I received this post a week or so ago. The author felt a deep conviction to share it, but for the time being, wishes to remain anonymous. It is so beautiful. I am so proud of this person for sharing their heart with us. Take this and be blessed.
The other day, I sent a friend a message about how my church was being supportive of my divorce and maybe that was a sign of movement towards becoming a more affirming church. I woke up the next morning with a fresh realization of how fucked up that is, of the incredible incongruity of how being affirming of the demise of my marriage can lead to being affirming of someone else’s right to marry.
But then I thought of my process, my story. How the slow fade of one love opened me up to an expanse of love greater than I have ever known. How in pain and brokenness, bits of passion and pieces of healing came in completely unexpected ways. How affirming that divorce was the most Christ-like thing I could do led to an unexpected vision of what following Jesus is all about.
Anne Lamott writes:
“There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your heart, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.”
How beautifully true. When my heart was ripped open by abuse and betrayal, I aquired new sight, and was able to see, with the depths of my heart, a new version of love. The “holy words” became a life-giving testimony as love whispered its mighty way and I could not ignore what they were saying. I could not ignore the flame that began to burn in me for people who are gay, who have been crushingly maligned, hated, tossed-aside, and hurt over and over and over again.
Being broken brings a receptivity that is not available to those who have never experienced it. Being torn down to the very end of myself allowed me to become someone I wasn’t – or maybe was but had lost. Someone who could embrace without limits and love without condition, someone surviving only by grace and therefore able to let grace do away with the judgment and legalism that smothered me before.
I pray for this brokenness in our churches. I pray for an annihilation of protected self that holds churches captive. I pray for pain to be allowed so that grace can move freely. I groan with the Holy Spirit for how we have treated the gay community. I hold in my heart the pain of rejection, and the homelessness and suicide that is so prevelant with lgbt youth. I don’t know what more I can do now as I am trying to rebuild my life brick by brick but I do know that to this I am called. To be open, to pray, to groan, to hold.