My entire life, I have seen Christians act like they are a persecuted minority. Beginning in Sunday school and then youth group, people would tell us that we would be persecuted by society (or maybe communists) for our beliefs, and we, the mighty few, would have to stand up for our Christian faith in the face of that persecution.
The thing is, Christians in the U.S. are not a minority, let alone a persecuted one. We are the majority, numerically and culturally. Schools take breaks around our holidays, prayers in public spaces are almost always in our tradition, and nearly every U.S. president has been Christian.
Recently, I have seen a couple articles online in which people "come out" as Christian. This is troubling for me for a number of reasons, and one is that I think it feeds into this narrative of Christians as a persecuted minority by co-opting the language of LGBTQ people.
The writers say that "coming out" as Christian feels risky for them. That may be true, but it is not risky in the way that actually
coming out as LGBTQ is. These writers are not at risk of being rejected by their families, losing their jobs, or having a higher likelihood of suicide
because they "come out" as Christian.
A few days ago, I had a conversation with another queer Christian, one who is
not out. He said that hiding is destroying him, but he is afraid of how
his family will respond that that he will lose his job. He said, "I
spend most of my time alone. I just don't know who I can trust."
This
is what coming out really means for many LGBTQ people (including LGBTQ
Christians). I am not comfortable with Christians appropriating that
language for other purposes.
Showing posts with label Sexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sexuality. Show all posts
Monday, March 2, 2015
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Sexuality and Quaker Identity
For my project for my Sexuality in the Bible class, I facilitated a panel at Atlanta Friends Meeting after meeting for worship on November 30, 2014. The format was to have three Friends on the panel share for 10-15 minutes each about how their sexuality (defined broadly to include sexual orientation, gender identity, marital status, and anything else that seemed relevant) has impacted their faith life and their Quaker identity. After the panel, I invited the rest of the people in the room to join the conversation in worship sharing: speaking out of the silence from their own experience in response to the query, “How has your sexuality impacted your Quaker identity?”
I initially hoped to have the forum on the last Sunday in October, but there was another event scheduled for that time. It was a little challenging to find people for the panel on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, but I eventually found three people who were willing: “Anna,” a gender-nonconforming woman in her early 20s who identifies as queer, “Bruce,” a gay man in his late 50s, and “Mia,” a lesbian woman in her early 50s. I did not intend to have only queer-identified people on the panel (I had hoped to have at least one straight person!), but those were the people I found who were willing to participate. There were 22 people present for the panel, ranging in age from 20s to 70s, queer and straight, some married and some not. I invited the teens in the meeting, but none of them decided to come.
Anna spoke first. She grew up as a Quaker and spent several years questioning her sexual orientation and gender identity. She came out as queer in college, and her family and faith community were supportive. She is still questioning her gender identity, but is comfortable with female pronouns and with calling herself a gender-nonconforming woman. Anna said that she was glad to have grown up among Friends, who allowed her to be whoever she was. She was active in the gay/straight alliance in her high school and appreciated all of the support that Quakers offered to LGBT teens. She thinks it was helpful for her as she questioned her own identity, even though she had not yet come out. She feels that her identity as a Quaker is more central for her than her identity as queer or gender-nonconforming, and that has given her something to hold on to even as she questioned other parts of her identity. She also feels like her questions about identity have led her to what she wants to do with her life. She plans to apply to graduate school next year and would like to focus on the intersection of identity and environmental studies, particularly looking at individuals’ narratives.
Bruce spoke next. He talked about how grateful he is that he can now have easy conversations with family members about his partner, in part because his parents have passed away. His father was very conservative and left the Episcopal church over the ordination of women. Bruce was always very politically liberal, and he thinks the fights that he had with his father about politics were really a front for the conversation they did not have about Bruce’s sexual orientation. Bruce knew from a young age that he was attracted to men, but he prayed that God would take those feelings away. He laughed that God always answers prayer, but not always in the way that you want! Bruce said that, even ten years ago, he would have changed that part of himself, but now he sees it as an opportunity for ministry. He has experienced feeling like an outsider, which made him more compassionate, and he is able to share with others about his sexual orientation. Bruce told us how he sat on a nine-hour flight next to a Mormon man who had never met an openly gay man. A week later, the Mormon man sent him a copy of the Book of Mormon with a note saying that their conversation had given him a lot to think about. Bruce felt like it was an opportunity for both of them to learn.
Mia spoke last, and she began with an explanation of how she uses the word “God.” She struggles with saying “God” because it seems male and white to her, but she still uses it because everyone knows what it means. She is not sure whether she believes in God, but she does believe in that of God in everyone. That is the basis for her understanding of sexuality. It is a recognition of that of God in everyone, and sex is a meeting of that Spirit in two people. She feels like her identity as a lesbian and a woman are much less important than her identity as a Friend. Mia is involved with the high school program at the meeting and has taught First Day School in the past. She tries to bring this sense of identity to her teaching and help her students recognize that of God in everyone they meet.
