What do Real Christians Really Believe About Homosexuality?

“Does God hate gays?” a loved one was recently asked.  As I speed through my last phase of life, I want to provide the Bible’s answer and perhaps to correct misperceptions.  I will give a direct, one-word answer to what real Christian’s really believe, but first I want to share an allegory.  You will never understand the perspective of God and his people if you do not understand this short story.  Mutual understanding can be really hard work.  But for any who truly want to know and are willing to pause in airplane mode for 5 or 10 minutes, I invite you to consider this story.  The essence of life is as a river called My Way.  

The River Called ‘My Way'

Every one of us is floating, rowing or motoring down a wide river in a variety of boats, yachts, and innertubes.  Some travelers are on the most luxurious cruisers, drinking, eating and laughing with friends. Others are giving their full concentration to aimlessly and vigorously bail out leaky rowboats.  But whatever the experience, there is one looming problem:  Around several bends downstream lies a treacherous waterfall.  

Two unique groups immediately stand out.  One cheerful cluster sits, stands, or sunbathes on a party barge.  They all wear t-shirts with “GOD’S WAY” printed on the front.  Sometimes they invite other boaters on board or to catch a line and raft up.  But more often they throw t-shirts, giving them away to any who will take one.  

A second group in view is huddled in a tight circle on the edge of the river bank in the land called God’s Way.  They are wearing the same GOD’S WAY t-shirts as those on the barge.  If someone breaks into their circle they will hear criticism of the boats.  While they are facing inwards, sometimes they turn and throw rocks at those on the river.  In fact, there are a number of these small groups and they also throw rocks at each other.  They appear safely on the bank, but as I look closely, they are seated on ferries in the shallows.  Their cable has snapped and they are slowly and imperceptibly drifting downstream.

In the midst of the boats swims a solitary Man.  Most give him only a passing glance, imagining he may be swimming for exercise.  They didn’t see that earlier he willingly dove into a section of rapids from the bank.  He appears weak at first, yet those who look closely notice instead a quiet strength and focused intent.  And what is He doing?  He is saving those who begin to hear warnings and the roar of the falls, and cry for help.

I stand with a small group on the river bank adding to the warnings and pointing to the Rescuer.  Those in huddles near the bank can not hear me as they criticize others and talk over one another.  Those on the party barge can’t hear my shouts over their speakers blaring “Peace Train.”  

As my eyes focus on the Rescuer, mysteriously somehow three things are clear. First, his eyes are filled with a deep compassion, not wanting any to be destroyed.  Second, he will have strength and time to get everyone to shore who desires to be rescued.  But third, he will not have strength or time to save himself.

Some boaters paddle to the edge to respond to my warnings in chorus:  “There is no way I’m giving up my yacht I’ve worked so hard for.”  “It’s so personal that it is a part of me.”  “Everyone else is impressed by it.”  “It is so comfortable.” I try telling them they will lose their boat very soon either way as the river current appears to quicken.

Others have questions:  “If the Lord of the Land is so good, why would he make this river and the waterfall in the first place?”  (They do not consider that previous boaters themselves may have dug out the waterway.)  Another asks, “Then why is there water at all?” and other questions for which I don’t have satisfying answers.  I tell them these are good questions, these are understandable questions, and that I really wish they would continue to wrestle with them from the safety of the bank.  Why?  Because although I still don’t know all of the answers, somehow–from the perspective of the river bank–I am completely satisfied with what I do know.  

Others are defensive and angry as they come near:  “Why are you scaring me with warnings of  waterfalls ahead?”  “Who are you to criticize my boat? Are you judging the size of my boat? The shape of my boat?”  “You must be judging me because my boat is painted in the colors of a rainbow.”  Now I am scratching and shaking my head in incredulity, in an attempt to indicate misunderstanding.  But they still cry, “Do you think your boat is better than ours?” 

I am excited to get this question, and I respond as clearly and loudly as possible, “Oh no.  On the contrary.  When I had a boat it was far, far worse than yours in several ways.  I did think mine was better than some of the others, and I let them know it.  And when I knew it wasn’t, I tried to make people believe it was.  I regularly applied coats of white paint in an attempt to cover the ugliest shade of black which continued to show through.  The white paint wouldn’t stick because under it all was rotten wood and rusted iron.  Worst of all–and I am ashamed to say this–I wore a God’s Way t-shirt and also used to throw rocks at others from my boat.

