How My Gay Brothers and Sisters Bolster My Faith

by Ken McIntosh

My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”

I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.

My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.

As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).

So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.

I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”

I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.

I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.

And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.

Unity Within Diversity

Unity Within Diversity 1

by Amos Smith

Some authors, such as our very own John Dorhauer, have written about the colossal brush strokes of Church 1.0, 2.0, and 3.0.2 These are the Pre-reformation Church, The Post-reformation Church, and today’s Emergent Church.

Church 1.0 is the pre-reformation church with its primary authority vested in the hierarchy of the priesthood. Church 2.0 is the post-reformation church, with its rallying cry: “Solo Scriptura.” This was a radical shift of authority from clerical to scriptural! Church 2.0 believed that with the help of the Holy Spirit any baptized Christian had the authority to read and interpret scripture, not just institutional church authorities (1.0 and 2.0 Churches are alive and well today). Church 3.0 is what author Cameron Trimble and others say is emerging now. In this emerging Church scripture is not the end all, be all, as it is for Church 2.0. So, what will define Church 3.0?

I think the most authentic strains of Church 3.0 will rally around two words: Jesus and Justice. If I were persuaded to summarize the Hebrew Scriptures with one word I would say “Justice.” If I were swayed to summarize the New Testament with one word I would say “Jesus.” The words of the Hebrew Scriptures, above all else, point to Justice. The words of the New Testament, above all else, point to Jesus. These are the root words of Judeo-Christian Tradition. If the church loses these two words it has ceased to be the church and should call itself something else, perhaps Unitarian, perhaps Bahai.3

Some progressive churches know how to spell justice! They are missional churches through and through. And this is wonderful. This is the dream of church realized! Yet, many of these churches have sidelined Jesus or dispensed with Jesus all together. A prime example is a church I visited in Berkeley where I was told, “We don’t use the J word here. Too many people have been burned by it.” “Christ” is the root of the word “Christian.” So, this statement baffles me.

The other extreme are churches who know how to spell Jesus with precision and vigor. Yet, they have not caught on to justice. These churches are about a mere belief system. Yet, Christianity is not primarily a belief system! It is a life to be lived, an idea to be worked out, a task to be done! In other words, Christianity is about following Jesus onto the path of justice! These churches also tend to be insular and dying. A vital church cannot be about an exclusive theology of Jesus. For one thing, this is not true to the Gospel witness. For another, this prevents full-on engagement in justice missions outside church walls, which is the point of church from the beginning.

My book, Healing the Divide, addresses churches who emphasize Jesus to the exclusion of justice and vice versa. It outlines a theology of Jesus that is broad enough for Church 3.0 and for our postmodern world!

Just as the full faced portrait photo doesn’t contradict the profile photo, so to Jesus and Justice don’t contradict! Far from it! They complement one another!

People ask me, “What’s the essence to which the scriptures point?” People ask me, “What do you think the emergent church is all about?” When they do, I don’t hesitate. It’s about Jesus and Justice! Jesus is synonymous with spiritual healing, wholeness, and inclusive love! And justice is synonymous with communal fire in the belly, aliveness, and mission!

The prophetic legacy leading up to Jesus is the finger pointing to the moon and justice is the moon. We need both!

Jesus is the Church’s inclusive compassionate heart, which jumps off the pages of the Gospels. And justice is the church’s business. Both are essential for historical integrity and vitality!

Justice and Jesus are the two wings of the butterfly of emergent Christianity!

In Church 3.0 there will be numerous forms of justice work: social justice, economic justice, death penalty abolishment, racial justice, nonviolence witness, gender justice, LGBT justice, mental illness awareness, ecological justice, nuclear disarmament, immigrant justice, homeless justice, microloan justice, Palestinian justice, food justice, prison reform, et cetera.

