How I overcame Evangelical Christianity
The recent release of the Nashville Statement by the Evangelical Christian community was the final straw for me. It’s time to speak up. Granted there are so many things to speak up about these days, but this is one that is near and dear to my heart.
Sadly, I am intimately acquainted with the world view of this community. For many years, I identified as an Evangelical Christian. I loved my faith, and was so deeply devoted to it that I served as a missionary in West Africa for a year. But as I like to say, I went there to convert them to my world view, and they ended up converting me to theirs.
As I returned home and tried to assimilate my experience, I slipped into a profound depression. Because as early as I can remember, the inside didn’t match the outside. The essence of my very existence seemed to be in direct conflict with everything I had ever been taught about God, religion, faith, etc. So, at 21 I did the only thing I knew to do, throw it all away and leave everyone and everything. In short, I started over.
I took my time, spent a decade or so immersing myself into my own version of drugs, sex, and rock n roll. But after tiring of that, and emerging through the fog of a couple of life changing crises, I was back in the saddle of seeking. Seeking to find my way back to Spirit. Since the door to Christianity had been dramatically slammed in my face on the way out, I decided to open door number 2. Buddhism, Yoga, and all things Eastern. I was welcomed with open arms. My sexual orientation, my past, my present, none of it mattered. All that mattered was my heart. I learned that God, had a different name. In fact, the name itself didn’t even exist, it was just a marker, an imputation of sorts. In actuality, it wasn’t even separate from me.
What a relief to know that the Divine, the name I choose to use for the Sacred, wasn’t out to punish me or harm me. But rather to embrace me, hold me, love me, cherish me, deem me worthy, and celebrate me. Celebrate me, which by the way includes my “lifestyle”.
I’ve often heard Christians proudly proclaim that they love me, but not my lifestyle. To which my response is, I’m sorry but you don’t love me then. I do not come in pieces. Me and my lifestyle are not separate. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of me to love. And you don’t get to reference the Bible, the so-called word of God, in your disdain for my existence. Picking and choosing which parts you believe and which ones you don’t is what Rev. William Barber describes as "theological malpractice". No thank you.
So, in spite of the efforts of the Evangelical Christian community to shame and shun us, to tell us that we are not (to use their language) children created perfectly and beautifully in the image of God, that we are not worthy of marriage, of equality, of dignity, of respect, we will not go away. We will not stop creating families, expressing our love, getting married, and participating equally in this society. Our message to you, dear Christians, is that we are here to stay. And furthermore, we will prevail. We may be down for the moment with this oppressive administration, but we will continue to rise up in the way we have always risen up. We survived, and continue to survive, the AIDS pandemic when you told us that God was punishing us. So, we will be fine if you don’t want to bake cakes for us. We are getting married anyway.
And yes, writing these things makes me angry. Angry because you in your hubris are standing in the doorway and blocking the path that so many younger gays, lesbians, and transgendered people are seeking. A path to love, and unfettered access to the Divine. You lie to them and tell me that God doesn’t approve of them for exactly who they are. You send them into depression, and suicidal ideations by convincing them that they are somehow a mistake. That their love for God is irrelevant if they don’t conform to your toxic, warped views of the Sacred. Your places of worship are lethal to us.
Somehow through grace or karma or both, I found my way out of Evangelical Christianity without becoming an alcoholic or sex addict, or dead. But unfortunately, so many don’t. I see them every week. I see the pain in their faces, I feel the brokenness in their heart, and their longing to be loved and accepted. And I weep for them, for me, for all of us who have been rejected and cast aside in the name of God. It makes me sad for you too because you are so misguided and so wrong. You think if Christ were here today he would hang with you in your churches. I beg to differ. I believe he would be the Grand Marshall of every Gay Pride Parade in the world. He would march with us, sing with us, dance with us, celebrate with us. I wish you could understand this truth. And although you have made our lives difficult to say the least, you have to know that these difficulties have made us stronger and more resolved to celebrate our love, now more than ever.
In the past few years, I have dedicated my life to helping others heal through yoga and kirtan. I’m so grateful for these gifts. They have essentially saved my life and have healed many of these wounds. But there is still much work to be done. Many hearts to mend, many more wounds to heal.
I close with this. In my softer moments, in meditation, in stillness, in clarity, I dream of the following for our oppressors:
How amazing it would be if they could, just for one moment, know the richness of devotion that is so deep it transcends religion, and supersedes faiths of all shapes and sizes. So deep that it cuts through the need to categorize, criticize, or judge.
I would love to see their hearts crack open when they sit in Presence for the first time. I yearn for them to feel the power of chanting OM before a yoga class and witness the dissolution of separateness. Or to see the joy, the playfulness, and universal connection that inevitably arises from meditating and singing to Krishna. I wish them to know the stillness and surrender that descends from the heavens when simply listening to Om Namah Shivaya Gurave, much less chanting it. I wish they could experience the universal healing that comes from Ra Ma Da Sa.
I suspect this is only a dream, but I will continue to hope. As I will continue to love, to give, to serve, to rise up. And to overcome.