answering a question about homosexuality

There is surprisingly little in the Bible about homosexuality. I think this is interesting in light of how vocal Christians have become on the subject. Perhaps it is in response to the increasing clamor of gay and lesbian groups for recognition in the mainstream of American society.

I find only seven places in the Bible where the concept of homosexuality is mentioned. None of the Bible references has anything positive to say about homosexuality. These verses pretty much say that homosexuality is a sin that is strongly offensive to God. I can briefly summarize each passage. These verses are:

Genesis 19:5. Lot lives in Sodom where homosexuality among men has become popular. He is visited by two angels. Amazingly, many men of the city show up at Lot’s house requesting a chance to have gay sex with the two new strangers. Lot calls the idea “wicked” and offers the men either of his two virgin daughters instead (nice touch). Luckily, they decline, the angels strike the crowd blind, and Lot and his family eventually escape the city (though his wife looks back against the angels’ warning and turns to salt). The city of Sodom is destroyed by God, apparently in particular because of the people’s homosexual practices.

Deuteronomy 22:5. This passage specifically warns the Jews that God does not want them to practice transvestitism (the wearing of clothes appropriate to the opposite sex). I have to point out that the next few verses are Jewish laws that we ignore, like what is lawful to eat if you find a bird’s nest, not to wear wool and linen woven together, and the commandment to make tassels on the four corners of cloaks.

Judges 19:22-23. This is a very disturbing story. An unidentified Levite man picks a woman to be his concubine (one of multiple wives, OK in Bible times). She is unfaithful and leaves him. He later returns to get her and travels with her to Shiloh. They get stuck in a city called Gibeah where they spend the night. Some “wicked men” of the city pound on the door of the house in which they are staying and demand that the Levite man come out for homosexual sex. The host says this would be “vile” and “disgraceful”, and instead (get this) sends out his own virgin daughter together with the Levite’s concubine. The crowd of men abuse and torture the concubine all night. She falls dead in the doorway. The Levite takes the body and when he arrives home he dismembers it and sends the pieces to all 12 areas of Israel as a demonstration of his disgust.

Romans 1:27. Here Paul teaches that in their sin, men have rejected God in every way. Historically God responded by giving men what they wanted, freedom to indulge in every kind of sin. “Because of this God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion”. This verse is usually taken as a clear statement by Paul that both lesbians and gay males are living a sinful lifestyle.

1 Corinthians 6:9. Paul here teaches that people who willfully continue in certain “sinful” practices will not inherit the kingdom of God (i.e. will not go to heaven). However people who used to do these things but subsequently repent (i.e. stop and turn to God), can be saved in Christ. Among the things on the sin list are greed, drunkenness, slandering, cheating, prostitution, sexual immorality, adultery (i.e. sex outside of marriage) and homosexuality. This is an interesting list. Because the Bible is clear that anyone who repents of sin and accepts Christ’s death as payment for his sin is reconciled to God (in spite of what they have done), this verse must focus on people who refuse to repent of these sins and go on practicing them boldly.

2 Peter 2:10. Peter writes that God will punish those who continue to “follow the corrupt desire of the sinful nature”. Many Bible commentators believe the context (the passage follows a historical note on the destruction of Sodom for homosexual practice) indicates that homosexuality is the subject.

Jude 8. Jude writes that evil men, like those in Sodom, pollute their own bodies. The context suggests homosexuality is the subject.

So what is the bottom line when faced with a family member who professes new-found homosexuality? I haven’t faced this, but know people who have. It seems to me that there are three options.

1. Be judgmental. Reject the family member on the basis that the Bible clearly teaches that homosexuality is a kind of sin, and you can’t tolerate this kind of sin in your family. The offender (and their homosexual partner) must be isolated from the family both as an example, and to prove that the family has higher standards. Pray for the family member to quit their wickedness. Several of the Bible verses above can be cited to defend this position.

2. Be totally accepting. Don’t worry about the Bible verses condemning homosexuality since they were written long ago before it was accepted that many people have no choice about their sexuality. Don’t risk offending the family member, so include them and their friends with the full blessings of your family. Pray for the family member to find happiness in their gay lifestyle. Try to avoid the subject of homosexuality, and keep your spiritual beliefs to yourself.

