Lesbians and Flat Earthers
I got a message from my cousin the other day.
“Hey! Cool blog post!” she said. I’d just set up my writing portfolio and had shared it on facebook. “I have a question, though. You called yourself a lesbian Calvinist. Is that an identity or…?”
Well, I’m not quite sure what else calling myself a lesbian Calvinist would mean. My sense of humor can be off-color, but I like to think that I’m not that bad yet.
“Yeah,” I said.
There was a brief, shocked pause.
“I’ve missed a lot,” she said finally. “We should talk.”
I was fine with that. I was ready to come out — to her, at least. I ran around the house looking for my Bible, and we compared various interpretations of the so-called “clobber passages” in scripture regarding LGBTQ relationships.
The interesting thing about arguing anything with my cousins is that some of them are hard-core flat earthers.
It really makes you question every interpretation they bring to anything. When I use the Bible to argue for love, I’m debating people who interpret the poetry of Genesis hyper-literally. When I reference science, I’m talking to the people who think NASA is a big hoax.
The rest of my family, thankfully, believes that the earth is round. But their views on gay rights are the same as those of my anti-science cousins.
This leads to a lot of tension in my house. Some of it’s funny. Talking to my cousin today, she danced around the word ‘girlfriend’ like it would be unclean for her to say aloud.
“So — do you have a — um — a girlfriend?”
Yes, yes I do. It took so much restraint not to gush about my beautiful girl; anything I said, after all, would be taken as sin.
Oh, yes, I’m such a lustful lesbian. Go read my chats with my girl. It’s all historic sewing and Words with Friends (I have yet to beat her…). Such sapphic perversion.
Other times, it’s anything but entertaining.
My brother and I were discussing theology. I want to be a pastor one day, so there’s no surprise that that’s one of my favorite topics.
“I’m not sure about all of Keith Green’s theology, though,” I said, referencing one of my favorite Christian artists.
“Heh. Not that you’re one to judge theology,” my brother replied.
It took a second for me to realize what he was talking about. In their eyes, being gay made me a complete heretic. It didn’t matter that I agreed with them on almost every other point of doctrine, from total depravity to predestination.
Being a lesbian invalidated all of my other beliefs.
And they accuse me of making a big deal of my sexuality.
My family is discouraging. It’s sometimes even crushing. I text the LGBTQ suicide hotline a lot more than a healthy person would.
But contrary to what my family believes, my faith strengthens my identity as a gay Christian.
I was reading Phillipians the other day, and read the oft-quoted Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Christians like to put this quote over inspirational sunsets and pray it before sporting events or tests, which is completely and utterly out of context. The writer of Philippians, Paul, wasn’t talking about some goal that he was trying to achieve through Christ’s strength.
He was talking about being perfectly content while in a Roman prison, unsure whether or not he would be executed the next day.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can live as a Christian lesbian even when I don’t have a single family member who supports me. And I can still love them while I do it.
Even if they do believe that the earth is flat.