Cities of Refuge

We were attending the Gay Christian Network conference January 7-l0, 2016, when Neta’s daily Bible reading described the “cities of refuge” God instructed Moses to set up in the Promised Land—three on the east side of the River Jordan and three on the west. Anyone accused of manslaughter could flee to those cities and live safely until the high priest died and then return to their home exempt from prosecution. (See Numbers 35:6-15.) From the sixth to the seventeenth century, many churches were legally recognized as places of asylum for anyone accused of a crime, fleeing a mob, or needing safety from someone wanting to harm them. In fact, many churches claim to be “sanctuary” for refugees, even today.

            This was the twelfth annual conference of the organization Justin Lee started to support Christians who are gay. And it was truly a “city of refuge” for most of the 1,500 attendees and for many of the 20,000 people who followed the general sessions online. In fact, over 40,000 people worldwide have signed up with the GCN.

            Why gay people need a city of refuge was articulated by the testimonies of scores of the attendees as they shared at an open mike the last night of the conference. Here are a few samples.

 

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I grew up in an evangelical denomination where there was a lot of emphasis on intercessory prayer. But prayer can be used as a way to point at other people’s sins. I’d been out as a gay guy since before high school, so almost every week someone laid hands on me and prayed that God would take away the gay and wrap me in righteousness. It happened so often I felt like I had religious PTSD. In our first worship service here at the conference, when we began singing, “I Exalt Thee,” I started to panic that someone would lay hands on me again. But almost immediately God’s peace washed over me, and I realized that no one here would ever do that to me.

 

At my Southern Baptist college, I often felt cheated out of what all the straight couples have, since I couldn’t dance with my girlfriend without making a huge political statement and offending hundreds of people. So last night at the Mary Lambert concert when I got to dance with the woman I love, it was the reassurance that God has not forgotten us and that our love is truly valid and normal.

 

I go to a church that is welcoming but not affirming. Gays can come to church but cannot be who they are. My minister says all gays are going to hell, and for a long time I felt like I was the only one. But last September I fully came out on my blog and discovered other gay Christians. And here at GCN I don’t have to feel like a freak. However, God has called me to stay in my church because there are other gay people there, and he wants me to help advance the conversation so things won’t be so hard for them. I walked into this conference with a lot of anger, but God said, “Are you done being angry with the people who have hurt you? Because I love them too.” So, that’s what I’m walking away with from this weekend. And I’m not tired anymore, and I don’t feel angry anymore.

 

I grew up in a missionary community and didn’t know what gay was until middle school. I came here with internalized homophobia, but I’ve learned so much in the workshops I’ve gone to. Someone suggested that I invite my parents, and there’s my dad, sitting in the front row. I love him very much.

 

This is my seventh conference. I live in the northern woods of Wisconsin. I do not attend church anymore because when I was in a church, and they gave me an ultimatum: Be in church or be gay. Since I couldn’t change who I am and had to be authentic, I left and will never set foot in there again. This is my one time per year to go to church.

 

The number one question I’ve asked everyone in one way or another is, am I good enough. I asked God if I was straight, would I be good enough?

 

This is my first conference. My son came out two years ago. For me, one of the most profound events of the conference happened a few hours ago. I’d lost my room key and was sitting on a couch in the hall near my room waiting for someone to come and let me into my room. From another room I overhead a most painful conversation as a girl came out to her mother over the phone. It took everything in me to not pound on the door and beg her to let me come and be her mother in that moment. But what was really needed was to come alongside her mother and help her through this. When my son came out, I found a support group with 150 moms, but every day more mothers are being added, and now there are 850 supportive moms. That’s why we wear these “Free Mom Hugs” buttons.

 

I’ve known I was gay from the time I was fourteen, but last year I ended up in a mental hospital after writing a suicide note and tying a noose around my neck in my closet. My past was so dark that I didn’t have any hope and was thinking what it would be like to end it all. Then I found the GCN, and it has really saved my life. I feel like taking off my shoes because we are standing on holy ground.

 

I grew up in a Pentecostal COGIC church and then headed off to Liberty University where I went through an exorcism and was sent to an ex-gay program. It was devastating. I finally did a Google search where I found the Gay Christian Network.

 

I graduated from an evangelical college a year and a half ago. While there I spent three years struggling with my faith because I had such a hard time believing that God loved me. Then I went on a mission trip, and that trip opened my mind to the power of God’s grace, so much so that I could believe God’s grace was enough to give me the courage to come out as who I am. But I didn’t feel safe at church anymore and stopped going. Then six months ago, I decided to go back because I knew there were people in church who felt like I did, and I can’t leave them there alone.

 

I’ve been hiding so long, even from myself. But this weekend I made the decision to come out as a lesbian to my family and my church.

