My living situation changed at the end of July. It is not entirely normal.
My husband I live in a third floor apartment. It comprises a bathroom, bedroom, and living room. In the living room is a counter across part of a wall. Under the counter is a dorm fridge. On the counter are a microwave, toaster oven, hot shot, and microscopic sink.
We rarely use these things.
We're not so much "living in a third floor apartment" as we are "sharing a whole house with some amazing people".
Like many other houses, the kitchen is where it all happens. Spontaneous (or not) meals get prepared, hilarious (or not) conversations are had. Guests (known or not) are welcomed. We put cash in an envelope for the groceries that are shared. We go halfsies on cases of beer. We crack open that new hip version of the book of common prayer and pray together.
In some ways, it feels like the closest thing to Acts 2:44 ("All the believers were together and had everything in common.") you can get without making the news.
It's probably wise to have the conversation about a big thing you don't have in common in such a context. For many reasons, you can't afford to get angry. More importantly, you no longer care to.
I don't know how it came up. I certainly wasn't about to bring it up since it felt a bit like disclosing your past to a serious boyfriend. (Feel free to suggest more apt descriptions.)
But there I was, yet again trying to explain to people much smarter than I why it's insulting to be told that people who hold my position simply don't believe in the veracity of scripture; and why I strongly suspect that while the scriptures seem clear about homosexuality, they actually may not be.
Again today, a side comment made by a friend in a conversation about Moneyball... "Did you know Brad Pitt was raised in an evangelical home? I read an interview where he said that he and his parents respect each other's differing views on homosexuality. I thought that was neat, that his parents stayed strong in their faith."
Surprise: I stew a while on the idea that conservative Christians view me as a sad case who reads the Bible humming, with fingers in her ears. "Well it can go both ways!" I want to say. "I struggle to avoid seeing you as someone who would fit in great in the 1850s! You might as well go back to using scripture to defend slavery!" I am ashamed by thoughts like that, but I am also incensed by the judgement by implication that my faith is weak because I have interpreted scripture differently.
And voilà! Here comes the revelation.
My faith probably is weak. I don't think it is a result of the cause (as though trying to resolve cognitive dissonance between faith and homosexuality [since I don't experience any]), and I don't think the cause has directly resulted in my weak faith (except as a reaction to people like Fred Phelps, Rick Santorum, etc., etc.). But there is a good, good chance that perhaps I have loved the cause more than I have loved the Lord.
No matter which side you're on, that is exactly what the enemy wants.
