It happened again last week. I was hanging out with a straight Christian friend—not a good friend, but a new friend—and he brought up “the issue” of same-sex sexuality. He had lots to say about it, which is fine, though I’m sometimes surprised at the passion some straight Christian folks have about non-straight people without passion for non-straight people.
Anyway.
I listened attentively for a while, but when he took a long breath, I gently interrupted him.
“So hey, you know I’m gay, right?”
Before he even got his next words out, I knew what was coming. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, waved his hands back and forth like he was erasing the last ten minutes, and said, “You know, Steve, I don’t care.”
Look, let’s cut my straight dude some slack. Here’s what I think he meant:
“This doesn’t change how I think or feel about you, Steve. I’m not judgy, and you being gay is just SO OKAY with me. I want to assure you that, as a tolerant person, I still love you. [I might write a future blog post on why those three words hurt.] We are still totally gonna be friends. Hang in there, pal, and we’ll get through this together somehow—I just know it.”
But when someone says “I don’t care” in the vulnerable moment just after I come out to them, what I hear is more like this:
“Your being gay doesn’t matter that much, Steve. Actually, your experience is so miniscule that hearing you’re gay really means nothing to me. And since your sexuality means so precious little in my sight, let’s just forget this awkward ordeal ever happened and talk about something else super quick . . . Cool?”
And that just plain hurts.
Elie Wiesel famously said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”1U.S. News and World Report October 27, 1986 I feel that. Most days, as long as people’s hatred doesn’t get violent, I’d rather be hated than dismissed.
On my best days, I would’ve responded to my straight Christian friend based on what I think he meant, instead of reacting to his words or what I heard in those words. But this wasn’t my best day.
“Well,” I said, “I actually do care. Like, a lot. Because this is my story, and I live it every day.”
Then our conversation got a whole lot better.
Jesus had a great conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4. Remember her? Now imagine how that conversation would’ve gone in an alternate reality where Jesus didn’t care about her sexuality:
“Uh, Jesus,” she would say, looking down at her sandals and biting her lower lip, “the thing about my living situation is . . . I’ve had these five husbands, and right now, well, I’m sleeping with a guy I’m not even married to.”
Jesus would then set his water bottle down, lean back, close his eyes, try to erase her words by waving them away, and reply, “I don’t care.”
But of course, that’s nowhere close to how the conversation went. And it’s not the Gospel, either. Jesus brought up her story even before she did:
“. . . you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.” (John 4:18 NIV)
And after that, wowsers! Their conversation got a whole lot better.
Jesus cared about her sexuality and her sexual ethic.
Jesus cared about her orientation (let’s just assume she was straight).
Jesus cared about her Samaritan ethnicity.
Jesus cared about her gender experience as a woman in the first century.
Jesus cared about her whole story. All of it. Nothing left out, nothing erased.
And isn’t that what Jesus does? He super cares about our stories. About all of who we are, all of the time. Everything about us, orientations included.
He wants it ALL:
“For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.” (Mark 8:35)
Jesus cares so much about your whole story that he brought his whole Story to you:
He came for you, lived for you, died for you, rose for you, ascended for you, sent his Holy Spirit to be with you, birthed his holy-but-messy Church to journey with you, and one day he’s returning for you.
Jesus cares so much that he wants your whole story in his Story. And nothing—absolutely nothing—in your story can keep you out of his Story.
References
- 1U.S. News and World Report October 27, 1986
