Shame among Sexual Minorities

I co-authored an article on shame among sexual minorities that was just published in Counseling & Values. The lead author, Veronica Johnson, wrote her dissertation on the topic, and this article is a reflection of her literature review with a focus on implications for counseling. It was nice to see it published in a mainstream counseling journal. Here is the abstract:

Theorists, clinicians, and researchers have suggested that shame is a central concern in the lives of sexual minority individuals. Cognitive theorists believe that shame occurs when a person fails to achieve his or her standards, which are often based on social, cultural, and spiritual values. Although it is asserted that stigma causes shame among members of a sexual minority, the empirical evidence suggests that negative internal cognitions are partly responsible. By targeting negative beliefs, counselors can help sexual minorities reduce their sense of shame, particularly around issues related to sexual identity. The authors offer counseling strategies for reducing shame in sexual minority clients.

What is shame? Shame refers to “an intensely painful affect resulting from an exposure of the self as flawed or inferior, and a concurrent deep belief that this deficiency will result in rejection, abandonment, or loss of esteem.” If your mom ever said, “You should be ashamed” or “Shame on you!” she was likely hoping you would feel something more like remorse. Shame is the emotion that comes “from self-condemnation along with a fear of condemnation from others.”

Shame is not guilt. People feel guilty for things they have done wrong–or when they have failed to do the good/right. Shame is feeling bad (self-condemnation, self-rejection) for who you are; it reflects the idea that you are fundamentally flawed, and that if others knew who you really are, they would reject you too.

Johnson offers a formula for shame that is based on a cognitive theory by Lewis. Here is the formula:

Step 1: A person is raised in a culture in which various standards, rules, and goals are conveyed;

Step 2: That person does not live up to these standards/rules/goals (perceived failure);

Step 3: The person then believes that not living up to these standards is the result of personal deficiencies or shortcomings (negative global attribution);

Step 4: The result is shame.

How does this connect to sexual minorities? For many years now it has been understood that sexual minorities experience shame. In response to this, I have heard conservative Christians respond, “Well, they should!” –perhaps wanting to see guilt or remorse (or a sense of personal conviction) but without much genuine empathy or appreciation for how debilitating shame really is.

What I want to explore is how shame affects sexual minorities and how the church could respond to reduce shame. Let’s do a thought exercise: Think about a teenager in the church who experiences same-sex attraction. She grows up in a faith community with specific standards, rules, and goals specific to sexuality and sexual identity. If the church is not clear about how to understand these standards, she can quickly surmise that she is wrong for even experiencing same-sex attractions, even if she did not make this choice (in other words, she found herself experiencing same-sex attraction as she went through puberty). She is then unable to live up to the standards of her faith community, if those standards are that no one is to even experience same-sex attractions or that the experience of such attractions is sin. If another expectation is that she experience a dramatic change in her feelings through prayer or involvement in ministry, that becomes another source of shame. If she prays and ask God to remove her attractions or otherwise enter into ministry to change her feelings and does not have as much success as she had hoped for, she may confirm in her mind (and to others) that she cannot live up to the standards, rules and goals of the Christian community. The result? Shame.

So this is not a simple matter of helping people become more sensitized to things they are doing wrong so that they can make necessary changes. Shame is a different kind of emotional experience, and one that is frequently associated with depression, anger, blame, and withdrawal from others. If you know a sexual minority who has struggled with shame, you know that it is a very painful emotional state that is not easily overcome.

In the article we offer several suggestions for reducing shame, so let me go over these briefly. First, we point out that a counselor can help a sexual minority identify and name their experience of shame by helping them become aware of related feelings (e.g., inferiority, inadequacy), thoughts (e.g., “God hates me”), and behaviors (e.g., Withdrawing from others).

A second recommendation is to learn to manage or regulate emotions. A person learns more helpful ways of releasing negative feelings, like shame. Here’s how we put it in the article: “regulating shame includes (a) withholding natural maladaptive reactions, (b) using self-soothing techniques to mollify the feelings of shame, (c) willfully refocusing attention outward, then (d) deciding how to act.”

The next recommendation is to address unhelpful thoughts. For the person who contends with shame, the thoughts they hold are self-condemning: “Shame is aroused when an individual holds self-condemning beliefs and fears of condemnation from others, particularly when the individual believes that he or she is failing to attain” standards, rules, and goals held by the community. At this point I am not thinking of what the local church teaches about sexual behavior, but what I am thinking about (as I mentioned above) are standards, rules and goals that may be associated with even having same-sex feelings (which the person did not choose to experience) and not experiencing as much change in their feelings as they may be expected (by their community) to experience. I’ve frequently said we need to find realistic biblical hope, which resides somewhere in between cynical pessimism that says, “No one has or ever will experience any experience of change whatsoever!” and arrogant optimism that says, “Anyone who tries hard enough or has enough faith can expect a 180-degree change from gay to straight!” I will have to return sometime to realistic biblical hope, but I will say that in most churches I visit, arrogant optimism is more often the norm and frequently to the detriment of sexual minorities who are unable to meet its standards.

The final recommendation we offered has to do with healthy and healing relationships, and in the context of mental health services, this usually begins with the relationship a person has with his or her counselor. (BTW: there are other recommendations not mentioned in this article that are better suited for a Christian setting, and I may do a future post on those.) It is frequently through that relationship that a person who struggles with shame can explore that emotional state and associated, unhelpful thoughts, as well as learn that a relationship can be sustained over time–they are not going to be rejected as they are known by another.

