Navigating Toward LGBTQ Affirmation (or How I became an Affirming Pastor) (TAW060)

Episode 060 – Navigating Toward LGBTQ Affirmation (or How I became an Affirming Pastor)

My journey from the Traditionalist view to becoming a fully Affirming pastor, with a perspective on a Gospel path to full Inclusion. This is a recorded version of the same presentation I gave at the Open Table Conference School of Theology in Sunriver in June of 2025.

Show Notes

In this episode, Marc Alan Schelske explores the complex relationship between faith and LGBTQ affirmation. Through personal stories, theological reflection, and the teachings of Jesus, he explains his own journey from the Traditionalist position to a position of full welcome, inclusion, and affirmation.

Takeaways

• Marc, like many of us, had never really investigated the claims of the Traditionalist position that justified exclusion.
• The resources for in-depth study on this topic, including all the relevant scriptures, are provided in a downloadable resource for free.
• The Gospel, which is the narrative of Jesus’ life, acts, teaching, death, and resurrection, is meant to show us the true face of the Father so that we can set aside the false images we project onto God.
• Jesus’ life shows us over and over that God’s nature is to include those on the margins, rather than protect hard lines of exclusion.

Recommended Resources

• Blog Version of my School of Theology presentation on John 13, The Foot Washing.
• Downloadable 11-page PDF Resource: Navigating LGBTQ Inclusion
• The Open Table Conference
• Information and Registration for Fall Class: A Gospel Path to LGBTQ Affirmation
• Email Marc at Marc@MarcAlanSchelske.com to get on his invite list for the weekly writing sessions at Slow Pour or the twice-monthly virtual co-writing sessions.

• Scroll down for a full transcript of this episode.
• You can also watch and share the video version on YouTube.

More about My Conversation Partner

It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.

Marc Alan Schelske is a happily recovering fundamentalist praying for the restoration of all things. He writes and teaches about spiritual maturity, emotional growth, and the other-centered, co-suffering way of Jesus. His books, including Walking Otherward, Journaling for Spiritual Growth, and The Wisdom of Your Heart, can be found at www.MarcAlanSchelske.com. Marc serves as the teaching elder at Bridge City Community Church in Milwaukie, Oregon, a suburb of Portland, where we work to keep all things, even Christianity, a bit weird.

Find Marc Here

• Website: www.MarcAlanSchelske.com
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarcAlanSchelske
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marcalanscherlske/
• Threads: https://www.threads.com/@marcalanschelske

Today’s Sponsor

• The Writers Advance – A weekend to help writers write. November 13-16, 2025. For more information, see: www.TheWritersAdvance.com

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Transcription

Marc Schelske 0:03
Hey, friends. I’m Marc Alan Schelske, and this is The Apprenticeship Way, a podcast about spiritual growth, following the way of Jesus. This is episode 60: Navigating Toward LGBTQ Affirmation (Or How I became an Affirming Pastor.)

SPONSOR

Today’s podcast is brought to you by The Writers Advance. I’m a writer (You probably know that) and I’m a big nerd about the writing process. That’s probably just a function of me being a big nerd about most everything I’m excited about. Part of that nerdery is that I’ve read all the best books about writing. I’ve taken a number of courses, and back in the day, I went to writers’ conferences regularly. In that time, I learned something that I’m going to offer you right now for free.

By far the best way to learn to write is just to write. All those great resources don’t make writing happen. Reading books about writing isn’t writing. Sitting in giant conference centers listening to experts talk about their process isn’t writing. The only thing that really moves the needle is writing a lot of words. That’s why I host three ways for writers to build their skills by spending time writing. Most every Saturday morning, I head down to Slow Pour, a great coffee shop in Sellwood, Oregon, and I write for three or four hours, and I invite anyone in the area to join me. Then, twice a month, I host a virtual co-writing group where other writers and I gather by Zoom. We check in briefly, then we turn off our mics and we write for two hours. If either of those sounds up your alley, let me know, and I can include you on the invite list.

However, the event that I host every year that makes the most difference is The Writers Advance. This is an annual four-day writers’ weekend that I have crafted to be exactly what writers need to push forward on their current project. It’s not about networking, or listening to experts speak, or desperately trying to get an agent or an editor to notice you. Nope. It’s about writing and reconnecting with why writing matters to you. I provide a creative and inspiring venue with great food and comfortable accommodations. We do readings. I bring coaches in who can help writers get over their current hurdles. I teach a couple of sessions about how to build a writing workflow that means you’ll keep writing for the long haul. But none of that is required. The only thing that’s required is that the folks who gather there write.