When I opened up the discussion for worship sharing, several Friends spoke. One woman quoted Romans 12:2, “Do not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your spirit.” She said that, as a straight woman, she had mostly conformed to the expectations of her culture, but having a friend who struggled with her lesbian identity to the point of being suicidal helped open her eyes to the diversity of sexual identities and the pain that the society cause to those who did not conform. Another woman talked about how she grew up during the sexual revolution, when it seemed like everything was permissible, but her experience was that a lot of people got hurt through sexual encounters, emotionally or physically (particularly during the AIDS epidemic). What she took away from that experience was that sex was a powerful thing that must be engaged in carefully.
A theme in the sharing was how to talk about sex and sexuality with the children in the community in an age-appropriate way. There was a desire to do so, but some questions about how. I shared that, having grown up in purity culture, I know that a lot of girls do not learn that sex should be pleasurable. I said that I hope the meeting can talk about how sex is a powerful thing, but also a source of pleasure, joy, and connection. One woman reflected how glad she was that two of the people on the panel had come out in environments that were supportive of their sexual orientations. She expressed the hope that the meeting could be a place for children to be who they are, LGBT or straight, and be supported as they question, evolve, and grow.
I was very pleased with how the panel and conversation went, and I got a lot of good feedback from the panel members and those who attended the panel. After we concluded, people stayed to talk with each other about the topics that arose. I think that there will be ongoing conversations in the meeting about sexual identity and Quaker identity, and it seems like there may be more thought and work on a sexual education curriculum for children based on these conversations.
I initially hoped to have the forum on the last Sunday in October, but there was another event scheduled for that time. It was a little challenging to find people for the panel on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, but I eventually found three people who were willing: “Anna,” a gender-nonconforming woman in her early 20s who identifies as queer, “Bruce,” a gay man in his late 50s, and “Mia,” a lesbian woman in her early 50s. I did not intend to have only queer-identified people on the panel (I had hoped to have at least one straight person!), but those were the people I found who were willing to participate. There were 22 people present for the panel, ranging in age from 20s to 70s, queer and straight, some married and some not. I invited the teens in the meeting, but none of them decided to come.
Anna spoke first. She grew up as a Quaker and spent several years questioning her sexual orientation and gender identity. She came out as queer in college, and her family and faith community were supportive. She is still questioning her gender identity, but is comfortable with female pronouns and with calling herself a gender-nonconforming woman. Anna said that she was glad to have grown up among Friends, who allowed her to be whoever she was. She was active in the gay/straight alliance in her high school and appreciated all of the support that Quakers offered to LGBT teens. She thinks it was helpful for her as she questioned her own identity, even though she had not yet come out. She feels that her identity as a Quaker is more central for her than her identity as queer or gender-nonconforming, and that has given her something to hold on to even as she questioned other parts of her identity. She also feels like her questions about identity have led her to what she wants to do with her life. She plans to apply to graduate school next year and would like to focus on the intersection of identity and environmental studies, particularly looking at individuals’ narratives.
Bruce spoke next. He talked about how grateful he is that he can now have easy conversations with family members about his partner, in part because his parents have passed away. His father was very conservative and left the Episcopal church over the ordination of women. Bruce was always very politically liberal, and he thinks the fights that he had with his father about politics were really a front for the conversation they did not have about Bruce’s sexual orientation. Bruce knew from a young age that he was attracted to men, but he prayed that God would take those feelings away. He laughed that God always answers prayer, but not always in the way that you want! Bruce said that, even ten years ago, he would have changed that part of himself, but now he sees it as an opportunity for ministry. He has experienced feeling like an outsider, which made him more compassionate, and he is able to share with others about his sexual orientation. Bruce told us how he sat on a nine-hour flight next to a Mormon man who had never met an openly gay man. A week later, the Mormon man sent him a copy of the Book of Mormon with a note saying that their conversation had given him a lot to think about. Bruce felt like it was an opportunity for both of them to learn.
Mia spoke last, and she began with an explanation of how she uses the word “God.” She struggles with saying “God” because it seems male and white to her, but she still uses it because everyone knows what it means. She is not sure whether she believes in God, but she does believe in that of God in everyone. That is the basis for her understanding of sexuality. It is a recognition of that of God in everyone, and sex is a meeting of that Spirit in two people. She feels like her identity as a lesbian and a woman are much less important than her identity as a Friend. Mia is involved with the high school program at the meeting and has taught First Day School in the past. She tries to bring this sense of identity to her teaching and help her students recognize that of God in everyone they meet.