What is obviously more complicated in a conservative Christian context is how to address shame when the community (including the sexual minority) adheres to a traditional sexual ethic. How do you help a person feel better about themselves when they have feelings that draw them to engage in behavior about which they themselves feel ambivalent? They want to–they experience strong impulses, and they also don’t want to–they hold values that proscribe such behaviors.

You can understand why the mainstream gay community would ask, “Why are you working so hard? Why not change what you believe? Others have!” In other words, one response is to change what is taught in the church about sexual ethics. If a person feels cognitive dissonance between what they believe and how they live, one way to resolve that dissonance is to change what the person believes. Significantly, many sexual minorities do not believe it is there prerogative to make these kinds of doctrinal changes; their beliefs and convictions are that the Church (globally and historically) has been correct around general principles that inform sexual ethics. So they are looking at another way to respond to the dissonance they may feel. (As an aside, psychology cannot adjudicate the theological questions that surround sexual ethics. Psychology can inform our understanding of emotional experiences like shame, as well as help us recognize some of the complexities in attempting to reduce shame. The theological issues have to be resolved within the church and by the church.)

It is in this context (of retaining conservative or traditional religious beliefs and values) that pastoral care and counseling around shame is especially difficult. All the more reason for those in church leadership to understand ways in which they may inadvertently contribute to shame by how they talk about the topics of homosexuality, sexual identity, and gay and lesbian issues. I will try to come back to this in another post, as I know that many pastors have asked for guidance here. But I wanted to at least let you know about this article and to make the recommendations available for those who find them helpful.

 

Pray the Gay Away – Part 2

In Part I of our discussion of Pray the Gay Away by Bernadette Barton, I discussed her basic approach to researching the experiences of sexual minorities in the Bible belt. I shared that there is a lot of important information and experiences to appreciate here, particularly for those who identify as Christians. I did note, however, that her book was limited in important ways by her approach to data analysis that drew so heavily on Foucault and theories of power and domination. Let’s pick up our discussion.

In reading Pray the Gay Away, I was reminded at times of Michelle Wolkomir’s ethnographic study that was published in book form as Be Not Deceived. It was a study of gay and ex-gay Christians. In that study, Wolkomir offered an analysis of how both groups of men had to make a maneuver that allowed themselves to remain Christians. She described how gay Christians who were part of the Metropolitan Community Church utilized a hermeneutic of inclusivity and love to facilitate a way to retain a Christian identity. In contrast, ex-gay Christians who were part of Exodus International affiliated ministries followed a hermeneutic of righteousness–denying themselves same-sex intimacy/behavior–in order to retain a Christian identity. According to Wolkomir, both groups utilized similar strategies, such as small groups, to create the necessary emotional atmospheres that fostered the kind of identity and community needed to make the transition.

In some regards, Wolkomir critiques both groups of men out of a comparable lens (drawing on elements of queer theory). But the steps she took to critique both ways of navigating being a sexual minority and a Christian offered important insights. Neither group was demonized, though she pointed out concerns that she had for both strategies and clearly held to a different worldview altogether.

This reader ended Pray the Gay Away wondering if Barton understands the faith and belief structure of Christians. She seems to understand, identify, and articulate ways in which abuses of sexual minorities can result from specific beliefs held by some Christians and encounters with those who identify as Christian. These stories are powerful and sobering. They need to be heard. But it is unclear the extent to which she understands the beliefs themselves and why they might matter in the life of a Christian or of a church – apart from an a priori commitment to a theory that asserts Christians sustain and protect existing power structures that allow a segment of the population to dominate and control others. I think that would be the result from a different way of conducting the research and analyzing the data, of engaging a region, of participating in the lived experiences of those who identify as Christians, even those who identify as fundamentalist Christians.

Most of you who read this blog know that I am a Christian. After all, this blog is about the integration of Christianity and psychology. I am not a fundamentalist Christian, however. I do know several fundamentalist Christians, some of whom (at least in certain beliefs and assumptions) can be seen in the folks Barton encounters in her book. Others would not recognize themselves in some of the exchanges.So there is likely more diversity and complexity in that region and among even this kind of Christian than is offered, and the reader gets the sense that Barton is aware of that.

Early on in the book, Barton recognizes there are difficulties in defining what she is targeting. There is fundamentalism. There is the Religious Right. There are evangelicals. There are conservative Christians. All of these terms are brought into the discussion from time to time. The problem with this is that by sampling certain experiences with fundamentalists but then muddying the water with all of these other designations, the reader is left with can be a bias against all forms of Christianity that are not explicitly gay affirmative in the way Barton envisions. That is, if a Christian does not view same-sex behavior as a morally good, natural expression of a person’s identity–a person whose very well-being is predicated on such expressions, one is the kind of Christian reflected in the stories of abuse documented here. Yet there are Christian who hold those beliefs and values (that is, a traditional Christian sexual ethic) who are not abusive to sexual minorities. Some may be fundamentalists; many others are not.