Depending on the community, Church 3.0 will also emphasize numerous Jesuses. There will be the Roman Catholic Jesus (culled from Thomas Aquinas and Thomas Merton), the Eastern Orthodox Jesus (filtered for the West through Tolstoy and Dostoevsky), the Nonviolent Jesus (gleaned from The historic Peace Churches,4 Jesus’ Third Way, and French Philosopher, Renee Girard), the Jesus of the oppressed (from liberation theologians like James Cone and Gustavo Gutierrez) the liberal Protestant Jesus (from historical Jesus scholars like Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan), the neo-feminist Jesus (culled from Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza and the multitude of feminist theologians since), and the Jesus of the mystics (The Jesus Paradox/Miaphysite in Greek) as interpreted by the Alexandrian Elders and the Oriental Orthodox Church. And the list goes on…

My particular calling is to Jesus as interpreted by the Alexandrian Mystics and to the healing arts of Contemplative Christianity. Yet, I celebrate that Christianity is a vast body with many members (1 Corinthians 12:12-27). I celebrate all the different angles on Jesus and Justice! May the members of the body, in all their diversity, invest in the essential vision: Jesus and Justice!

The seventeenth century theologian Rupertus Meldenius once wrote in a tract: “In essentials unity, in non-essentials diversity, in all things charity.”

The essential rallying cry of Church 3.0: “Solo Christos et Jus!”

1 This essay is inspired by a sermon that United Church of Christ Pastor, Evette Flunder, gave at the General Synod of the United Church of Christ when it convened in Minneapolis in 2005.

2 See Dorhauer, John. Beyond Resistance: The Institutional Church Meets the Postmodern World, pg.38-43.

3 I have been influenced by the work of Family Systems theorists, Murray Bowen, Edwin Friedman, Roberta Gilbert, and Peter Steinke, who consistently affirm healthy boundaries. A healthy cell has a membrane that differentiates it from other cells. So too, healthy relationships, communities, and religious traditions have healthy boundaries (flexible and at times porous, not rigid), which differentiate them from one another. The Dali Lama has often said that the differences between religions are as important as the similarities. Healthy interfaith dialogue respects both.

4 The historic Peace Churches are the Mennonite, Brethren, and Quaker (FGC).

Amos Smith is the pastor at Church of the Painted Hills in Tucson, and author of  Healing The Divide: Recovering Christianity’s Mystic Roots.

Is It Time to Outgrow Magical Thinking in Regards to Prayer?

by Ken McIntosh

Shrine of St Andrew, Edinburgh, photo by Ken McIntosh
Shrine of St Andrew, Edinburgh, photo by Ken McIntosh

A few days ago I was chatting with one of my closest friends about the popularity of the movie War Room. That best-selling film tells the story of a woman who saves her marriage by prayer. My friend said “Isn’t that just magical thinking?” I agreed that it was—while reflecting that I don’t want to dismiss the idea of prayer and causality. Magical thinking is defined by Wikipedia as “the attribution of causal relationships between actions and events which seemingly cannot be justified by reason and observation.” Increasingly, I find that my relations– both within the church and without– question the traditional understanding of prayer as a means of influencing reality. I share some of their concerns. Yet this discussion prompted me to think a bit more about what prayer is, and why I still practice it in the form of intercession.

Before reading further, be assured that I do not presume to prescribe anyone’s belief or theology. I embrace the UCC ideal that we have no tests of faith—only testimonies. I enjoy reading others’ theological ruminations –testimonies if you will. Whether I agree with them or not, I am blessed by all who voice or write their thoughts about God. I hope my own feeble musings might prove helpful in
some way.

Concerns over the ways that prayer has been misunderstood and misused

As I said, I share concern over the ways that traditional theism has perhaps misunderstood or misused prayer. Most obviously, the same people who wax eloquent regarding prayer also tend to embrace bibliolatry, hyper-literalism, prejudice, and rejection of science. Prayer is tainted by association. And prayer can actually be harmful when it becomes an excuse for inaction: what good does
it do praying for the environment, or for refugees, or for peace, if one is unwilling to spend time and money influencing the political decisions that foster these ills? Furthermore, prayers often seem directed toward “the Big Man in the sky”—too easily pictured as Michelangelo’s white-haired patriarch on the Sistine Chapel, an entity separated from the physical world.