You get hours and hours of uninterrupted time for just that. I’ve got regular attendees who come to this event, and they will write more over this weekend than they do in two or three months of their normal life. There are presently eight spots left for this year’s writer’s advance. It takes place November 13 to 16th. If you’re a writer longing to give your words your full attention, or if you love a writer and want to give them the most incredible gift ever. Then head over to the website, www.TheWritersAdvance.com, for more details about this event and to reserve a spot.

INTRODUCTION

I had an incredible opportunity in early June. At the very last minute, I was invited to fill an open faculty position at the Open Table Conference Summer School of Theology in Sun River, Oregon. They had a last-minute cancellation, and one very kind and thorough recommendation got me the invite. So, I got to spend the whole week with incredible people, spending each morning hearing great thinkers talk about a more beautiful gospel, and then spending each afternoon in rich conversation while enjoying restful, beautiful central Oregon. It really was a high point for me. I loved it.

I taught two sessions. The first session was a dialogical group Bible study process through the foot washing scene in John 13. When Jesus stood to wash the disciples’ feet, he was doing something that the disciples and their whole culture considered shameful. He was acting beneath his station. That’s why Peter reacted so violently. He didn’t want to participate in Jesus’ shame. But Jesus didn’t consider it shameful. He considered it an example of who God is and how God relates to us. Now, I tell you that because that session is the foundation for what I’m about to share with you. I’m going to refer to that session at the beginning of what I share now, and if you want to dig into that conversation and understand a little bit more, I wrote that up and posted it on my blog. There’ll be a link on the screen, and there’ll be a link in the show notes. You can just go read that blog. Press pause now, go do that, and then come back. All right, so here we go.

THE PRESENTATION

I’d like you to hold in your mind our conversation about the foot washing scene in John 13, Jesus loving to the fullest by subverting the expectations of what it meant for him to be the Messiah, by serving and entering into the place of shame in order to do so, and then inviting us to follow his example. This is an understanding that has a wide, reaching application for our lives, in the way that we relate to the people around us, and now we’re going to talk about one particular application, how this perspective might apply to the church’s relationship to the LGBTQ community.

Now, as I say this, I want to acknowledge that there may be some limbic system noise that starts to clang and gong for some of us. This is a fraught conversation, and I want to acknowledge the possibility of anxiety. Maybe someone listening is part of the LGBTQ community. If that’s you, you surely bear scars caused by Christians, and you aren’t here to have your life talked about like a problem to solve. It would make sense for you to feel anxious about hearing one more Christian pastor talk about this.

Maybe someone else listening is fully resolved on the subject. Maybe you’re already fully affirming. It just seems obvious to you that Christ’s love is fully inclusive. And frankly, you get frustrated with Christians who just don’t agree with you. Certainly, someone else listening is fully committed to a traditional view of gender and sexuality. And it seems obvious to you that this is what Scripture says, and frankly, you get frustrated with Christians who just don’t get that. And so to both of you, so certain in your convictions, perhaps you’re feeling rising anxiety about whether this pastor is going to say the things you think need to be said.

Then, there’s a good chance that someone else listening is unresolved on the question. You want to love like Jesus, and you suspect that includes loving gay and trans people. You also want to honor God, and you don’t want to abandon scripture in order to do that. So you’re feeling caught,

if you’re feeling anxious for these reasons or any other reasons, I want to give you my commitment that I’m going to do my best in this presentation to use my words in a way that is at the very least respectful and hopefully, hopefully even life-giving. My commitment (for me) and my invitation (to you) is to hold this time and this conversation with respect, mutual care, and curiosity. Is that something we can commit to doing together?

Before I jump in, I want to pray.

God who knows us all intimately, Jesus, who walks with us in the complexity of our human nature, Spirit who convicts, comforts and transforms, we ask for the clear fire of your love to burn away in us everything that is the fruit of our self centered ego defending certainty so that we can more easily practice your way. Amen.

I’ll start with two experiences.

I was a 22-year-old theology major at a conservative Christian university when I met Brian. I was a guitarist. Brian was a singer–one of the best I’d ever met. He was one of the first call vocalists for worship on campus or any special event with music. He was in all kinds of ensembles. We did a lot of music together, and we became friends. Then, he came out, and I watched the campus that had embraced him turn on him. Lost opportunities. Articles in the school newspaper about him that were so cruel. Violent threats. Vandalized property. And all at a Christian university.

