Torn about "Torn" by Justin Lee

Justin Lee is called to stand in the gap between non-affirming Christians and the LGBTQIA+ community. A gay Christian from a conservative evangelical family, Justin describes his journey from “hate the sin, love the sinner” to fully affirming with great care and grace for both those on similar journies and for the evangelical Christians (including himself) who caused him so much pain along the way. Justin’s story is a beautiful model of trusting in God’s transformative power through self-sacrificial love and grace. But in a context where the church today overwhelmingly and actively continues to exclude and harm LGBTQIA+ siblings and their families, Justin’s calling, though honorable, is not for everyone.

Justin dedicates “Torn” with love to his non-affirming parents and he addresses the reader throughout the book with the same cautious, tender, tone he would use with his own parents. Justin writes directly, with few exceptions, to non-affirming Christians. He steps into their shoes (shoes he wore himself previously), takes their hands, and gently leads them through his story, never once assuming the worst of them in a very admirable, Lutheran, Eighth Commandment kind of way. But all the while, Justin asks LGBTQIA+ readers and those who love them again, and again, and again, to generously make space for worldviews that exclude their personhood. Even the “both sides” culture war, gays vs. Christians framework that grounds Justin’s book is purely imagined for the sake of the non-affirming Christian reader. He includes as evidence of the vitriol on both sides, for example, actual stories from an anti-gay Christian conference that he attended and a hypothetical anti-Christian conference that simply doesn’t exist. It’s a culture war fabrication that lives exclusively in the minds of non-affirming Christians, and while accepting this framework may help keep some folks at the table a little while longer, it erases the lives of existing gay and gay-affirming Christian readers for whom there is no battle between their identities as Christians and their sexuality. Plus, he washes over the dramatically different stakes in play for the two sides. He ignores, for most of the book, that the supposed battle rages between one group’s worldview and the others' actual lives, identities, freedoms, and understanding of themselves as created - as they are - in the image of God.

Justin addresses the clobber verses and the myth that you can choose your sexuality with similar gentleness and grace. He concludes with some helpful strategies for the church to move forward in the final chapter, but Justin’s final destination, at least in this text, prioritizes unity above all else which is at best a secondary goal for those fighting for their very right to exist. He calls for gay Christians to take their place in the church and “lovingly prod the church to explore these difficult questions,” (248) and I tip my cap to those who can answer such a call. But it’s not for everyone and definitely not for every context. In fact, much like in anti-racism work, the church must stop asking those it has harmed to bear the cost of unification. Just like it’s unreasonable to expect all BIPOC Christians to lead the work of anti-racism within a racist institution, the church cannot expect all gay Christians to quietly walk with non-affirming institutions and congregants, even if those institutions and congregants are non-affirming in a friendly and “welcoming” way.

Don’t get me wrong, Justin doesn’t just let non-affirming Christians off the hook. He loves and challenges them in meaningful ways. In the end, this is a book to read - when you’re ready and supported - with your non-affirming friends, family, and congregation. It’s a step in the right direction. Justin’s story is compelling and honest and would be a great way to expose a Christian to queer stories for the very first time.

But Justin’s call to stand in the gap isn’t for everyone at every point in their journey. In fact, for our LGBTQIA+ siblings who are already struggling with unsupportive families, friends, schools, workplaces, and institutions, a church whose theological imagination is too small to include the fullness of their identities simply may not be a safe place, even if they’re only walking through the door for the sake of dialogue. The danger increases even more, in my opinion, if the church or its leaders are unclear about their position up front. Justin doesn’t deny this reality, but he only briefly acknowledges it, in a response from a partnered gay man to a pastor of a “welcoming” but non-affirming church:

“I see that you want to welcome me. But I have to tell you that I just couldn’t sit Sunday after Sunday in a church where my relationship with my partner – the most important person in my life – is viewed as something sinful. Could you be a member of a congregation that said your relationship with your wife was really just living in sin? My integrity and respect for my partner and myself won’t allow me to do that.” (247)

I’m grateful for Justin’s perspective and courageous approach to gracefully engage non-affirming Christians. But for me, dialogue and graceful disagreement are secondary to the lives of our LGBTQIA+ siblings who desperately need to hear, without hesitation, that they are children of God, beloved and whole, just as they are.