“…I now understand that a certain percentage of conservative Christians are unlikely to change their belief systems to accommodate homosexuality no matter what arguments or evidence is offered” (p. 226). Are we speaking, then, of fundamentalist Christians or conservative Christians? Is it the Religious Right? Evangelicals? Conservative Catholics? Well, it’s all of those at this point–but the case is made compelling because of the examples of abuse from some fundamentalists.

A more helpful engagement would have taken the time to reflect on this question: if there are those who adhere to a traditional Christian sexual ethic, why is that? Can the reasons be reduced to power/domination? Is that a true assertion? In other words, it is not an assertion that is argued for; it is assumed, and this leaves the reader with a truncated view of any form of Christianity that is, again, not committed to a gay affirmative position as held by the researcher. The encounters and experiences Barton identifies and (rightly) challenges are those that are abusive to sexual minorities. However, what is ultimately being challenged is not a narrow strip of fundamentalism but a broader expression of Christianity (historic and global) that reaches a different conclusion than Barton about sexual ethics. If we define as abuse any disagreement about complex issues that are tied to broader worldview considerations (such as sexual ethics), then we are not going to have as meaningful an exchange of ideas. That discussion does not occur in this book.

Barton writes: “….some individual and institutions are unlikely to ever embrace homosexuality as part of God’s design…” (p. 227). The focus, then, is not, “What is a Christian sexual ethic and how can we better understand why that matters in the lives of Christians, including gay Christians (e.g., Wes Hill, Ron Belgau, Eve Tushnet). Nor is the focus on coexistence in a society with diverse view of a complex matter in which people may reach different conclusions (matters of ethics and morality). Rather, the impression I had was that any lack of movement toward Barton’s perspective is the result of a kind of fundamentalism associated with a literal reading of the Bible, belief in Creationism, and violence toward sexual minorities. It is one conclusion that can be reached from the kind of analysis Barton relies upon–an analysis of power and domination–but it is not the only analysis available, nor is it the only conclusion that can be drawn from an intimate knowledge of both the mainstream gay community and conservative Christianity.

This may seem like an aside, but let me also comment on one of the more memorable chapters. It was the one on creationism, which seemed out of place in the book, but I think I understand why it was included. I think it was meant to illustrate the kind of mindset that fuels the very abuses documented in the book. It was fascinating to read the visceral reaction of Barton’s students to the Creation Museum. (I have to say I’ve never visited it, so maybe I would also have a strong reaction.) This was probably the most difficult chapter for me to fully appreciate, and I cannot quite put my finger on the issue. It seemed that the very exposure of the students to this way of thinking (fundamentalist Christianity) was a significant threat to their well-being. (I have witnessed this with other sexual minorities who were not from the Bible belt and were actually in significant positions of influence.) I don’t think there is any one explanation for this; I suspect there could be many contributing factors. The obvious one presented in the book is the power/domination of the form of Christianity on display. I think that is definitely part of the explanation. If a person believes they are condemned in the eyes of those around them, exposure to institutions that represent that power will draw a strong, negative response.

I also wondered if the response is in any way primed when students are taught out of a worldview that frames these exchanges in power and domination rather than other explanatory frameworks. (Yes, I recognize that from the power/domination framework, I will be viewed as simply defending and justifying the power structures under scrutiny, but then there is no possible critique–the power simply shifts to those who keep others silent.) I don’t know, but if there is any possibility of moving forward as a culture, there might be something here worth exploring further. Can we be cued to interpret data as a threat in ways that actually gives that person/institution more power to do greater emotional damage to sexual minorities? Take this as me thinking out loud here. Again, I’m struggling to understand. What I do know is that we are left an important need that has not yet been met: how to talk with one another about these differences, as well as how we create better atmospheres for substantive diversity. I recall one author sharing that substantive diversity will have elements in it that are really difficult for us, sometimes so much so that we experience it as offensive. The way forward, it seems to me, is not to excuse, minimize, or defend abusive actions toward those who are in the minority; nor is it to reduce the diversity by demanding consensus on matters reflecting formed judgments about complex issues such as morality and ethics.

I will close with this: I am frequently exposed to people  who believe that by virtue of being a Christian, I am a bigot. I have seen Christians equated with Nazis (this happens in Barton’s book). I have seen Christians equated with the KKK (also in this book). These are not ways to move society toward greater mutual understanding and respect. Christians would do well to study if there are changes that can be made so as not to contribute to that emotional experience. But critics of Christianity would do well to understand a sexual ethic out of that religion (and many other world religions) rather than reduce it to caricature. We need to find ways to foster the kinds of relationships that can sustain extended discussions of genuine differences in a diverse society. I doubt that drawing on theories of oppression to “unpack the mechanisms of domination” will aid in that process, if that is the only step taken, and if all of our recommendations are derived from that without any consideration for other perspectives. I suspect such a maneuver will do the opposite, that is, it will contribute to the culture wars in ways that have real consequences, such as when religious liberties are curtailed in the name of the tolerance that is being asserted.

That is another topic altogether. It is one worthy of its own post or two. For now, let me bring this to a close by saying I genuinely appreciated reading Barton’s book. It is thought-provoking to say the least. As in any similar endeavor, it is important to identify what can be learned from these kinds of analyses. To reject these experiences out of hand would be a mistake for the church. At the same time, there is much that needs to be done to foster mutual respect and understanding, and everyone is going to need to contribute toward that end if we hope to move forward on these complex matters.

