God Won't Turn Away... Even When His People Do
Writing a research paper can be fun. Writing a research paper can also be cold. It can be emotionless. It can be robotic.
That's the dilemma I am encountering right now. I absolutely love college. I am loving my new adventures with graduate-level work. But how am I to write a research paper about such an important topic without showing some emotion, some personal connection?
I originally submitted three ideas in one for my research paper. I thought that may make it slightly less
controversial. My college is pretty conservative, after all; but I've also always found them open-minded. But I have to limit it to one. I was pretty sure that would be the response. So I'm picking the one topic that is closest to my heart. "Human Need vs. Ideas of Morality: LGBT Rights."
Sounds easy enough. Find some scholarly research. Write about it in ten pages. Using APA formatting for graduate-level writing is not my thing, but, hey, I need to learn it.
What is not easy for me is making it only research-based.
I just read an article from Rolling Stone about the growing number of gay teens who are turned out of their houses, who are practically disowned, by their religious families. Unless you've been in a similar situation, it's difficult to understand. But I do. Understand, that is.
I met my husband in 2001. One year and a few days after my mom died. Except for the strange dream I had before she got sick, her death was totally unexpected. Everyone was unprepared. Not just for the devastation of losing someone we were close to, but, at least for those of us closest to her, for being "on our own."
It is difficult to understand for those who have never been in a controlled environment. There is generally one choice. The way of the authority figure. No arguments. (Unless you were me. Then there were arguments). I was always expected to be perfect. To not think my own thoughts. To like only what I was told I could like. And to look perfect on the outside. To be a perpetual child. When my mom died, I tried to keep up that persona, because, in my mind, it was the right thing to do. It was what pleased God.
Then, in my mid-twenties, I was discovering what Levinson meant by an adult transition stage. I was encountering real life, not the perfect-on-the-outside life I was accustomed to. In that process, I met my husband. He accepted me for me. I could actually have conversations with him in which I didn't have to be afraid to offend. I didn't have to be afraid that there would be a huge argument if I said the wrong thing. I didn't have to be afraid that I would be made to apologize for something I wasn't really sorry for saying, because I meant it. It just came out the wrong way. But there were two problems. He was the wrong age and the wrong religion. One part of my family didn't accept him because of one, the other part because of the other. And forget about the church I was going to, that I was involved in, that I thought I was a part of. It wouldn't happen. He knew that, too. I think that's a big reason it took over a year for us to actually begin the official dating process. We talked a lot. We worked together, so we got to know each other. We became friends. But someone else was always around. People at work. My family. Someone.
I remember the huge argument when I invited him over for Thanksgiving the first year we knew each other. We had not started dating. But it was a huge ordeal. A huge argument. And then pretending that nothing happened.
When we did finally begin dating, I heard everyone's disapproval. Even arguments like, "Your teenage daughter is sleeping with her boyfriend in your basement, and you judge me" did not cut it. Through a series of events, I felt I lost everything I had. Everything that meant anything to me. Some were harder than others. I couldn't take it. So I did the one thing that would create something that could not be taken away. Our first son was born 37 weeks later.
It was a horribly stressful pregnancy. I didn't tell anyone for over four months. When I did, it was someone that I worked with. I don't know why I chose this co-worker. I didn't know her. In fact, she had just started working at my job a few weeks before. Maybe that's why. Maybe I knew a stranger would understand. I was tired of not telling anyone anything about how I felt. I was tired of being judged. I was tired of everything. So I told.
Soon afterward, my husband and I began planning our wedding. It was not a big affair. But what made it really cool was we planned everything together. We chose everything together. Of course, it had to epitomize our relationship. Something totally non-traditional. Something out-of-the-ordinary. I wore purple. So did he. We said the traditional wedding vows, but, more importantly, we also wrote our own. We said what we felt for each other. All of my family was there. I think the main thing that changed their mind was there was now a baby involved. They didn't necessarily understand or agree, but they couldn't just step outside of my life in continuous arguments now. And I was not in the condition to argue, anyway.
Three months after our wedding, our first son was born. A few weeks early, mainly due to stress. But he was healthy and happy. Things changed a lot for the better. Family life got a lot more normal, even though there are still family members that do not approve of things we do. But I think everyone has realized that's okay. They lead their lives, and I lead mine. That's the way it should be. Some family I see on Christmas at the most. Maybe it's better that way.
The church world has never been the same for me. No matter what church I go to, there are always people there (often leadership) that view me as though I need extra discipleship. As though my sons need extra help. As though I am a special case, because I will never be as spiritually mature as they are. Some have been worse than others. Some have been very clear that they believe God turns His back when He is not happy with our actions. Obviously, that would be me.
But one thing I've learned is they are wrong. God doesn't turn His back on us. He doesn't punish us with His silence. (Believe me, I know from growing up the way I did what it feels like to have the one person you want to talk to you be silent as a punishment). He doesn't do that. He doesn't put a timetable on "You have to come around by this point, or I'm done." All He wants is a relationship with us.
That's the point I want to make in my research paper. I know what it feels like to lose everything. There are people in the LGBT community that have it a lot worse than I did. There are people who never talk to family members again, who are made to feel as though they are worthless by those who should love them. What is even worse, in my eyes, is when they are made to feel this abandonment is right because that's what God says. It's not what God says. It's not.
So back to my original dilemma. How do I convey this in a research paper? I can't get personal. It's research-based. But I know it will work out. I believe God put this topic on my heart for a reason. Maybe it's because I have to be a voice about what it feels like to be hurt this way. Maybe I'll be someone people can agree with just a little more than they agree with them. So maybe they would listen to me before they would listen to someone they view as completely misguided. Maybe I have to use whatever means I can (including a research paper for a conservative Christian college) to show there is another side to the story.
