How Come

I have a bit of baggage from my high school youth group experience. I think this is where we need to start.

A friend invited me to youth group in 7th or 8th grade. While I'm sure she wanted to see me saved or growing spiritually or whatnot, it seemed her most salient motivation was the youth pastor's promise to the group that they would receive a pizza party if they brought x-number of friends the following Wednesday night. And let's be honest: pizza is a pretty strong motivator for me even now.

This youth group was part of a church with the word 'Mennonite' in its name. There was nothing Mennonite about the church except its history. A few years later, they changed their name to reflect that and took the word 'Mennonite' out.

Worship was compartmentalized and defined as the part of the life in which we seek an emotional high set to the following chords: G, C, D, and sometimes E-minor. I required an arm's-length radius about me in order to properly seek this high.

Sex was discussed. The discussions were peppered with snickering, jokes, and vague allusions to how fun it is. It was always summed up with these thoughts: "It's only for marriage" and "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."

The stage was set: an adolescent brain, a charming, pizza-bearing youth pastor, and a total lack of experience with outed gay people meant that I latched onto his rhyming aphorism unquestioningly.

We had never discussed responsible biblical exegeses, so I had no idea how to even think to ask, "Is the Genesis story meant to be normative, as your aphorism assumes?" let alone, "How does this aphorism shape our attitudes toward and interactions with people who are gay?"

(Slight tangent: The phrase "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" is so problematic. First, it instantly serves to dehumanize. I hear a patronizing tone behind it that aims to make anyone who would make such a glaring error in desire an acceptable target for bullying, in the style of kindergartners at recess, no less. Second, it assumes that the Genesis creation account is meant to be normative, that is, to be the pattern to which we are to shape our lives as well. Perhaps it is normative, but that's a post for another time, most likely written by one or more actual theologians (not me). Last, as Christians, let's ask this: Does the phrase, "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" help me love God and others better? No? Then let's make sure we're the last generation to throw it around.)

So I head off to college, my head contentedly full of black-and-white answers to complex questions about situations I had never encountered. I went to a conservative Christian school, where my youth pastor and increasingly liberal friends were sure those answers would be cemented in my head for good.

I'm grateful I went to a Christian college. But I didn't come out how any of us expected I would. First, I started listening to good music, some of which was made by people who were not Christians. Then I took some classes about the bible. I learned a little bit about how it was put together, I learned how to ask questions about it, and I learned it was okay to ask questions about it. Oh, and sometimes I used swear words, too.

About a year after graduation, a friend from high school called me up one night and told me he was gay. Yes, even in high school when I was thinking about having a crush on him. And yes, even in youth group. While my high school self would not have stood for the idea that a life experience could shape my beliefs, it had to happen somehow, because suddenly my hatred of the abstract contrasted sharply with my love of a real friend. I had quite the case of cognitive dissonance.

Then about a year after that, a friend from college IMed me from his seminary desk with an apparently heavy thing to tell me. He told me he was gay. Thus began my actual engagement with homosexuality.

That was the How Come. Next up: the What For.