 

Christian Counseling Ethics, 2nd Ed.

The book, Christian Counseling Ethics, has just been published in its second edition. This is a book edited by Randolph Sanders, former executive director of the Christian Association for Psychological Studies (CAPS). The opening chapters (by folks like Alan Tjeltveit, Richard Butman, and Horace Lukens) orient the reader to a Christian worldview and engagement with counseling and mental health. This is a greater challenge than it sounds like, as the book is for a broad audience and so takes up psychology, counseling, marriage and family therapy, pastoral care, and lay counseling.

The book then turns to specific populations and issues, such as couples therapy, children, those with chronic conditions, navigating multiple relationships, and working with sexual minorities. I worked with Stan Jones and Jill Kays on the chapter on sexual minorities. Other contributors here included Jennifer Ripley, Ev Worthington, Steve Sandage, Jeff Berryhill, Angela Sabates, James Jennison, and Randy Sanders.

Other chapters address some unique considerations for Christians, lay counselors, and ministry settings. These include chapters on the abuse of power (John Shackelford & Randy Sanders), business ethics (Randy Sanders), pastors and lay counseling (Bill Blackburn, Siang-Yang Tan), the military (Brad Johnson), and member care (Kelly O’Donnell).

Most of the chapters are revised, expanded versions from topics addressed in the first edition. Some are new chapters. However, given the changes in the field, even those chapters that are revised or expanded are often substantive updates. I know that material on working with sexual minorities has grown significantly since the first edition came out in 1997.

Sanders also did a nice job asking everyone to be practical. The most obvious signs of this are the appendices. Various ethical codes are reproduced in the appendix, as are sample forms for release of information, demographics, and so on. But even in the various chapters, authors made a concerted effort to make the resource more practical. In our chapter on working with sexual minorities, we added a lot of suggested language that could be used when obtaining informed consent, for instance.

This book is meaningful to me personally. The chapter I coauthored for the first edition was my first publication. When I contributed to that edition, I was a grad student working for Stan Jones at Wheaton College. It was nice to be able to return to that chapter and to update it for Christians in training today.

Having taught a course in Ethical, Legal and Professional Issues in Psychology for more than a decade, I can say that I have not found another comparable book that delves into the professional ethical issues that arise for Christians and that is written from a Christian worldview. Given that 16 years had passed since the publication of the first edition, it was definitely time for a second edition, and I think the reader will not be disappointed.

 

Pray the Gay Away – Part I

There is a new book out titled, Pray the Gay Away: The Extraordinary Lives of Bible Belt Gays, by Bernadette Barton. Barton is Professor of Sociology and Women’s Studies at Morehead State University. The book is the result of a six year ethnographic study of 59 sexual minorities in the Bible belt. This alone had me quite interested in what she would learn about their experiences with conservative Christianity, as I think there is much the church could do differently in this area. At the same time, Barton  acknowledges that she may have oversampled activists in conducting her research, which may be a concern. I think studies of more mainstream (is that the right word?) sexual minorities might have “thickened the plot” a little more.

“…most of the people I interviewed attended conservative Christian churches–i.e., Baptist, Pentecostal, and Church of Christ–and grew up in families in which homosexuality was frequently denounced. Consequently, participants’ identity struggles more often took place under the shadow of a preacher’s voice thundering floridly about ‘homosexuals’ and parents proclaiming that ‘any child of mind that is gay is dead to me’ at the dinner table than in an LGBT center.”

In the Introduction Barton opens the book by recounting an exchange with a neighbor who introduced her to some of the regional flavor by referring to homosexuality as an “abomination” in the eyes of God. This after just learning that Barton was in a lesbian relationship. This sets the context for the lived experiences of those she interviewed.

Some of the most fascinating observations of the region come early on in the book and rely heavily on Foucault and what are “theories of domination and oppression” (p. 20). For example, Barton’s introduces and develops the image of the Bible Belt panopticon, which refers to the late 18th c. design of an institution in which a central office would allow for the constant observation of inmates in the surrounding (circular) structure.

“…The Bible Belt panopticon, an important element of Bible Belt Christianity, manifests through tight social networks of family, neighbors, church, and community members, and a plethora of Christian signs and symbols sprinkled throughout the region.” (p. 24)

Barton argues that the panopticon is supported by personalism, the willingness to appear to concur with others, to give the impression one agrees even when one does not. In Barton’s view of the Bible Belt, even if a person disagreed with a more conservative sexual ethic, such disagreement is likely to go unspoken, further giving the impression of regional consensus.

It is an interesting take on the experience of sexual minorities in the Bible belt, and one I think is important for people to understand. I disagree with the lens through which Barton conducts her analysis, but I do appreciate how upfront she is about it. I have a fair amount of exposure to scholars who use essentially the same lens but want me and others to believe that they are offering an objective, dispassionate analysis of a topic.

There are painful stories recounted throughout the book. Some of the most painful were experiences with family and with the local church. So while some readers may disagree with many aspects of the book, I think it is important to identify what can be understood from the data, what might help shape how Christians respond to the experiences of sexual minorities.

