Leviticus 18:22 (Part 1)

This was originally supposed to be one single blog post, but seeing how long it was getting, I decided to split it into 2. I apologize in advance for the cliffhanger.

Admittedly, I’ve been putting off writing this post for a long time. I think I’ve been scared to share this point of view for a while now. In fact, I’m still scared. So much so that I don’t plan on announcing the release of this post. Maybe I’ll send it to a few people I trust directly or post it on my close friends’ story, but the truth is I am terrified of being loud. For context, I grew up incredibly conservative. Everyone I grew up with is conservative except for maybe a handful of people. I considered myself incredibly conservative until maybe about 16 or 17 years old.

But, and I may have mentioned this elsewhere, around that age is when things in my brain started to change a bit. Everything I believed in so firmly started to feel shaky. I started having questions I wasn’t allowed to ask. I was doubting. And doubting is a sin. Or so I had been told. But I wanted to know. I wanted answers. I wanted to fully understand why I believed the things I did.

Around this time, I was in my peak teenage-internet-craze, and so I started diving a bit into politics. I already knew where I stood. I was a republican conservative Southern Baptist. I was just researching to know how to argue better. But what ended up happening was that the ideas and “morals” that had been so deeply ingrained felt decreasingly stable. The “opposing arguments” made sense to me. But it felt wrong, so I ignored it. I convinced myself it was the devil trying to sway me from God’s path.

I stood at this crossroad for years. Knowing I disagreed with what I was raised to believe, but being too scared to admit it and too scared to put a label on it and really just too scared to do anything. So I did what anyone reasonable would do: I faked it. And I was good at it. I gave heartfelt bible studies and speeches about the sin of liberalism. I spoke openly about how the democrats were all that was wrong with this nation. I just knew that I didn’t want to disappoint my family. I wanted them to know I was on their side. I was scared that being honest would leave me alone.

Then, through a series of incredibly ill-timed events, my family ended up falling apart anyway, and I went to college. I was scared. The very people who instilled morals into me were suddenly proving to me that the rules and laws that shaped my life held no meaning. And that terrified me. It was all I knew.

At this point, I knew I disagreed a little with my parents and the church. Basic stuff though. Racism is bad. Maybe we should love our neighbors. Just because I disagree with someone doesn’t mean I need to send them to hell on the spot. Stuff like that. But I still had questions. I more or less just assumed I would live the rest of my life with them.

But then possibly the worst thing that could have happened to me happened. I thought I knew the bible. Surely, as a pastor’s kid, I knew more than most. My life was built around listening to sermons, memorizing scripture, etc. But, freshman year, fall semester, I was placed in a New Testament: Gospels class. Now, if you know me personally, you may have heard me talk about this class. I raved about it. And despite thinking I would just be listening to more sermons, I approached it as openly as possible. And it was phenomenal.

I was allowed to ask questions. The bible was explained in context rather than as an assumed fact. Subjects and stories I labeled as straightforward became nuanced and complex. And, best of all, doubt wasn’t labeled as sin, but as curiosity for intellect. I was thrilled. I took another course with the same professor and then became a religion major.

Now, I label this as the worst thing that could have happened to me because at the time, it was. I was watching my family come apart. I saw people I held on pedestals become some of the most horrid people. And now, just as my life was falling apart. That perfectly curated image of the conservative Baptist church that was my identity fell apart as well, and I was lost. Who was I if not the devoted, church-going, Bible study-giving, pastor's daughter?

So I did what I was best at: I studied. I read the Bible, gave it nuance, and learned to give it historical and literary context. Which leads me to where I am today. I am still figuring out exactly what I believe in. But having now done an entire Oxford tutorial on the New Testament and having picked up the tools to more responsibly read the Bible, I can confidently say that the conservative and republican views I once held are essentially nonexistent. I’ve had to unlearn a lot of things and, in the process, learn a lot of new.

I am not perfect. Not in any way. And I by no means have things figured out. But, even in the limited knowledge I do have, I have promised myself that I will be the type of person who opens the space for questions. I will be the type of person that encourages others to ask questions and have doubts. Because that’s what I wish I had when I was 16.

I’m proud enough to say that my first experience with this came recently. While I traveled to Ecuador about a month ago, a friend from a church near where I grew up reached out about a bible study that had been given at his church. He wanted to hear my thoughts. Now, I say friend, but this guy is like 4 years younger than me. I had shared on some occasion that I have pretty liberal points of view and that if he wanted to know something, to let me know.

I listened to a recording of the study on Facebook and, in return, wrote a 6-page Word document with everything I had disagreed with and why. The study had been on pride. And not just pride as in boastful; pride as in PRIDE, the LGBTQ+ movement. I sent it to 2 or 3 people. But something had been tugging at my conscience since.

I felt responsible. At some point in life, though I was a minor, I perpetuated the very views that this girl, giving this bible study, believed. I was just as bad. And sure, I’ve grown, but what have I done to repair the damage I did cause? So, finally, we get to the purpose of this blog post.

I’ve thought about how to approach this for a while now. I thought about turning it into some sort of academic essay. I thought about making it an argumentative piece or writing it like I did my Oxford papers. But none of those felt real enough. They felt like an assignment or a task I had to complete. Instead, I want to tell this like a story. How did I, after being raised as a raging conservative, go from being extremely anti-LGBTQ+ to now considering myself a strong supporter and advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and inclusion?

To be continued...