Reflections on Oriented to Love

About 2 weeks ago I participated in an 3-day long dialogue called “Oriented to Love”, and, in truth, I’ve been struggling to find the right words to capture the experience. Maybe I’ll start with simply describing what it was: the Oriented to Love is a program of Christians for Social Action where Christian leaders are invited to wrestle with the topic of sexuality and gender diversity within the church. 

This is a picture of where we had majority of our OTL conversations. It was so cozy!

According to their website, the goals of OTL are to:

• help LGBTQIA and heterosexual/cisgender Christians of all stripes come to the same table, regardless of our theological understanding of the issues;

• listen to each other’s stories and in doing so get to know and understand each other;

• ask hard questions in a circle where everyone agrees to be brave and the conversation is being carefully and lovingly held;

• discover what God is doing in and through LGBTQIA Christians and how the church can be the church for LGBTQIA people as well as heterosexual/cisgender people;

• discover what committed Christians, both LGBTQIA and heterosexual/cisgender, have to offer and teach each other within the larger body of Christ.

They also make it very clear that the goals of OTL are NOT to:

• strike theological stances,

• debate each other about various Scripture passages, or

• agree with each other

And there was a part of me that doubted this could be possible. I mean, consider the make up of my cohort: There were queer folks there who do not believe that the Bible affirms same-sex sexual relationships, and who are thus choosing a life of celibacy and joy (this is considered a “Side B” believer). There were also queer folk who believe the Bible does affirm same-sex relationships and who are thus pursuing or in healthy same-sex romantic and/or sexual partnerships (considered “Side A”). Similarly, there were straight Christians from both Side A and Side B. And there were even some people who weren’t quite sure what they believed. There were people whose children are gay; people who have been shunned from faith spaces because of their sexuality; people who are devoted allies; people who are figuring out their sexuality in relation to their faith; and more. All in one house for a weekend.

How could such an array of people have a productive conversation that didn’t devolve into trying to exegete Scripture to prove a point? In my experience, whenever this topic is brought up in Christian spaces, people either freeze up, shut down, or storm out. I’ve never seen any other outcome, and therefore I doubted any other outcome was even possible. 

I was proven quite wrong. 

Every person there fulfilled the only two requirements that OTL mandates: (1) that you have an open heart, and, (2) that you have a committed faith in Jesus Christ. And I think it was those two things that made this experience so deeply impactful. We didn’t focus on positions, we focused on people. We vulnerably shared our stories and bravely asked (& answered) our questions. We centered Jesus in all things and in all conversations. We cried (and if you know me, you know that I’d rather walk across thorns barefoot than cry in front of people, so this was HUGE for me); we laughed, and we hugged A LOT. 

We all had different views; we all interpreted the Bible differently. And yet…it was almost like that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we loved Jesus deeply, and that love overflowed easily to each other. 

Now, I’ll be honest, I was sweating BULLETS heading into this dialogue. It’s not that conversations about identity worry me; I literally get paid to facilitate spaces like these! And it’s not that I am uncomfortable around LGBTQ people; I would consider myself an ally and I love my queer friends with all my heart. No, I was nervous because I had real questions and I was TERRIFIED that they would unintentionally cause harm. The last thing I wanted to do was cause any more pain to a community of people who are already so marginalized and systematically targeted. As a Black woman, I know how that feels, and I never want to continue the cycle for anyone else. 

Plus, if I’m being really real, I was terrified of being rejected. I’ve prayed and researched a lot about the topic of queerness and the church, and God has brought me to a place (a “position” I guess) that many Christians in my life might not fully understand. It’s ALSO a position that some people in the LGBTQ community might not fully agree with. So where did that leave me? 

Evidently, right where I needed to be. Among other believers who took the time to see and hear me, and who met me with overwhelming love. 

My “position” on all of this didn’t change (by the way I HATE using the word “position” because it feels so binary and loaded, but here we are). But I WAS transformed simply by being in the presence of such a diverse and beautiful group of people. I don’t remember who said this but I read somewhere that you simply cannot open your heart to someone and NOT be transformed by it. To anyone from my cohort reading this, please know: knowing you has transformed me. Your stories, your journeys, your burdens and your joys- all of it is now interwoven into how I see the world. I’m inspired by your wisdom, your resilience, your staunch commitment to love. I saw God in each of you.

I considered writing about what I’m taking away from that space, but I’ve decided that that’s better shared one-on-one. So if you’d like to hear more details, I’m happy to talk. 

What I WILL share is that this experience has radically shifted how I think about what it means to be in community with other believers who have different viewpoints. We committed to staying at the table, even when it was uncomfortable. We weren’t there to prove a point, but to listen, learn, and love. Being around other Christians who see things differently forces us to really assess if we are truly up to the task of “loving our neighbor”. 

Oriented to Love was a beautiful example of what Christian community could be. But I cannot forget that we were in a controlled, intentional space, separate from the “real world”. I genuinely don’t know if such a community like the one I created with my cohort could functionally exist in our churches, at least not on this side of heaven. I want to see it, but I have my doubts.

But then again, my doubts have been proven wrong before, now haven’t they?