Now that I have told a little of my story, I suppose it falls to me now to provide a synopsis of lessons I have learned from the experience, ways in which I've grown, and so on . . .
I wish life were that simple.
The fact is, ladies and gentlemen, that (as my lover can attest) I am still dealing with the repercussions of a failed church, a failed student ministry (see one of the blog entries I posted last spring about my experiences with a student ministry at TCU that went belly up), and a dismally failed relationship.
The biggest issue I struggle with as I recover my sense of self is a deep, gnawing feeling that the path I am embarking on now--regardless of the prayer, soul-searching, and the many conversations I have had with loved ones--is a step away from God.
It is a sad fact that the words we speak--whether true or false--have a lasting effect on those they touch, and one of the worst depredations of organized religion is its use of words. A choice to participate in a church project becomes a "calling," a choice to marry or not to marry (or a desire to marry a particular gender) becomes a matter of "the will of God," and a departure from principles one no longer holds dear becomes . . . "backsliding."
Those of you who have experienced the things I have experienced and who have reacted the way I have know that the first response of a church, a ministry, or a pastor to those who, out of conscience, leave organized religion (or, "worse," abandon places of leadership within organized religion) is often to play the role of the father in Jesus' tale of the Prodigal Son. It isn't simply a lifestyle choice or a decision of personal conscience--it is, in their eyes, a betrayal of God and of everything he stands for. As the "perpetrator," one is then subjected to a bevy of frenzied attempts to "stretch out a hand of compassion and mercy" and "win the runaway soul back to the Lord."
I don't believe that what church I attend, how many meetings I go to, or what political preferences I adopt matter nearly as much to God as whether or not my heart cares for others. Perhaps that makes me a religious misfit or a heretic, but so be it. It is my life, after all, and a matter between God, myself, and whoever I choose to marry . . . and no one else.
And I hold the same to be true for each and every one of you who reads these blog entries. I am not an evangelist--or an anti-evangelist. I am simply telling my story in hopes that a suffering soul may stumble onto this weblog, find comfort and solace in knowing that he/she is not alone, and learn, as I have, that the design of God and the will of God are, at their essence . . . personal. We are all unique, all created with singular interests, talents, and callings, and it is not for us to determine the callings and destinies of people who are not ourselves.
I know I have not betrayed God. In fact, I have grown far closer to God than I ever had before.
But just as importantly . . . I have not betrayed myself.
I wish life were that simple.
The fact is, ladies and gentlemen, that (as my lover can attest) I am still dealing with the repercussions of a failed church, a failed student ministry (see one of the blog entries I posted last spring about my experiences with a student ministry at TCU that went belly up), and a dismally failed relationship.
The biggest issue I struggle with as I recover my sense of self is a deep, gnawing feeling that the path I am embarking on now--regardless of the prayer, soul-searching, and the many conversations I have had with loved ones--is a step away from God.
It is a sad fact that the words we speak--whether true or false--have a lasting effect on those they touch, and one of the worst depredations of organized religion is its use of words. A choice to participate in a church project becomes a "calling," a choice to marry or not to marry (or a desire to marry a particular gender) becomes a matter of "the will of God," and a departure from principles one no longer holds dear becomes . . . "backsliding."
Those of you who have experienced the things I have experienced and who have reacted the way I have know that the first response of a church, a ministry, or a pastor to those who, out of conscience, leave organized religion (or, "worse," abandon places of leadership within organized religion) is often to play the role of the father in Jesus' tale of the Prodigal Son. It isn't simply a lifestyle choice or a decision of personal conscience--it is, in their eyes, a betrayal of God and of everything he stands for. As the "perpetrator," one is then subjected to a bevy of frenzied attempts to "stretch out a hand of compassion and mercy" and "win the runaway soul back to the Lord."
I don't believe that what church I attend, how many meetings I go to, or what political preferences I adopt matter nearly as much to God as whether or not my heart cares for others. Perhaps that makes me a religious misfit or a heretic, but so be it. It is my life, after all, and a matter between God, myself, and whoever I choose to marry . . . and no one else.
And I hold the same to be true for each and every one of you who reads these blog entries. I am not an evangelist--or an anti-evangelist. I am simply telling my story in hopes that a suffering soul may stumble onto this weblog, find comfort and solace in knowing that he/she is not alone, and learn, as I have, that the design of God and the will of God are, at their essence . . . personal. We are all unique, all created with singular interests, talents, and callings, and it is not for us to determine the callings and destinies of people who are not ourselves.
I know I have not betrayed God. In fact, I have grown far closer to God than I ever had before.
But just as importantly . . . I have not betrayed myself.
posted by Brian Bly at 10:53 AM
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