It’s been a few months since I’ve posted. At first, the silence began because of the
demands of balancing school, work, and just everyday life. I also realized that I was at a point in my
story where I realized that I was going to have to choose whether or not to
vilify those voices from my old church that told me that I could change my
sexuality. My other option would be to
gloss over the whole thing and try to avoid pointing fingers at all. Neither of those extremes sat well with me in
my heart. I neither see those
individuals as villains, nor do I see them as being completely without
responsibility for the messages that they put out into the world.
Over the past few months, I have wrestled with this issue of
how to depict these people who were (and, to be honest, are) so very dear to
me. I also realize now, through the
amazing gift of hindsight, that, sometimes, in order to find your voice, the
most important thing you can do is shut up.
One thing that happened over the course of the past few months is that I
re-encountered the voice of another that those from my conservative evangelical
days would also have labeled a “wayward soul” or a “prodigal” just as they
would me, Jennifer Knapp.
Jennifer Knapp was a contemporary Christian music artist who
was just rising to fame as I was taking my first steps into the evangelical
world. Early in her career, she came to
Zanesville, my hometown, and did a show.
I actually worked her merch table at that show. I have never really heard about her before
that, but there was so much that was new being thrust at me then. Some friends who arranged for me to work her
table so that I could get into the concert for free assured me that she was
going to be a bright star in the contemporary Christian world, and she was. Then, at the very pinnacle of her career, as
suddenly as she had arrived on the scene, she was gone.
Years later, she would emerge from seclusion, with her faith
intact, and reveal that she was a lesbian.
Of course, many of her previous fans and supporters deserted her. I re-discovered her voice through her new
memoir, Facing The Music. Reading her
book was very cathartic to me. We were
both part of this massive contemporary Christian world. Of course, we occupied very different levels
of it, but many of the experiences were very similar. There were many times I had to pause while
reading it because something experience of phrase that she shared very well
could have come from my own lips.
It was in Jennifer’s treatment of those who chose not to support
her decision to be herself that I found the most profound and endearing. Of course her initial feelings toward them
were of anger and of defensiveness, but, ultimately, she could only feel pity
for them. That resonated with me. When I walked away from conservative
Christianity, I walked away from, what felt like at the time, was
everything. That church had become far
more than a place of worship to me.
Everything I did socially, I did with people from that church. If I needed to order flowers, there was a
florist who went to the church. If I had
a banking need, I went and saw someone at a local bank who attended the
church. My hair was cut by someone from
the church. Had I ever had a need arise
to build a home, there were general contractors at the church. There were people to support my business and
investing needs. In retrospect, it all
seems very closed and unhealthy, but, at the time, these people, this church
family, were my everything.
Pastor Rob and his family were like a family to me. In fact, to this day, the holiday season is
still difficult for me at times because so many of holiday traditions during my
13 years at New Promise were tied in with theirs. I would have my time with my family each
holiday, and, then, I would leave, and go to their house to celebrate with
them. It wasn’t until years after I left
that my own therapist would point out to me the unresolved feelings of loss and
grief that I still carry from having left that community. I have done some work on working through
that, but, to a certain extent, I want to continue to be aware of that sense of
loss. On the other hand, now that I have
separated from them, it has given me a much greater appreciation for my own
family, and I regret having neglected those relationships as much as I did
during the New Promise years.
Still, it is my hope and desire that anyone reading the
words that appear on this blog know that it is not my intent or desire to paint
anyone as a victim. The folks at New
Promise did not seek me out, and they did not come into the closet looking for
me. I went to them, and I asked them to
help me shed a part of myself that, at the time, I did not want. In many ways, my journey with them was
self-chosen and self-directed. I think
that is one of the primary reasons that I do not feel a great deal of
bitterness towards them or towards my time there. I know that their actions and words towards
me were out of nothing other than a desire to help me when I asked for it and
to show me love in the only way that they know how.
Now, about 5 years after my departure from New Promise, I do
not feel that I walked away to find myself with an inferior experience of
Christianity, of God, or of human spirituality.
If anything, I have been able to open myself up to love in ways that I never
would have felt the freedom to do so before.
I pray, someday, that those who I left behind will be able to give
themselves permission to do the same. My
experiences have only introduced me to a God that is much bigger, wider, and
more open than I ever could have conceived of during those years at New
Promise.
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