying towards celibacy challenged me to find abundant life that acknowledged as many aspects of my personality as possible.

How can I find the “Yes” within the celibate vocation? Admittedly, I considered this question hard. Many of the congregations I was involved in saw celibacy as simply abstaining from sex. The people around me also exploring celibate vocations were compelled by an effort to avoid sexual immorality. I had a true watershed moment when a friend provided me with a a chapter of Poverty, Celibacy, and Obedience: A Radical Way of Life. Diarmuid O’Murchu makes a powerful argument that the vow of celibacy must be viewed as a vow for relatedness. O’Murchu’s observation helped me shift my thinking from “avoid sin” to “embrace people.”

How can I find strength to continue when celibacy seems incredibly difficult? I began my journey into my celibate vocation standing alone in my apartment. It seemed fitting that I was alone: I had spent years seeking spiritual direction to discern a celibate vocation, and I didn’t feel like anyone had any valuable counsel for me. As I was reflecting on how many of my friends had already entered their marriages, I decided I could enter into my celibacy. I thought since they had enough life experiences to commit to the marital vocation, I had lived enough life to commit to the celibate vocation. I told God, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I trust that You’ll help me.” I started talking to other people living celibate vocations, asking them to help me learn to pray. Learning to pray was of first importance to me because I felt like only God cared if I managed to find a life-giving form of celibacy. Later, I asked celibate people what their lives looked like on a daily basis. I found my own pattern to celibacy as I emulated aspects of their lives that seemed to mesh well with my circumstances. It seemed that I derived more strength from my vocation as I found a rhythm for my own celibacy.

Throughout all of my explorations of celibacy, I continue to fall back on the same question, “Do I trust God to guide my way?” I’ve been amazed as I’ve asked questions, given myself permission to make mistakes, and acknowledged that I certainly don’t have the answers even as I know my own vocation is tucked behind the image of God located at the core of my being.

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Cultivating Emotional Intimacy

When someone you know is going through a hard time, it’s natural to ask that person whether he or she has adequate support. As our regular readers know, the last several months have thrown many challenges our way. We are continuing to stand firm because we’re able to support one another. Many people have asked us what our intimacy looks like, and today we’d like to address a question we’ve received: “How do you cultivate emotional intimacy in a celibate relationship?” In most ways, our response is no different from what we would expect to hear from a healthy, non-celibate couple.

Upon coming into relationship with one another, we fell almost immediately into a natural pattern of cultivating deep emotional intimacy, and we’ve seen that continuing as our relationship has grown. There’s something about our personalities that has allowed each of us to “get” the other, even though we’ve both experienced being profoundly misunderstood by many people in our lives. Sometimes, two people can just click.

Our friendship blossomed because we were willing to be vulnerable with each other. As we’ve shared before, we believe that vulnerability opens the door to intimacy. When we were just beginning getting to know each other, we shared random facts about ourselves and our lives. Lindsey learned that Sarah used to wear mismatched socks to express Sarah’s individuality in elementary school. Sarah learned that as a kid, Lindsey worked to save money so Lindsey could attend Space Camp three times. These micro-stories gave us opportunities to share an incredible number of life experiences and the various emotions associated with these experiences. We each saw bits and pieces of the other’s personality, and came to appreciate some similarities while acknowledging some real differences in our pasts. Our selections were truly random, spanning from the deeply significant to the absolutely trivial. In addition to helping us get to know one another as people, sharing these stories laid a foundation for our coming to trust one another.

Early on in our friendship, we made a commitment to being completely honest with one another. Honesty is one of the highest values for both of us, and we’ve both experienced past relationships in which we or our significant others have had difficulty with being forthright. Because of this, we’ve challenged each other to be radically open about our thoughts, feelings, and mistakes when there’s a problem. Within the first month of our friendship, we had already started to see this pattern emerging between us. Though at first Lindsey considered the topic embarrassing, Lindsey shared openly with Sarah about Lindsey’s writing anxiety and the kind of support needed in order to manage it. Since we’re both writing doctoral dissertations, that type of information has been vital to ensure that we’re accomplishing our goals without sacrificing our emotional needs. Since the time Lindsey first opened up to Sarah about writing anxiety, Sarah has been able to check in with Lindsey about it and provide comfort and encouragement when Lindsey needs it most. Equally humiliating was the first time Sarah told Lindsey about Sarah’s eating disorder history. Because many people assume that these conditions are merely attention-seeking devices for wealthy, white, teenage girls and not legitimate medical conditions that could affect someone Sarah’s age, it has been a struggle for Sarah to be authentic about the need for support. But when Sarah did open up to Lindsey about this for the first time, Lindsey was unimaginably supportive and impressed by Sarah’s commitment to living a recovery-focused lifestyle even during the hard times. Examples like these have built upon our foundation for trust in one another.

Over the first few months that we knew each other, we learned a great deal of information, including the most painful and hidden parts of one another’s lives. A crucial piece of our emotional intimacy has been accepting each other’s emotional pasts for what they are and being able to appreciate that, by virtue of our humanity, we both carry deeply-rooted wounds. Whether it’s related to an issue that occurred during one of our childhoods, ways we’ve experienced hurt within the Church, Sarah’s trauma and the resulting PTSD, negative messages Lindsey received in ex-gay ministry, or something else entirely, we know that there will be space for conversation and respect for that experience’s symbolic meaning when we’re ready to talk about it together. Cultivating empathy for each other’s brokenness–that which we share in common and that which varies individually–has helped both of us to feel safe in being completely genuine with one another, regardless of how ugly that might look sometimes.

