God Revealed or What’s It Look Like When God Shows Up?

April 2, 2008

Several weeks ago over at *! [ emphatic emphasis], Shush posted on Sighted Faith, an entry I so connected with that as I read each line I found my head involuntarily nodding in agreement like a plastic dachshund bobble head in the rear window of a 1980 Chrysler Cordoba. For me as well, faith is a certain thing. It always has been. Not a hymn-inspired hope, but an absolute YES! Even in the worst of times, my little world has been a doubt-free zone. That’s not to say I haven’t ever questioned what the heck God was up to at times but the questions have never led me to doubt the basics, that God is, that God loves, and that God is near and able. There have been just too times in my life when I’ve known God’s presence, not only in the most ordinary moments of life through encounters with flesh and blood people but in intimate moments of solitude where God has been revealed in conversations of the heart and spirit. By last calculation my faith has been proven about 3657 times but then, the day isn’t over yet so keep the meter running! Can I prove this faith is true to others? No. I have no digital images or divine vocal recordings to upload as evidence. I have no articulate and persuasive arguments to confound the wise. The best I can do, the only thing I can do, is live each day of my life as though it’s all true, because to me, it is. Absolutely.

I have the same certainty when it comes to the question of God’s acceptance of me as a lesbian. I know that who I am today is who God made me to be. I stand before God as a whole creation; fully loved and accepted by God. No. Not accepted by God. Celebrated by God. Adored by God. Delighted in by God. God revels in me as God revels in you whether you’re gay or straight, bisexual, transgendered, or so confused there are days you can’t bare to live in your own skin. Yes. I absolutely believe this to be true, and for me to say it any differently, to shade it with ambiguity would deny the truth of what I know because this truth, this deeply-held assurance comes from God, revealed to me in my life and had I come to the place where I now stand through any other means, I wouldn’t stand so assuredly nor proclaim it so boldly.

I won’t go into details. Some things are simply too personal to be aired in a public forum. And I am fairly certain that those who tend to agree with me would do so without details, and those who tend to disagree would do so no matter how detailed I became. - Sighted Faith by Shush

I agree with Shush but that won’t stop me from sharing two personal experiences I had with God that transformed my life. This is my first time to share them. I don’t tell them to convince anyone of anything. I don’t care how others might judge them. So why bother? Because they’re part of the fabric of my life and whether anyone believes them or not, I can never fully tell my story without telling them.

God Shows Up: Part One

It was twelve years ago when I had come to the sudden awareness I was a lesbian. After the shock wore off the agony set in. I was a Christian. I was a pastor. As someone who had wanted nothing more in childhood than to “grow up and serve Jesus” I was living my dream. I couldn’t be gay. I just couldn’t. The world turned upside down and everything that mattered; family, ministry, God, friends, and my very life seemed to hang in the balance on a very thin and fragile thread. If you’re a Christian who’s questioned your sexual orientation you know what I’m talking about and if you’ve never had the occasion to question yours then no amount of words will ever explain the depth of turmoil.

I’d been living in this personal hell for over a month. My days were spent working at church, running errands, and visiting my parents with a smile on my face as though life was moving along as it always had, while my evenings were spent sobbing uncontrollably with confusion and fear that was tearing me apart. I was desperate to hear from God. I begged God to speak. Sometimes my prayers were articulate and purposeful. Other times they were little more than raw and exposed desperation. God, say anything. Reveal anything. Just don’t leave me alone with this. Where are you? Please. Please. Please.

This went on for days on end and had me physically exhausted and emotionally threadbare. Several weeks before this had all broken open I’d arranged to meet up with someone I’d met in a health forum online. When we discovered we were both located in the same city we thought it might be fun to meet to carry on our conversation about health and weight loss face to face, but now that the day had arrived and with my life unraveling around me the thought of putting on a happy face and making polite conversation for an hour with an internet buddy overwhelmed me. I’ll never forget the drive to the restaurant where we were to meet for lunch and yes, I realize the poetic irony that we met over food to talk about weight loss! Even though it was a day in early Spring I had the car window rolled down with my head leaning out the window hoping that the cold breeze would cool down my flushed face and dry my tears before I arrived. Even as I drove across town with my head out the window like some breeze-intoxicated golden retriever I was praying that God would speak to me and show me what to do. How can I ever be gay when I love you and want nothing more than to please you? Where are you in all this and what are you saying to me?