In discussing some of the consequences of sharing her gay identity with her mother, one woman shared: “I am cut off. I am disowned. My family wants nothing to do with me. I’m dead to them” (p. 54). Another mother broke dishes, “locked herself in the bathroom, and left [her son] to sweep up the racked plates and explain” to their Thanksgiving guests that dinner was off (p. 57). Still another parent reportedly shouted, “had you walked in here and told us you’d murdered someone we would have handled that better than we can do with this!” This is so beyond the experience of most readers, and it offers an important look into the lives of some sexual minorities.

In the church context the stories were also painful. One woman recalled: “The preacher would preach on homosexuality. He would always group us in with the so-called perverts, like child molesters and just awful people” (p. 66).

Can you imagine how it would be for a young teen – say 13 or 14 – who finds himself experiencing same-sex attraction to hear someone in leadership talk about what this teen has questions about in a way that associates it with these other concerns? I doubt most of us can imagine that. So it is important to glean lessons from these stories that will help Christians respond in better ways when they learn that their teen or young adult is either questioning their sexual identity or is disclosing or announcing a sexual identity. Christians could certainly respond in more constructive and compassionate ways.

The challenges that arise in reading books like this have to do with what to do with this information. Solutions offered are often simplistic: have parents affirm their loved one. In some ways, this is absolutely right. Affirm and love without conditions. Speak life into young people. Pour into them.

At the same time, what are parents to do with their conventionally religious beliefs and values about sexual morality? The more simple suggestions often fail to appreciate the importance of those beliefs and how they hang together with worldview considerations. If recommendations are not offered with those worldview and value considerations in view, constructive solutions will often be dismissed out of hand. Nothing changes.

I experienced this awhile ago when I was consulting with a group on how to help religious corrections officers work with sexual minorities in corrections facilities. Many people felt strongly that they should have corrections officers change their religious beliefs/values about moral issues. This is one strategy. However, I think that what happens when those beliefs/values are directly challenged is that people reject out of hand any recommendations from the source that challenged their values. Another option is to demonstrate cognitive complexity and perspective-taking, to understand the experiences of conventionally religious people, why they believe as they do, to value what you can in it, and to draw forward elements of those beliefs that will improve the atmosphere for sexual minorities in corrections. So, for example, things like valuing the worth of all people is inherent in Christian theology (the idea that people bear the image of God). Draw this forward in a way that helps a staff member respond to issues in a better, more professional manner. In any case, there is a lot I could say about that, but you get the idea.

I think it could be helpful to find language for parents who want to demonstrate love and support but who do not believe they can or should change their values as they pertain to sexual morality. In other words, are there resources that meet conventionally religious parents where they are and help them parent better in those moments (rather than materials that are more readily dismissed because the recommendations seem incompatible with their worldview)?

That question may go unanswered for now. Back to the book: there were a couple of missed opportunities in Barton’s approach to the topic, and this may be due to her overall commitment to Foucault et al. For example, early in the book she shares that she attended a large church that holds to a traditional Christian sexual ethic. In an exchange with someone there, she asks if sexual minorities would be welcomed. She is told that the would be, and the church member references another woman who had attended a small group and announced herself to be a lesbian. That same woman apparently had some kind of experience in which “Jesus worked on her heart” (the language of the church member). I thought Barton would have tracked that woman (the self-identified lesbian) down and asked to hear more about her story, where she was today, and so on. Perhaps she did and it’s just not in the book, but I thought that would have been irresistible to a researcher.

In that sense there is not the kind of balance that I was expecting to see in a research study. It is true that Barton recounts her time visiting a faith-based, ex-gay ministry conference in the Chicago suburbs, but that was less about the Bible belt and more about the ex-gay movement, which she then discusses as a part of the fabric of the region. I thought it would have been helpful to reflect more on the theological position that informs the decision by those who attend such ministries–for example, what is a traditional Christian sexual ethic? Why is does that sexual ethic matter in the lives of people who identify themselves as followers of Christ? Why is that sense of morality subscribed to by many Christians across the globe and throughout history? I think that was where I was hoping for more cognitive complexity and perspective-taking.

There is a lot more than can be said. Let’s bring this to a close by calling it Part I. I will continue a discussion of Pray Away the Gay in another post.

 

Sexual Minorities in Faith-Based Higher Ed

Update: The study is now available at the JPT website.

A new study has just been published on the experiences of sexual minorities in faith-based colleges and universities. This is a study I conducted with Stephen Stratton, Janet Dean and Michael Lastoria. Here is the abstract:

Studies on faith-based campuses are beginning to offer a glimpse into the real experience of sexual minority students in these unique settings. This study adds to this growing body of information by surveying 247 undergraduates, who describe themselves as sexual minorities at 19 Christian schools across the United States. They responded to questions related to attitudes regarding sexuality, sexual identity, religiosity, and sexual milestone events. The results from this sample suggst those who attend higher education at faith-based institutions are a distinct group within Western culture when it comes tot he development of religious/spiritual identity and sexual identity. Although diversity with regard to same-sex and opposite-sex attraction is present among those surveyed, common themes exist for this unique sample of undergraduates. Implications for mainstream culture and Christian educational institutions are discussed.

I’ve been presenting these findings in consultations and workshops for awhile now, but here is the gist of what we found. We reported different degrees of sexual attraction to the same- and opposite-sex, which is in keeping with some of the most recent research on sexual minorities and actually harkens back to Kinsey’s observation of a continuum of attraction rather than a simple either/or dichotomy.

