odd man out.

(Part 1 of 3.  See part 2 and part 3.)

Once when I was eating dinner with a group of peers, a friend and I were talking about the nature of our relationship (she being unaware of my sexuality).  As she tried to describe our interactions, she eventually employed a common pop culture archetype: “You’re like my gay best friend!”  (She used this as a compliment, suggesting that she felt safe around me and that our friendship was free of tension or drama.) 

It was as if someone had pressed the “Mute” button on the various conversations around our table—the silence was that sudden.  Some of the awkwardness came from those few at the table who were privy to the ironic accuracy of her assessment, but most were simply stunned.  Finally, one of the men at the table turned the volume back up to explain their shock: “‘Gay’ is, like, the last thing any guy wants to be called.”  There were nods of agreement, and gradually she apologized and clarified her statement.  One of the nodding heads belonged to me, since it was a time in my life when I agreed being gay was the least desirable condition for any follower of Jesus.

I’m starting a series of posts to combat what I see as a profoundly deceptive and pernicious mentality in many Christian circles: that homophobia is a natural, suitable expression of sin-aversion, specifically when homosexuality is considered a sin.  It goes something like this: “I believe homosexuality is sinful, which explains my hostility toward homosexuals.  God’s design for humanity did not include same-sex relationships or even same-sex attractions, so my disgust with homosexuals is a natural result of the way their sexuality rebels against God’s design.  Expressing my disdain for homosexuals is my way of protesting a sinful lifestyle and calling the people around me to live up to God’s standards.”

Let me start with some wordplay.  I’m going to rely on two words: homophobia and hamartaphobia.  When I say “homophobia,” I’m referring to an aversion to LGBT people that may or may not be related to one’s moral commitments; when I say “hamartaphobia,” I’m referring to the Christian aversion to sin, insofar as sin means any attitude or behavior contrary to God’s design for the world.  My main thesis is that hamartaphobia is a healthy, essential position for followers of Jesus, whereas homophobia is toxic and contrary to the gospel.

[EDIT (1/26/12): Based on some comments, I want to clarify my terms a little more.  “Hamartaphobia” is actually a legitimate, diagnosable anxiety disorder, essentially defined as an irrational fear of making a mistake or committing a sin—this exists in the secular realm as well, even for people with no religious commitments.  Within Christianity, there is a kind of unhealthy hamartaphobia that results from a poor understanding of grace and forgiveness.  In these posts, though, I’m simply using the word “hamartaphobia” to refer to that healthy desire of a faithful Christian to avoid sin, and I choose the word because it’s a nice contrast for “homophobia.”]

(I recognize I’m in danger of falling into the “Love the sinner, hate the sin” dichotomy that has become very unpopular, but stick with me.)

Homophobia comes in a wide variety of forms: conscious feelings of disgust or distaste towards LGBT people, unwillingness or inability to talk about LGBT issues, a constant need to assert one’s heterosexuality (I’ve seen this more with males, such as the “no homo” meme), irrational fears about an LGBT individual’s intentions, desires, or general trustworthiness, a tendency to speak in stereotypes or broad generalities, discomfort in close relationships with LGBT individuals (especially those of the same sex), and yes, even outright verbal and physical abuse.  Here’s what doesn’t necessarily constitute homophobia in my book: believing same-sex relationships are not part of God’s design for humanity, walking with your Christian brothers and sisters and calling them to a particular sexual ethic, and genuine ignorance to the experiences of LGBT people based on a lack of exposure.

Hamartaphobia, on the other hand, comes from a place of submission to God’s will, a genuine desire to understand God’s structure for our lives and a willful obedience to that design.  The scriptures are rife with examples of appropriate distaste for sin.  We are called to “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.” (Ephesians 5:11); we sing, “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers” (Psalm 1:1); and we are instructed to “Submit [ourselves], then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from [us]” (James 4:7).  And this hamartaphobia naturally extends into our relationships with other believers—as we live in community with one another, our mutual love requires us to hold each other accountable to the standards to which we have committed ourselves: We are to “correct, rebuke, and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction” (II Timothy 4:2), appreciate the benefits of discipline and instruction (Proverbs 15:32), and in very specific situations, to avoid association with those who claim to be believers but live in flagrant sin (I Corinthians 5).

The problem is when one confuses homophobia and hamartaphobia, when one’s belief that same-sex relationships are sinful (hamartaphobia) leads to any of the negative expressions listed above, like fear or silence or violence (homophobia)—or to the unstated assumption at that dinner table that being gay is the absolute worst way to be.  This is the catastrophe I want to help us avoid through the next few posts.