Saturday
I'm A Christian, Unless Youre Gay
This was on a blog by Dan Pierce that I also saw from a humble high school student from my home town... I really liked it and wanted to share it.
Today I want to write about something that has bothered me for the better part of a decade. I’ve carved out no fewer than a dozen drafts of this post, all strangely unalike, all ultimately failing to accomplish the job I’ve set out to do. Truth is, I’ve been trying to write it off and on for more than a year now, and the right words have been seemingly impossible to come by.
In the end, and in order to post it, I guess I had to care more about the message than I do about potential backlash. I’m not being facetious when I say that I hope I can get this message across without offending… well… everybody.
What I really hope is that this post will spark and encourage poignant and worthwhile discussion that will lead to some poignant and worthwhile changes in the lives of at least a few people who are hurting.
That being said, I believe some strong words need to be said today.
“God hates fags.” We’ve all seen the signs being waved high in the air by members of the Westboro Baptist church. On TV. In real life. It’s hard not to take notice.
Over the years, I’ve watched seemingly never-ending disgustingness and hatred spill across the media airwaves from those who belong to the organization. For those who don’t know much about that “church,” they have made a seedy name for themselves by doing drastic things like picketing beneath atrocious signs and hosting flagrant anti-gay protests at military funerals.
Almost every person of nearly every religion has no problem loathing and condemning the Westboro Baptist Church and its members, and perhaps with reason. They take freedom of speech far beyond what our founding fathers intended when they fought to give us that right, and they laugh at the rest of the world while they do.
But today I don’t want to talk about those idiots. I want to talk about you. And me.
And my friend who I’ll call Jacob.
Jacob is 27 years old, and guess what… he’s gay.
Not a lot of people know. He lives in a community where being gay is still very “frowned upon.”
I was talking to him on the phone a few weeks ago, telling him about my failed attempts to write this post. He was trying to hold his emotions in, but he eventually became tearful as we deliberated the very problem that this post attempts to discuss.
Before I go on, I feel I must say something one time. Today’s post is not about homosexuality. It’s not about Christians. It’s not about religion. It’s not about politics. It’s about something else altogether. Something greater. Something simpler.
It’s about love.
It’s about kindness.
It’s about friendship
And love, kindness, and friendship are three things that Jacob hasn’t felt in a long time.
I’m thankful he gave me permission to share our conversation with you. It went something like this.
“Jacob, I honestly don’t know how to write it,” I said. “I know what I want to get across, but I can never find the right words.”
“Dan, you need to write it. Don’t give up. I’m telling you, it needs to be said.”
I paused. “You don’t understand. It’s too heated a subject. It’s something people are very emotional and touchy about. I’d be lynched.”
My friend hesitated. “Dan, you are the only friend I have that knows I’m gay. The only freaking one,” he said.
“What do you mean? I know you’ve told other friends.”
That’s when his voice cracked. He began crying.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear. They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone,” he said. “They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything.
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t.”
How do you respond to that?
I wanted to tell him it was all in his head. I knew it wasn’t. I wanted to tell him it would get better and easier. The words would have been hollow and without conviction, and I knew it.
You see, I live in this community too. And I’ve heard the hate. I’ve heard the disgust. I’ve heard the disdain. I’ve heard the gossip. I’ve heard the distrust. I’ve heard the anger. I’ve heard it all, and I’ve heard it tucked and disguised neatly beneath a wrapper of self-righteousness and a blanket of “caring” or “religious” words. I’ve heard it more times than I care to number.
About gay people.
About people who dress differently.
About people who act differently.
About fat people.
About people with drug addictions.
About people who smoke.
About people with addictions to alcohol.
About people with eating disorders.
About people who fall away from their faiths.
About people who aren’t members of the dominant local religion.
About people who have non-traditional piercings.
About people who just look at you or me the wrong way.
I’ve heard it, and I’ve heard it over, and over, and over again.
Hell, in the past (and to some degree in the present) I participated in it. I propagated it. I smugly took part in it. I’ll admit that.
And I did so under the blanketing term “Christian.” I did so believing that my actions were somehow justified because of my beliefs at the time. I did so, actually believing that such appointments were done out of… love.
This isn’t just a Utah phenomenon. I’ve lived outside of this place. I’ve worked outside of this place. It was just as bad in Denver. It was just as bad in California. I see it on blogs. I hear it on television shows and radio programs. I hear it around my own family’s dinner table from time to time. Usually said so passively, so sneakily, and so “righteously.”
From Christians.
From Buddhists.
From Hindus.
From Muslims.
From Jews.
“God hates fags.” “God hates addicts.” “God hates people who shop at Salvation Army.” “God hates people that aren’t just like me.”
People may not be holding up picket signs and marching around in front of television cameras but… come on. Why is it that so many incredible people who have certain struggles, problems, or their own beliefs of what is right and wrong feel so hated? Why do they feel so judged? Why do they feel so… loathed? What undeniable truth must we all eventually admit to ourselves when such is the case?
Now, I’m not religious. I’m also not gay. But I’ll tell you right now that I’ve sought out religion. I’ve looked for what I believe truth to be. For years I studied, trying to find “it”. Every major religion had good selling points. Every major religion, if I rewound far enough, had some pretty incredible base teachings from some pretty incredible individuals.
Check this out, and feel free to correct me if I get this wrong…
According to Christians, Jesus taught a couple of interesting things. First, “love one another.” Second, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” (“Her” being a woman who cheated on her man.)