There was also diversity in terms of religiosity. Although likely a highly religious sample compared to the general population, we did see diversity here and it was associated with degree of same-sex attraction. Those with no or little same-sex attraction were higher on intrinsic religiosity (in which religion is an end to itself; valuing religion for its own sake)–and the more same-sex attraction reported, the more likely to score lower on intrinsic religiosity. But, again, as a whole, Christian sexual minorities were likely more religious than the general population.

When asked about milestone events in the development of one’s sexual identity, as in our previous study, we saw that fewer participants had (1) engaged in same-sex behavior, (2) initially attributed their attraction to a gay identity, or (3) adopted a gay identity label.

In terms of public/private sexual identity, it was rare for participants to have a public identity as anything other than straight. We wrote,

This may be associated with the influence of the campus culture, religious conviction, or persona. choice, but it may also reflect a distinctive of those seeking to develop an identity that engages both the religious and the sexual. (p. 19)

In terms of private identification, about 4% thought of themselves as gay/lesbian, 10% bisexual, and about 9% questioning. Labeling here was associated with strength of same-sex attraction: the less same-sex attraction, the more likely to identify as straight; those who did privately identify as gay/lesbian were high on same-sex attraction.

This finding may represent a distinct trajectory insofar as the sample tended to not gravitate toward identity labels common to the mainstream LGBT community. It could be a result of heterosexism and homophobia; or it could be evidence that there is a group of sexual minorities that “engages in identity formation in a way that contrasts with mainstream culture” (p. 19), perhaps due to the salience of their religious faith.

The last major area we asked about were attitudes/values around sexuality and same-sex behavior. When people reported less same-sex attraction, they tended to be more conservative than those who reported more same-sex attraction. Folks who were more intrinsically religious were also more often conservative in their sexual attitudes/values.

As a group, though, these sexual minority students were more alike than different in many ways. They agreed that their campuses hold a negative view of sexual minorities and that there are few resources to support sexual minorities. (This is an area I think Christian institutions would do well to respond to in earnest.) They also tended to see sexual chastity as an attainable goal.

When I look at this data as a whole, I tend to think that it speaks to not just one experience that holds true for everybody. Rather, I think there are many ways to be a sexual minority on a Christian college campus. There is no doubt in my mind that some sexual minorities experience their sexuality in much the same way that the mainstream LGBT community talks about it, and this group may hide their experiences or sense of who they are in order to “get through” college.They may very well hold to beliefs and values that are more commonly expressed by members of the mainstream LGBT community.

But I think it is a mistake to see this sample as doing that as a whole. I think other Christian sexual minorities  represent a more distinct identity development model in which their faith is given such weight that they make different choices in areas in which volition is in play, such as choosing not to engage in sexual behavior (to the same- or opposite-sex). Their religious beliefs, values and identity may also keep them from attributing their attractions to a gay identity (as is the normative experience within the LGBT community). They might be more likely to attribute their same-sex attractions to the Fall (original sin that taints creation in some way) or draw upon some other explanatory framework that makes sense to them but does not lend itself to a LGBT identity.They might view their same-sex sexuality in a more positive light than that and as much larger than their impulses; they might experience their sexuality in the temperament and personality, as well as their creativity and ways of relating to others. They might just choose not to enter into same-sex relationships by virtue of their formed judgments about sexual ethics.

Where will they be in a few years? I don’t know. That is a question for another study altogether. Some may eventually end up using the word “gay” as an adjective to name the reality of the same-sex sexuality while making similar decision about behavioral chastity; others may choose to make different choices about sexual behavior in the years to come, but those choices do not appear to be common at this age, at least not with the sample we surveyed.

Stay tuned. We are currently analyzing data from a smaller study of Christian sexual minorities who are  enrolled in a Christian college or university, as well as sexual minority alumni from those institutions. We are also planning to launch a larger longitudinal study to see if there are changes in behavior, identity, and attitudes/values among Christian sexual minorities over time.

 

The Semi-Believing Doubter

Shortly after I became a Christian, I was baptized in our small Reformed Presbyterian church and invited to join as a member. I remember the membership form I was asked to sign. It covered basic doctrinal positions of the church, and one stood out to me: it said that I believed that signs and wonders had ceased after the time of the apostles. I spoke to my dad about this, in part because I was uncertain I could agree with this statement. He told me he had had a similar reaction when he joined the church. He said he crossed that one out! I did the same. Although I was not raised in a church tradition that exposed me to charismatic gifts, I was not certain I could say that they did not exist, and it seemed odd to support a doctrinal position on what the Holy Spirit might choose to do in a person’s life.

There are likely varying degrees of familiarity with this topic among those who read this blog. It is interesting to be a part of a church that more overtly teaches and affirms the existence of miracles. (Of course, the very fact that a person is a Christian is an affirmation of the miraculous, so it is interesting to even have this as a separate point of discussion when you think about it…) In any case, in that context people would be invited to receive prayer for healing at the altar rail during or after services, and there would be an expectation that miracles would occur. In church settings like I am describing, I would say several people would admit to witnessing in their own lives (or in the lives of others they know personally) a miracle. But these experiences have not been part of my church culture, and it has been a process for me to recognize that church “culture” can quickly shape doctrinal positions, fuel skepticism (or faith and belief), and the way this is shaped can lead to very different conclusions about what is happening in a given service.

