There is a reckoning experienced by some of us who identify as both LGBTQIA+ and Christian. We are faced with questions around how we might integrate both of these identities within us while living within a culture that often pits these two against each other. Our quest is both in doing that work internally but also often having to explain it (or defend it, even) to others. At times it feels like one can be too Christian to be queer or too queer to be Christian, and it can be exhausting, lonely, and confusing.
I found some solace and and affinity with Moses this week as I realized that he, too, had to wrestle with his two identities, both internally and externally. He was born a Hebrew, but adopted into an Egyptian home. He was born in a slave-class and adopted into a ruling-class. He was too Egyptian to be Hebrew and too Hebrew to be Egyptian. What’s a guy to do?
Murdering an Egyptian who was mistreating a Hebrew didn’t seem to win him any points with the Hebrews. The story is pretty vague about the Egyptian response, but the lack of apparent pushback from his sudden disappearance might have indicated that they weren’t totally thrilled with him either. Like many queer Christians, escape from his community seemed to be the only option, leaving Moses without the stability, security, and wholeness that comes from being part of a larger body.
The church has too often placed the heavy burden of identity integration upon queer folks, and this is something that needs to change (this is likely true for BIPOC persons as well, but I cannot speak from experience there and I don’t want to presume to either). I was grateful to find community outside of my church who helped me to navigate some of my questions and provide role-models for what queer Christianity could look like. It is not surprising to me that those who do not find this kind of community either end up leaving the church, surpassing their queerness, or choosing the destructive path of trying maintain dual identities.
If a church desires to be a place of shalom (a peace that is found at the intersection of wholeness and holiness), then being a place for queer folk to wrestle with their faith is paramount. When pastors and politicians are lining up to condemn and demonize queer people while wearing a cross around their necks and toting a Bible in their hands, we need to have places of refuge and strength against the tide of bigotry.