I didn’t know what to make of the situation. I grew up in Ohio in the 80s, in a world that was conservative and a religion that was fundamentalist. Being gay in that world was a dangerous social stigma. It was considered shameful in the highest degree, it was a terrible, unforgivable sin. I cannot explain to you how much emotional energy was spent by my male peers trying to constantly prove that we weren’t gay. That was my default state.

But I knew Brian’s heart. He loved Jesus so much. He was more faithful with his spiritual practices than almost anyone I knew–and I was a theology major, a God Squad guy. He was generous and gentle, compassionate. He was a servant-hearted minister. As I learned more about his experience, it was hard to get my head around. He’d known that he was gay since childhood. He’d been forced into conversion therapy. He’d been abused by people who were supposed to be helping him. He’d been praying since childhood for God to fix him or change him or kill him. Then he came out in this conservative Christian environment, because the only way that he could live–literally avoid killing himself–was just to choose to believe that God loved him as he was, and to start living as if that were true, regardless of what all the Christians around him thought.

Now, at that point in my life, I was pretty sure being gay was a sin, but I also remember thinking I had never met anyone so brave. The question that emerged as I processed this was if God considered Brian’s orientation a sin, and Brian had prayed in good faith for healing or deliverance for so long, and God hadn’t healed or delivered, and maybe God didn’t intend to heal or deliver. That was when I began to suspect that maybe God wasn’t as concerned about Brian’s orientation as my faith community was – which is honestly a dangerous thought for a theology major preparing to be a conservative pastor.

Fast forward about 20 years. I was the newly appointed senior pastor of a vibrant church in Portland. We were a church that prided ourselves on our openness and our welcome to anyone. We were a church that really understood the gospel of grace (not like those legalists). Dan and Julio had been attending most weeks for about three months. They were attentive during the sermon. They were engaged during worship. I noticed several times that Julio would cry during the singing.

Dan had asked to meet with me. So, we were sitting in my brand-new senior pastor’s office that had been nicely remodeled. I was sitting at my shiny new senior pastor’s desk. Dan told me, “We love this church. It feels like home. We want to get more involved.” (Great, I thought, the system’s working!) But there’s just one thing… and that’s when he came out to me. He and Julio were partners. They had been for years. He’d heard us say that anyone was welcome, and he wanted to know what that meant. Could they attend now that I knew that they were gay? Yes. Could they volunteer? Um, of course. Could they lead? I was getting uncomfortable. If gay marriage became legal, which was a conversation happening in Oregon at the time, could they get married in our sanctuary, if this was their home church? Would I officiate? Now, I was really uncomfortable.

During this conversation. I had what I can only think of as an out-of-body experience. I could see the whole scene like I was above it. I could hear the words we were saying to each other. I could see the tension in my body. There was this side of me that already cared for these guys, who wanted them to feel safe and at home, and who believed that regardless of what I thought about them being gay, God was big enough to welcome, to include, to forgive (if that was necessary), to heal (If that was necessary). I didn’t know.

But then there was the side of me that only had one script. This isn’t God’s will for you. You’re welcome and loved. Of course, we just trust that God, in God’s timing, is going to lead you to something that is more in alignment with God’s will, something that’s more life-giving. Well, yes, you can participate, of course. Yes, you can volunteer… just not with the kids. You can’t lead or speak, and I can’t marry you, but we love you, and we want you to feel at home. I could feel the incongruity in my words. I could see myself saying things that were half-truths, trying to bridge this tension. And before the conversation was over, I knew that we would never see Dan and Julio again. The question that emerged for me was this: If what I was saying was right and true and biblical, why did I feel in my gut that I had violated the work of the Spirit in the lives of these two men?

That prompted me to do some thinking. You see, when I preached or taught, I took great pride in having done all my own homework. I didn’t just preach the party line. I didn’t crib my notes from the approved commentaries. I studied for myself. I tried to read original sources wherever I could. I prayed. This was really important to me as a pastor, and I realized that I had never given this level of attention to this topic. I’d only repeated what I’d been told was right. Why? I wasn’t like that about any other topic.

