Disclaimer: I identify as an ally in this piece only because friends in the LGBTQIA community have graciously called me one and because “ally” makes a more succinct tweet than this explanation. But I don’t actually get to decide that I’m an ally. I don’t get to decide if what I say and do is helpful or hurtful to them. They do.
“If she turns the power on, maybe she saves the world. Or maybe she sets it on fire.” Revolution, The Dark Tower (Season 1 Finale)
This post was more difficult to write than I thought it would be.
It is not difficult for me to identify as an LGBT ally.
It is not difficult for me to challenge my residents and students who say or do careless things to consider the effect their behavior might have on others, and it is not difficult for me to reprimand students who, in the name of God and in their passion to serve him, say hurtful things to further what they believe to be God’s agenda.
It is difficult for me to admit that I used to be one of them.
I grew up in a Southern Baptist church. I was the in-church-every-time-the-door-was-open girl. I earned all my badges in GAs, and I completed all the levels in Acteens. I sang in all the choirs. I played handbells. I performed the Special Music. I saw you at the pole. I played piano for the children’s choir. I taught Vacation Bible School. I went to Glorieta for summer camp and jumped up and down at Michael W. Smith concerts and had a holy crush on DC Talk (although I can’t really remember which member – probably all of them).
And I came to college and sought out people just like me. I sought out my comfort zone. The Baptist Student Union took me in. They fed me and provided a safe place to air out all my grievances about this new, fast-track-to-hell world into which I had been dropped. They understood, and they agreed with me when no one else did.
I also met people who were very different from me. The Ones I Had Been Warned About.
You know the ones. You’ve probably met them, too. They’re loud and they’re proud. Get used to it.
I was warned that they were the ones who would change me to live the way they do, if they could, because that was their Agenda.
That’s okay, I thought. Let them try. I also had an agenda, and I knew that it was sure to prevail, because it was clearly God’s agenda, and my God is so big, so strong, and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do (clap, clap).
Uppity – when I prayed for a friend I knew from church choir at home when, on the way to dinner and Bible study, he stopped at Mable Peabody’s to fill the condom dispenser as part of his work with AIDS Denton. I would not deign to walk through the door, but I assured myself that I already knew everything that I needed to know about what was going on in there to know it was not a place a believer had any business entering.
Snide – when I asked my friend if he was gay because he was afraid of women. He responded much more kindly than I deserved, but I took his uncharacteristically soft-spoken response as a sign that God had convicted him through my words.
Afraid – if this one thing I’d always been taught wasn’t exactly true – if they weren’t godless, reckless heathens – then what was to stop the whole house from burning down?
Knowing them did change me, but not in the way I had been told that it would.
I changed because none of the people I met fit my preconceived notions. A few of them acted like they did, but once I had a conversation with them, the act crumbled. The walls came down.
I changed because they were loyal to each other. They argued and got angry, but when it was over, they were on each other’s side. I changed because they reminded me of my family and of what I wanted in a church.
I changed because in the bathroom at Mable’s, about two years later from that night when I was so convinced that I had finally reached him, I had this conversation with my friend:
“I’m sorry about that thing I said when we met. That you were gay because you were afraid of women.”
He rolled his eyes, “That is so past. What made you even think of that?”
“I just want you to know that I don’t think that anymore.”
He clicked his tongue and waved his hand at me, shooing away my concern. “Girl, I know you love me.”
And that was it. It was that easy.
It wasn’t the serious, intense conversations that I’d had before, conversations designed not just to restore but to make sure that I Learned My Lesson and was Fully Convicted of My Sin and All The Other Ominous Capitals, where the other person made a point to look me in the eyes, prayerfully and tearfully, as they murmured a slow, reverent, heavy “I forgive you,” like an aspiring Kirk Cameron. It also wasn’t a begrudging “It’s okay,” forced through clenched teeth, offered only because we were Christians and refusal to forgive was not an option.
It was the easy forgiveness of a secure friendship.
It was the grace of a forgiveness offered and given before it was even requested.
I am an ally because I learned what forgiveness looks like at a gay bar.