The title of this post is from Chapter 5 of Tim Stafford’s new book, Miracles: A Journalist Looks at Modern-Day Experiences of God’s Power. The semi-believing doubter is the skeptic who “doesn’t believe science excludes God,” and may believe in the miraculous in theory, “but in a practical sense, he or she lives as though miracles don’t exist” (p. 69). This is the state of many Christians in the U.S. today, including the author from time to time. Yet this makes Tim Stafford an ideal choice to write this book. He is a trusted journalist who has been with Christianity Today for years. He asks many of the questions most of us who are skeptical would ask, and he is honest about the scrutiny we would give to claims of the miraculous.

Stafford reviews accounts of the miraculous in Scripture, starting with the Old Testament and then through the New Testament. He reminds the reader that for the vast majority of that history, there were no or few records of miraculous events. The same appears to be true in Christian history since the time of the apostles. Yet there is also evidence that miracles did occur–in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, and at times throughout Christian history. Of course, having recently celebrated Easter, Christians base their whole faith in the resurrection of Jesus, so once that is taken as true (and there is significant evidence to support that claim), then other miracles certainly seem possible, if uncommon. Stafford then brings the reader up to the contemporary Pentecostal movement that began with the Azusa Street Revival in 1906 and continues today throughout the world.

I appreciated Stafford’s comment on scientists who dismiss the miraculous out of hand because they believe if someone is rational, that person cannot possibly consider the miraculous:

Oddly enough, it’s not a scientific point of view. Science would seek to investigate. This position maintains that no investigation is necessary… This is a philosophical position–just the sort of philosophical a priori assumption that scientists say they abhor. (p. 166)

I have found a similar bias in psychology. Training in the behavioral sciences can quickly become a worldview, a lens through which all of “reality” is reduced to what we can measure as psychologists. When it becomes a worldview, people who adhere to it can find explanations for most everything, even those things beyond its reach.

Stafford offers several helpful conclusions for Christians to consider–twenty, to be exact. He concludes that miracles do happen, that they are rare, and that they do not point to themselves or the person who does them but to the Kingdom of God. Healing is more common, and only rarely does healing surprise us such that we think of it as a miracle. In some circles, people will “pass along miracle stories uncritically, so many of them don’t hold up to scrutiny. But that doesn’t mean that none are true” (p. 200). That last one is a good reminder for those who are more skeptical.

This was a quick read. It is well-written and thoughtful. Again, Stafford is not pushing the miraculous as a card-carrying Pentecostal; nor is he a cessationist. There is a real balance in how he approaches the topic, and I think many Christians today will find this book to be a great source of encouragement as they consider how God may be at work in the world and in their own lives.

It was helpful to me personally to read a book from an author who has a similar cultural background as my own (and accompanying doubts and questions). I’ve read many book from authors who are already “there” as charismatics, and those books use language and constructs that I find difficult to use in my own everyday way of thinking about faith. But I want to take seriously the possibility of the miraculous, and Stafford finds a place for miracles in a culture polarized between skeptics on the one hand and charlatans on the other.

 

Training in Psychology and the Debates about Value-Based Referrals

The Board of Educational Affairs of the American Psychological Association (APA) has just put forth a new statement that is the result of a several month process by which a working group has been meeting to discuss the complexities associated with value-based referrals in the context of professional training.

This has been a topic that has received a great deal of attention with the Ward v. Eastern Michigan University (EMU) case that was recently settled out of court. You may recall that Julea Ward was dismissed from her counseling program for not participating in a remediation program after making a referral of a gay client who requested counseling for relationship issues. That referral was made in consultation with her supervisor, but her program had insisted she go through remediation. The settlement to Ward was for $75,0000.

Unfortunately, I see a lot of polarization occurring in response to value based referrals. Now we are seeing attempts to address these complex issues through legislation, which I see as the wrong venue for this topic. Just as I am concerned with attempts to ban reorientation therapy for minors in California (see here), I am concerned about attempts to legislate conscience clauses for students in training to become psychologists.

The APA appears to want to get ahead of the curve on this one, which I think is a good idea. The pedagogical statement is reproduced here in its entirety:

Preparing Professional Psychologists to Serve a Diverse Public: A Core Requirement in Doctoral Education and Training

Statement of Purpose

For psychologists to competently serve all members of the public now and in the future, professional psychology training programs strive to ensure that psychology trainees demonstrate acceptable levels of knowledge, skills, and awareness to work effectively with diverse individuals. Clients/patients are complex individuals who belong to diverse cultures and groups. Trainees also bring a complex set of personal characteristics and diverse cultural or group memberships to the education and training process. An important component of psychology training to explore is when and how trainees’ world views, beliefs, or religious values interact with and even impede the provision of competent professional services to members of the public. It is essential that potential conflicts be acknowledged and addressed during training so that psychologists are prepared to beneficially and non-injuriously interact with all clients/patients. This statement is intended to help training programs address conflicts between trainees’ worldviews, beliefs, or religious values and professional psychology’s commitment to offering culturally responsive psychological services to all members of the public, especially to those from traditionally marginalized groups.