When I opened up the discussion for worship sharing, several Friends spoke. One woman quoted Romans 12:2, “Do not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your spirit.” She said that, as a straight woman, she had mostly conformed to the expectations of her culture, but having a friend who struggled with her lesbian identity to the point of being suicidal helped open her eyes to the diversity of sexual identities and the pain that the society cause to those who did not conform. Another woman talked about how she grew up during the sexual revolution, when it seemed like everything was permissible, but her experience was that a lot of people got hurt through sexual encounters, emotionally or physically (particularly during the AIDS epidemic). What she took away from that experience was that sex was a powerful thing that must be engaged in carefully.
A theme in the sharing was how to talk about sex and sexuality with the children in the community in an age-appropriate way. There was a desire to do so, but some questions about how. I shared that, having grown up in purity culture, I know that a lot of girls do not learn that sex should be pleasurable. I said that I hope the meeting can talk about how sex is a powerful thing, but also a source of pleasure, joy, and connection. One woman reflected how glad she was that two of the people on the panel had come out in environments that were supportive of their sexual orientations. She expressed the hope that the meeting could be a place for children to be who they are, LGBT or straight, and be supported as they question, evolve, and grow.
I was very pleased with how the panel and conversation went, and I got a lot of good feedback from the panel members and those who attended the panel. After we concluded, people stayed to talk with each other about the topics that arose. I think that there will be ongoing conversations in the meeting about sexual identity and Quaker identity, and it seems like there may be more thought and work on a sexual education curriculum for children based on these conversations.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Sex Without Love
Last winter, I had sex with a man a few times. We weren't dating, really, though we went out to dinner occasionally. For reasons that are unimportant here, we both knew that the relationship had no future.
But there was heat. I didn't want him to be my boyfriend, but he smelled great, I liked the way he tasted, and when he touched me, I melted.
We had conversations about what it all meant, and agreed that we weren't committed to each other or even exclusive. But sometimes, when we were out in public, he would put his arm around me. I would awkwardly shrug my way out of it.
I knew he felt hurt, but I still didn't want to make what we were doing public. I said that it was because I was new here, and thought that it was because I knew it wasn't going to last.
I've been thinking about this again recently, and realized why I didn't want him to be affectionate in public. We were doing exactly the same thing, but it made him a stud and it made me a slut.
Fuck purity culture.
But there was heat. I didn't want him to be my boyfriend, but he smelled great, I liked the way he tasted, and when he touched me, I melted.
We had conversations about what it all meant, and agreed that we weren't committed to each other or even exclusive. But sometimes, when we were out in public, he would put his arm around me. I would awkwardly shrug my way out of it.
I knew he felt hurt, but I still didn't want to make what we were doing public. I said that it was because I was new here, and thought that it was because I knew it wasn't going to last.
I've been thinking about this again recently, and realized why I didn't want him to be affectionate in public. We were doing exactly the same thing, but it made him a stud and it made me a slut.
Fuck purity culture.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Don't Tell Me to Smile
A man who I know to be kind and thoughtful asked what was wrong with telling a woman to smile. The following is a slightly edited version of my response:
Thanks for the question! When I said don't get me started, it's because I have so much to say about this. I am happy to respond and point you toward some other sources.My friend, Monika T, added:
Men telling women to smile is a problem for a lot of reasons. One is that if I am not smiling in a public place, I might have a good reason. Maybe my sister is in the hospital, or I just got fired, or I was just thinking about something.
But when a man I don't know tells me to smile, I have to stop thinking about whatever it was I was thinking about and engage him. I have to either smile for him, even if I don't want to, or I have to refuse. I have to decide how badly he might respond. Will he get mad? Is it possible he could attack me?
In the end, it is a form of body control. It reinforces the idea that I am not out in public for myself, but to be pretty for men. It may seem like a small thing, but when it happens often, it is pretty demoralizing.
In sum, strangers are not entitled to my body, my time, or my attention.
The thing is, telling someone to smile is telling them what to do and how to feel. And you would be astounded how many men regard women that way. Its insidious and pervasive. Every time I go into the city, I have to devote some of my mental energy and focus to assessing who might harass me, and how they might react if I push back. This happens often if not always on my way to class, when I have better things to be thinking about.There are some wonderful videos illustrating how ridiculous and awful telling women to smile is, such as this one called Smile, and this one from Stop Telling Women to Smile:
This morning, I saw that I was not the only one thinking or writing about this issue yesterday! Here is a wonderful article about street harassment: You're a Good-Looking Girl . . . I Want to Attack You. Cameron Esposito sums it up well:
I do not care if you think I am beautiful. Your feedback or evaluation isn’t needed. I also do not care if you think I am not beautiful. Your feedback or evaluation isn’t needed there either.I am grateful for the men who engaged in this conversation. If men are concerned about this issue and looking for ways to help, here are 35 Practical Steps Men Can Take to Support Feminism.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Recorded Minister Report for 2013
“For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Matthew 18:20.Shortly after Freedom Friends Church recorded my gifts of ministry in June 2013, I had a couple opportunities for public ministry. On June 30 to July 6, I led a five-day workshop on Convergent Friends at the FGC Gathering, and I had the opportunity to preach at Camas Friends Church on July 28. I also found I had many opportunities, both formal and informal, to use my gifts. I clerked a conference call clearness committee for a Friend who was discerning how to leave her job, and I was approached by several (mostly young) Friends, online and in person, to talk about topics that have been important for me over the past several years, such as the gift of prophecy, being a woman in ministry, and how it feels to be led to give vocal ministry. My primary focus during that time, however, was the transition from my life in Salem to beginning seminary in Atlanta. It was a full, emotional, and surprisingly productive summer!