That initiated a process of studying that ended up becoming far more wide-reaching than I intended. See, this is how it works. You start with the seven passages of Scripture that have any connection at all to this conversation. To responsibly make sense of those verses, you have to study the history of their interpretation, the hermeneutics surrounding them, and the historical context. As soon as you begin to contemplate alternative translations, you have to think about your understanding of inspiration and biblical authority. And once the door is open to the possibility of minority-view readings, you have to start asking questions about church tradition and the impact of cultural influences on the church, cultural influences like patriarchy and misogyny, and Western colonial empire.

Now, let me just relieve a little stress by saying that we are not going to cover all of that in this hour. It’s just too much. But you are in luck. I’m going to give you a resource that you can walk yourself through that talks about all of these things. This resource is an eleven-page PDF. It’s got the best books you can read that will help you on all of these subjects – books that have been chosen for accuracy and the way that they handle the topic with respect; videos and documentaries you can watch that will help you understand the experience of LGBTQ people in the church; as well as a few other key resources that I’ve discovered are very helpful in this conversation, like the history of the translation of the word “homosexual” in Scripture. And (this one is big), how the prohibition on male same-sex behavior in the first century is self-evidently rooted in the shame of being a woman. When you read first-century sources on this, it’s plain as day. This resource will also give you a list of questions for you to work through yourself so that you can locate yourself in the conversation. There’s lots of good stuff in here. It’s practically a whole college course on the subject for free for you. But that also means that I’m going to skip all of that and take you right to the point.

Not that those things don’t matter. They do. And some of you listening need that part of the conversation. Some of you are in relationships with people who will ask you those questions. Some of you are pastors, and your people are going to say, “Well, have you read this verse in First Corinthians? Have you read this verse in Leviticus?” You need to know how to respond to that intelligently. Those lines of thought matter, and that’s why I put this resource guide together. But as I did this work over the course of several years, I came to see that there was something much more fundamental. That’s what I want to sketch out for you in the rest of our time.

So take a deep breath, relax, just be, notice what you notice. The next part I’m going to share with you is going to sound like it has nothing to do with how Christians relate to LGBTQ people, but I assure you, it does. Keep your hands and arms inside the ride until the ride comes to a complete stop, okay?

The heart of my understanding of the incarnation is simple. Jesus came to show us the Father. That’s John 14:8-9, right? “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.” This revelation of the Father was necessary because the greatest human sin is idolatry. Now I know that may sound like a strange claim. How could worshiping a golden statue be worse than, say, the Holocaust? Well, we feel that way because we’ve trivialized what idolatry means. Idolatry is not worshiping a golden statue. Idolatry is projecting unworthy, unholy, ungodly ways onto our image of God. Baxter Kruger says that we tar the father’s face with the brush of our own angst and alienation.

You see, what we do–what idolatry is–is that we project onto God human things that are alien to God’s nature. These false ideas that we project onto God separate us from our source, they corrupt our worship, and they serve to justify every other sin. Idolatry gives divine sanction to our self-centered, ego-defending ways. So, back to that Holocaust question. How can idolatry be worse than the Holocaust? Well, because we project onto God the hatred of our enemies, we find (conveniently) that we have sacred justification for our prejudices and violence. You see, the Holocaust could only happen because it was compatible with the vision of God held by a whole lot of Christians around the world.

So, given that idolatry changes the way that we see God, it was necessary for God to reveal God’s character to us in a tangible way. Our image of God was so tarred with sin and alienation that we needed the love of God to infiltrate our spiritual imagination so that we could see the truth we were otherwise incapable of seeing. So, if that’s the case, then what specifically did Jesus reveal about the nature of God?

Well, this is the question of the gospel. Why is the gospel good news? Now, ask almost any modern Christian what the gospel is, and you are almost certain to be told one or another atonement theory. The gospel is this particular formula for how God deals with sin and how you can gain the benefit of that now and in eternity. How to get saved. But that is not what the earliest Christians meant when they used the word the gospel. That way of talking about the gospel–that the gospel is an atonement theory, a plan that demonstrates how God deals with sin and saves people–that way of talking about the gospel is a development that largely came into being during the medieval church period, particularly after Anselm.

So what did the early Christians mean? The early Christians, from the post-apostolic era into the patristic era. What did they mean when they used the word gospel? Well, when those Christians used that word, what they meant was the things Jesus did and taught. Literally, the stuff in the books that we call gospels. That’s the gospel. The stories of the witnesses that have been handed down. Jesus’ life, acts, teaching, death, and resurrection. That’s the gospel, and it’s good news, because it reveals the character of God.