According to Buddhists, Buddha taught a couple of thought-provoking things. First, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” Second, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”
According to Hindus, a couple of fascinating teachings come to mind. First, “Do not get angry or harm any living creature, but be compassionate and gentle; show good will to all.” (Krishna) Second, “Love means giving selflessly, excluding none and including all.” (Rama)
According to Muslims, Muhammad taught a couple interesting things as well. First, “A true Muslim is the one who does not defame or abuse others; but the truly righteous becomes a refuge for humankind, their lives and their properties.” Second, “Do you love your creator? Love your fellow-beings first.”
According to Judaism, their scriptures teach a couple remarkable things. First, “Love your neighbor like yourself.” Second, “Examine the contents, not the bottle.”
The greatest spiritual leaders in history have all preached love for others as the basis for all happiness, and never did they accompany such mandates with a list of unlovable actions or deeds. They never said, love everybody except for the gays. Love everybody except for the homeless. Love everybody except for the drug users. Love everybody except for the gang members, or those covered in ink, or the spouse abusers. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody with the exception of the “trailer trash,” those living in poverty, or the illegal immigrants. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody except for our ex-lovers, our lovers’ ex lovers, or our ex-lovers’ lovers. The mandate was pretty damn clear, wasn’t it?
Love others.
Period.
So if this is the founding directive of all the major religions… why is it that sometimes the most “Christlike” people are they who have no religion at all?
Let me repeat that.
Why is it that sometimes the most Christlike people are they who have no religion at all?
I have known a lot of people in my life, and I can tell you this… Some of the ones who understood love better than anyone else were those who the rest of the world had long before measured as lost or gone. Some of the people who were able to look at the dirtiest, the poorest, the gays, the straights, the drug users, those in recovery, the basest of sinners, and those who were just… plain… different…
They were able to look at them all and only see strength. Beauty. Potential. Hope.
And if we boil it down, isn’t that what love actually is?
Don’t get me wrong. I know a lot of incredible Christians, too. I know some incredible Buddhists and Muslims and Hindus and Jews. I know a lot of amazing people, devout in their various religions, who truly love the people around them.
I also know some atheist, agnostic, or religionless people who are absolutely hateful of believers. They loathe their religious counterparts. They love only those who believe (or don’t believe) the same things they do.
In truth, having a religion doesn’t make a person love or not love others. It doesn’t make a person accept or not accept others. It doesn’t make a person befriend or not befriend others.
Being without a religion doesn’t make somebody do or be any of that either.
No, what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be better than others.
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does that have to do with love?
I repeat… what does that have to do with love?
Come on. Don’t we understand? Don’t we get it? To put our arm around someone who is gay, someone who has an addiction, somebody who lives a different lifestyle, someone who is not what we think they should be… doing that has nothing to do with enabling them or accepting what they do as okay by us. It has nothing to do with encouraging them in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs right.
It has everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that so hard?
I’m not here to say homosexuality is a sin or isn’t a sin. To be honest, I don’t give a rip. I don’t care. I’m not here to debate whether or not it’s natural or genetic. Again, I… don’t… care. Those debates hold no encumbrance for me.
What I care about is the need so many of us have to shun and loathe others. The need so many of us have to feel better or superior to others. The need some of us have to declare ourselves right and “perfect” all the freaking time and any chance we have.
And for some of us, these are very real needs.
But I will tell you this. All it really is… All any of it really is… is bullying.
Sneaky, hurtful, duplicitous, bullying.
Well, guess what.
There are things we all do or believe that other people consider “sinful.” There are things we all do or believe that other people consider “wrong.” There are things we all do or believe that other people would be disgusted or angered by.
“Yes, but I have the truth!” most people will adamantly declare.
Okay.
Whether you do or not…
I promise you it doesn’t matter what you believe, how strongly you live your beliefs, or how true your beliefs are. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks you are in the wrong. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks your beliefs are senseless or illogical. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks you have it all wrong. In fact, there are a lot of people in this world who do.
We each understand that. We already know that. It’s the world we live in and we’re not naïve. We’re not stupid. We get it.
Yet, we expect and want love anyway. We expect and want understanding. We expect and want tolerance. We expect and want humanity. We expect and want respect for our beliefs, even from those who don’t believe the same things we do. Even from those who think we’re wrong, unwise, or incorrect.
We expect all of that from the people who disagree with us and who disagree with our lifestyles and beliefs because, let’s be honest, nothing we do is actually bad enough to be worthy of disgust, anger, hatred, or cold-shouldering. Right? None of the ways in which we live our lives would warrant such behavior. Right? None of our beliefs are worthy of ugly disdain from others.
Right?
No, we’re all… perfect. Freaking, amazingly, impossibly… perfect.
But the gays… well, shoot.
[sigh]
You know what I think?
Let this sink in for a minute…
I think it doesn’t matter if you or I or anybody else thinks homosexuality is a sin. It doesn’t matter if you or I think anything is a sin. It doesn’t matter if homosexuality is a sin or not. In fact, it doesn’t matter if anything anybody else does is a sin or not.
Because sin is a very personal thing! It always has been and it always will be!
And it has nothing to do with love.
Absolutely nothing.
Disparity and difference have nothing to do with love.
We shouldn’t choose who we will love and who we won’t.
“I’m Christian, unless you’re gay.”
That’s the message we’re sending, you know.
“I’m Christian, unless I’m hotter than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I’m uglier than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I found out you cheated on your income taxes.”
“I’m Christian, unless you cut me off in traffic.”
“I’m Christian, unless you fall in love with the person I once fell in love with.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re that guy who smells like crap on the subway.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re of a different religion.”
