There is a reality far deeper than the important issues swirling around the debate over homosexuality and public policy.
In 1895, Oscar Wilde spoke of "the love that dares not speak its name" in his public trial for homosexual conduct. Even now, with homosexual identity openly proclaiming its name – along with a growing wave of legal endorsements – there remains the prior gnawing tumor of “the pain that dares not speak its name.”
This reality is the most closely guarded injury to the human soul. So long as it remains hidden and festering, those who suffer only suffer more, and those who shape public policy to cover this soul pain only multiply the suffering further
I once spoke of this pain to a crowded legislative assembly. But
my content was not original. Rather,
I was speaking the words of others, shared with
me years earlier when studying at Harvard Divinity School.
At lunch one day, three female classmates from a course in feminist ethics sat down with
me. One woman said, "You
know John, for an
evangelical, you're a nice
guy." As if encountering
an oxymoron. She
continued, "The three of
us are lesbian, and every
lesbian we know has been
physically, sexually,
and/or emotionally abused
by some man in her early
years." I was stunned, as this was new to
me.
I immediately prayed in
my spirit, "Dear God above, has the church heard this, or do we just pass judgment?" Now, this is an anecdote, not a statistical claim – but it is also pervasive, and likewise for self-identified male homosexuals.
In 2002, as
I testified before the Judiciary Committee of the Connecticut State Legislature on the matter of same-sex marriage, the main hearing room was packed, along with two overflow rooms, and it was being broadcast live on CT-N.
I shared this story from
my Harvard classmates. At mention of the abuse,
I could hardly hear myself speak as a cacophony of
spontaneous groans filled the room. Afterward, a friend told
me that all the groans came from women wearing same-sex marriage stickers. Accordingly, they literally held their breaths until
I was done with this thought.
I thus realized I had spoken a publicly unspoken pain, while seeking to affirm the human dignity of those who know such suffering; but also being unprepared for the searing depths of emotion that were unleashed.
Despite this response to
my testimony, the media had no interest in follow through, and never even attempted to criticize it. Silence. This is a forbidden question in politics and media, for such abuse,
and any range of hurts, is far broader than that known in the homosexual world. Abuse cuts through the lives of so many people from so many angles.
As
a minister of the Gospel,
I have deep anguish for the pain that dares not name itself, for the undeserved shame and suffering imposed on so many children and teenagers.
I affirm the words of Jesus: “Come to me, all you who are weary, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
For those who struggle with homosexual temptation, or any other temptation, Jesus invites us to come to him.
I too, as a minister of the Gospel, have the exact same need, daily, to seek God’s grace to overcome any range of temptations that may come
my way – as is common with all people.
I pray the Lord’s Prayer seriously.
All people are created as image-bearers of God, seeking peace, order, stability and hope; to live, to love, to laugh and to learn. The question is whether we seek these qualities on our Creator’s own terms, or on our own broken terms.
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