 

I’m an Assembly of God pastor’s son and also an ex-gay survivor. That means I tried reparative therapy and it didn’t work, but I’m still alive. I had said I would never come out to my mom. But this is the first conference I’m returning to you finally as an out gay man, and I’m here with my mom’s full blessing. In fact, she would have been here herself, but she’s afraid to get on an airplane.

 

God has called me into the ministry, and I now serve as a United Methodist pastor. It’s a wonderful thing, and I love being a pastor. Unfortunately, my denomination is not affirming, so I’ve remained in the closet as I serve the three hundred people in my congregation every Sunday. I’m pretty sure most of them don’t know I’m gay. But in May, I’m going to walk down the aisle and marry the man I love. I haven’t told my church because I’m not fully ordained yet. I may lose my ministry, but the reason I’m sharing this is because God had reminded me why he wants me to be brave. I don’t know what is going to happen the rest of my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ordained, but I know God is here and God is with me, and that’s all I need.

 

I’m a lumberjack by trade. And last year my wife came with me to the conference. I thought everything was fine between us, but then she told me she wanted a divorce, and I had to realize that the mixed orientation marriage we’d had for thirty-three years was nothing but a house of cards. So about six months ago, I decided to come out to more people and to my church, and my biggest problem was to get them to believe me. Being a Paul-Bunyan-like man, it was easy to cover my gayness. But I’m out of the closet now, and I will speak with a strong voice in favor of all LGBT people. However, we’ve got to be sure we don’t take up the same mantle of hate our detractors have worn. Love will win out. Love won out at Calvary when they drove the nails into Jesus hands and he said, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

 

I come from a family of two pastors. So in my family it has always been either be a lesbian or a Christian. I didn’t even know you could be a gay Christian. My own mother told me to hide it. But yesterday one of the moms here at the conference came up to me in the hallway and said, “You look lost, can I help you?” Then she embraced me as I fell apart. God has given me hope, so much hope.

 

Shortly before last year’s conference I wrote a letter to my church in which I came out. For that I was excommunicated, but I returned to the church of my youth, which is also not a fully affirming church, but at least they don’t excommunicate people. And now some other gay couples have started coming along with some people who are allies. It’s amazing to me. If you are serving Christ, he is the boss, and not necessarily the church institution, and I don’t have to worry about what happens in the future. That’s his business.

 

My journey has been moments of trauma and moments of growth. But God is answering my prayers of twelve years ago to be there for the women who are now going through what I’ve gone through. I went to Liberty University where I struggled so hard to repress my lesbian orientation that I turned to alcohol. Then a pastor sexually abused me, and the people who found out were sure that the sexual abuse led to me being gay, but that’s not true. I was a closeted lesbian long before that. Their ideas were so confusing that I had to be away from the church for a while in order to discover God again. I thank him that I’m now seven years sober. I’ve finally finished my MSW and have a new job in an agency for women with substance abuse. I even disclosed my sexual orientation before I was hired, and they had no problem with that. It was revolutionary.

 

I was a worship leader in our church. But that ended when I came out. It’s been so long, I want to sing my heart out here with the others, but I end up choking back the tears a couple verses in.

 

I’m a former missionary and pastor’s kid. One day my parents asked me if I thought I was in love with my best friend, who happened to be a girl. I told them I didn’t know, but I thought so. My mother said she would rather have cancer than for me to be gay. Now I’m here with my beautiful girlfriend. One of the moms here told me to be patient with my parents because it takes time. I hope she’s right.

 

I was a music leader in my African American church. One day, even before I actually came out, one of the leaders pulled me to the side and said, “Sister, some people are predestined to walk the Christian life, but I don’t believe you are one of them.” I took her cue and got out of there and drifted away from my Christian faith. But coming here is like entering a room full of unicorns. You guys aren’t supposed to even exist—gay and Christian—but here you are. Maybe, maybe God hasn’t forgotten me.

 

For years I’ve been an evangelical pastor in a welcoming church. But I’ve come up here to say I’m sorry because we have not been kind. Three years ago God gave me an incredible gift when my seventeen-year-old shared with me that he is gay. It rocked my world. It changed my world, and since then I’ve been trying desperately to help my congregation live in the tension and listen to and treat people as people and not an issue. But religious people don’t like tension, and so unfortunately the day before I came here, I had to resign my pastorate. But you have been here and have surrounded me with love and support and encouragement. Thank you for that. I long for the day when the church is no longer welcoming but affirming and loving and inclusive.