“Oh, but you’re not gay? You’re clean, and well dressed, and you have a job? You look the way I think you should look? You act the way I think you should act? You believe the things I think you should believe? Then I’m definitely a Christian. To you, today, I’m a Christian. You’ve earned it.”
I bet you’ve heard that message coming from others. Maybe you’ve given that message to others.
Either way, I hope we all can agree that we mustn’t live that message. We just shouldn’t.
But many of us do.
And we do it all the time.
For some of us, it might as well be tattooed across our necks and foreheads.
Maybe not in those words, but the message is clear to those who hear and are listening. It’s clear to those who are watching and seeing.
The message has been very clear to my friend Jacob.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear. They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone. They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t.”
Jacob is a dear friend. He’s my brother. He’s a damn good human being. He’s absolutely incredible.
He’s also gay.
But why does that make any difference at all?
It doesn’t. Not to me.
And I wish with everything inside of me that it didn’t make any difference to others. I wish we didn’t all have to find ways that we’re better than others or more holy and saintly than others in order to feel better about our own messy selves. I wish people wouldn’t cluster entire groups of people together and declare the whole lot unworthy of any love and respect.
But that is the point of such thinking and action, isn’t it? I mean, it’s simpler that way. It makes it easier for us to justify our thoughts, words, and prejudices that way.
All these people become clumped together. And in the process, they all somehow become less than human.
They become unworthy of our love.
And what a great thing it is when that happens, right? I mean, it helps us to free ourselves from the very directives that have been passed down for millennia from the greatest teachers and philosophers in history. It makes our rationalization for hatred, bigotry, and abhorrence so easily justifiable; so maskable.
So right.
It gives us the golden chance to look at ourselves and not be disgusted by what the glass reflects back at us.
Then, sadly and ultimately, it pushes us to that point where we no longer have any sort of arm to put around others at all. We no longer have a hand to offer our fellow human beings. We no longer have a need to.
And why would we?
Why the hell should we?
Unless, of course, we actually want to live what we all so often claim that we “believe.”
My dear friends…
This has to stop. We have to put our ugly picket signs down. We have to be the examples that help make it happen in our own lives and in the lives of the people that surround us.
We have to be that voice. We each must be that voice.
We must tell others that we will not accept or listen to such hurtful and hateful sentiments.
We must show love where love right now doesn’t exist.
Will you please join me?
My request today is simple. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Find somebody, anybody, that’s different than you. Somebody that has made you feel ill-will or even [gulp...] hateful. Somebody whose life decisions have made you uncomfortable. Somebody who practices a different religion than you do. Somebody who has been lost to addiction. Somebody with a criminal past. Somebody who dresses “below” you. Somebody with disabilities. Somebody who lives an alternative lifestyle. Somebody without a home.
Somebody that you, until now, would always avoid, always look down on, and always be disgusted by.
Reach your arm out and put it around them.
And then, tell them they’re all right. Tell them they have a friend. Tell them you love them.
If you or I wanna make a change in this world, that’s where we’re gonna be able to do it. That’s where we’ll start.
Every. Single. Time.
Because what you’ll find, and I promise you this, is that the more you put your arm around those that you might naturally look down on, the more you will love yourself. And the more you love yourself, the less need you’ll ever have to find fault or be better than others. And the less we all find fault or have a need to be better than others, the quicker this world becomes a far better place to live.
And don’t we all want to live in a better world? Don’t we all want our kids to grow up in a better, less hateful, more beautiful world?
I know I do.
So let’s be that voice. Let’s offer that arm to others. Because, the honest truth is… there’s gonna come a day when you or I are going to need that same courtesy. There’s going to come a day that we are desperate for that same arm to be put around us. We’ll be desperate for that same friendship. We’ll be desperate for that same love.
Life will make sure of it. For you. For me. For everyone.
It always does because… as it turns out… there’s not a damn person on earth who’s perfect.
Today I want to write about something that has bothered me for the better part of a decade. I’ve carved out no fewer than a dozen drafts of this post, all strangely unalike, all ultimately failing to accomplish the job I’ve set out to do. Truth is, I’ve been trying to write it off and on for more than a year now, and the right words have been seemingly impossible to come by.
In the end, and in order to post it, I guess I had to care more about the message than I do about potential backlash. I’m not being facetious when I say that I hope I can get this message across without offending… well… everybody.
What I really hope is that this post will spark and encourage poignant and worthwhile discussion that will lead to some poignant and worthwhile changes in the lives of at least a few people who are hurting.
That being said, I believe some strong words need to be said today.
“God hates fags.” We’ve all seen the signs being waved high in the air by members of the Westboro Baptist church. On TV. In real life. It’s hard not to take notice.
Over the years, I’ve watched seemingly never-ending disgustingness and hatred spill across the media airwaves from those who belong to the organization. For those who don’t know much about that “church,” they have made a seedy name for themselves by doing drastic things like picketing beneath atrocious signs and hosting flagrant anti-gay protests at military funerals.
Almost every person of nearly every religion has no problem loathing and condemning the Westboro Baptist Church and its members, and perhaps with reason. They take freedom of speech far beyond what our founding fathers intended when they fought to give us that right, and they laugh at the rest of the world while they do.
But today I don’t want to talk about those idiots. I want to talk about you. And me.
And my friend who I’ll call Jacob.
Jacob is 27 years old, and guess what… he’s gay.
Not a lot of people know. He lives in a community where being gay is still very “frowned upon.”
