Thoughts on the “Slippery Slope”

One of the concerns I often hear about a celibacy (or side b) position and conferences like Revoice is that the position itself can be a “slippery slope” toward a doctrinal shift that commends same-sex sexual behavior as morally permissible (or side a).

What is interesting about this concern is that it presupposes that there is a position that adequately “protects” a person from the possibility that their view of what is morally permissible might change.

When I started my career twenty years ago an ex-gay (or side x) ministry model was much more prominent and had a larger share of the ministry space in the evangelical Christian community. That has changed.

There were many factors that led to a diminished ex-gay narrative. Although I am unable to go into too many details here (we discuss some of the reasons in the book Costly Obedience, if you are interested), some of those factors had to do with those who had been ex-gay sharing that their own experience was that the ministry model did not appear to deliver on what was promised: namely, for some individuals (or many or most, depending on who weighs in on this), their same-sex sexuality remained a part of their lives in ways that could not be reconciled with assumptions surrounding that it means to be ex-gay (or, more pointedly, could not be reconciled with the claim that they were straight).

Some individuals came to identify as ex-ex-gay. Again, without going into specific stories, a quick search with your “Google machine” should provide a few examples. Some individuals previously identified as gay. They later held a prominent place in ministry circles as ex-gay. But, in the cases I am thinking of, that was not a position they could occupy indefinitely. As they came to acknowledge their enduring same-sex attractions, some would self-identify as ex-ex-gay. In some cases, their sexual ethic shifted to a “side a” position to reflect a change in their views. For some individuals, perhaps their enduring same-sex sexuality contributed to a cognitive dissonance that was resolved not with a change in underlying patterns of attraction but with a change in their beliefs about what was morally permissible. It is hard to know how frequently a person went from ex-gay to ex-ex-gay, but we know that it has happened.

Let’s get back to the slippery slope. It’s unclear to me that pursuing celibacy is any more of a slippery slope than pursuing heterosexuality. That is, it may not be a slippery slope at all. Do we really know that the pursuit of celibacy puts a person at greater risk of changing their view away from what conservatives would describe as a traditional Christian sexual ethic? Many people who were ex-gay at one time are now affirming. If the concern from conservatives is that celibacy and the use of the vernacular to describe one’s sexual orientation (i.e., gay) is a slippery slope, there doesn’t seem to be an account for how the alternative path has also been a place from which people have launched into an affirming position.

The “slippery slope” accusation locates the discussion topographically, as though one path was located alongside a sheer cliff, as though one position was closer to falling off the edge of that cliff than the other. The reality is the people have “fallen off” that place from many different positions. It is unclear that one is closer to a downward slope, and it ignores the reality of ex-ex-gays and at least one of the reasons why the ex-gay narrative has diminished in recent years.

Now from a research standpoint, I am certainly open to the idea that one ministry position increases the likelihood of a specific outcome. But we’d have to study the experiences of those who have changed their doctrinal position. We’d want a large, representative sample of sexual minority individuals who would share the journey from where they were to where they are to see if what they moved away from was more of an ex-gay (or side x) position or more of a celibacy (or side b) position. We’d also want to take into consideration the cultural shifts that have taken place and may be reflected in ministry prominence today. (Even more ideal, we’d want to study people’s experiences going into these different ministries rather than asking them what it was like retrospectively.) Short of that, it is unclear that those who are celibate should concede that their position is a greater risk than any other position in terms of shifting views on sexual ethics.

Since I don’t think that issue will be settled anytime soon, what are thoughtful Christians to do? Rather than denounce groups of people and their attempts to live faithfully before God, it may be more helpful to look at what these two ministry paths have in common. And maybe you’d think they don’t have much in common given the current conflict over preferred models of ministry and risk to the church. However, what they share in common are some of the ongoing challenges of a desire for support and encouragement, a sense of identity and community, a place to discuss their faith journey and sexuality and the intersection of the two, a place to grapple with important questions surrounding sexual ethics and intimacy, a positive vision for a future where they could thrive, ways in which their own gifts and talents can benefit the Body of Christ, ways in which their faithful witness can be a source of encouragement to others, and so on.

The accusation of a slippery slope will only push further from the church those who are trying to live out a traditional Christian sexual ethic. It may just fray the rope they are desperately trying to hold on to.