I am an ally because my LGBT community is not ashamed to call me one, despite my uppity, snide, fearful fumblings.
I am an ally because they are my friends.
I am proud to call them my friends.
I am an ally because being one did not burn the whole house down (although some of it could still use some remodeling). There’s nothing our God cannot do. And our God is a God who gets what God wants. God will heal the brokenhearted and break the chains of the oppressed. God will even save their oppressors.
God changes my self-righteous heart. Every day, God changes me.
Addie Zierman’s book When We Were On Fire (which has to be one of my top ten favorite book titles of all time) comes out today, and she’s invited us to tell our stories, too. Hop over to her synchroblog and read some others. More importantly, buy the book!
Oh gosh. I’ve been giving some serious thought lately to the idea of mutual transformation. If we take God at his word, then we are all created in his image. To know and delight in one another is to know and delight in God Himself. I’m beginning to understand that we can be sanctified through relationship. This notion has serious implications regarding “love your enemies”. You’ve expressed that idea beautifully here. Thanks for writing this.
All my best to you –
Ford
“Sanctified through relationship” – this is so important. Thank you for reading and responding, Ford!
“If this one thing I’d always been taught wasn’t exactly true – if they weren’t godless, reckless heathens – then what was to stop the whole house from burning down.” Yes, yes this was true for me too. Love your perspective here.
I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, Kate!
Yes. Exactly exactly. Thanks for putting it down in words.
Thanks for your encouragement!
I’m an ally because I have known and loved so many gays in my life. They are no different from straights: they work, they pay taxes, they are loyal, loving, and lots of fun. They are our brothers and sisters. Thanks for this!
I find that the key to getting over a lot of my hangups about people is simply to love them. Thank you for reading!
Regardless of those who misrepresent God, God is still Love. I enjoyed watching the process of your love maturing in this story. Beautiful.
Thank you, Joanna. I’m glad you enjoyed it!
I love this so much Suzanne. This line especially: “I am an ally because I learned what forgiveness looks like at a gay bar.” Grace is constantly blowing me away, showing up in places I never expected to find it in those on fire years. Thanks so much for sharing in this linkup and for the kind words about my book!
You’re welcome! I am loving the synchroblog. What a great idea! Thanks for letting us play.
“It wasn’t the serious, intense conversations that I’d had before, conversations designed not just to restore but to make sure that I Learned My Lesson and was Fully Convicted of My Sin and All The Other Ominous Capitals…” Love this. It’s funny that even as my beliefs have changed, it took forever for me to realize I’d still held on to this framework, that you couldn’t just make a mistake and be sorry and move on but it had to be a WHOLE BIG DEAL that devastated your soul until you were truly repentant. Thanks for sharing this.
Yes! As I was a pretty serious child, prone to perfectionism and the guilt that goes with it, these hyper-serious responses were so, so heavy on my young soul. Some of them still are. Thanks for reading!
[…] “I met people who were very different from me. The Ones I Had Been Warned About. I am an ally because I learned what forgiveness looks like at a gay bar.” ~ Suzanne Terry at CoffeeSnob318 […]
Suzanne,
When I saw that you participated in Addie’s synchroblog I thought I should invite you to participate in a monthly synchroblog that I am a part of.
It’s made up of a home-grown group of bloggers who like to write on topics of post-modern faith & life. This group is open to anyone who is interested in participating. We value respectful conversation and dialogue while honoring our differences. We share links & try to learn from each other.
Some of the people that originally participated in the synchroblog no longer blog and I am trying to reach out to people like you who are currently passionate about blogging in order to keep our monthly synchroblog relevant and vital.
If you are interested in joining us you can join the facebook group and receive monthly invitations to the synchroblog. Here is that link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/114506961937378/
And you can find our website (which you can subscribe to if you want to receive an email when we post the monthly theme announcement/invitation) here: http://synchroblog.wordpress.com/
(You can see all of the themes that we have covered in the past on our website in order to get an idea of what we do)
Liz – I would love to participate! I will join the Facebook group and keep an eye out for prompts. Thank you!