One rower calls out, “If not your boat, then you must think you are better than me now that you are looking down at me from the bank.”  I stand with wet hair and a damp towel around my shoulders as I cry out, “I was enjoying the river in my own boat along with everyone else.  I heard warning cries from others on the bank and ignored them, not wanting to leave the river either. I cried out for help only as my boat was falling apart, but as I look back, in many ways I fought against the Rescuer as he saved me.  Now that I am safely on the bank, I still sometimes long for the river.  Again and again, I make a run for the water and dip my toes in.  Over and over again I find myself on the verge of diving in, until I look up to the Rescuer who is looking back at me with compassion and love. 

One: “Are you saying the Lord of the Land hates me? Isn’t he supposed to love people?”  I glance at the Rescuer who is bringing two boaters to the shore, even as he himself struggles for breath.  I cry out as I point, “He does! And there he is!”  

—--------------------------------------

This certainly is personal and will be difficult to hear–it was for me:  God, The Lord of the Land, hates your boat.  He hates everyone’s boat.  He hates them for three reasons. First, because it took you away from lasting joy and satisfaction rather than temporal pleasure which will end very soon.  Second, your boat took you away from the most intimate of relationships to which every relationship points and of which every relationship is a mere shadow—that of a relationship with himself.  Third, he hates your boat also because of where it is taking you, to your destruction.  But he loves you.  He loves the world enough to send Jesus, the Rescuer, who is mysteriously somehow one with the Lord of the Land.

God, The Lord of the Land,  cares how his creatures live  — The waterfall shows you what He thinks of homo- as well as hetero-sexual lifestyles along with every lifestyle, thought, deed and act that is counter to his ways. And God’s rescue plan tells you what he thinks of you.

Does God hate gays? Absolutely not. God will judge gays and God will judge straights for going their own way, bringing destruction on themselves. And he would have judged me much more severely than you, as a pharisaic, selfish, prideful, heterosexual sinner, if I had not cried out to the Rescuer, Jesus, for forgiveness and put my trust in him. 

The church has been so bad at presenting the real Jesus, I can almost guarantee that you have only been introduced to a cheap substitute thus far. So, if you decide to turn him down, make sure you are turning down the true Rescuer, and not one of the God’s Way groups who follow a counterfeit Jesus.   

I invite you to call out to the Rescuer, Jesus. Bring your friends, family, lovers. He is still saving those who hear the warnings of the falls and cry out for help.  The adjustment to making the changes that God requires can be extremely challenging, but He promises to be with us and even carry us as we get our land legs.  Let me lend you a hand and give you a hug as you step onto the bank.  Allow me to walk with you to the crest of the hill. You can’t imagine the view of what is in store. 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Mt 11:28

Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink.”  Jn 7:37

“For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.” Lk 19:10

“All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.  We have left God’s paths to follow our own.  Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.” Is 53:6 NLT

Time to Abandon the Church

 Time to Abandon the Church

Atheist actor, Brian Cox, may be on to something.  He recently criticized religion in an episode of his Starting Line podcast, and several of his comments were right on target:  “The problem with religion is that it has led us into all kinds of horrors,” and religion “shields humans from examining how they are contributing to society's problems.”  I would only add that people have long been adept at these skills without needing any help from religion.  Cox also charges, “Religion has sold humans a false story.”  Amen, but I would rearrange this to “humankind has created religions which have sold people false stories.” 

But what really got my attention was how he described the god of religion:  “It's all about this notion of God, the idea that there’s a God that takes care of us all. There is no such thing, doesn’t happen.” And of those who believe, “Human beings are so f-d,  basically because they're so stupid.”

Here, Cox is far too kind.  If this was the god I believed in, I would look around at the world, flip god off and call him the worst f-ing failure ever.  The problem is, I don’t know of any religion that believes god’s job is to take care of us all, though many make this their aim.

The job of the God of the Bible is not to take care of us all.  In fact, he doesn’t have a job, he simply is.  He is holy and perfectly just.  Every one of us has offended him by hurting his creation, each other, and ourselves, justly bringing condemnation.  But God is also love.  He has chosen—not to create a religion for us to work our way to him—but to come down to us in the person of Jesus, exchanging his perfection for our rebellion, and offering to restore us to a holy, loving, Creator, Father, God, and King.

True Christianity is not about a god who helps us, so much as it is about the one true God who offers to save us.  It is not a religion to practice but a relationship in need of restoration.  

The kicker is that even if we entrust and commit our lives to him, he still doesn’t help us.  Instead, he promises that in this life we will have trouble, pain, and hardship.  We will age, get sick, and die.  We will be hurt by others and experience consequences of living in a deeply broken world with cancer and car accidents.  In fact, in some ways the Christian life is harder: We are to love him more than anything or anyone else, including our families, our sexuality, and our money.  We are called to turn the other cheek, to love our enemies, and to take up our cross daily and follow him.  