On the Expectation of Change

A recent World magazine article centers on the hiring of Julie Rodgers at Wheaton College. Julie is a self-described celibate gay Christian who works as an associated in the chaplain’s office at the college. I consider Julie a friend, and I am an alumni of Wheaton (’98) and I have served as an adjunct professor there for the past decade. I also blog occasionally at Spiritual Friendship which is mentioned in the article.

I was surprised to see my research cited in the article about the hiring of Julie. The way the argument was set up was to express concern for Wheaton as the flagship evangelical college hiring a staff member who is known to be gay and who actually uses the word “gay” as an adjective to describe herself to others. Julie had spent about 10 years in Exodus International attempting to change her sexual orientation, and I have spoken with Julie on several occasions about this. She is gracious and positive about her own personal experience with the Exodus member ministries she participated in. However, speaking graciously about involvement in a ministry and declaring that it made her straight are two different things. She, like many other people who have attempted to change, did not experience a dramatic shift in her attractions as a result of ministry.

In my view, the article would serve the Body of Christ better if it were about this reality.

I am co-author of the study cited in the World magazine article about Julie and Wheaton. That study was published in book form in 2007 and then again as a peer-reviewed journal article in 2011, after six years of attempted change. If I were to summarize my view of the findings, I would put it this way: While on average people reported a modest shift along a continuum of attraction, most people did not experience as much of a shift as they would have liked, particularly as people entering ministry envision change as a 180-degree shift from gay to straight.

The author of the World magazine piece frames the study as being about “showing that changing sexual orientation is possible.” A more accurate way to think about the study is this: “Is it ever possible that sexual orientation can change?” This is important because it leaves open the question of what causes the change. The original study was launched at a time when the broader cultural consensus seemed to be that sexual orientation is an immutable characteristic. That is, that sexual orientation is unchanging. Period. We asked whether it is ever possible to witness change in sexual orientation over time and whether such experiences were intrinsically harmful. We documented average changes along a continuum. Averages that suggested that for some those shifts were more significant; for others, not significant (or no change).

The study was an outcome study. That is, we were studying whether changes in orientation occurred; we were not studying the process of change. We do not even know if it was involvement in the Christian ministry that contributed to the changes that were documented. It is possible that the changes that were documented were the result of natural fluidity or some other variable that we did not account for. There was certainly (for some) changes in identity and behavior, as we discussed in the journal article about the study.

Why is this important? It is important because the evangelical Christian community has an opportunity to think carefully about pastoral care which is intimately connected to the message it sends to people who are navigating sexual identity concerns in their lives. We can affirm a God who can bring about the miraculous while also being gracious to those who do not experience the miraculous. We do this all the time when we pray for people for any number of concerns that are brought to us. But in this one area–homosexuality–there seems to be an added expectation that the person receive experience significant shifts in the direction of their sexual attraction or assume a posture of ongoing attempts to alter patterns of attraction even when such efforts have not produced the shift the person has sought.

I once wrote about a man in his forties who came to see me in therapy. He had been to a Christian ministry for the past three years to try to change his attractions. After the first year going through a popular 30-week curriculum, he shared with the ministry leader that he still experienced same-sex attraction. The leader encouraged him to go back through the curriculum for a second year. He did. At the end of that year, he approached the ministry leader with the concern that while he had grown in his relationship with Christ and sincerely appreciated the fellowship with others, he was still experiencing same-sex attractions as strong as ever; what should he do? He was advised to go back through the curriculum for a third time. It was only after the end of the third year that he came to see me to discuss other options. We discussed how he thought about his same-sex sexuality and various postures he could take in light of his personal moral convictions. We discussed an ongoing posture of attempting to change; we discussed living with an enduring condition; we discussed a “thorn in the flesh” that he has asked to be removed many more times that Paul could have imagined. These different conceptualizations were difficult for this particular man. He had been led to believe that it was a personal, spiritual failure to come to terms with his same-sex attractions as something that would not go away–as something he would not experience a shift around. Such a belief drove him to depression and shame.