3. Major on the majors. This is what I recommend. It’s my opinion that homosexuality is a sin. It is a sin just like all the sins we fall into—like cheating, lying, failing to love our neighbor, lusting after sexual images, wanting more money, and creating false gods in our lives. I don’t personally believe that God grades levels of sin, or that homosexuality is “worse” that any other sin. The Bible does warn that the practice of any sin is proof that we are imperfect beings, separated from God by our innate evil characteristics. The Bible teaches that none of us will ever get to heaven or win favor with God based on trying to be good, avoiding evil, giving to the poor, church attendance, baptism, etc. We’re hopelessly separated from God by sin, whether we’re gay or straight, rich or poor, “religious” or not. Option 3 says focus on the need to bring every family member to the point where they understand that God sent Jesus to the earth to be a perfect sacrifice to pay the penalty that each of us otherwise deserves for our sin—i.e. eternal separation from God. Christ’s death paid the debt we can never pay. Only by admitting our sins, repenting (turning away from our sins), and accepting that Christ’s death is the only path to God, can we be reconciled and assured of acceptance into heaven.

This reconciliation to God through Jesus Christ is much more important than judging somebody’s lifestyle, since without God’s Spirit living in us, it’s hard to expect us to sense what are God’s preferences for moral values. Only after a person accepts Christ as their savior would I expect them to be given God’s power to face very hard lifestyle changes—like turning from alcoholism, addiction to pornography, constantly wishing for someone else’s life, or homosexuality.

How does one live out option 3 in practice? I’ve never tried with a homosexual family member, but here is how I imagine it would go. Keep loving the person and expressing your love more and more. Accept them just as God does—after all Jesus died for them just like he did for you. Welcome homosexual partners as well, just as Christ associated with many of the least “moral” people of his day. On the other hand, make it clear in a cheerful conversation that you intend to support and love the family member in spite of the fact that you believe their lifestyle to be displeasing to God. The analogy with alcoholism is perhaps useful. We would love a family member even if they had the disease of alcoholism, but would work toward them seeing this as a natural trait to be overcome, not encouraged. I would spend most of my effort in prayer for the salvation (reconciliation to God) of the family member, and particularly take opportunities to share the gospel message with them so that they might fully understand their need (like anyone else) to be born again through faith in Jesus.


1996

the christmas present

The little girl sat pensively in the front seat as a purplish sunset faded. Her new white fur coat framed her tired face. A day of birthday parties and Christmas pageants—a day to tax even the energies of a four-year-old. She had just sung her first public Christmas carols, then alternately squirmed and sat transfixed as older children enacted a version of the Christmas story. One of the characters was an orphan.

"Dad, do you think there are orphans in heaven?"

"I'm sure there are many of them, but I bet they're not lonely anymore"

"Dad, a good thing would be if we wrote a letter to Santa to tell him that orphans need toys"

"I think you're right—maybe we could also think about giving some of our toys to kids like orphans"

She thought quietly about that for awhile—her mother and baby sister exchanged coos in the back seat.

"Maybe I could give one of my old toys that still works OK—I could give one to orphans"

Her father stated that this was a fine idea—but mentioned in passing that he had heard of families that also gave up a preferred toy each year too—something not so easy to part with.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not liking the direction that the conversation was taking.

Traffic on the interstate was picking up.

"Imagine what it would be like to give one of your favorite things to an orphan for Christmas".

Her face clouded. She slowly came to terms with the statement and the profound issue at hand.

"It would be like giving away blank" she said—in an almost hushed tone—referring in singular to one of her several security blankets.

When her father saw the depth of her understanding, he sensed the need to frame the point in more ancient terms.

"Sweetheart—do you know what that makes me think of? I think of God being willing to give his favorite thing to us—giving us Jesus to die on the cross for us—that would be like you giving your blank to orphans."

The little girl looked at her father, at first silently considering the point. She then softly spoke the unimaginable truth, her words barely audible above the sound of the wind,

"It would be like you giving me away..."

This Christmas season had brought both tender moments and unexpected tears to the little girl's mother and father, more than ever in the past. Perhaps it was because they were growing wiser—maybe it was because they were more tired—probably it was because they were rediscovering the richness of life and eternity through the eyes of a child.


12.12.93

little sister

Little sister—
someday if you see a small face,
eyes barely open,
peering for the first time into a new world
that seems all too bright—
kiss that little one on her soft forehead.

If you hear those first cries that tell the story of breath traveling a new course—
reach out tenderly
and look up with an aching joy that will echo forever.

If you sense the helplessness of a tiny form,
insufficient to wipe her eyes
or clean her quivering chin,
let feelings of mercy and compassion reach back through time
to resound and take their strength from the forgotten memories of one who once reached for you—
in the tender way that only she could offer.

If one day you feel the warmth of a head resting beneath your chin,
remember what you can never remember—
the touch of a hand,
the drop of a tear,
the sounds of silent praise.

Little sister—
then you will be the very image of love
that I have today seen in your mother.