Why would anyone take this offer?  Because no one helped Jesus when he was abandoned by his Father.  He died for humanity, taking the judgment we deserved and giving us his perfect record.  He swallowed death itself, and he promises “not to help us escape problems—but to never leave us through our problems.  He offers to hold onto us through the very shadow of death, bringing us into that life which is truly life.  

All of which leads me to wonder, where did Brian Cox get this notion of god?  I fear it comes primarily from the American church itself.  It is the aging remnants of a vague religiosity; twisted, mangled, repackaged, and passed down through generations as effectively as the telephone game.  There is so much misunderstanding and cultural baggage that true Christianity is virtually the exact opposite of American religiosity.  In fact, there is so much cultural baggage to the terminology of Christianity I suggest it is time to abandon ship.  

The word Christian appears only once in the English Bible. Much more helpful, I propose, is follower of Jesus.  His disciples in the Bible left everything to follow him, and this demand has not changed for us.  

The word church has likewise become meaningless with modern dictionaries defining it as a building used for public worship.  Jesus did say, “I will build my Church,” but he was talking about his people, with no connotations whatsoever about a building.  And what if Jesus would say to most people attending most churches today, “I never knew you”?  Still, the term church is not as easy to jettison entirely.  God’s people are called to gather together, and buildings can be really helpful.  How about the church gathered  (not original).  But then I’m still an active part of his church at work and home.  So when we are not meeting together we are the church scattered, still followers of Jesus in our daily lives.  

What about the word god itself?  Again, if my culture thinks god’s job is to help people, then I don’t want any part of him.  More descriptive or accurate would be Benevolent Creator-King.  This is a mouthful, but it communicates so much: He made me, so I am accountable to him; since he is a just ruler, I deserve to be judged.  But if I simply cry out for help in submission to him, he will graciously save me from myself and my enemies, and take me in under his loving rule.

Ok, I don’t mean abandon true Christianity, but this change would allow Jesus-followers to set themselves and their God apart by cutting the line attaching us to America’s dying and sinking institutional religion.  Think of the clarifiers and conversation starters:  “What do you mean when you say you are a Christian?”  “Would you be best described as religious or a follower of Jesus?”  “After you go to church, are you still part of the church scattered?  “Which god do you follow?...”  Ok, maybe awkward silence but that would be a great thing if it clarifies for the culture what Jesus followers actually believe.  

I am a Jesus-follower, I am a member of the church-gathered at Mitchell Road, and I have given my life to the Benevolent Creator-King.   Perhaps then, our culture will be rid of this illusion of a god sooner.  And instead of disappointment from a fictional god they can have presented real hope from the one, true, living God.  

Powerful Pride

My pride, which began at birth as a seed, grew in fits and spurts through high school.  It had periods of accelerated growth:  In college and as a young professional, and it was fed and fertilized by ministry in my 30s.  In 2013 my pride, as tall as a pine tree, was chopped down to a stump.  Soon after, a sprig shot up through a gap, and by 2019 it had grown yet stronger than before, as the mightiest of oaks.  Once again it was chopped down and this time restrained with a band of iron and bronze. Still, a sprig shot up and had grown into size of dogwood tree by 2022.  Now I gave God more of my attention as he chopped it off and installed additional bands of restraint.  Each time, he has lovingly shown me my error, and reminded me to look to his power and might, not my own.    Nonetheless, last week--how patient and longsuffering is God--a new sprig made its way through the metal lattice. God walked me to it, holding my hand.  Once again, as he pointed it out, he helped me to see the pain and danger it produced when allowed to grow.  He painfully snipped it off, and this time I helped God, as a small child helps his dad, place a steel vault on top of the trunk.  

How powerful and insidious is pride, which still lives in the ever-spreading roots.  Come Lord Jesus, and bring about the day I will sit in the shade of the Tree of Life, by streams of living water, laughing and splashing in joyful and pure humility.    

40,000 Dow

The Dow Jones stock index is closing in on 40,000 points.  As a teen I remember seeing 12,000, sitting on the floor while my dad watched evening news. And in my 40s I remember a picture of an investor in the news wearing a t-shirt with the printed message, “30,000,” eagerly anticipating breaking through that threshold. I wonder where that guy is now—is he content or is he wearing a “40,000” t-shirt?