I was talking to him on the phone a few weeks ago, telling him about my failed attempts to write this post. He was trying to hold his emotions in, but he eventually became tearful as we deliberated the very problem that this post attempts to discuss.
Before I go on, I feel I must say something one time. Today’s post is not about homosexuality. It’s not about Christians. It’s not about religion. It’s not about politics. It’s about something else altogether. Something greater. Something simpler.
It’s about love.
It’s about kindness.
It’s about friendship
And love, kindness, and friendship are three things that Jacob hasn’t felt in a long time.
I’m thankful he gave me permission to share our conversation with you. It went something like this.
“Jacob, I honestly don’t know how to write it,” I said. “I know what I want to get across, but I can never find the right words.”
“Dan, you need to write it. Don’t give up. I’m telling you, it needs to be said.”
I paused. “You don’t understand. It’s too heated a subject. It’s something people are very emotional and touchy about. I’d be lynched.”
My friend hesitated. “Dan, you are the only friend I have that knows I’m gay. The only freaking one,” he said.
“What do you mean? I know you’ve told other friends.”
That’s when his voice cracked. He began crying.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear. They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone,” he said. “They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything.
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t.”
How do you respond to that?
I wanted to tell him it was all in his head. I knew it wasn’t. I wanted to tell him it would get better and easier. The words would have been hollow and without conviction, and I knew it.
You see, I live in this community too. And I’ve heard the hate. I’ve heard the disgust. I’ve heard the disdain. I’ve heard the gossip. I’ve heard the distrust. I’ve heard the anger. I’ve heard it all, and I’ve heard it tucked and disguised neatly beneath a wrapper of self-righteousness and a blanket of “caring” or “religious” words. I’ve heard it more times than I care to number.
About gay people.
About people who dress differently.
About people who act differently.
About fat people.
About people with drug addictions.
About people who smoke.
About people with addictions to alcohol.
About people with eating disorders.
About people who fall away from their faiths.
About people who aren’t members of the dominant local religion.
About people who have non-traditional piercings.
About people who just look at you or me the wrong way.
I’ve heard it, and I’ve heard it over, and over, and over again.
Hell, in the past (and to some degree in the present) I participated in it. I propagated it. I smugly took part in it. I’ll admit that.
And I did so under the blanketing term “Christian.” I did so believing that my actions were somehow justified because of my beliefs at the time. I did so, actually believing that such appointments were done out of… love.
This isn’t just a Utah phenomenon. I’ve lived outside of this place. I’ve worked outside of this place. It was just as bad in Denver. It was just as bad in California. I see it on blogs. I hear it on television shows and radio programs. I hear it around my own family’s dinner table from time to time. Usually said so passively, so sneakily, and so “righteously.”
From Christians.
From Buddhists.
From Hindus.
From Muslims.
From Jews.
“God hates fags.” “God hates addicts.” “God hates people who shop at Salvation Army.” “God hates people that aren’t just like me.”
People may not be holding up picket signs and marching around in front of television cameras but… come on. Why is it that so many incredible people who have certain struggles, problems, or their own beliefs of what is right and wrong feel so hated? Why do they feel so judged? Why do they feel so… loathed? What undeniable truth must we all eventually admit to ourselves when such is the case?
Now, I’m not religious. I’m also not gay. But I’ll tell you right now that I’ve sought out religion. I’ve looked for what I believe truth to be. For years I studied, trying to find “it”. Every major religion had good selling points. Every major religion, if I rewound far enough, had some pretty incredible base teachings from some pretty incredible individuals.
Check this out, and feel free to correct me if I get this wrong…
According to Christians, Jesus taught a couple of interesting things. First, “love one another.” Second, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” (“Her” being a woman who cheated on her man.)
According to Buddhists, Buddha taught a couple of thought-provoking things. First, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” Second, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”
According to Hindus, a couple of fascinating teachings come to mind. First, “Do not get angry or harm any living creature, but be compassionate and gentle; show good will to all.” (Krishna) Second, “Love means giving selflessly, excluding none and including all.” (Rama)
According to Muslims, Muhammad taught a couple interesting things as well. First, “A true Muslim is the one who does not defame or abuse others; but the truly righteous becomes a refuge for humankind, their lives and their properties.” Second, “Do you love your creator? Love your fellow-beings first.”
According to Judaism, their scriptures teach a couple remarkable things. First, “Love your neighbor like yourself.” Second, “Examine the contents, not the bottle.”
The greatest spiritual leaders in history have all preached love for others as the basis for all happiness, and never did they accompany such mandates with a list of unlovable actions or deeds. They never said, love everybody except for the gays. Love everybody except for the homeless. Love everybody except for the drug users. Love everybody except for the gang members, or those covered in ink, or the spouse abusers. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody with the exception of the “trailer trash,” those living in poverty, or the illegal immigrants. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody except for our ex-lovers, our lovers’ ex lovers, or our ex-lovers’ lovers. The mandate was pretty damn clear, wasn’t it?
Love others.
Period.
So if this is the founding directive of all the major religions… why is it that sometimes the most “Christlike” people are they who have no religion at all?
Let me repeat that.
Why is it that sometimes the most Christlike people are they who have no religion at all?
I have known a lot of people in my life, and I can tell you this… Some of the ones who understood love better than anyone else were those who the rest of the world had long before measured as lost or gone. Some of the people who were able to look at the dirtiest, the poorest, the gays, the straights, the drug users, those in recovery, the basest of sinners, and those who were just… plain… different…
They were able to look at them all and only see strength. Beauty. Potential. Hope.
And if we boil it down, isn’t that what love actually is?