So if that’s the gospel, what does the gospel show? If we look at the life, the acts, the teaching, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus. What do we see revealed about the nature of God? Well, what I’d really like to do is just read all four gospels to you in their entirety, but we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to remind you of some key events in a whirlwind tour and ask you to consider what they mean, if these events are a revelation of the nature of God. Once again, all this may seem to you like it has nothing to do with how Christians relate to the LGBTQ community, but I assure you, it does.

Mark 5:25-34. Jesus heals and affirms the woman with the flow of blood. Treats her with dignity. He calls her daughter despite the social taboos that exclude her because of a medical condition. Matthew 8 and Luke 17. Jesus touches and heals lepers, violating the religious and cultural boundaries that kept them excluded from the community, keeping them untouchable because of fear around their disease. Matthew 8 (the Centurion) and John 4 (the Samaritan woman). Jesus affirms the dignity and the spiritual journey of folks who were on the outside. They were the wrong ethnicity, the wrong religion, the wrong kind of person. And yet Jesus engages them like they have a real relationship with God. Matthew 9 and Luke 5. Jesus offers table fellowship (with everything that meant in the ancient Near East) to tax collectors (enemies) and sinners (people judged unworthy and on the outside). And he did this even though it directly caused the people around him to question his judgment and reputation.

Jesus told stories that explicitly challenge the normal human tendency to draw hard lines on who is in and who is out, on who is acceptable to God. Luke 10. The Good Samaritan, where Jesus takes the enemy and turns the enemy into the faithful hero. Luke 14. The great banquet, where those who ultimately got to attend were all the excluded and the cast off. Luke 15. Lost coin, lost sheep, lost son–showing God’s intent to find and reconcile all outsiders. And then John 13, in the upper room, the conversation we had around washing feet. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. He modeled humble boundary-breaking service, even when that service was considered shameful by the people around him.

There are so many other examples: the Syrophoenician woman, Zacchaeus, Matthew the tax collector, healing the man born blind, restoring the demoniac, welcoming the children, and protecting the woman who washed his feet with her hair. Listen, friends, listen! If Jesus intended to reveal to us that God’s nature is to police hard lines of inclusion and exclusion based on holiness, then Jesus went about his life and ministry entirely the wrong way.

How about this? Instead of us defining what we think the Incarnation reveals, let’s just ask Jesus. He tells us directly. It’s in the last line of his high priestly prayer in the upper room. John 17:25-26. “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made Your name known to them, and I will make it known now…” (Remember, in Hebrew thinking someone’s name is an expression of their character, right? It’s not, “This is Paul,” but, “This is Paul who’s really good at being fully present with you, and the moment that you experience His presence, you’re going to feel seen and loved.” That’s the difference. That’s what revealing the name is. It’s not just saying, “Oh, here’s God’s name, and you need to believe it.” It’s saying, “This is who God is.” That’s what that phrase means in Semitic thinking. And then we get to the reason. This is what Jesus says that he’s been revealing. Are you ready? “…So I made Your name known to them, and I will make it known so that the love with which You have loved Me may be in them and I in them.”

See, Jesus is revealing the true nature of the Father, and that nature is imminent love. This is what Jesus came to make known, because this is the thing we did not know already. You see, human history shows that we can imagine a god with expectations of holiness. We can imagine a god who knows the heart and can discern righteousness and unrighteousness. We can imagine a god who has a holy law and imposes consequences on the people who break that law. Further, we can imagine a god who favors those people who obey and excludes those people who don’t. Jesus did not need to reveal any of that because that was how humanity already envisioned its gods. Jesus came to reveal what we could not see on our own: that God’s love is exceedingly greater than anything our human minds will tolerate.

In fact, that’s the very point of the often misquoted line in Isaiah 55 about God’s ways and thoughts being higher than our ways and thoughts. That verse is not saying that God is exceedingly smarter than humans. That’s obvious. That verse explicitly tells us what it is about God that is higher than our ways. Go read it. The verse right before tells you. It’s God’s mercy and pardon. God’s mercy and pardon are so generous that it goes beyond human comprehension. That is what is higher than our ways and thoughts. That’s what Jesus reveals in the Gospel through his acts, his teaching, his life, his death, and his resurrection.