It’s often pointed out that prayer primarily changes the person praying—and perhaps that is its efficacy. This is certainly true in my own experience. I’ve been driven to my knees hearing about an injustice, or seeing an image of suffering. Before I can rise again, something drives home my need for involvement. This leads me to the local government office to testify before a hearing, to deliver food
and diapers to a family in need, or to stand in lines protesting. Prayer does change things—and often the thing it changes most powerfully is me. But does it perhaps do more? Can we still affirm, rationally, that “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of”? (quote from Alfred Lord Tennyson).

Prayer and the nature of God

A common belief among UCC folks is “God is still speaking.” That keeps us on the forefront of the struggle for justice, and keeps us relevant in a quickly-changing world. As I thought about prayer recently, I had the very simple thought: “It does little good if God is still speaking but not listening.” Our wonderful dedication to justice and freedom—from Amistad to marriage equality—has come from a
long tradition that God is on the side of the oppressed, a tradition that hearkens back to the Book of Exodus. That Exodus event, in turn, is empowered by a God who hears: “They cried out …God heard their cry of grief, and God remembered his covenant…God looked…and God understood” (Exodus 2:23-25). What happened when God heard? God called Moses—and liberation began.

In much the same way, God spoke reassuring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at a turning point in the struggle for civil rights. As Dr. Julius R. Scruggs tells it, “King references the time during the Montgomery bus boycott when the bigots threatened to kill him and blow up his home. He retreated to the kitchen and laid his soul bare before God, praying for strength and guidance, and God sustained him then and through his difficult and challenging pilgrimage.”

If the only way that God ‘answers’ prayer were by influencing men and women to respond to his call, that would still to an extent fall under the criticism of ‘magical’ thinking: there is a cause (the cries of humanity for redemption) and an event (God speaks in response to their cries). Yet this action of God calling champions for love is a critical part of the legacy of the United Church of Christ.

My own belief in causal prayer comes from my understanding of God’s nature. I am a panentheist. Not a pantheist (where all is God) but a pan-en-theist (where the whole of physical reality is in God). As described in Acts 17:28 “In God we live and move and exist.” This also goes hand-in-hand with a process view of the Divine nature; God cannot be extricated from the flow of evolving consciousness in the universe. This means that I am indeed a part of God; Spirit indwells every person (and creatures as well); yet God also transcends flesh and matter.

If God then connects all that is, how can I pray without connecting to forces outside of my own body? I don’t pray to “The Big Man in the sky”…I pray as a part of the vast interconnected Reality that includes myself and reaches beyond the sum of the physical cosmos. And if that is so, then our prayers do matter. It may be “magical thinking,” but it still fits within a rational understanding of the nature of God and reality.

Inspiring words by a great theologian

I conclude with words from the late Walter Wink, who taught at Auburn seminary. In his book “The Powers that Be” he says:

“When we pray, we are not sending a letter to a celestial White House…rather, it is an act of co-creation, in which one little sector of the universe rises up and becomes translucent, incandescent, a vibratory center of power that radiates the power of the universe. History belongs to the intercessors, who believe the future into being.”

So, as we work together for the Beloved Community…let us pray.

Kenneth McIntosh serves as Church Growth and Renewal Coordinator for Southwest Conference and also as pastor of First Congregational Church in Flagstaff, Arizona. He has his M.Div from Fuller Seminary and has been in pastoral ministry for over twenty years in four different denominations. He is passionate about spiritual practices, justice and Earth care. Ken is author of several popular books on Celtic Christian spirituality and a facilitator for Forest Church. He lives with his wife Marsha in Flagstaff and enjoys hiking, traveling and reading on a wide variety of topics.