Yet he is not alone. Many people do not experience a dramatic shift in their experiences of same-sex attraction despite years of ministry involvement. This man spoke to me about three years. Julie in her speaking references 10 years. The question for the church is: What kind of pastoral care will the church provide in cases in which there is an enduring experience of same-sex attraction? A related question for pastoral care is to reflect on what is the nature of sexual attraction? Is it just a desire for genital sexual intimacy or is it broader than that? How we reflect on these questions will inform our care for one another. Although space will not permit an adequate exploration of that question, we need to at least ask: Is it a moral failure of the person to come to terms with an enduring condition? Although the issues are not the same, it was not in the case with Paul; I don’t believe it was a failure in the case of the man I discussed. I also don’t believe it is a failure on the part of Julie. In fact, I believe these are more likely outcomes than the testimonies of dramatic change. I don’t want to discourage a person from attempting such change, but I also want to be careful not to convey to that person that there worth before God is wrapped up in their capacity to experience sexual attraction to the opposite sex. I know countless men and women who are no more Christlike by virtue of their attraction to the opposite sex.

Also, how ought a person describe him or herself? Same-sex attracted? Gay? Struggler? Sexual minority? Overcomer? There are about as many names as there are opinions on the matter. I find there is a point of diminishing returns for me as someone who is not navigating this terrain to act as though I have the final word on how another brother or sister in Christ ought to use language. This is an internal discussion among followers of Christ who are talking to one another about the benefits and drawbacks of various words or phrases. One observation: younger people–Christians and nonChristians alike–are using gay as simply an adjective to describe their sexual orientation.

The church may benefit from finding  a way to hold onto different ministry approaches. Some will place greater emphasis on a more complete and dramatic shift in patterns of attraction. Most people will not experience this. Others will turn to changes in identity and behavior and language will be important here, as certain words may be experienced as indicative of identity. Still others will pursue celibacy as a way to live faithfully before God; different language may match up with their ways of naming their experience. We have to find a way to extend one another grace. To suggest that all people who experience same-sex attraction have to achieve dramatic shifts as a testimony to the power of God will be unnecessarily divisive, a poor model of pastoral care, and a sure way of driving people out of the church altogether.

Note: This is cross-posted with SF.

Out There – Stephen Fry

Stephen Fry’s documentary Out There is getting a fair amount of attention. This clip in particular has been of interest to many. Fry interviews Daniel Gonzalez, who identifies himself as a former patient of Joseph Nicolosi. Nicolosi is also interviewed, as is Gonzalez’s mother.

The viewer sees some of the claims that get so much attention in conservative Christian circles, such as those around etiology: that the cause of a homosexual orientation is trauma-based and the result of Nurture (poor parent-child relationships).

I have met so many parents who have been told that their failures caused their child’s sexual orientation, and I have known many parents who are more than willing to accept this, as they are hungry for answers to their son or daughter’s same-sex sexuality. In contrast to this view, the American Psychological Association offers what I think is a more accurate account of the state of our knowledge at this time when when it concluded:

There is no consensus among scientists about the exact reasons that an individual develops a heterosexual, bisexual, gay, or lesbian orientation. Although much research has examined the possible genetic, hormonal, developmental, social, and cultural influences on sexual orientation, no findings emerged that permit scientists to conclude that sexual orientation is determined by any particular factor or factors. Many think that nature and nurture both play complex roles; most people experience little or no sense of choice about their sexual orientation.

The other statement that stood out to me in the interview is about change. I have heard from a number of ministry leaders this same estimate: that one-third are cured (improve to the point of heterosexuality); one-third significant improvement; and one-third no such improvement.

It is so important to conduct well-designed research to answer these kinds of questions in part because people hope to hear an answer that resonates with they want for themselves or a loved one. My own work that followed people who sought change through Christian ministries paints a different picture. We don’t really talk about percentages, although we did offer qualitative categorizations for people to get a rough sense of what people were saying. (Also, we were looking at ministry not professional therapy, so there is a difference there as well.)

When we published our results in book form (after three years of attempted change at that specific ministry), the only way to get to an estimated one-third of success would be if we include the ability to live a chaste life, which represented a significant number of people – more so than the change to heterosexuality group. (Chastity here referred to a reduction in same-sex desires that made living a chaste life more of a possibility/less of a burden.) We indicated that this counts as success from a Christian ministry standpoint insofar as it reflects a traditional Christian sexual ethic; however, it might not be what a person had been hoping for or expecting at the start of their ministry involvement, and it is not the same kind of success as claims of heterosexuality.

The success that is referenced in the documentary (referred to as “cure”) was reported by a much smaller number of people in the study I worked on, and even in those cases the people shared that they experienced same-sex attraction from time to time, which was a point of much criticism and discussion when the results were first presented. (When we reported results after seven years, we get different percentages still, but with the number of people we could not report on due to the decisions they made to discontinue in the study, it makes it all the more challenging to say these represent what the average person can expect from participating in a ministry.)