On August 19, the cats and I flew across the country to our new home in Atlanta. Orientation at Candler School of Theology began two days later. The transition was harder than I expected, and my experience at Candler so far has been decidedly mixed. There are things that I love about studying at Candler: my classes are interesting, the professors are brilliant and entertaining, and my classmates are thoughtful and kind. I am especially excited about getting to take practical classes such as Nonprofit Leadership and Management and Vocational Discernment for a Sustained Life of Ministry. As part of my contextual education, I spend Mondays as a chaplain intern at a women’s prison located about an hour north of Atlanta; that is one of the highlights of my week. I also enjoy singing in a choir for credit.
But in the first few weeks of my time at Candler, the administration decided to give an alumni award to Eddie Fox, a man who has been extremely vocal in the fight to prevent full equality for LGBT people in the United Methodist Church. I ended up in tears in a meeting with the dean and other students and faculty, saying how hurt I felt by the decision to give this award and questioning whether, as an out bisexual, I was really welcome at Candler. In response to this controversy, an alum wrote that she feels Candler is “welcoming but not affirming,” and I have to agree. It was especially disappointing for me because that is not the way Candler presents itself in its promotional materials. One positive outcome is that I quickly connected with the LGBT group at Candler (Sacred Worth), and I have felt very supported by the Emory Office of LGBT Life and other allies on campus.
Another source of support has been friends at Atlanta Friends Meeting. It was easy to decide which Quaker meeting to attend in Atlanta because there is only one! Atlanta Friends reminds me a lot of University Friends Meeting in Seattle, both in size and culture, and Friends there have been very welcoming. I became a sojourning member in October and I anticipate joining a meeting committee soon. I have also asked the meeting for a support committee.
In November, I had the opportunity to attend a School of the Spirit spiritual renewal weekend in Durham, NC. I also got to spend the night before the retreat with Friends at Wings of Dawn Farm. It was wonderful to see so many friends from my School of the Spirit class and others. I found while I was there that the planned theme of the renewal weekend (on loss and failure) was not speaking to me, so I spent most of the weekend on a true retreat, taking time for quiet rest and reflection. It was good for my soul and reminded me of my need to incorporate more times of retreat into my daily life.
I have continued to do some writing, though writing on my blog ebbs and flows as usual. I published a piece on working with an elder in the Western Friend book An Inner Strength: Quakers and Leadership, which came out in July. I have an upcoming article in Friends Journal on the importance of financial support for ministry. I have also been doing a fair amount of writing for my seminary classes and expect to do more this semester.
I feel that my self-care during this time of transition has been good. My course load last semester felt manageable and I did not do very much paid legal work. I have been intentional about my spiritual practices: setting aside time in the morning for prayer, reading a chapter of the Bible each night, taking Saturday as a sabbath from schoolwork, and getting regular exercise. I have begun meeting monthly with a spiritual director, and Aimee M and I have kept up a spiritual friendship, checking in with each other over the phone every few months.
Looking ahead, the biggest thing on the horizon is that I will be giving a plenary message at the FWCC Consultation in High Point, NC on April 11. I am preparing the message in advance so it can be translated into Spanish for simultaneous interpretation. I hope to spend next summer working in Salem, and I have offered to lead a workshop on prayer at the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women’s Theology Conference. My New Year’s resolution this year is discernment for a sustained life of ministry, and I have already found several opportunities to practice discernment!
I am grateful to all of you at Freedom Friends Church for your love, prayers, and support, as well as for the gift of my recording this year. I am holding you in prayer as you meet for yearly meeting, and I look forward to seeing you next summer.
Love,
Ashley
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Another Way (LGBT)
"And, having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they went home another way." Matthew 2:12.
The World Conference of Friends took place at Kabarak University, which is a 4-5 hour bus ride from Nairobi. On the bus ride there, I admit that was tired and over-stimulated, so I put my headphones on and slept for most of the trip. Fortunately, the person sitting next to me woke me up to see some of the sights, including the Rift Valley and a chapel built by Italians during the second world war.