 

I’m a pastor’s son, and when I let be know that I liked a boy, I had a major conflict with the church, so painful I could no longer pray in church. I left and ended up getting into drugs, renounced my faith, and joined anything that would accept me because I couldn’t accept myself. My parents confronted me and told me I was sick, my compass was broken, and I needed to see a counselor to get fixed. In fact, they sent me away. A few years later they realized I wasn’t going to change. But God used it for good, and a couple of months ago, I said, “Hey God.” And a couple of minutes ago, I said, “Hey Jesus.” And I know he accepted me even when I couldn’t accept myself.

 

What God has done for me here as a woman is give me a family of fifteen hundred people. And though I thought I’d lost my mom, now I might have hundreds.

 

I grew up in a very conservative home. My dad was the youth pastor in our church, and my mom was the children’s pastor. But I couldn’t fulfill their expectations for me. A little over a year ago I was in my room, crying myself to sleep. I was terrified that if I stopped fighting my natural orientation, I would lose my relationship with God. I was just so scared all the time. But last year at this conference, things began to change. I listened to the speakers, and my tears became tears of joy because I didn’t have to fear God was rejecting me. And every day since then God has shown me the happiness of trusting him. I came out to my family, and God has brought us closer together. My mom is even here with me this year. God has shown me that following him and being genuine can go together. I’ve never felt more loved by my family. I’ve never felt more loved by God.

 

For several years I was angry with myself for who I was and with God for abandoning me. But recently I’ve realized God hasn’t abandoned me, even when I was pushing him away. He’s still there for me.

 

Two years ago when I went home for Christmas, I had a conversation with my grandfather in which he told me he hated all gay people and if I was a lesbian, he hated me too. I haven’t seen him since, but last month he was rushed to the hospital, and a week later, he passed. I’ve been dealing with so much pain and guilt. In the workshop we had the other day, we were invited to pray and ask Jesus for what healing we needed. I thank God for providing this place of healing for so many people because it is so important.

 

I grew up in West Texas where it’s not easy being a gay Christian, so even though I knew I was gay, I put it on the shelf to deal with later. About five years ago when I was in my first year of seminary, I decided it was time to deal with my orientation. I thank God, his answer was the word grace. A week from now, I’ll be preaching in a church in California, and they will be voting on whether to make me their first gay pastor. So please pray for me.

 

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            Testimonies like these went on for two and a half hours. I’ve never been around so many gay people, let alone so many gay Christians. It was humbling to see how much they prized the safe place where their faith could be revived.

            Though the age of the conference attendees ranged from late teens to seniors, you may have noticed that many of those who shared sounded young, having just found a safe place after painful rejections by family, college, or church. The older folks seemed more settled, many having found lasting peace in the Lord and Christian fellowship in affirming churches. But there’s a reason the feelings of the young are so raw. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual youth are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide than their straight peers. [1] Those who reported high levels of family rejection during adolescence were 8.4 times more likely to have attempted suicide, 5.9 times more likely to report high levels of depression, 3.4 times more likely to use illegal drugs, and 3.4 times more likely to have engaged in unprotected sexual intercourse compared with peers from families with no or low levels of family rejection. [2] Each episode of LGBT victimization, such as physical or verbal harassment or abuse, increases the likelihood of self-harming behavior by 2.5 times on average. [3]

            Even though not every conference attendee was that wounded, far too many went through utter despair. These are our children, the children we’ve rejected, kicked out, or offered only conditional love.

            Something has to change!

            I’m reminded of what happened after the conversion of Cornelius and the other Gentiles with him in Acts 10.

 

The apostles and the believers throughout Judea heard that the Gentiles also had received the word of God. So when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized him and said, “You went into the house of uncircumcised men and ate with them.” Starting from the beginning, Peter told them the whole story (Acts 11:1-4).

 

            We need to tell the whole story. I join the many witnesses reporting that there are tens of thousands of gay believers who deserve our honor, respect, and full acceptance as brothers and sisters in Christ. No more rejection! No more fear! No more shame! No more conditional love! And while this host of believers is by no means confined to those who associate with the Gay Christian Network, that’s a good place to start if you wish to check them out for yourself. Of course, among them you will find wounded people who are barely hanging onto their faith by their fingernails. But many others are mature, faithful followers of Jesus who have recovered their spiritual equilibrium and are bold in their witness for Christ, evangelical in their faith, and filled with the Holy Spirit so that they can say with all sincerity that “Jesus is Lord” as Paul described in 1 Corinthians 12:3.

            Whatever their situation, they all need “cities of refuge,” and the tragedy is, they have not found that refuge in most of our churches and in most of our homes. Let’s turn that around, and as we used to say back in the day, “Extend the right hand of fellowship to these brothers and sisters.” For we know that, “In fact God has placed the parts of the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be.” And we must not say to any part, “I don’t need you!” (1 Corinthians 12:18, 21).