Have You Heard the Great News? Every Day Is Full of Trouble!

August 3, 2009

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34)

I came out to my parents as a lesbian and had them reject me 3465 times. I came out to my church and was told to repent or leave 2582 times. I was removed publicly from ministry 4395 times. 632 times my closest friends said they wanted nothing to do with me. I visited more than 568 different congregations but none of them welcomed me because I was gay.

Yes, it all happened that many times. In my head. Prior to coming out to anyone I imagined over and over again how it would be when I finally came out to my family, my friends, and my church. I’d lay in bed at night and play out one scene after another in my imagination. Every scene began the same way. I would be standing there facing someone I loved and I would haltingly say the words, “I need to tell you something. I’m gay.” And every scene had the same ending. I would lose a relationship. I would lose love and respect. I would lose my ministry. Night after night I’d lay there and play out each story line and though none of it had yet happened all the emotional turmoil I was going through was absolutely and gut-wrenchingly real. I would weep, sobbing over the loss of my parent’s love. Humiliation would sweep over me in waves as I’d think about what it would be like to be called before the church and publicly condemned for my sin.

During the day I’d go to my office at church and do the ministry I loved. Through the morning and afternoon I’d enjoy conversations with co-workers and take a phone call or two from a few friends. In the evening I’d meet my parents for dinner and while we waited for our meal to arrive they’d ask about what I was doing at church and then listen with such joy and pride it was written all over their faces. But under the darkness of night the day I’d just had would disappear and my imagination would take me to that day in the future after I had said the words and everything and everyone would be gone or lost. My stomach would be tied up in knots, and my cheeks flushed with fear. The agony I went through was almost unbearable.

All that agony and yet nothing had happened. None of it was real. None of it but the pain. The pain and the fear of future pain was as real as the cat napping on my lap at this moment, only a lot less soft and fluffy.

When i finally did come out some friendships were lost and some familiar doors of ministry did close. I couldn’t remain at the church I had loved and the initial reaction from my family was heart-breaking. For the first time in my life the relationships I most cherished felt tenuous and I had no way of knowing if they’d survive the storm that followed my coming out. Now at night when I laid there in the dark sobbing out my heart the pain I felt wasn’t in what might be but in what really was. I had feared the aftermath of coming out and now my coming out had come and gone.

That experience taught me something. When I worry then I’m living my life in a future day with events that may or may not come and not in the reality of the present day. I’m not in the day God has given me to live in. I’m not engaging in the life around me but in the life inside my head. Living life out in my head had me stuck in the traumatic moments of first coming out but my imagination never took me beyond that. My imagination could only take me as far as the pain and rejection and turmoil. It couldn’t take me further down the road after God in partnership with time returned joy to my life. My imagination lacked the creativity to see relationships that would heal and new doors of ministry that would open. My worst mental soap operas never envisioned the day my mom would write to tell me she was proud of what I was doing in ministry and happy I had found someone who loved me and who I loved. It had no problem replaying over and over how I could be removed from ministry but it could never believe for the day when I’d stand before another congregation fully as myself and break the bread and bless the cup. My imagination had foreseen the most excruciating encounters in coming out but was utterly clueless as to the countless spirit-filled moments woven into those first hours and days that were overflowing with grace, love, and affirmation. My imagination took me to the pain of rejection and loss but had no power to give me a taste of the freedom and joy that would come in walking into the wholeness of life God had for me.

I remember all this when gay men and lesbians write me with their fear of coming out and how it might be for them. In my jumbled way I try to encourage them to prepare for tomorrow, whatever the outcome, but not to worry about tomorrow because whatever happens God will be there. I tell them it will be hard. I tell them there will be pain. And I tell them they will survive. I tell them truth brings freedom and freedom brings joy. I tell them no matter how heart-wrenching others reactions might be, it can be well with their soul if they move forward with integrity and place their trust in God. “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” I say echoing Jesus’ words. “Your heavenly Father knows what you need and will provide.”

The truth of Christ’s words were burned into me through the firestorm of my own coming out and in turn I share what I’ve learned with others who find themselves facing the uncertainty of their own coming out, but then wouldn’t you know it, something else comes around the corner, looming ahead in my future and what do I do?

I worry.

I’m having surgery on Wednesday. Today is Monday and on and off throughout the day I’ve been worrying in bits and pieces about how quickly I’ll recover even before the surgeon has touched the blade to my skin. Today I’m completely pain-free and yet I’m worrying about how much pain there will be following surgery and how long it will last. I don’t have so much as a scratch on my knee and I’m worrying about how visible my scars will be. I’m anxious about waking up nauseated from the surgery. I’m obsessing about leaving the hospital the following morning and how difficult it will be to get in the car and how long the ride home will seem. Will I get sick and throw up? Ugh. I hate to throw up. I hope I don’t throw up. Oh please, keep me from throwing up.

In the passage above Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Yes. I’ll experience some physical pain following the surgery. Yes. I will have visible scarring. Yes. It’s going to take me time to recover and regain my strength. Yes. There are going to be inconveniences and frustrations and limitations. I might even throw up.

But all that will come tomorrow and worrying about it today will do nothing but increase my suffering by causing me to live in the future discomfort before it even comes. And worrying about tomorrow robs me of living in today. Today I have no pain or discomfort. Today the woman I love is sitting three feet away from me. Today one of my adorable cats is looking up at me with a “Give me treats Mom!” look in his eyes. Today there’s food on the table, a roof over my head and shoes on my feet.  Today is what God has given me and today and what it holds is all I have and all that matters. I can worry and fret and tangle my stomach up in knots over the concerns of tomorrow or I can choose to live in this very moment. Here I am. At my computer. Talking to you. Encouraging you not to worry about tomorrow. Don’t worry about what will happen when you come out to your family. Don’t worry about whether your relationship will endure the roughest storm. Don’t worry about the poor decisions your teenage son or daughter might make. Don’t suffer future loss. Tomorrow will take care of itself. God will give you tomorrow tomorrow but for now God has given you today. This is the same God, the very one, who keeps the smallest sparrow well fed; the very one who clothes the wildflowers on a remote mountain top in colors more splendid than the finest robes of the wealthiest king; the very one who holds you in the palm of His hand and will make a way for you and will provide for you and will see you through whatever tomorrow may hold.

Posted in Coming Out, Grace Meditations