On the way back to Nairobi after the conference, the driver went a different way, and we got to see several things we had not passed by on the drive in, including a tea plantation and various parts of Nairobi.
Since getting home from the conference, I have spent a lot of time walking. I don't have the energy to run as much as usual, so I have been walking in the evenings in addition to on my lunch break. Salem is gorgeous this time of year―everything is in bloom. I keep meaning to take my camera along with me.
One evening when I was walking in my neighborhood, I felt a nudge to take a different path than I usually do. I am a creature of habit and tend to stick to the same routes, but I felt like God was telling me to go a slightly different way.
But then I saw that I would have to pass by a bunch of teenage girls if I took the other path, so I ignored the nudge and continued on my way. The nudge stayed with me though, so on my way back, I gave in and went on the other path. Then I saw it: a beautiful, flowering purple tree―one of my favorites―that would have been directly visible from the other path.
It often takes something big, scary, or life-threatening to make us choose to go a different way, but I believe that sometimes God wants us to change just to show us something beautiful.
About 15 months ago, I (fairly quietly) came out as bisexual. Responses were supportive, skeptical, and chagrined (or some combination). I am grateful for the people who supported me; it hurt when people I loved told me that I had strayed from God's path. The skepticism was understandable: I had always identified as straight, sometimes quite adamantly.
[SIDE NOTE: In my defense, when I wrote way back in 2008 that I was "as straight as humanly possible," that was intended as an inside joke for my friend Andrea, because it is something she used to say about me in college. I knew that she would read the post and she knew that I was attracted to women. I had no idea at that point that my blog would last so long or that it would reach such a wide audience!]
Since coming out, I have (also fairly quietly) been on a lot of dates with both women and men, which has been pretty fun. I am still single, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I still have things to learn from being single than my orientation. I am loved by many and I have lots of relationships that are important to me. I know that I would not have the same energy to put into those relationships if I were focused on a primary partner.
As I mentioned in my report, there was some controversy at the World Conference when the the epistle by Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns was taken down. The first time I heard about it was when it was raised in early worship. My immediate impulse was to leave the room, because I didn't want to deal with other people's emotions around the topic, but I knew that walking out could be misconstrued. Instead, I sat down on the floor for the rest of worship, trying to stay grounded.
Although the issues came up throughout the day, Friends mostly addressed them in their home groups, which I missed. But that night, as I was waiting in line for dinner, a Friend asked me if I had a good Bible verse to respond to the passages saying that homosexuality is a sin.
When people ask me this question, my immediate response is no: Proof-texting doesn't work. For anyone. Pulling out another Bible verse to respond to attacks is never going to change anyone's position.
After giving it a little more thought, I said that I only had one verse:
[SIDE NOTE: In my defense, when I wrote way back in 2008 that I was "as straight as humanly possible," that was intended as an inside joke for my friend Andrea, because it is something she used to say about me in college. I knew that she would read the post and she knew that I was attracted to women. I had no idea at that point that my blog would last so long or that it would reach such a wide audience!]
Since coming out, I have (also fairly quietly) been on a lot of dates with both women and men, which has been pretty fun. I am still single, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I still have things to learn from being single than my orientation. I am loved by many and I have lots of relationships that are important to me. I know that I would not have the same energy to put into those relationships if I were focused on a primary partner.
As I mentioned in my report, there was some controversy at the World Conference when the the epistle by Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns was taken down. The first time I heard about it was when it was raised in early worship. My immediate impulse was to leave the room, because I didn't want to deal with other people's emotions around the topic, but I knew that walking out could be misconstrued. Instead, I sat down on the floor for the rest of worship, trying to stay grounded.
Although the issues came up throughout the day, Friends mostly addressed them in their home groups, which I missed. But that night, as I was waiting in line for dinner, a Friend asked me if I had a good Bible verse to respond to the passages saying that homosexuality is a sin.
When people ask me this question, my immediate response is no: Proof-texting doesn't work. For anyone. Pulling out another Bible verse to respond to attacks is never going to change anyone's position.
After giving it a little more thought, I said that I only had one verse:
"By their fruits you will know them." Matthew 7:20.This is not original to me, but I am not sure where I got it (possibly Liz O?). The point is that it is only by waiting to see what kind of fruit these relationships bear that we will know whether they are good or not. The Bible also tells us that
"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law." Galatians 5:22-23.It takes a while, but relationships do bear fruit. And we can be changed by them; I know this experientially.
- It is because I had friends in high school who were out as gay and lesbian that I came to believe that their love was not a sin.
- It is because I have worshiped and worked with transgender people that I understand a little better the struggles that they face.
- It is because I had brave examples of how to live faithfully as a bisexual that I was able to be honest about my own sexuality.
- It is also because I have relationships with people who honestly believe that homosexuality is a sin that I know those people are doing their best to live Godly lives.