Don’t get me wrong. I know a lot of incredible Christians, too. I know some incredible Buddhists and Muslims and Hindus and Jews. I know a lot of amazing people, devout in their various religions, who truly love the people around them.
I also know some atheist, agnostic, or religionless people who are absolutely hateful of believers. They loathe their religious counterparts. They love only those who believe (or don’t believe) the same things they do.
In truth, having a religion doesn’t make a person love or not love others. It doesn’t make a person accept or not accept others. It doesn’t make a person befriend or not befriend others.
Being without a religion doesn’t make somebody do or be any of that either.
No, what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be better than others.
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does that have to do with love?
I repeat… what does that have to do with love?
Come on. Don’t we understand? Don’t we get it? To put our arm around someone who is gay, someone who has an addiction, somebody who lives a different lifestyle, someone who is not what we think they should be… doing that has nothing to do with enabling them or accepting what they do as okay by us. It has nothing to do with encouraging them in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs right.
It has everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that so hard?
I’m not here to say homosexuality is a sin or isn’t a sin. To be honest, I don’t give a rip. I don’t care. I’m not here to debate whether or not it’s natural or genetic. Again, I… don’t… care. Those debates hold no encumbrance for me.
What I care about is the need so many of us have to shun and loathe others. The need so many of us have to feel better or superior to others. The need some of us have to declare ourselves right and “perfect” all the freaking time and any chance we have.
And for some of us, these are very real needs.
But I will tell you this. All it really is… All any of it really is… is bullying.
Sneaky, hurtful, duplicitous, bullying.
Well, guess what.
There are things we all do or believe that other people consider “sinful.” There are things we all do or believe that other people consider “wrong.” There are things we all do or believe that other people would be disgusted or angered by.
“Yes, but I have the truth!” most people will adamantly declare.
Okay.
Whether you do or not…
I promise you it doesn’t matter what you believe, how strongly you live your beliefs, or how true your beliefs are. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks you are in the wrong. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks your beliefs are senseless or illogical. Somebody else, somewhere, thinks you have it all wrong. In fact, there are a lot of people in this world who do.
We each understand that. We already know that. It’s the world we live in and we’re not naïve. We’re not stupid. We get it.
Yet, we expect and want love anyway. We expect and want understanding. We expect and want tolerance. We expect and want humanity. We expect and want respect for our beliefs, even from those who don’t believe the same things we do. Even from those who think we’re wrong, unwise, or incorrect.
We expect all of that from the people who disagree with us and who disagree with our lifestyles and beliefs because, let’s be honest, nothing we do is actually bad enough to be worthy of disgust, anger, hatred, or cold-shouldering. Right? None of the ways in which we live our lives would warrant such behavior. Right? None of our beliefs are worthy of ugly disdain from others.
Right?
No, we’re all… perfect. Freaking, amazingly, impossibly… perfect.
But the gays… well, shoot.
[sigh]
You know what I think?
Let this sink in for a minute…
I think it doesn’t matter if you or I or anybody else thinks homosexuality is a sin. It doesn’t matter if you or I think anything is a sin. It doesn’t matter if homosexuality is a sin or not. In fact, it doesn’t matter if anything anybody else does is a sin or not.
Because sin is a very personal thing! It always has been and it always will be!
And it has nothing to do with love.
Absolutely nothing.
Disparity and difference have nothing to do with love.
We shouldn’t choose who we will love and who we won’t.
“I’m Christian, unless you’re gay.”
That’s the message we’re sending, you know.
“I’m Christian, unless I’m hotter than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I’m uglier than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I found out you cheated on your income taxes.”
“I’m Christian, unless you cut me off in traffic.”
“I’m Christian, unless you fall in love with the person I once fell in love with.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re that guy who smells like crap on the subway.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re of a different religion.”
“Oh, but you’re not gay? You’re clean, and well dressed, and you have a job? You look the way I think you should look? You act the way I think you should act? You believe the things I think you should believe? Then I’m definitely a Christian. To you, today, I’m a Christian. You’ve earned it.”
I bet you’ve heard that message coming from others. Maybe you’ve given that message to others.
Either way, I hope we all can agree that we mustn’t live that message. We just shouldn’t.
But many of us do.
And we do it all the time.
For some of us, it might as well be tattooed across our necks and foreheads.
Maybe not in those words, but the message is clear to those who hear and are listening. It’s clear to those who are watching and seeing.
The message has been very clear to my friend Jacob.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear. They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone. They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t.”
Jacob is a dear friend. He’s my brother. He’s a damn good human being. He’s absolutely incredible.
He’s also gay.
But why does that make any difference at all?
It doesn’t. Not to me.
And I wish with everything inside of me that it didn’t make any difference to others. I wish we didn’t all have to find ways that we’re better than others or more holy and saintly than others in order to feel better about our own messy selves. I wish people wouldn’t cluster entire groups of people together and declare the whole lot unworthy of any love and respect.
But that is the point of such thinking and action, isn’t it? I mean, it’s simpler that way. It makes it easier for us to justify our thoughts, words, and prejudices that way.
All these people become clumped together. And in the process, they all somehow become less than human.
They become unworthy of our love.
And what a great thing it is when that happens, right? I mean, it helps us to free ourselves from the very directives that have been passed down for millennia from the greatest teachers and philosophers in history. It makes our rationalization for hatred, bigotry, and abhorrence so easily justifiable; so maskable.
So right.
It gives us the golden chance to look at ourselves and not be disgusted by what the glass reflects back at us.