Commitment to a Supportive Training Environment

Training environments foster the ability of trainees to provide competent care to the general public, and trainees’ competencies in professional practice are evaluated regularly. Some trainees possess worldviews, values, or religious beliefs that conflict with serving specific subgroups within the public.   For example, they may experience strong negative reactions toward clients/patients who are of a particular sexual orientation, religious tradition, age, or disability status. Trainers take a developmental approach to trainee skill and competency acquisition, and support individual trainees in the process of developing competencies to work with diverse populations. Trainers respect the right of trainees to maintain their personal belief systems while acquiring such professional competencies. Trainers also model the process of personal introspection; the exploration of personal beliefs, attitudes, and values; and the development of cognitive flexibility required to serve a wide diversity of clients/patients. Training to work with diverse clients/patients is integral to the curriculum, and consists of both didactic coursework and practical training.

Training programs, trainers, and trainees cannot be selective about the core competencies needed for the practice of psychology because these competencies are determined by the profession for the benefit of the public. Further, training programs are accountable for ensuring that trainees exhibit the ability to work effectively with clients/patients whose group membership, demographic characteristics, or worldviews create conflict with their own. Trainers respectfully work with trainees to beneficially navigate value- or belief- related tensions.  At times, training programs may wish to consider client/patient re-assignment so trainees have time to work to develop their competence to work with client/patients who challenge trainees’ sincerely held beliefs. Trainers utilize professional judgment in determining when client/patient re-assignment may be indicated in this situation as in all other possible situations in which client/patient re-assignment may be considered. The overriding consideration in such cases must always be the welfare of the client/patient. In such cases, trainers focus on the trainees’ development, recognizing that tensions arising from sincerely held beliefs or values require pedagogical support and time to understand and integrate with standards for professional conduct. Thus trainees entering professional psychology training programs should have no reasonable expectation of being exempted from having any particular category of potential clients/patients assigned to them for the duration of training.

Commitment to Transparency in Educational Expectations, Policies and Procedures

Psychology training programs inform prospective trainees and the public of expected competencies to be attained during training. Publicly available program descriptions and admission materials should include the program’s goals and objectives, content about training standards, and the commitment to serving a diverse public.  These expectations are reiterated throughout the course of training and in documents such as practicum contracts. Training programs are responsible for notifying prospective trainees, current students and the public that the failure to demonstrate appropriate levels of competence as set forth and assessed by the program could lead to dismissal from the doctoral training program.

Commitment to Establishing and Maintaining Standards for Professional Competence to Protect the Public

As the largest professional and scientific organization of psychologists in the United States, the American Psychological Association (APA) has sought to create, communicate, and apply psychological knowledge for the public’s benefit for more than a century. It does this, in part, by establishing a professional code of ethics and standards for professional education and training for practice.  These APA documents mandate that education and training programs take reasonable steps to ensure that doctoral-level graduates are prepared to serve a diverse public.

Those who want students to retain the right to make a referral due to their “sincerely held beliefs” may not be pleased with this document. However, it goes a long way in the right direction. Let me elaborate.

There is a shift away from the language of “referral” to “re-assignment” which I like. The language of “referral” tends to place the emphasis on the student in training, as though that student were to make these decisions. I understand that this gets complicated, but I struggle with the idea of having the student be the final arbitrator of the kinds of clients he or she is going to see. They are in training to become a psychologist. There is an important training context that is often under-appreciated in these discussions (and rarely appreciated once it moves to legislation). The language of “re-assignment” keeps the focus on the training aspect of these issues.

Also, I appreciate that the focus is on those who are providing the training to use their professional judgment: “Trainers utilize professional judgment in determining when client/patient re-assignment may be indicated in this situation as in all other possible situations in which client/patient re-assignment may be considered.”

I understand that those who want a certain “conscience clause” emphasis may not care for the language of having “time to work to develop their competence” in an area in which there is a value conflict, but it does reiterate the importance of the training aspect of their professional identity, which is discussed in the context of providing students with time and support, which is significantly different than what is being discussed elsewhere. In other words, programs that adhere to this statement would be expected to show how they work with students who hold “sincerely held beliefs” — in a case like that of Ward v. EMU, it would seem to heighten expectations for how training programs would show respect to a wider range of diversity considerations, such as sexual orientation and religion. It suggests programs will be expected to create the kind of climate that is supportive of students as they embark on a developmental process that takes them to a place of professional responsibility to serve the public — that both the outcome and the process will demonstrate regard for diversity in its various expressions.

I also like that what is of utmost importance is the welfare of the client. Back to the document: “The overriding consideration in such cases must always be the welfare of the client/patient.”

The closing line in this particular paragraph has some important language:

Thus trainees entering professional psychology training programs should have no reasonable expectation of being exempted from having any particular category of potential clients/patients assigned to them for the duration of training.

Having trained students in psychology for the past 14 years, I would be concerned about having a student who went into training with a list of people they would not see professionally. I do think there is a process here that we would do well to appreciate. It is a professional training and identity process that takes time to instill. It is not fostered by simply telling students to meet specific expectations; in fact, I suspect such an approach would lead a student to only be further entrenched in his or her own position.

You might be asking, “What about the conscience clause? Can a student make a value-based referral or not? Yes or No?” I don’t think this document is intended to provide a simple answer to those kinds of questions, in part because this is a professional development topic, and it is a complicated one. It does not lend itself to black and white answers, but to nuance, which is why it should not be adjudicated through the courts.