And then, suddenly, you see people who formerly voted for an exclusive definition of marriage at Williams-Sonoma, buying something off the registry for their friend's daughter's lesbian wedding. Not because they have changed what they believe, but because they love their friend and her daughter, and they want to celebrate with them.
Maintaining a position is easy; relationships are hard. But that is the work. And I have faith that we can all go home another way.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Hold On, Let Go
"In my Father's house, there are many rooms . . ." John 14:2.
The last couple months have been really hard for me. I feel like I have been stripped bare, and like I have to figure out who I am again. A couple things contributed to this.
First, I began coming out as bisexual: by finally admitting it to myself and then by telling friends and family. The responses ranged from wonderfully supportive and compassionate to downright awful, and I sometimes felt like a very small boat in a big storm.
Second, I engaged in some of the most painful and draining public ministry of my life. I am still processing everything that happened, and I think that I will be for a while. I know that I did my best to be faithful, but everything about the experience was hard.
Earlier this week, I met with my care committee. It was not an easy meeting because I was in so much pain, but I felt much clearer afterward. Here is a slightly revised version of an email that I sent the following day. It was extremely hard to write, but it feels right:
Dear Friends,
In meeting with my care committee last night, it became clear to me (and I think to everyone) that I need to lay down traveling ministry. I am still planning to visit Capitol Hill Friends in May, but after that, I know that I need to stay home and be where I am.
This is really hard for me because I love traveling ministry. I have never felt so alive as I have when traveling among Friends. But I am tired and depleted, and no longer feeling called to this work. It is also hard because I am realizing how much being a traveling minister has become a part of my identity. But I know that, whether I travel or not, I am still a beloved child of God.
This means that I will not be able to attend the workshop for young Friends traveling in the ministry at FGC Gathering. I am sorry that I won't be there and sorry to disappoint those I told I would go. My heart still longs to meet with other young Friends in a second day meeting, but I am clear that doing that within the context of the FGC Gathering would not be good for my soul.
I hope that the ways that I have helped spread the word about the workshop have been helpful. Friends are welcome to use my paper on traveling ministry in any way they wish, and everyone gathered in this meeting will be in my prayers.
With love,
Ashley
Thursday, May 1, 2008
How I Became a Quaker
I have probably been saved more times than anyone else you have ever met. And by "saved," I mean "accepted Jesus Christ into my heart as my personal Lord and Savior." I think the first time was when I was about six or so. I remember talking to my parents about wanting to have Jesus in my heart and we all prayed about it. It was great.
The only problem was that people at our church were constantly prophesying the return of Jesus. These were the end times and we all had to be prepared. At six, I had finally realized a lifelong dream of being cast as a mouse in the local production of the Nutcracker and I was pretty worried that Jesus was going to come back before I could be in it. So I prayed a lot that he would just wait a while before his triumphant return. Then someone at church mentioned that no one could predict the day or hour of Jesus's return. So I started predicting all the time; I figured this would keep him from showing up. I got to be in the Nutcracker, but I felt vaguely guilty for postponing the rapture.
Maybe that is part of the reason I started getting saved all the time. I was worried that I wasn't quite saved enough, so I would double check by accepting Jesus into my heart whenever it occurred to me. And every time was an alter call at church or a youth event, I would go up and get saved again. Once a youth pastor asked me why I did that, but he never followed up when I didn't answer. I guess he thought it couldn't hurt. I really liked the feeling of confessing that I was a sinner and being made pure, although I think the analogy of being "washed as white as snow" didn't quite have the same significance for someone born and raised in Anchorage.
I was very involved in the youth group in middle school. This was partly because the youth pastor's daughter was one of my best friends and partly because I had a crush on a guy in the youth group (we ended up going on one extremely awkward date and I recently heard that he got married a few years ago). It was also because I loved how into God everyone was. We would sing and testify and people would cry, they were so filled with love. All of this culminated for me in a mission trip to the inner city of Chicago, where I stayed with Jesus People USA and helped build a playground.
Then I went to high school and everything fell apart. (In terms of my faith, at least. Otherwise, high school was pretty great.) Now, this is the part of the story where I am usually pretty vague. Usually, I say something fairly benign about my crisis of faith, such as that I stopped believing in Hell, or I just met people who were different from me. While those things are true, the whole truth is much simpler: gay people made me want to stop being a Christian.
This sounds very bad, so I should probably clarify. I do not mean that any individual gay person convinced me to stop going to church. I especially do not mean that gay people made me gay and that caused me to stop being a Christian. I was, and I remain, about as straight as humanly possible. It was more the fact that gay people existed that made me want to stop being a Christian. Once I had a few gay friends, I found it impossible to believe that their attractions to people of the same sex was a sin.