Our best indicator of wealth has risen tremendously, but ironically a key “happiness index” has just reported last week a drop in US happiness levels. 

I think it was Ryan Holiday who asks the insightful and penetrating question (of anything in life), “How do you think that will make you feel when you get it?”  When ancient cultures set up idols on hills to worship, God told them through the prophet Jeremiah, “An illusion comes from the hills.  Today we could say, “Hills even made out of money are an illusion.”  But we keep yearning, not able to see through the mirage. Not until we come to know that Jesus became poor for our sake, in order that through his poverty we might become rich.  But look over there—someone just printed a 50,000 shirt.  Wow, I can’t wait. 

Home

I love songs with deep and meaningful lyrics.  Even if you hate country music, Miranda Lambert's The House That Built Me will take you back to your childhood yard.  I've been back to my granddad's in Daytona a couple times over the decades.  His initials and a smiley face are still engraved in the concrete poured under the outdoor shower.

Lambert writes, 

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here, it's like I'm someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

Why is 'trying to find ourselves' ending in disappointment such a universal experience? St. Augustine wrote some 1,600 years ago--that's a long time ago, "Our hearts are restless..." But he knew the answer and continued, "...until we find our rest in you, God."  Maybe the house that built me is not 2144 Windsor Hills Drive but is actually my God from his heavenly abode.  We were made to be like him and live with him; not in the world in its current broken state--to which I have contributed.  The fact is, even if you had a 'perfect' childhood and could go back, you would be disappointed.  No, the reason this world will never fully satisfy is because we were made for another world (C. S. Lewis): We were made by God, for God, and to enjoy his presence forever.  Jesus even said he is "preparing a place" for me in John 14, and for all who put their trust in Him.   

  

Counseling

 

I guess an "abundance of counselors" in Scripture does not mean trained therapists, but of these I have had my fair share (Prov 11:14).   A couple of my counselors over the years were great, most were good, some were ok, and a few were not.  One told me I was not very good at being a counselee, which was true.  Some years ago, I went with a loved one to see a counselor; not for them but for us.  I had fallen into a deep, dark hole that took some years to crawl out of, and--wouldn't you know it--it impacted our relationship.  No matter what part of the problem is yours, it is all too easy to blame the other.  But look around the world; can we not all agree with G. K. Chesterton that you and I are at least part of the problem?

Usually, one benefit of seeing a counselor with a spouse or child is simply the presence of a third party, or it may be learning new communication tools and insights.  But there is one benefit that is almost absolute and universal, one that makes it worthwhile regardless of the help given.

The priceless benefit is that your loved one may think to themselves, "Huh, I guess he/she must really love me.  He did some research, made a call, set up an appointment, took the time, pushed through the discomfort of asking me to go along, and in the process is humbly admitting that he/she needs help themselves.  And with all this, they would gladly drop $100 for just the hope and possibility that our relationship might improve.  

Even if the counselor is worthless the above may be a game-changer.  I'll bet many humble, awkward drives together to the counselor's office have soften hearts.  God, help me humble myself in your sight (James 4:10).  Lift my loved ones and me up that we would move closer together as we are drawn closer to you.  

In our case the counselor was really helpful.  Or was it the drive?  

Nothing New Under the Sun

A picture of Justin and Hailey Bieber caught my eye in the post-Super Bowl paparazzi reporting. Justin's wife, Hailey--now she may be nicest person in world, I don't know--Hailey was sitting in one of the most exclusive venues in the world, on the most exciting night of the year, in a box seat that cost somewhere around $60,000 (not to take home, just to sit in for an evening), and she looked so bored.  Another picture in the batch showed them laughing together, and in another her head is down in her phone.  Why am I looking at these pictures?  I have no idea.  But in front of them, behind the safety glass demarking luxury and opulence, stood a plastic bottle of Heinz ketchup.  Now they may have paid extra for Waygu Hotdogs, but a really nice hot dog is still a hot dog; and ketchup is kind of just--ketchup.  

One of the most exclusive and expensive condos in the world is on a luxury cruise ship that endlessly travels the world.  One of the condo owners recently sold his unit because, “Once you’ve circumnavigated the globe a few times, you’ve seen it...I was ready to do something new.”  The only problem?  There is nothing new.  When you have sat in a $60,000 seat or lived on a billion-dollar yacht, you kind of run out of new things to chase.  

Ecclesiastes 1:9 reads, "There is nothing new under the sun."  The rushing wind of God's Spirit is readily available for any who seek him with their whole heart (Jer 29:13); instead, we chase after the wind seeking more fancy hot dogs and ketchup.