I Now Realize : Reflections on the Baptist Conference on Sexuality and Covenant

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“I Now Realize”: Reflections on the Baptist Conference on Sexuality and Covenant
By Scott Stearman

Then Peter began to speak: “I now realize…” Acts 10:34a

I teach a couple of university classes which call for an introduction to the science and faith debate of the last few hundred years. In these classes I typically show a schematic that pictures a complicated looping system of the scientific method with its evidence-questioning emphasis. Bad theory, throw it out. Good theory, keep it. New evidence? Refine or go back and start over.

I then show a schematic that demonstrates how some believe religion works. It is drawn in a straight line: Start. Get an idea. Ignore all contradictory evidence. Keep idea forever. End.

Is this fair, I ask? I always get a mixed reaction.

It isn’t fair of course. Science is not nearly so elegantly methodological – at least not in practice. And faith, at least healthy faith, is not nearly so rigid. Peter’s vision and his “Roman Revelation” in Acts 10 is just one of many examples. Jesus’ approach in the Sermon on the Mount would be another (“You have heard it was said unto you, but I say…”). There are countless other examples. The Baptist movement starting 400 years ago is one, I believe.

I like to hope that the Baptist Conference on Sexuality and Covenant was just such a watershed, visionary, transformative moment for this Baptist movement. I dream that over some time we will all come to say with Peter… “I now realize…”

In 2008, we had a very significant racial incident in Kirkwood, Missouri. A black man shot six people at city hall. The violence was an evil act, but it was born in a culture of racial tension. With the help of several community leaders, we created a space for grievances to be heard and relationships across town to develop. Hundreds came for several of these dialogue sessions. A common refrain, said repeatedly in one form or another by good-hearted white people of privilege in our city was this: “I did not know what I didn’t know.” I did not know that until just recently blacks were only served in the back of Spencer’s Grill. I did not know the statistic for blacks getting pulled over in our community was so much higher than for whites. I did not know that while drug-abuse rates are actually worse for white teens, black teens are much more likely to go to prison for minor drug offenses. All reasons for grievances, but if you don’t know… you do not know. And, of course, some just don’t want to know.

This is Peter’s issue. He did not know that God was doing something beyond his imagination – inviting even Gentiles to the table. He did not know that Romans were really human beings — not until he met Cornelius. He had a vision and he met the Roman. His world and ministry were turned upside down. His theology was liberated from excessive ethnocentrism and empowered with the Gospel of God’s unconditional love for all. Peter would never be the same after his “realization.”

When it comes to a renewed understanding of sexuality, we need to know what we didn’t know. And this was beautifully presented at the conference. We need to understand facts, to “re-read” the Bible in light of those facts, all the while meeting our “Cornelius” (or just as relevantly, our Ethiopian Eunuch). It really is that simple: science, scripture, stories.

This is not the space to rehearse the science. On the subject of LGBT orientation, mainstream science is clear. It is not a simple choice. If you doubt this, I am sure nothing I say would make a difference. Nor is this the space to rehearse the exegesis on the six passages of the Bible that seem to refer to what we now think of as the issue of homosexuality. As Cody Sanders so beautifully put it at the conference (my paraphrase): “There have been decades of scholarship on this. Take and read!” (I encourage you – exhort you – to watch the video of his presentation. You’ll find it online at www.thefellowship.info).

But possibly this is the space to recognize the power of listening to the lives of others. I will quote the evangelical blogger Kathy Bladock who has been attending Gay Pride events with a t-shirt that reads: “Hurt by the church? Get a straight apology here.” She was asked by a man all in leather, very buff, whip in hand and straps across his chest: “What’s the deal with this Jesus? Why does He hate us so much?” She responds: “Now if that does not make a Christian weep, there is no hope for your theology.” She may be right about that, but I’m sure about this: Our hope does lie in actually meeting and hearing the heart’s cry of our LGBT neighbors. Therein is where the change often takes place. We come to see that the Roman does indeed bleed red. We Christians not only need to hear these stories; we need to take corporate responsibility for some of the pain in them. The bullying, the violence, the murders, and the suicides grow out of a culture of dehumanization fertilized by Christians.

Last year, Kirkwood Baptist Church in Saint Louis did its own mini-conference on human sexuality. We at least had a conversation about aspects of it. There were no “experts,” just three successive Sunday nights where we heard stories. We heard the story of a gay man who grew up Southern Baptist in Arkansas. We wept at his pain of being rejected by family and church. We heard the story of a life-long Southern Baptist who had a son who came out in early adulthood. She and her husband read, read, and read. They came to embrace their son, now a successful biologist teaching at a university in Ohio. They accepted him, but their former church did not accept their acceptance.

And finally, we heard from parents in our congregation who have a transgendered child. That was a hard, but ultimately triumphant story. The parents’ love was truly divine. The child has transitioned and is a 4.0 grade point honor-roll student of 17 years.

I put this conference together, so I anticipated a backlash — at least anonymous letters if not downright hostility. But I heard not a negative word. What I heard: “Thank you for this… you know I’ve got a gay uncle.” “I’m so glad we’re talking about this, my brother is gay and has had such a struggle with church.” And more — all gratitude. I am so glad we are moving beyond our “Don’t ask don’t tell” policy at Kirkwood Baptist. We are not all agreed on the issue, but we all know we must love and that, in our context, community trumps ideology.

The German philosopher Schopenhauer said that new ideas go through three phases: first ridicule, then outrage, then “well it’s obvious.”

I know that many are still in the “outrage” phase. It is however my hope that conversations such as those we had in Atlanta will ripple out to congregations around the globe… having an experience something like that of Peter: “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism to anyone.”

Scott L. Stearman is Senior Pastor of Kirkwood Baptist Church in Saint Louis.