I was also struck by the statement that more adolescents are coming for therapy. My own experiences have been different. I have found that many adolescents are not nearly as concerned about this as are their parents. Some teens do come in for services, certainly, but often to get their parents to meet with a psychologist who can provide them (the parents) with support. In all cases, however, a minor has to give assent to any services rendered, which is meant to safeguard parents insisting on one course of treatment against the wishes of their teenage son or daughter.

Once More on Exodus Closing

There is another news story up on the closing of Exodus. It’s the second one from CBN. It has an interesting segment in the interview with Alan Chambers. I haven’t watched all of his interviews, but something stood out to me. I know he is talking about the burden of one ministry organization carrying a message, but my first impression in this interview was that perhaps he was talking about his own personal burden of carrying that message. It’s interesting in that regard. Whatever you think about the decision to close Exodus, I did appreciate the emphasis on needing a broader response from the whole church rather than a focused response from a parachurch ministry (though both/and is also possible – rather than either/or).

You see, too, the different options that appear to be available for people who are navigating this terrain. You have the option of ministry that focuses on change of orientation, identity, and behavior, as seen in Restored Hope Network (RHN). The segment talks about RHN as picking up with the original mission of Exodus.

Then there are the various ministries that have been under the umbrella of Exodus. Before its closing, those ministries were focused less on orientation change and perhaps more on behavioral changes and identity considerations. That may still be held out as a point of focus for some ministries.

A third option I began to introduce in my interview but was not able to develop in the segment shown was that of someone who might focus on Christlikeness or sanctification independent of whether their attractions change. The discussion for these folks is more about celibacy and spiritual friendships or mixed orientation marriages (with full awareness/consent before entering into the marriage).

Where the church goes with all of this is yet to be seen. Perhaps seeing ministries as on a continuum will be more helpful than feeling one has to choose one over the other. The focus on bridge-building and creating safe spaces for people to engage and discuss these issues may also represent a place on this continuum to some; others might not resonate with it as a ministry to their conflicts with same-sex sexuality. In any case, we will have to see how all of this develops over time.

Back in Virginia Beach

I’m back from a week teaching up at Wheaton College. I was teaching a course for them on Sexuality & Sex Therapy. Sixteen graduate students from at least three of their clinical programs joined me in an extended discussion and examination of human sexuality and applied services.

We opened with four sessions that focus on essentially perspectives on matters of sexuality: theological, sociocultural, biological, and clinical. The last perspective serves as a transition to the rest of the week’s topics: sexual dysfunctions (e.g., painful intercourse), atypical sexual behaviors (e.g., the paraphilias), sexual addiction, gender dysphoria, and sexual identity concerns. Sexual identity issues are not pathology, of course, but they are not an uncommon presentation for counseling, and we explore good clinical practice in response to some of the more common issues that can arise.

Students also read chapters from a book I’m working on. It is a Christian integration textbook that could be used in a similar course. It is scheduled for publication in March 2014.

So it wasn’t the best week to have all of the issues surrounding Exodus International and the Supreme Court come up. Because the class went from 8am-5pm, there was not a lot of extra time to comment on these other issues as important as they were.

On top of that, I had agreed in advance to do a workshop for the Chicago Area Christian Training Consortium (CACTC) on working with sexual minority youth. That went very well. It was interesting to hear of a case presented briefly by someone who had provided Sexual Identity Therapy to a young person who was navigating sexual and religious identity conflicts.

On Thursday evening I also presented (via Skype) a talk to the Council of Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU). They had a session for their communications officers. In the photo above, I am in the little box on the upper right-hand side of the PowerPoint slide (speaking from Wheaton) and talking to those in attendance in Seattle.

Before I left, I did a brief interview with CBN:

It was an interesting interview. I got the questions about 3 min before we started, and I was surprised we were going to talk about reparative therapy. I tried to get the Christian audience to think about this: although their theology holds that God can do anything, there is a biblical precedent for a prayer going “unanswered” and that the person (in this case, the apostle Paul) found that God provided for him. Then I tried to focus on the study I worked on. The results of that study did not please anyone on either side of the culture wars. The findings challenged those who hold that orientation is immutable, but it did not provide as much support for change as I think proponents expected. We then discussed Alan Chambers, and we are all going to have to see how this unfolds, but I sympathized with his desire to acknowledge and apologize for ways in which people have been harmed.

