Last week, I took some time away from Facebook and Twitter. I needed to clear my head and work on some things inside. But then this happened.
So much for Internet fasting and soul-searching during Holy Week. The emails and private messages began pouring in almost immediately. I didn’t expect my one little link and profile picture to capture so much attention in the flood of angry posts that day. I was wrong.
Once again, I didn’t know what to say. I don’t want to argue these things. At several points I asked myself what compels me to make such public statements. Why do I do this to myself?
All day, my phone buzzed and my heart ached as I watched the people of God debating laws and creating slippery slopes and toppling straw men and prophesying dire consequences for this thing or that thing. I also ached as I received private messages from my gay friends. I wanted to cry and rage at how the church can be so unsafe. Jesus-followers should be the safest people on earth, yet they are the ones I hide from the most. They are ones with whom I’m most afraid to be me.