The last straw for me was a discussion section I read in my Teen Study Bible. It was somewhere in the Old Testament, a half-page description that tried to make biblical rules more accessible to teenagers. I am paraphrasing greatly, but the gist was that although God does not expect us to follow all of the silly rules in the Old Testament, the Bible is very clear that homosexuality is wrong and engaging in homosexual practices is a sin. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but I had been raised to believe that every word of the Bible was the literal word of God. The hypocrisy overwhelmed me. I put the Bible down and I have not seriously engaged in reading it again until about a week ago.
About the same time, the State of Alaska was going through its marriage initiative, ensuring that marriage could legally only occur between a man and a woman. It was very disturbing to me to see nice Christian people from my church acting downright gleeful at the prospect of keeping others from sharing the benefits they enjoyed in marriage. It was pretty clear that this was not a community I wanted to be a part of. I kept going to church, but I was very uncomfortable with the mix of politics and religion there.
Fortunately, this was also about the same time that I left for college. It was pretty easy to not go to church in Santa Cruz―it seemed like the primary religion there was surfing. College was also the first time I met people who had grown up religious, didn't go to church, and weren't conflicted about it. Most of my friends from high school had rejected their religious upbringings, but were tormented by guilt.
I don't think I ever really stopped believing in God, but I definitely didn't give him a lot of thought. I was pretty distracted by school and jobs, boyfriends and breakups, and trying to figure out what to do with my life. I still went to church with my parents when I was home, but we pretty much had a "don't ask, don't tell" policy with regard to my churchgoing habits at school.
When I studied abroad in Chile, I started going to mass every once in a while. I think it helped that the services were Catholic (I didn't have many bad associations with Catholics) and in another language. I had a great conversation with a woman there, who assured me that it was ok if I didn't know if I believed in God, as long as I believed in Mary.
When I returned to California, things pretty much went back to the way they had been before. But then I went to law school, and I seriously needed a church. My roommate Jessica felt similarly, so we started checking out local churches. Neither of us had much interest in the denominations we grew up in, so it was all pretty new to us. We were like two Goldilocks of churchgoers. We liked the music at the Episcopalian church and the proximity of the Lutheran church, but none of them were quite right.
One Sunday close to finals, we stumbled into Freedom Friends Church. Honestly, I don't remember a lot from our first visit. I was pretty wrapped up in my first semester of law school at that point. I think there were probably about five people there, including Jessica and me. I remember Peggy being a very good hostess and checking to see if the room was the right temperature, and I remember discussing the relative merits of different brands of travel guitars with Alivia, but that's about it. They both seemed very Midwestern and that was comforting (I had good experiences with a boss from the Midwest during college).
I just kept going back. Jessica had decided law school was not for her, so I was on my own, and I felt like Freedom Friends was a place where I could breathe. And then I started talking during silent worship and I felt like I couldn't stop.
After I had been going to Freedom Friends for about eight months, Peggy decided to hold a Quaker 101 class. I don't think many of the regular attenders at that point had any previous experience with Quakers, so we all needed some education. I missed most of the classes, but I made it to the last one, where we were reading Freedom Friends Church's Faith and Practice aloud.
Before we started, Peggy said (I think as a joke) that she was going to have an alter call at the end of the class. I had a very strong negative reaction to that―I had been to enough alter calls and I wasn't interested in any more. But as we read through the Faith and Practice, it dawned on me that this was a community I wanted to be a part of. I fiercely believed in the things I was reading and I really wanted to be a member. I did not hear the term "Convinced Friend" until years later (it's a term Quakers use to distinguish converts from "Birthright Friends," who are born into the Religious Society of Friends), but in that moment, I was convinced. So that afternoon I wrote an email requesting membership, a little while later I met with a clearness committee, and here I am.
The only problem was that people at our church were constantly prophesying the return of Jesus. These were the end times and we all had to be prepared. At six, I had finally realized a lifelong dream of being cast as a mouse in the local production of the Nutcracker and I was pretty worried that Jesus was going to come back before I could be in it. So I prayed a lot that he would just wait a while before his triumphant return. Then someone at church mentioned that no one could predict the day or hour of Jesus's return. So I started predicting all the time; I figured this would keep him from showing up. I got to be in the Nutcracker, but I felt vaguely guilty for postponing the rapture.
Maybe that is part of the reason I started getting saved all the time. I was worried that I wasn't quite saved enough, so I would double check by accepting Jesus into my heart whenever it occurred to me. And every time was an alter call at church or a youth event, I would go up and get saved again. Once a youth pastor asked me why I did that, but he never followed up when I didn't answer. I guess he thought it couldn't hurt. I really liked the feeling of confessing that I was a sinner and being made pure, although I think the analogy of being "washed as white as snow" didn't quite have the same significance for someone born and raised in Anchorage.