Then, sadly and ultimately, it pushes us to that point where we no longer have any sort of arm to put around others at all. We no longer have a hand to offer our fellow human beings. We no longer have a need to.
And why would we?
Why the hell should we?
Unless, of course, we actually want to live what we all so often claim that we “believe.”
My dear friends…
This has to stop. We have to put our ugly picket signs down. We have to be the examples that help make it happen in our own lives and in the lives of the people that surround us.
We have to be that voice. We each must be that voice.
We must tell others that we will not accept or listen to such hurtful and hateful sentiments.
We must show love where love right now doesn’t exist.
Will you please join me?
My request today is simple. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Find somebody, anybody, that’s different than you. Somebody that has made you feel ill-will or even [gulp...] hateful. Somebody whose life decisions have made you uncomfortable. Somebody who practices a different religion than you do. Somebody who has been lost to addiction. Somebody with a criminal past. Somebody who dresses “below” you. Somebody with disabilities. Somebody who lives an alternative lifestyle. Somebody without a home.
Somebody that you, until now, would always avoid, always look down on, and always be disgusted by.
Reach your arm out and put it around them.
And then, tell them they’re all right. Tell them they have a friend. Tell them you love them.
If you or I wanna make a change in this world, that’s where we’re gonna be able to do it. That’s where we’ll start.
Every. Single. Time.
Because what you’ll find, and I promise you this, is that the more you put your arm around those that you might naturally look down on, the more you will love yourself. And the more you love yourself, the less need you’ll ever have to find fault or be better than others. And the less we all find fault or have a need to be better than others, the quicker this world becomes a far better place to live.
And don’t we all want to live in a better world? Don’t we all want our kids to grow up in a better, less hateful, more beautiful world?
I know I do.
So let’s be that voice. Let’s offer that arm to others. Because, the honest truth is… there’s gonna come a day when you or I are going to need that same courtesy. There’s going to come a day that we are desperate for that same arm to be put around us. We’ll be desperate for that same friendship. We’ll be desperate for that same love.
Life will make sure of it. For you. For me. For everyone.
It always does because… as it turns out… there’s not a damn person on earth who’s perfect.
Friday
Grieving
I am having a hard time grieving a loss to a friend of mine... it happens to be my best friends father who would of turned 90 this month. I called him Boonie. I am still really sad about it. He was a wonderful man that I will always cherish in my heart. Im not sure if its selfish of me to be so upset about this when the family is really experiencing the grief tremendously more than I am. I feel like maybe I shouldnt be so dramatic about it. But see, I went to the burial and never seen a military funeral before or been to a burial before. It was very moving and sad. Boonie served in the navy a long time ago... they had a 21 gun salute. Folded the flag and gave it to his wife which really got to me. Their whole family was there and like Lisa said, this was the type of funeral he would of wanted, which is true.
Is it wrong for me to grieve so much over a person?
The Burg family as you well know are my extended family. Lisa is like a sister to me... and I feel so welcomed into their family. I met Lisa and Boonie at Med Tec in 1995 my first job out of college and I was the shipping manager. Lisa and I hit it off right away... then Boonie started working for me helping me out with orders and teaching me different things about work ethics. I never thought I did good enough but he ALWAYS told me how well I did and that I was an efficient and hard worker that was fast at my job and he really lifted my self confidence. Some things happened and I ended up getting fired, but Boonie really stuck up for me when others didnt. He said they made a huge mistake. And when he told me this, it really meant a lot to me. I moved on and didnt get to work with him anymore. But being friends with Lisa, I saw him a lot and his wife, they even included me in holidays. One year for Christmas they gave me a box of chocolates and his wife made me a Kansas City Chiefs pillow case to which I still use to this day.
Grieving... is it fair? Why do I grieve so much about him?
Anyway, The Burg family has grown. When I first met Lisa, she has 2 beautiful children and I watched them grow up to be excellent people. Then when Lisa turned 40 she announced she was pregnant and my God Daughter Tessa was born. Since then they have adopted two Ethiopian children, Sera and Ben and recently Anton from Siberia... look at this beautiful family.
I just want to say I am sorry if I am worrying about this too much. It was a very sad week. And I feel a little guilty because the family is going through a tougher time than me...
Grieving a loss of a loved one that meant so much to me... is it fair?
This song is for Boonie...
Is it wrong for me to grieve so much over a person?
The Burg family as you well know are my extended family. Lisa is like a sister to me... and I feel so welcomed into their family. I met Lisa and Boonie at Med Tec in 1995 my first job out of college and I was the shipping manager. Lisa and I hit it off right away... then Boonie started working for me helping me out with orders and teaching me different things about work ethics. I never thought I did good enough but he ALWAYS told me how well I did and that I was an efficient and hard worker that was fast at my job and he really lifted my self confidence. Some things happened and I ended up getting fired, but Boonie really stuck up for me when others didnt. He said they made a huge mistake. And when he told me this, it really meant a lot to me. I moved on and didnt get to work with him anymore. But being friends with Lisa, I saw him a lot and his wife, they even included me in holidays. One year for Christmas they gave me a box of chocolates and his wife made me a Kansas City Chiefs pillow case to which I still use to this day.
Grieving... is it fair? Why do I grieve so much about him?
Anyway, The Burg family has grown. When I first met Lisa, she has 2 beautiful children and I watched them grow up to be excellent people. Then when Lisa turned 40 she announced she was pregnant and my God Daughter Tessa was born. Since then they have adopted two Ethiopian children, Sera and Ben and recently Anton from Siberia... look at this beautiful family.
I just want to say I am sorry if I am worrying about this too much. It was a very sad week. And I feel a little guilty because the family is going through a tougher time than me...