This is what the Apostle Paul is summarizing in Philippians 2: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave, assuming human likeness and being found in appearance as a human. He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Now, you probably know that this passage is where we get the word kenosis, the pouring out, the self-emptying, or in the words of Simone Weil, the voiding of self. But this is not a self-emptying for its own sake. No, no, no.

The whole point is that this is what God’s love is. This is what God’s love is like. This is the thing about God that is higher than your thoughts. In this hymn, Paul tells us that this is the pattern of the Incarnation: Releasing privilege, not grasping for glory, emptying the ego, entering fully into the plight of those in trouble, even though the cost is shame and death. Further, Paul’s language makes it clear that he’s not telling us this in order to define some abstract theological thing that happened in eternity somewhere. Paul is giving this picture explicitly as an ethical injunction. That’s the introduction of the hymn. “Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility, regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let this same mind be in you…” and then we get the Christ hymn.

Okay, deep breath. So, how does this relate to gay people? When I was processing all that information about the seven texts against homosexuality and the biblical model of marriage and the history of the translation of the text – all that stuff – what I saw was that those questions are, at best, secondary to the Gospel itself.

Jesus came to reveal God’s nature. God’s nature is other-centered, co-suffering, love. So when Jesus explained his express purpose–”…so that the love with which You have loved Me may be in them and I in them.” – that also applies to gay and trans people. That means that when Jesus’ followers wonder how it is that they ought to relate to gay and trans people – when Jesus followers get all tangled up trying to sort out, “Why are people gay?” and is it a choice, or is it biological? And if it’s a choice, then there’s a moral aspect to it. If it’s biological, maybe there’s not, and can gay marriage really count as marriage, especially since they can’t make children and all the other brain-twisting shenanigans that we get up to when we get into those deep weeds–we forget that we have very clear guidance about how to relate to other people. “Let this mind be in you…” “Regard others as better than yourselves.” “Look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.” This is our ethical injunction.

So, how then are we to relate to the queer community? The same way we’re called to relate to everyone in the world, through other-centered, self-poured-out, co-suffering love. Wash their feet. Invite them to the table. Seek them out like lost coins and lost sheep. Run to them like the lost son. Let them worship like the woman washing Jesus’ feet with her hair. Let them use their gifts in the body, like Matthew, the tax collector, and every other sinner who’s part of the church. Bless them when they want to enter into loving covenant relationships, because that’s one way we experience and practice the love of God, even though every single marriage falls short of that.

See, we get so preoccupied trying to parse whether being gay or trans is a willful choice or a matter of DNA and what that might mean for salvation. I know! I’ve done that homework. What I found at the end of the project was Jesus standing on the temple steps, thundering these words to me, “Woe to you, you hypocrite, for you shut up the kingdom of heaven against men for you neither go in yourselves, nor do you allow those who want to enter to go in.”

“Wait,” you say, “Marc, you’re saying that Jesus came to show us God’s love. (Yeah) but the Bible also tells us to avoid sin. (Yes, it does,) and it seems to explicitly call homosexuality a sin. So aren’t you compromising what real Godly love is? “Great question. Thanks for asking. My answer is no, here’s why.

Let’s assume, for the sake of the next sixty seconds, that being gay or trans is a violation of God’s will and a grievous sin. Now, if you work through the resources that I provide to you, I think you will see that there are solid, credible biblical arguments why being gay is not sinful. That’s my current position. But for right now, for the sake of the question you asked, for the next 60 seconds, let’s assume that being gay or trans is a sin in the eyes of God.

Okay, Jesus shows us exactly how to relate to sinners, because Jesus shows us exactly how God related to sinners. What do the Gospels show? Jesus touches sinners even when his own religion says they’re untouchable. Jesus invites sinners to his table, even when this makes religious people accuse him of being immoral. Jesus tells us that the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to go and find the one. Oh, and also, Jesus dies on the cross for sinners, so that they can know about their union with the Father.

“But wait,” you say, “but wait, (because you’re good at interrupting) Are you saying that gay people can just go on being gay and God doesn’t care? Are you saying that everyone who is gay or trans is gay or trans by God’s design?” No, I’m saying that question is above my pay grade, and it’s also above yours. I’m not an expert on human sexuality. I am only a passionate and well-read amateur, but what I know is that the stew of human sexuality and gender is way more complicated than anyone wants to admit. The reasons that people experience same-sex attraction (or any attraction), the reasons that people experience gender dysphoria, are a complex weave of tangled threads that we may never be able to fully understand.