I was very involved in the youth group in middle school. This was partly because the youth pastor's daughter was one of my best friends and partly because I had a crush on a guy in the youth group (we ended up going on one extremely awkward date and I recently heard that he got married a few years ago). It was also because I loved how into God everyone was. We would sing and testify and people would cry, they were so filled with love. All of this culminated for me in a mission trip to the inner city of Chicago, where I stayed with Jesus People USA and helped build a playground.
Then I went to high school and everything fell apart. (In terms of my faith, at least. Otherwise, high school was pretty great.) Now, this is the part of the story where I am usually pretty vague. Usually, I say something fairly benign about my crisis of faith, such as that I stopped believing in Hell, or I just met people who were different from me. While those things are true, the whole truth is much simpler: gay people made me want to stop being a Christian.
This sounds very bad, so I should probably clarify. I do not mean that any individual gay person convinced me to stop going to church. I especially do not mean that gay people made me gay and that caused me to stop being a Christian. I was, and I remain, about as straight as humanly possible. It was more the fact that gay people existed that made me want to stop being a Christian. Once I had a few gay friends, I found it impossible to believe that their attractions to people of the same sex was a sin.
The last straw for me was a discussion section I read in my Teen Study Bible. It was somewhere in the Old Testament, a half-page description that tried to make biblical rules more accessible to teenagers. I am paraphrasing greatly, but the gist was that although God does not expect us to follow all of the silly rules in the Old Testament, the Bible is very clear that homosexuality is wrong and engaging in homosexual practices is a sin. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but I had been raised to believe that every word of the Bible was the literal word of God. The hypocrisy overwhelmed me. I put the Bible down and I have not seriously engaged in reading it again until about a week ago.
About the same time, the State of Alaska was going through its marriage initiative, ensuring that marriage could legally only occur between a man and a woman. It was very disturbing to me to see nice Christian people from my church acting downright gleeful at the prospect of keeping others from sharing the benefits they enjoyed in marriage. It was pretty clear that this was not a community I wanted to be a part of. I kept going to church, but I was very uncomfortable with the mix of politics and religion there.
Fortunately, this was also about the same time that I left for college. It was pretty easy to not go to church in Santa Cruz―it seemed like the primary religion there was surfing. College was also the first time I met people who had grown up religious, didn't go to church, and weren't conflicted about it. Most of my friends from high school had rejected their religious upbringings, but were tormented by guilt.
I don't think I ever really stopped believing in God, but I definitely didn't give him a lot of thought. I was pretty distracted by school and jobs, boyfriends and breakups, and trying to figure out what to do with my life. I still went to church with my parents when I was home, but we pretty much had a "don't ask, don't tell" policy with regard to my churchgoing habits at school.
When I studied abroad in Chile, I started going to mass every once in a while. I think it helped that the services were Catholic (I didn't have many bad associations with Catholics) and in another language. I had a great conversation with a woman there, who assured me that it was ok if I didn't know if I believed in God, as long as I believed in Mary.
When I returned to California, things pretty much went back to the way they had been before. But then I went to law school, and I seriously needed a church. My roommate Jessica felt similarly, so we started checking out local churches. Neither of us had much interest in the denominations we grew up in, so it was all pretty new to us. We were like two Goldilocks of churchgoers. We liked the music at the Episcopalian church and the proximity of the Lutheran church, but none of them were quite right.
One Sunday close to finals, we stumbled into Freedom Friends Church. Honestly, I don't remember a lot from our first visit. I was pretty wrapped up in my first semester of law school at that point. I think there were probably about five people there, including Jessica and me. I remember Peggy being a very good hostess and checking to see if the room was the right temperature, and I remember discussing the relative merits of different brands of travel guitars with Alivia, but that's about it. They both seemed very Midwestern and that was comforting (I had good experiences with a boss from the Midwest during college).
I just kept going back. Jessica had decided law school was not for her, so I was on my own, and I felt like Freedom Friends was a place where I could breathe. And then I started talking during silent worship and I felt like I couldn't stop.
After I had been going to Freedom Friends for about eight months, Peggy decided to hold a Quaker 101 class. I don't think many of the regular attenders at that point had any previous experience with Quakers, so we all needed some education. I missed most of the classes, but I made it to the last one, where we were reading Freedom Friends Church's Faith and Practice aloud.
Before we started, Peggy said (I think as a joke) that she was going to have an alter call at the end of the class. I had a very strong negative reaction to that―I had been to enough alter calls and I wasn't interested in any more. But as we read through the Faith and Practice, it dawned on me that this was a community I wanted to be a part of. I fiercely believed in the things I was reading and I really wanted to be a member. I did not hear the term "Convinced Friend" until years later (it's a term Quakers use to distinguish converts from "Birthright Friends," who are born into the Religious Society of Friends), but in that moment, I was convinced. So that afternoon I wrote an email requesting membership, a little while later I met with a clearness committee, and here I am.
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