Week 7 | The Great Communion | Pre-Conference Devotionals
Every morning when I wake up I attempt to read something insightful and enlightening before starting my day. Practically, this looks like falling into a Facebook abyss of dog memes and baking videos. Recently, however, I came across a fascinating article entitled, “Why are Queer People so Mean to Each Other?” Prior to clicking the link, my eyebrows raised in a silent, “Excuse you?”
Author Kai Cheng Thom, a therapist who works extensively with LGBTQ+ clients, highlighted self- destructive tendencies in the LGBTQ+ community that I think many of us have experienced. The common denominator for many of us in the LGBTQ+ community is trauma. Queer and trans people have “disproportionately experienced abuse, sexual violence, homelessness, and bullying in childhood.” We have all too often faced rejection and ostracism from the people we love and the churches that helped raise us in the Christian faith tradition. When someone holds different beliefs or doesn’t employ the same vernacular as us in the LGBTQ+ community, it triggers a very old neurological defense mechanism: Fight or flight. In the Twitter-verse, this translates to “fight” more often than not.
This response is not ingrained in our brain to help us win friends and influence people. It is there to keep us alive and breathing. It favors fundamentalism over nuance and constructive dialogue because, in a life or death situation, your brain doesn’t have time to explore more options than throwing hands or sprinting in the opposite direction. In our community, this usually manifests as you’re in or you’re out thinking. You’re good or you’re bad. There are no gray areas, there is only conformity. Thom goes on to ask the question, “What happens to a community of people who have been raised with the sensation of constant, looming danger, of being fundamentally wrong in the way we love and express ourselves?” She theorizes that over time, “we become physically less capable of imagining a world where being with others is not synonymous with being unsafe.”
In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul speaks to the importance of the diversity of the Corinthian congregation. The young Corinthian church had to learn how to navigate a variety of theological differences in their often dissimilar following. It probably was not easy (otherwise Paul wouldn’t have needed to write them a second letter), and Paul had to address arguments about everything from marriage to meat. Overall, Paul tells the Corinthians in chapter 12 that they are to recognize their unification in Christ and act accordingly. We can interpret verses 25 and 26 as urging us to have equal concern for each part of the diverse LGBTQ+ body. “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.” When our celibacy-affirming siblings in Christ suffer, do we suffer with them? When our polyamorous siblings in Christ rejoice, do we rejoice with them? Or do we naturally assume the worst of those who believe differently than us?
One of the most heartbreaking things I have routinely heard from the ex-gay movement is that those who “left the LGBTQ lifestyle” never felt safe in our community. They felt like they couldn’t find love and acceptance with us, so they left their identities behind and found a space where they could feel wanted. Unfortunately, that space requires them to be #OnceGay. They exchanged who they are for a sense of safety and belonging. That is how powerful community is! It makes me wonder if we are helping to drive these folks back into the arms of their oppressors.
Trauma acts like glue. It bonds us together quickly and with great power, but it doesn’t make for a healthy, lasting connection. The next step in spiritual and emotional maturity is to recognize that differences in opinion and belief are not always direct threats to our safety. Conflict in community is healthy and expected insomuch as it does not seek to divide or destroy. As we become more aware of our own trauma, we can move away from the binary of fight-or-flight and transition towards thinking patterns with greater emotional intelligence. That doesn’t mean we don’t push back on prejudice or injustice or engage in hard conversations. On the contrary, grace and compassion invite candid conversations and spur us to seek equity within our relationships. They are the cornerstones of healthy, honest relationships.
But what would happen if we could engage with those who are different from us within the LGBTQ+ community without immediately becoming defensive or suspicious of their motives?
Difference can feel like a threat if we let ourselves act out of our shared trauma rather than our shared purpose. We are all beloved children of God working towards a more kind and equitable future for LGBTQ+ people and allies. Let us seek to love one another as Christ has loved us so that “there should be no division in the body.”
What were some of your initial perceptions of the LGBTQ+ community? Have those perceptions changed over time (for better or worse)?
Where have you seen division in the LGBTQ+ community as a whole? Where have you seen division in the LGBTQ+ Christian community specifically?
Where have you seen unity in the LGBTQ+ community as a whole? Where have you seen unity in the LGBTQ+ Christian community specifically?
Do you feel “safe” in the LGBTQ+ Christian community? If not, what would make you feel more welcome?