I don’t comment much on political issues, so I am not going to get into the Supreme Court rulings. I’ll leave that to others in the blogosphere.

UPDATE: Another story on Exodus from CBN.

Additional Reflections

By now you have heard about the apology issued from Alan Chambers, president of Exodus International, as well as the reactions from ex-ex-gay individuals featured on the special, God and gays. The clips from that show are worth viewing.

There is a tension that exists that I’d like to discuss: What does it mean when the flagship evangelical ministry addressing homosexuality closes its doors? Is it a failure of nerve to stand for Christian convictions in a culture that seems increasingly hostile to Christianity? That is what some evangelical leaders claim.

Is it a compassionate response to the lived experiences of folks who have been either hurt by Exodus or at least not experienced the changes they had hoped for? That is what others in the evangelical community are saying. (You’ll notice I am citing the same web site: CT’s range of reactions; mine apparently falls in between the “dismayed” and “joyful.”)

Alan Chambers has been on a journey in which he has entered into relationships with people who have said they’ve been hurt by Exodus. That process has been ongoing for several years, I think. I suspect he initially thought Exodus could be reformed in a way that would change the focus of the ministry away from the expectation of heterosexuality. Obviously, at the end of the day, I don’t think he believed he could re-brand Exodus to do the kind of ministry that resonated with him.

At that point, it seems he felt he had two choices: leave the ministry or close the ministry. Some people believe he should have done the former; they say, “Then leave! But don’t drive Exodus into the ground!” Others applaud him for what they see as the courage to make the tough decisions from within.

I don’t know how Alan processed all of that, so I am not going to pick sides in whether he did the right thing or not. Perhaps over time we’ll have a better sense for that.

On the ISSI facebook page, a comment was made about what this means to the average person in the church who is sorting out these issues. I commented that it might not make that much of a difference in the sense that member ministries were just under the umbrella of Exodus. They may continue to minister based on their own approach; they might joint the Restored Hope Network; or they might join another group. But that answer might be too easy. Maybe it does affect the person who is in the trenches, the person who is trying to navigate sexual identity and religious identity. I’m still thinking that through…

I just got done with an interview today. It was about the Exodus situation. I don’t think I communicated my thoughts and heart about this very clearly. (I often feel that sense of “I wish I had said that differently.” Or “I wish I hadn’t framed it that way.”) So let me say this: I don’t think there is that much research support for reparative theory or therapy, and that is not an approach I take in my work. But a reparative approach is not the only means by which some people attempt to change orientation. Many have entered into Christian ministries with the hope that they would experience a meaningful change in their sexual orientation. The research on their experiences is limited. In the study I worked on (where the focus was on whether orientation could change through involvement in Exodus ministries), the findings did not please anyone on either side of the debate. Some people reported meaningful change over time, and that change appeared to be change of behavior, identity, and self-reported attractions. But most did not experience as much change as they would have liked, in my view, and even the more successful experiences were still marked by some attraction toward the same sex. I think it is wise to have an honest discussion about those kinds of findings — about what that could mean in terms of informed consent to someone who is considering likely outcomes.

So…with the closing of Exodus, the Christian community is left with a tension: What is available by way of ministry to those who wish to pursue change? What are the expectations and how will those expectations be communicated? At the same time, how will the church respond to those who don’t experience as much change as they had hoped?

Alan Chambers Issues an Apology to the Gay Community

Alan Chambers, president of Exodus International, the flagship umbrella organization with affiliated ministries around the world, has issued an apology to the gay community. You can read it here.

A couple of points stood out to me. One was Chambers’ own contributions to the pain of others when he did not share that he experienced ongoing same-sex attractions: “There were several years that I conveniently omitted my ongoing same-sex attractions.” This seems especially important, as many people assumed that if Chambers married a woman, he no longer experienced attractions towards the same sex. Many people make that assumption when people who identify as ex-gay marry heterosexually. Or, even if they don’t marry, many people will assume that is what is meant when a person uses the term “ex-gay” to describe themselves.

Chambers shares that his feelings of attraction brought him shame (“They brought me tremendous shame and I hid them in the hopes they would go away.“), which is why he tended to omit that he continued to experience his attractions.The point about shame is really important, as shame tends to lead to isolation and can lead to presenting a false impression to others. What can a person do rather than rely on denial or minimization? Chambers says, “Today, however, I accept these feelings as parts of my life that will likely always be there.” I don’t know how other react to this, but I read this as more like how Christians respond to besetting conditions (or experiences that are ongoing and unlikely to change).

