Why I left Him: A Sincerely Christian Apology

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher,

I attended your church on Sunday and I left halfway through your sermon. I am truly sorry.

For the past month, I have been attending churches throughout our city – some big, some small, some liturgical, some not. I’ve sung gospel hymns, praise and worship choruses, out of books and on screens. I’ve listened to rock and roll and offerings in Latin, Greek, and Spanish.  I’ve prayed to her, him and them. I’ve managed to do so with an open heart. I’ve found God’s amazing love in places I least expected it – in worship communities far removed from my own home base of Anglicanism. I have truly enjoyed worshiping in all sorts of places, with all sorts of people.  

I have prayed using all sorts of terms for God over the past month. I’m not big on referring to God in masculine terms.  Years of seminary and looking at my own relationships with men and women in my life want me to believe that God is much bigger than “him” or “her.”  I’d like to think God is both, or better yet, more. Your opening praise hymns got under my skin a little, but I kept an open mind. I really wanted to worship with you.

Then, it happened – the sermon which saddened me deeply. The sermon which called out Anglicans, Eastern Orthodox and Catholics everywhere for worshiping idols through though icons lit with candles and incense. I have icons and I occasionally use them to pray. I occasionally seek places that have icons as personal solitude and respite and as windows to God, not God on their own, but as visions of God’s love, work, and beauty beyond what the white walls of my home look like. When you stated that deeply devoted Christians who find pilgrimage and solace in statues like Christ the Redeemer in Brazil and Bolivia are worshiping idols, you really lost me. That’s when I walked out.  The only thing that would have lost me faster was a discussion on gay hate.

I’ve been on those pilgrimages, not to Corcovado or to San Pedro, but to altars in Italy and Lexington. I’ve sat and walked on bended and hurting knees to attempt to glimpse at Christ on staircases and altars with incense and icons. That devotion allowed me to contemplate Jesus’ deep sacrifice for us in powerful ways. 

I came to your church on the eve of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Birthday – a day when we celebrate unity, justice, and respect for all people. Martin Luther King, certainly understood sacrifice far beyond my sore devotional knees. That night, God spoke to me in another form of devotion – dream.

Sometime, during the night, I too had a dream – a dream that I was in trouble and lost. A dream where I needed help – and a former boyfriend was there to pick me up, hug me, and get me safely to a car. Like Jesus, my ex-boyfriend saved me. When I awoke this morning, I logged on to check his facebook page. It was filled with images of Phil – you know, gay-hating, duck-hunting, Phil Robertson, Phil. Had God sent me a dream in the night, that Jesus could have been a gay-hater? That is not my Jesus and there is no way God would send me that message on the eve of MLK!

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher, you and I actually agree on something. Whereas I believe icons are forms of devotion and not idols, whereas, I believe dreams are God’s inner spirit working and not satanic spirits, we both agree that much of our devotion should come through scripture. Imagine my surprise when God had these words for me today –

To you who are ready for the truth, I say this: Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with energies of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face, stand there and take it. If someone grabs your shirt giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. If someone takes unfair advantage of your, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously.

Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the inactive and do it for them!  If you only love the loveable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that. If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity? The stingiest of pawnbrokers does that.

I tell you, love your enemies…. Live out this God-created identity the way our Father lives towards us, generously and graciously, even when we are at our worst. Our Father is kind: you be kind.” (Luke 6: 27-38, The Message).

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher, I am sorry. I am sorry I did not stay to have an open dialogue conversation. If I had preached or written something that hurt someone else, I would hope that they would confront me. I hope that they would be kind with my broken ego and bring me back to reality with love and grace. If ex-boyfriend was to call me today, I would be able to still love him with grace and I would want to dialogue with him about Phil. Yet, I didn’t see you as a person – I saw you as a “Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher,” and for that I apologize.

I am sorry because on a week where we talk about unity, respect, and love for all people I am having a really hard time respecting you. I am sorry that sometimes I find it much easier to love everyone else- the gay, the transgendered, the Hispanic, the African-American, the immigrant, the politically incorrect, the politician, the homeless, the criminal, the prostitute, the Roman Catholic and the Eastern-Orthodox before I love you. “Those people” do not slap me in the face. “Those people” often love me and I love them back. Yet, God shows us generosity, forgiveness and love to all, and you are no less deserving of that love.

Most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t make it until confession, communion or prayer – the acts that remind us no matter how broken we both are, that God loves, accepts us, and calls us as living members of Jesus’ work. I am sorry that I was unable to confess in your community that I had not loved you, my neighbor, child of God, as much as I loved myself that day. Through Christ’s example, I’m trying harder to be kind, I’m trying harder to know your name, I’m trying harder to love. It is really hard to love you sometimes, and that is why I ask for God’s help.  I’ll pray for you, will you pray for me?