I arrived at the restaurant and recognizing each other from our similar verbal descriptions; “I’ll be the chubby woman with glasses.” “Okay, and I’ll be the other one,” we made our introductions and sat down. Even though the internal storm was still pitching fits inside my gut, I found myself enjoying the distraction of meeting someone new and talking about concerns that had nothing to do with homosexuality. It turned out my online compadre was an evangelical Christian like myself and worked for a large Christian non-profit children’s organization. She knew the church where I worked and our reputation in the area of children’s ministry and so in no time we had left diet conversations behind and were talking about Christian education, church life, and faith. I remember being so impressed by this woman and what a delight it was to talk with someone who seemed to share the same heart for children as I had, but then in the middle of this sweet encounter I came to the sad realization that were she to know of what I was struggling with inside, there ‘d be no chance for an ongoing friendship. As a Christian she’s no doubt be be disgusted to know I was gay and would reject any idea of being my friend. As I was thinking this very thought, she hesitated for a minute and then spoke.

“Anita, I don’t know why I’m going to do this but I feel like I have to tell you something. I’m a lesbian. My partner and I have been together for a few years and the children I told you I’ve adopted; we adopted together. Because I know all about the church you work at, I think I know what your position on homosexuality is and I also realize that were you to tell anyone about me and it got out, I’d end up losing my job. I’m risking a lot telling this to you but I don’t want to become friends and then have you find out I wasn’t honest with you about this part of my life.”

I’m not making one word or detail of this up. It unfolded just like that. I was impressed by her faith and character as a Christian. I admired her commitment to children and to the ministry to which she was called. I knew I could never tell her my secret or she would reject me as a friend. All of this was going on in my mind and heart when she said “I’m a lesbian.” You would think this would have been a perfect opportunity for me to come out to one other person, to dare to speak the words I feared to even think, to take the high road and say to her, “Thank you for trusting me and now I want to extend the same trust to you and tell you something about me.” but I didn’t. I told her I appreciated her honesty and that I had no problem with having a gay friend. We finished our time together, hugged at the door, and said goodbye. We didn’t speak again until after I had come to peace with my sexual orientation. Only then did I contact her to tell her how God had used her in my life and to say to another Christian, “I’m a lesbian.”

That was God. Not coincidence or happenstance. Not the devil. God and God alone, and while that didn’t end the storm that raged within me, it stilled the waters just enough so I could stand in the uncertainty a little longer.

God Shows Up: Part Two

In the days that followed I continued to spend my evenings praying and seeking God, pacing through the house, kneeling before the overstuffed living room chair, laying face down on my bedroom floor. Like Gideon, I’d put the proverbial wool fleece out overnight and even though the ground underneath it and all around it was wet in the morning and the fleece was bone dry, I needed something more. God had shown up for me across the lunch table but still, I needed to be sure because so much was at stake. A little handwriting on the wall, a cloud of smoke by day, a pillar of fire by night…something more. Something unquestionable, and undeniable. Tell me anything. Say anything. Just speak to me. Lead me. Guide me. Help me.

One evening, like so many evenings before, I was there…sprawled horizontal on my bedroom carpet, my face pressed so firmly and for so long onto the floor that the carpet texture left an imprint on my cheeks, my forehead, and the soft underside of my stretched out arms. My tears had dried out. My words were poured out. My heart was heavy and I was so exhausted it took all my effort to raise up on my hands and knees where I stopped before trying to stand. In that moment of empty silence and complete stillness, God showed up. To be more exact Jesus did. He said nothing. I heard no external voice coming through the ears on the side of my head or through the ears of the spirit. God said not a single word because words weren’t needed. Instead, in a way so real and alive that my skin responded like an amputee who has an itch on a missing limb, I felt Jesus kneel over me, wrap his arms around me in a tender embrace and help me to my feet. Anyone looking into my bedroom that evening would have seen a flannel-clad woman with a tear-stained face standing alone beside her bed. But I was not alone. In that room I was surrounded by God. The image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd ghas been with me since childhood in a framed needlework picture made for me by my grandma that hung over my childhood bed and that hangs over my bed still. That familiar image is the way that God came to me; filling every inch of my room down to the marrow of my bones with quiet tenderness and enough love to last a lifetime. It is no exaggeration to say that as I fell into bed that night no doubt remained. No questions. No confusion. Whether I was gay or straight was a non-issue when it came to the love of God. I have never, for a heartbeat, questioned it again.

How I would love to know that in sharing these personal experiences with God the conflict that continues in the lives of other GLBTQ Christians even now would be resolved and put to rest once and for all, but I know the answer for others isn’t in what happened to me. No books by GLBTQ Christians or theologians I read, no gay-friendly interpretation of the biblical text I studied, no affirming pastor I spoke with or welcoming congregation I visited was enough for me. I needed to hear God-Speak-To-Me. Nothing less would do. Each of us need to encounter our own moment with God however it might look, and the only assurance I can offer, the great hope in which I believe, is that if you seek God, God will be found. I believe with all my heart that God will come to you in a way as real as the sun streaming through my kitchen window as I type these words. And when it happens it won’t matter that others might not believe you because you’ll know. You’ll know and in that you’ll be able to place your confidence.

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Posted in Christian Lesbian Identity, Coming Out, Faith, Storytelling