Maybe there are some people that God wants to heal, and in healing them, they will no longer experience those things. Maybe? I’m not ruling it out; I’ve just never seen it in real life. But I will tell you this: if that’s something God wants to do, God will do it in a way that is loving, which means it will not be coercive. It will not be manipulative. And, it will not be abusive. What I am saying is that my role, and I think the church’s role, is not to be the healer, if healing is even necessary, but to be the ones who hold open the seat at the table. We who follow Jesus are called to follow his example of other-centered, co-suffering love, to enfold people, to welcome them, to include them, to walk with them as they seek God, and to trust that the Spirit will do whatever the Spirit wants to do. As the Spirit works to help them align their way of being with the truth of their being, it is our job to love like Jesus and to join Jesus in his work, revealing the true face of the Father.

One final story from my journey. In January 2015, I was deeply in the middle of this course of study, this transition in my thinking. I was already sure that some of the views I had held were not only unbiblical, but they were actively counter to the way of Jesus. But I was still unresolved, and I was very conscious of the costs ahead of me as a pastor in a church that, while loving and kind, largely held the traditional view. Then I got an email from a pastor friend.

An organization called the Gay Christian Network was hosting a worship conference in Portland at the convention center, and word had gotten out that the Westboro Baptist Church was planning to come to that event and protest. Now, I don’t know if you remember Westboro, but for several years, they made it a point to show up at gay events and actively broadcast hate. They picketed the funerals of men who died from AIDS. They engineered social media campaigns against inclusive churches and pastors. They would show up at these events with signs and speakers and a crowd, and they would shout and sing the most horrific kinds of things at the people who were there. So this email that I received was organizing a counter-protest. They called it a “Love Wall.” This pastor was inviting Christians in the Portland area to come to the convention center and provide a barrier between the Westboro Baptist people and the folks entering the convention center who were just trying to gather to worship.

Well, as soon as I read this email, I knew that I needed to go. That morning, I was gearing up because it was a chilly, drizzly day, and my daughter asked where I was going. She was eight at the time. So, trying to explain things in a way that might make sense to her, I said that some folks were coming to Portland because they wanted to worship God with their friends (which she understood. That was something she did) and some other folks were coming to Portland to get in the way and keep them from worshiping God and to bully them. And I was going to go try to stop the bullies. Immediately, she asked if she could come along.

So, that’s how my daughter, Emerson, and I found ourselves standing as part of a crowd of about a hundred and fifty people lining the sidewalk between the light rail station and the convention center. The Westboro Baptist people showed up, and they started doing their thing. Shouting, singing songs that had familiar hymn tunes that you’d recognize at first, but when you actually keyed into the words, they were just filled with violent and threatening imagery. They were shouting condemnation. They were screaming Scriptures with rage. These people, the Westboro Baptist people, proudly Christian, were explicitly proclaiming not only eternal damnation on the conference goers in the next life, but every form of heinous pain and death in this one.

As the Westboro Baptist people rained down this condemnation, the folks in the Love Wall spoke their blessings. “Welcome to Portland. We’re glad you’re here. You’re loved. You’re not alone.” Then the Westboro Baptist people pushed toward the entry to try and get closer, and the Love Wall gently moved and blocked their way. Then the Westboro people turned up their speakers, and the Love Wall started singing to drown out the sounds of this sanctified hate.

Standing there in the rain, holding my daughter’s hand, singing worship songs so that hate could not be heard, I started crying. The words of Amazing Grace seemed to form a protective shield against the condemning invective that was raining down. In that moment, the tectonic plates of my past experience, my upbringing, my own homophobia, my study, and my desire to follow Jesus all ground together, and what was forced to the surface were the words of scripture that I had memorized as a child.

“What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

“Learn to do right, seek justice, defend the oppressed.”

“Truly, I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

By that point, I’d been part of… I don’t know, maybe 3000 church services in my life, and I had never experienced something that felt as sacred as that morning in the cold rain, standing between vile Christian hate and vulnerable people who just wanted to worship in a place they felt safe.

I know there are many layers to this conversation. There are questions about what a faithful queer Christian life would look like, questions about monogamy, questions about the impact of trauma and healing, questions about the shadow side. All of these things that become obstacles when the stark fact is this: If we believe that God loves all and that the work of the Spirit is reconciliation, and if we believe that God will ultimately be all in all, then all those other questions fade into secondary status, and only one thing remains. Jesus came to show us the true face of God, that this God, who is a mutuality of other-centered, co-suffering love, is our source, and that the closer we come to this God, the more our lives reflect this path. That’s why I finally accepted the full gospel that applies to everyone and became affirming, because it is not my job to condemn.