Grieving a loss of a loved one that meant so much to me... is it fair?
This song is for Boonie...
Tuesday
HALLEUJAH!!!! PLEASE PLEASE READ!!!!!
PLEASE WELCOME TO THE BURG FAMILY... ANTON LEE BURG!!!!!!!
Here is Lisas latest post...
Tuesday August 28.
There are few things more surreal than spending four hours in a Russian court room. I had to present our "opening statement" for about 20 or 30 minutes. Then we were grilled by a very serious male judge and a stout blonde Russian female prosecutor in a blue uniform (who actually smiled at us, many times). Long story short, we passed muster and have been granted parental custody of Anton Lee Burg. The release of the court decree will be October 2, so Doug Burg will come back at that time, for about 10 days, and get a new birth certificate and other documents from Biro and Moscow. This process is definitely not for the faint of heart, and so much more arduous than our Ethiopian adoption. But Anton has expressed eagerness to join our family. His siblings (the ones they can locate) have agreed to let him be adopted, and his parents are no where to be found. So the judge, before he left the court room, said "Have no regrets. Have a good life." Our translator basically told us that was him giving us his blessing to raise and love and support, for the rest of our lives, this little Russian orphan. Okay, so what did Tessa do from 9:30 to 3:30? She spent it at our adoption coordinator's (Nadezhda) house, who doesn't speak a word of English. Nadezhda fed her porridge for breakfast, then for lunch they went to her daughter's apartment and they had potatoes, bread with jelly, yellow tomatoes, Choco Pies, and tea with lots of sugar cubes. What a trooper, our Tessa Mae Burg. As a reward, when we went to the supermarket with Jzenya our translator, we stopped at a toy story and she picked out a Lego set that she has been building now for an hour or more. (We also bought Legos for Sera, Ben, and Anton). Finally, a side note...as I was writing this in the second floor lobby (they moved the Wi-Fi), a woman from Chicago came out and talked to us English speakers. She is here to pick up their two children, having been to court a month ago. We shared horror stories and tales of relentless exhaustion, then agreed to meet for dinner with another family that just arrived today. Tonight we will dine in our hotel room, on cold chicken, eggplant, rice noodles, beer, bread, and chocolate, then settle down to sleep with prayers on our lips and gratitude in our hearts. I don't think this is a dream, but it sure seems like it sometimes.... God bless you all.
Here is Lisas latest post...
Tuesday August 28.
There are few things more surreal than spending four hours in a Russian court room. I had to present our "opening statement" for about 20 or 30 minutes. Then we were grilled by a very serious male judge and a stout blonde Russian female prosecutor in a blue uniform (who actually smiled at us, many times). Long story short, we passed muster and have been granted parental custody of Anton Lee Burg. The release of the court decree will be October 2, so Doug Burg will come back at that time, for about 10 days, and get a new birth certificate and other documents from Biro and Moscow. This process is definitely not for the faint of heart, and so much more arduous than our Ethiopian adoption. But Anton has expressed eagerness to join our family. His siblings (the ones they can locate) have agreed to let him be adopted, and his parents are no where to be found. So the judge, before he left the court room, said "Have no regrets. Have a good life." Our translator basically told us that was him giving us his blessing to raise and love and support, for the rest of our lives, this little Russian orphan. Okay, so what did Tessa do from 9:30 to 3:30? She spent it at our adoption coordinator's (Nadezhda) house, who doesn't speak a word of English. Nadezhda fed her porridge for breakfast, then for lunch they went to her daughter's apartment and they had potatoes, bread with jelly, yellow tomatoes, Choco Pies, and tea with lots of sugar cubes. What a trooper, our Tessa Mae Burg. As a reward, when we went to the supermarket with Jzenya our translator, we stopped at a toy story and she picked out a Lego set that she has been building now for an hour or more. (We also bought Legos for Sera, Ben, and Anton). Finally, a side note...as I was writing this in the second floor lobby (they moved the Wi-Fi), a woman from Chicago came out and talked to us English speakers. She is here to pick up their two children, having been to court a month ago. We shared horror stories and tales of relentless exhaustion, then agreed to meet for dinner with another family that just arrived today. Tonight we will dine in our hotel room, on cold chicken, eggplant, rice noodles, beer, bread, and chocolate, then settle down to sleep with prayers on our lips and gratitude in our hearts. I don't think this is a dream, but it sure seems like it sometimes.... God bless you all.
Monday
NEW UPDATE ON THE BURGS ADOPTION IN SIBERIA
This was Lisas last status...
Update. Monday August 27. Birobidzhan Russia. A big day. We spent the morning at the orphanage, mostly with the director (and our incredibly beautiful translator Lena, who I wanted to set up with Isaac Plueger) who started to "prep" us for our court hearing. The director is sincerely interested in the welfare of the children. Anton's orphanage, which is actually in a village outside of Biro in case I didn't mention that before, has 103 kids of school age. Only four families have adopted children from there this year. I find this tragic. Okay, then we went to an Italian restaurant near our hotel for lunch, which of course was staffed by Russians and the menu was only in Russian, but we managed to order margherita pizza (remember, Tessa Mae Burg is shunning meat... this afternoon she grabbed my water bottle and followed what she thought was a stray dog in an attempt to provide refreshment). At 3:30 we met with the coordinator of the Guardianship Office to sign a bazillion papers (all in Russian of course, giving new meaning to the phrase "small print") and be prepped for our court hearing tomorrow. After an hour and a half of taking notes, we returned to our hotel, where I grabbed a Siberian beer and the laptop and typed out our "opening statement" for the judge. We have been told that we got lucky and got an "easy" judge, so court will only take maybe three hours. Yet, it's nerve wracking to think about what we must say and how to say it when a young boy's life is on the line. We also learned more today about Anton's family, the circumstances leading to his parents losing their parental rights, his five siblings, his medical issues, and his past life. I am constantly reminded of how long it took to learn much of this information about Sera and Ben, as Sera learned more English, and she would share with us over dinner, and cry, and I would cry and try to understand and grasp the situation, try to picture her past. Once again, prayers are coveted. Big time. Love to you all.