While emotional lives are built over the entire lifespan, all people experience their emotions moment by moment. We tend to regard in-the-moment emotional experiences as slightly unpredictable because emotions can vary, especially when people are under a good deal of stress. We have made a practice of affirming one another’s right to feel in the moment, even if the other doesn’t understand exactly why that particular mix of emotion is present at a given time. Our commitment to opting in 100% as we do life together has helped us develop a strong emotional intuition. When Lindsey experiences a panic attack, Sarah can usually tell whether Lindsey would benefit most from reassurance and empathy, some clear direction to start problem-solving processes, or a mixture of approaches. This emotional intelligence goes both ways in our relationship. One day recently, Lindsey just held Sarah as Sarah started crying hysterically after a conflict with Sarah’s nutritionist. Given that Sarah had been in a car accident the day before and Sarah rarely gets upset to the point of tears, Lindsey knew something was up. Nevertheless, Lindsey sat in that space with Sarah until Sarah was ready to share the specifics of what had happened. We’re profoundly grateful God has opened up to us a space of grace to be able to discern what emotional response would best draw us into a deeper relationship with one another, even though we’re still learning.

While some aspects of emotional intimacy have come naturally, other aspects of emotional intimacy are more difficult. We’ve struggled with and will continue to determine the best pathway through the difficulties associated with being open about our spiritual lives and places where our spiritualities differ. On some levels, our spiritualities are incredibly compatible: we both value intellectual honesty, placing life in the Church in its historic contexts, cultivating a prayer life, and being shaped within our specific Christian tradition. On other levels, we’re continually surprised at just how hard it’s been to honor our natural spiritual inclinations when developing our own sense of tradition. Lindsey’s faith journey has been profoundly influenced by mainstays of the Evangelical tradition, as Lindsey’s faith began to blossom in college while Lindsey was participating in Intervarsity and playing on the worship team of a nondenominational congregation. Sarah’s personal spirituality and formation has been tied to more liturgical traditions, as Sarah has naturally grown in faith through partaking of the sacraments and engaging in robust intellectual reflection. Even though our spiritualities may look very similar at first glance, we’ve learned that we value incredibly different facets of the spiritual experiences we share. We have welcomed the opportunity to learn more about each other even though we’re still learning the best way to have these conversations. That said, we should also note that we have high expectations and hopes that we will find our way.

The emotional intimacy that we’ve been able to cultivate within our partnership has also manifested in spillovers into other relationships. We find it easier to be compassionate when others are going through hard times. We can affirm other people’s emotions and create space for whatever feeling happens to be in the room. We’ve learned that matching appropriate responses with how a specific individual experiences emotion can be hard, so we try to respond first with empathy. Cultivating emotional intimacy in all one’s relationships is a lifelong process, and we’re glad to take in whatever wisdom the journey may bring.

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When Life Is Hard

We love doing life together. There’s something absolutely wonderful about sharing life with a person you know will always be there. We make a point to opt in 100%, committing ourselves to prayer for one another and seeking the grace to respond in love. Opting in 100% means opting in even when life is hard. Lately, life has been very hard indeed. Between Lindsey’s recent job loss and Sarah’s encountering bumps on the journey to recovery, we have had a lot on our plate.

When life gets hard, we like to remember that being human requires dealing with hard things. Illness, financial hardship, employment uncertainty, accidents, and debt can lurk behind many doors. One never knows when one will face these adversaries. As a couple, we’ve been trying to keep up a strong appearance through some exceptionally difficult times. Our friends who know us best have seen various cracks in the facade. We’ve both seen the other navigating so much stress that it’s hard to know what to say or do. But, we try to focus on responding with grace and compassion as a default. It works well for us; yet, we’d be grateful for a few less opportunities to practice these particular skills under stress.

In some ways, it doesn’t matter which specific adversary we’re facing. The skills learned for being present for each other in one crisis transfer easily when we find ourself facing another challenging situation. We’ve had to learn to listen, to ask questions, and to acknowledge our limitations. So many painfully difficult challenges cannot be wiped out with a silver bullet. Sometimes big problems have no real solutions except to pray for God to act with every gift of the Spirit. Growing together in love means clinging to the instructions in 1 Corinthians 13: “Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves.”

When life is hard, we remember that “love” is a verb. To love means to pray, to sit with, to hug, to be present for, and to stretch oneself towards Christ. The bigger the problem, the more we find ourselves reaching out to God asking for a miracle. Sometimes, we have a visible miracle. Other times, we have the intangible miracle of God reminding us that we are not alone. We are so grateful when God sends us friends to encourage us. Over the past several months, we have been overwhelmed by the ways our friends have blessed us.

We certainly don’t always respond well. We’d be the first to tell you that we both get really cranky when we think we’re getting the shaft from the universe. No one likes to file 3 police reports in a month. No one likes to problem-solve complex medical concerns with extremely limited resources. No one likes to have a steady schedule of illnesses, weather-related work closures when you don’t get paid for the snow day, and traffic back-ups that prevent you from getting to where you need to be. It’s hard for us not to blame ourselves for our individual struggles. Yet, our “normal” as a couple frequently involves navigating some seriously hard things, and we have had to discern how God would have us grow towards Christ in all our circumstances.

The hard times are better because we’ve made a commitment to be there for each other. It’s not that “Lindsey is having a hard time” or “Sarah is having a hard time.” It’s that “We’re having a hard time, and we’re doing what we can to steward hope while we wait.” We’ve noticed that it’s easier to have hope when Lindsey has a full calendar of job interviews or when everything seems to be clicking in Sarah’s process. But, it’s the hard times that have shown us more about how Christ loves his Church.

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.