There’s one last challenge I often hear. “Marc, Marc, I hear you. Those are powerful experiences. But Mark, what if you’re wrong? What if you’re reading scripture wrong?” Well, I might be, but I’m challenged by the witness of two heroes of our faith, Moses and Paul, both of whom prayed what I think is the most completely kenotic prayer in all of Scripture. Moses, in Exodus 32, after the chaos of the golden calf incident, begs God in prayer, “But now, O Lord, please forgive their sin. But if not, then blot me out of the book you have written.” Paul echoes that prayer in Romans 9:3, when he says, “For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people.”

Both Paul and Moses were willing to give up their own eternal salvation as they understood it, if only that meant that the people they loved could be in the presence of God. I think those two prayers are perhaps the closest that people in Scripture have ever gotten to living out Philippians Two kenosis. Moses and Paul were doing what I think Jesus was doing. They were saying, “I will bear the shame, if that means they can be saved. I will bear the alienation, if that means they can be included.”

So maybe I am wrong. I’m certain that I’m wrong about a lot of my theology, but I have come to rest in my conviction that I’m willing to bear the shame of being wrong if that means my queer siblings can find sanctuary and know that they are fully loved, and perhaps in being loved will come to know the light of Christ, which will work its way in them in exactly the same way that I trust it to work in me.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Well, that’s the presentation I did at the School of Theology, and now you’ve got it. If you’d like to dig into this on your own, the reference guide that I mentioned is going to be available on my website. You can get it from that link on the screen or from the show notes.

Now, if you’d like to go through this material, not by yourself, with some guidance, I’m going to be teaching a 10-week course this fall that will offer a thoughtful, in-depth exploration of a Jesus-centered path to respectful and loving inclusion of LGBTQ people, as well as biblically-aligned support for full affirmation. We’ll tackle all the aspects of this: our own expectations and personal stories, and how to handle this conversation with empathy and respect. We’ll look at the key arguments for the traditionalist perspective, including an in-depth study of the Scriptures used to justify exclusion, including the historical, linguistic, and cultural context of those scriptures. And the course will conclude with a gospel-centered argument for full inclusion and affirmation.

I’m going to be teaching this class at my church in hybrid mode, so we’ll be in person here in Milwaukie, Oregon (South Portland) with Zoom access for people who want to be remote. The class is going to be on Thursdays from 7 – 8:30 pm. That’s Pacific time. It’s going to last ten weeks, starting September 4 and going through November 5. Now, to make sure that there’s space for discussion, space for this class is limited.

You can learn more, you can register at the link that’s on the screen, or that’s in the show notes. You can find more information there, but you don’t need me for any of this. All the books, all the resources that can help guide you through this process, are in the resource document that I mentioned earlier. The link will be on the screen, and in the show notes, you can download that for free. I’m just making that available to you so that you can go through this conversation on your own time when you’re ready to work through it.

Thanks for listening.

May you say no to the demands of ego. May you comfort those in mourning. May you stand with the meek. May you hunger more for right and just living. May you be merciful, even as your Father in heaven is merciful. May you grow in purity and have the courage to be a peacemaker. May you bear up under persecution and be willing to do what is right even when it costs you. May you be salt and light. Amen.

Notes for today’s episode, including that download and all other links that I mentioned, can be found at www.MarcAlanSchelske.com/TAW060.

Well, this is an episode that’s a little bit out of the ordinary, but it’s also my last episode for the summer. The next episode will be in August or September. But in the meantime, if you like this, there’s more stuff. Subscribe to Apprenticeship Notes, my email newsletter. It comes out monthly-ish (about 8 to 10 times a year). That newsletter includes an exclusive essay about the spiritual life that you won’t find anywhere else, insider commentary on my podcast and blog posts, books I recommend and more, and when you subscribe, you’ll get a free little book that I wrote called, The Anchor Prayer: A Prayer and Practice for Remaining Grounded in a Chaotic World. In that little book, I teach a spiritual practice that has been so helpful to me as I face the anxiety and uncertainty of our time, and I want to offer it to you. So subscribe to my email list; Get that book. You can get all that at www.MarcOptIn.com

Until next time, remember: in this one present moment, you are loved, you are known, and you are not alone.