Sunday
UPDATE ON THE BURGS *please read*
This is Tessa and Lisa outside their hotel... looks like the weather is decent. I had no clue to how it would be. But with all their traveling and being on the other side of the world, I think they look great. Here is Lisas update: Spent some quality time with Anton today. He is happy to see us and hopeful to join our family. The orphanage is nice. Birobidzhan is actually very nice. We met his best friend Alexander, who had been hosted by a Bridge of Hope family last January when we hosted Anton, but they are not adopting him. Made me sad. It's hard to see all these older kids with no family. Anton's orphanage is one of five here I believe. Papa (Doug) showed the boys how to throw an American football. Favorite quote of the day was when Anton asked Doug "Will you buy me a car for my 16th birthday?" We have noticed how quiet and disciplined the Russian children are. Never any whining or misbehaving, even during long flights or in stores. It's a cultural thing. Totally opposite from the animated extremes of Ethiopian kids or even the demanding American kids. Had a very traditional lunch.... Borscht, beet salad, boiled potatoes, an egg and meat thing. Good thing our translator was with us in the restaurant. Nothing is in English. I know it's not Sunday morning at home yet but I'm already missing church! Love to all.
Saturday
THE BURGS MADE IT TO SIBERIA (PLEASE READ)
Here is Lisas latest post 10 hours ago... they made it to Siberia
Okay here goes. Status update at 5:45 ish Saturday evening, while my body is still on OC time and my brain is on Moscow time. And while the Wi-Fi at the Vostok Hotel holds up. First of all, our Moscow translator/driver, Natasha, was wonderful. She helped us get through our medical yesterday without a hitch. She had read our home study so was totally prepared to answer the doctors' questions about us, our family, our health history, etc. And she helped Tessa Mae Burg fill several pages in the little white book Sue Korver gave her, with important Russian words and phrases, spelled phonetically. On the way to the airport, we stopped at the highest point in Moscow, with a view of the 1980 Olympic stadium complex. I will post a photo of that sometime. While there we purchased a white rabbit fur hat for Tessa. She really wanted this very quintessential Russian hat, but I know she's conflicted with it being a dead animal. (I'm pretty sure she hasn't eaten any meat for five days since there's been no pepperoni pizza). Last night we boarded the Aeroflot flight at 9pm Moscow time, flew all night with no sleep again, and ate cold salmon and some odd crepes at 2am, which was like 9am where we were GOING at the time, while watching a very bad Russian movie with English subtitles. I wasn't sure if I should order a beer or a cup of coffee, but elected for coffee. We arrived in Khabarovsk at about 11:45am...seven time zones East of Moscow and 15 time zones away from home. During the approach, Tessa looked out the window and said "We're in the middle of nowhere...there are no farms, no towns, no roads." Truly, after flying over a mountain range, we saw.... just trees...no signs of civilization. Kind of like Wyoming on steroids. Our translator Zhenya, and our driver whose name I can't pronounce, met us upon landing and took us on a 3 hour trip to Birobidzdan. The drive confirmed this notion of unspoiled wilderness. In a very hot very bumpy van, we drove 85 kilometers per hour on a two-lane rough road, with little to look at but endless poplars, aspens, and birches, amid large expanses of a low-brush prairie, and an occasional corn field. We passed through a few villages, a handful of shacks and shanties. In one, there was an old stocky woman sitting at the side of the road in a light cotton dress, a scarf on her head and a collection of vegetables at her feet. In another, a weathered man at a table filled with giant jars of fresh-picked bilberries. Eking out a living. I thought at once of both Jamaica and Fiddler on the Roof. In stark contrast, we prepared our "envelopes" for our adoption coordinator, Nadehzda. One marked "Foreign Fees" and the other "Service Fees." A total of $7,200 US in new crisp hundreds and fifties. I felt a bit ill. Car sick or.... On another note, one thing I have noticed is there is no litter in Russia. No soda bottles along the highway from the airport. No wrappers on the sidewalks in Moscow. No paper cups on the road to Biro. Must be a cultural thing. My Dad would be giddy. We are finally settled into our hotel in Biro. Grabbed a bottle of Russian wine, some cheese and meat and bread and chocolate from the market. We will go to the orphanage in the morning. They just told Anton we were coming. He doesn't know Tessa is with us. It will be awesome. Tonight we will sleep, God willing. Tuesday we will pass our court, God willing. Thank you all for your continued love and support. Take care of our three amazing kids back home, okay? Love!
P.S. A few more quick notes. !) Doug is feeling better. I think. 2) On the very hot long drive to Biro, Tessa just sat in a daze and barely talked for three hours. Sera and Ben would have been miserable this entire time, and I took comfort in knowing they were, at that moment, comfortable in their beds in their American home. 3) Biro is only a 2 hour drive from the Chinese border. They are building an iron ore enrichment facility in Biro, and a bridge to cross the river between Russia and China near Biro. Wonder what Donal Trump thinks of that.
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