That's the dilemma I am encountering right now. I absolutely love college. I am loving my new adventures with graduate-level work. But how am I to write a research paper about such an important topic without showing some emotion, some personal connection?
I originally submitted three ideas in one for my research paper. I thought that may make it slightly less
controversial. My college is pretty conservative, after all; but I've also always found them open-minded. But I have to limit it to one. I was pretty sure that would be the response. So I'm picking the one topic that is closest to my heart. "Human Need vs. Ideas of Morality: LGBT Rights."
Sounds easy enough. Find some scholarly research. Write about it in ten pages. Using APA formatting for graduate-level writing is not my thing, but, hey, I need to learn it.
What is not easy for me is making it only research-based.
I just read an article from Rolling Stone about the growing number of gay teens who are turned out of their houses, who are practically disowned, by their religious families. Unless you've been in a similar situation, it's difficult to understand. But I do. Understand, that is.
I met my husband in 2001. One year and a few days after my mom died. Except for the strange dream I had before she got sick, her death was totally unexpected. Everyone was unprepared. Not just for the devastation of losing someone we were close to, but, at least for those of us closest to her, for being "on our own."
It is difficult to understand for those who have never been in a controlled environment. There is generally one choice. The way of the authority figure. No arguments. (Unless you were me. Then there were arguments). I was always expected to be perfect. To not think my own thoughts. To like only what I was told I could like. And to look perfect on the outside. To be a perpetual child. When my mom died, I tried to keep up that persona, because, in my mind, it was the right thing to do. It was what pleased God.
Then, in my mid-twenties, I was discovering what Levinson meant by an adult transition stage. I was encountering real life, not the perfect-on-the-outside life I was accustomed to. In that process, I met my husband. He accepted me for me. I could actually have conversations with him in which I didn't have to be afraid to offend. I didn't have to be afraid that there would be a huge argument if I said the wrong thing. I didn't have to be afraid that I would be made to apologize for something I wasn't really sorry for saying, because I meant it. It just came out the wrong way. But there were two problems. He was the wrong age and the wrong religion. One part of my family didn't accept him because of one, the other part because of the other. And forget about the church I was going to, that I was involved in, that I thought I was a part of. It wouldn't happen. He knew that, too. I think that's a big reason it took over a year for us to actually begin the official dating process. We talked a lot. We worked together, so we got to know each other. We became friends. But someone else was always around. People at work. My family. Someone.
I remember the huge argument when I invited him over for Thanksgiving the first year we knew each other. We had not started dating. But it was a huge ordeal. A huge argument. And then pretending that nothing happened.
When we did finally begin dating, I heard everyone's disapproval. Even arguments like, "Your teenage daughter is sleeping with her boyfriend in your basement, and you judge me" did not cut it. Through a series of events, I felt I lost everything I had. Everything that meant anything to me. Some were harder than others. I couldn't take it. So I did the one thing that would create something that could not be taken away. Our first son was born 37 weeks later.
It was a horribly stressful pregnancy. I didn't tell anyone for over four months. When I did, it was someone that I worked with. I don't know why I chose this co-worker. I didn't know her. In fact, she had just started working at my job a few weeks before. Maybe that's why. Maybe I knew a stranger would understand. I was tired of not telling anyone anything about how I felt. I was tired of being judged. I was tired of everything. So I told.
Soon afterward, my husband and I began planning our wedding. It was not a big affair. But what made it really cool was we planned everything together. We chose everything together. Of course, it had to epitomize our relationship. Something totally non-traditional. Something out-of-the-ordinary. I wore purple. So did he. We said the traditional wedding vows, but, more importantly, we also wrote our own. We said what we felt for each other. All of my family was there. I think the main thing that changed their mind was there was now a baby involved. They didn't necessarily understand or agree, but they couldn't just step outside of my life in continuous arguments now. And I was not in the condition to argue, anyway.
Three months after our wedding, our first son was born. A few weeks early, mainly due to stress. But he was healthy and happy. Things changed a lot for the better. Family life got a lot more normal, even though there are still family members that do not approve of things we do. But I think everyone has realized that's okay. They lead their lives, and I lead mine. That's the way it should be. Some family I see on Christmas at the most. Maybe it's better that way.
The church world has never been the same for me. No matter what church I go to, there are always people there (often leadership) that view me as though I need extra discipleship. As though my sons need extra help. As though I am a special case, because I will never be as spiritually mature as they are. Some have been worse than others. Some have been very clear that they believe God turns His back when He is not happy with our actions. Obviously, that would be me.
But one thing I've learned is they are wrong. God doesn't turn His back on us. He doesn't punish us with His silence. (Believe me, I know from growing up the way I did what it feels like to have the one person you want to talk to you be silent as a punishment). He doesn't do that. He doesn't put a timetable on "You have to come around by this point, or I'm done." All He wants is a relationship with us.
That's the point I want to make in my research paper. I know what it feels like to lose everything. There are people in the LGBT community that have it a lot worse than I did. There are people who never talk to family members again, who are made to feel as though they are worthless by those who should love them. What is even worse, in my eyes, is when they are made to feel this abandonment is right because that's what God says. It's not what God says. It's not.
So back to my original dilemma. How do I convey this in a research paper? I can't get personal. It's research-based. But I know it will work out. I believe God put this topic on my heart for a reason. Maybe it's because I have to be a voice about what it feels like to be hurt this way. Maybe I'll be someone people can agree with just a little more than they agree with them. So maybe they would listen to me before they would listen to someone they view as completely misguided. Maybe I have to use whatever means I can (including a research paper for a conservative Christian college) to show there is another side to the story.
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