Interestingly, Chambers also shares what he is not apologizing for in this letter. Specifically, Chambers references his beliefs as a Christian about sex and marriage:

I cannot apologize for my deeply held biblical beliefs about the boundaries I see in scripture surrounding sex, but I will exercise my beliefs with great care and respect for those who do not share them.  I cannot apologize for my beliefs about marriage. But I do not have any desire to fight you on your beliefs or the rights that you seek. My beliefs about these things will never again interfere with God’s command to love my neighbor as I love myself.

At the end of his apology, Chambers points toward a future that will certainly be interesting to witness in the years to come:

Moving forward, we will serve in our pluralistic culture by hosting thoughtful and safe conversations about gender and sexuality, while partnering with others to reduce fear, inspire hope, and cultivate human flourishing.

When I think about what may be interesting in the years to come is this: Is there is room in a diverse and pluralistic culture for a Christian ministry to retain its beliefs and values about sexuality and marriage while moving away from the expectation of change (at least in the form of reparative therapy)? There will still be people offended by the teachings of such a ministry, so I don’t think we are talking about diversity that is not offensive to anyone. By definition, that is not possible in a diverse and pluralistic culture.

Also, what will that kind of ministry look like? What will it hold out as its mission? It’s goals? A ministry would then have to ask: Is there an audience for that kind of ministry when many people (most?) who come to a ministry want the very change held out as normative in reparative therapy? All indications are that the message will be that of Christlikeness (or what Christian refer to as sanctification), and, I would guess, that the focus on sanctification will be independent of the question of whether attractions change. Is there an audience for that message? Let’s see.

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.

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.

Recent MercatorNet Article by Melinda Selmys

Melinda Selmys is the author of Sexual Authenticity: An Intimate Reflection on Homosexuality and Catholicism. It is a particularly thoughtful reflection on the complexities surrounding sexual and religious identity conflicts. She recently wrote an article on the Mercator website that deals with the CA ban on sexual orientation change efforts (SOCE) for minors.

What I appreciate about the article is that it attempts to lay out the issues in terms of difficulties. The first difficulty is what change means, followed by misrepresentations of the likelihood of success by some proponents of SOCE. In particular, I appreciated this line: “Clients must, however, have the right to receive accurate information about treatment in order to form realistic expectations and goals.”

In the mental health field, we refer to this as informed consent. It is essentially what the average person needs to know to make an informed, self-consciously chosen decision about participating in an approach to therapy. In my previous writing (tracing back to 1998), I argued that those who provide SOCE obtain advanced or expanded informed consent given the complexities and controversies surrounding change efforts.

In my own clinical practice, I do not provide SOCE; rather, I address sexual identity in a model of therapy referred to as Sexual Identity Therapy (SIT). This is an approach to therapy that is client-centered and identify-focused. It was noted in the 2009 APA Task Force Report on Appropriate Therapeutic Responses to Sexual Orientation as a “third way” approach to addressing sexual identity among those who are religious and experience a conflict between their sexual and religious identities.

In the Sexual Identity Therapy Framework (SITF), we also advocate advanced informed consent to SIT, even though this model is about identity formation and personal congruence (not change of sexual orientation).

Selmys address another issue that I think is important: services to minors. Here is what she shares:

Even if young people are theoretically seeking treatment under their own power, many feel intense pressure to overcome homosexual desires in order to please their parents, and some fear punishment or recrimination if they fail. Unscrupulous therapists often market their services primarily to parents and guardians, preying on the hopes and fears of those who have the ability to place adolescents in treatment.

As I’ve shared in previous posts, I do not see that many minors seeking reorientation therapy. Perhaps they do not come to my office because that is not the therapy I provide; but I think it is more likely the case that most minors who present for therapy do so because of the distress their parents feel (as opposed to personal distress). There have been exceptions, but that is generally what I have seen.

That does not mean I am in support of the CA ban. In fact, I am against it for several reasons I’ve outlined here and here.

But interested readers will find in the article by Melinda Selmys a thoughtful reflection on the issues that are raised by those who provide SOCE. Her own story of being in a mixed orientation marriage adds another dimension to her reflections that I hope are elaborated upon in future articles, as the study of people in mixed orientation marriages has been an interest of mine.