9.17.93

death of a ferret

The little girl lay in a crumpled heap, her face pressed into the tile floor, weakened by sorrow. She cried in long sobs. Her father was shaken by the depth of her anguish—he had doubted that a three-year-old heart could break so loudly. Maybe she was as much crying at the appearance of her parents' own tears and reddened eyes, as at the lifeless body of an animal she knew only as "Stevie". Her parents named him Stephen—a reference to the New Testament saint. It was a strange name for a ferret, but seemed at the time to complement the name of the older one, Micah; fury companions named for ancient characters from a distant land. Her father asked himself again, what does the Almighty feel for animals? Why do we share the world with them? Why is the short time shared with a small animal so painful to conclude? The little girl knew nothing of these questions. She was facing a more raw lesson. The girl had begun to learn about life and death, about joy and pain. Her sobs would echo through the years as she faced losses more significant and more lasting than the burial of a small, seven-year-old ferret. But in her young life the hurt was fresh and real, something briefly incapacitating and cruel. In spite of the happy memories that overlapped the best years of their lives, her parents were reviewing the same lesson. Her father seemed to hear the echoes of a little boy far away, weeping for a small furry animal that lay still and cold in the dark...

On the occasion of the death of Steve the ferret

4.14.85-10.22.92

butterflies

A gentle wind caught her fine, blonde bangs and shifted them on her forehead. It was one of those dream-like autumn days when the wind returns to a frolicsome, summery attitude after trying its first winter chill. Most leaves had made their way to the grass beneath our feet. For a little girl who had known only California seasons, the transition seemed enthralling. We had ventured off the leafy path to look at monarch butterflies. The creatures filled the sky without explanation. It took us both by surprise. Maybe the little girl was less amazed than her father, since little girls are used to seeing wondrous things for the first time. We strolled from bush to partly-clad tree, watching as dozens of the transformed insects at once masqueraded as leaves in fall hue, and then swirled heaven-ward as we approached. They seemed to have a purpose and a direction in their migration. Yet, the season felt too advanced, and the prospect of frost cast a bittersweet shadow on the spectacle.

The little girl remembered the butterflies, even when the snows of the midwest lay over the path like a white chrysalis. She would look far away in the air when we spoke of that sweet and magical afternoon.

It was a spring day when two pairs of feet again trod the path. We watched distant birds, and listened to the sounds of early renaissance. A trickling brook accompanied the echoes of a woodpecker, which went unseen. The girl guessed that it might be a pelican. As we walked the damp path, she asked to ride on my shoulders. We talked about the seasons, and I marveled at her trust in my promise that warm days would soon come. It wasn't long before she remembered the butterflies. We scanned the undergrowth, as if expecting the miracle to spring forward in February. I felt her hands on my head as I explained that the butterflies might return in the coming months.

"When the butterflies come back, we will come here and look at them, like we did when you were a little girl" I promised. She had a way of seeking confidence by repeating the phrases of her mom and dad; "Yeah" she said. There was a pause.

"When butterflies come back, we can come here and see 'em ...and I be a little girl again."

Her words caught me by surprise. The words of innocence often fracture the glaze that coats a mind unaware of the passing time. These were the words of a little girl who wasn't so little anymore. My view of the spring day grew fuzzy as tears appeared where I least expected them. My voice was soft and unsure as we talked. I was in the company of my daughter, but changeless generations of fall butterflies will never stop time's hand.

Maybe in heaven, dads will be able to have afternoons with their little girls again. In this world we can't go back.


2.22.92

tolerance

How often do we evangelicals hear and repeat statements like “America is a great nation because it was founded on Judeo-Christian values”? In this unsolicited commentary, I’d like to humbly express my dissent from this view and briefly discuss a critical theological issue about which we evangelicals appear to be confused.

I must insist from a historical perspective that if America is indeed a “great” nation (whatever one takes this to mean), it is not because the authors of the U.S. Constitution gave us Judeo-Christian values, but because they gave us a truly remarkable concept called religious freedom. To me, the wisdom and brilliance of these authors was not in their insistence upon a Christian worldview, but in their insistence that individuals be guaranteed the right to pursue and select their own worldview. When we thank our Lord (correctly) for the opportunity to worship freely, exchange copies of the Scriptures, and preach the Gospel, we should remember that this right does not derive from a principle of Christian freedom, but from a principle of religious freedom. The strength of the U.S. Constitution arises, therefore, from its simultaneous promise of religious freedom to believers and non-believers alike. If we find ourselves wishing that the non-believers were a little less free to express and promote their views and consequent behaviors, we must immediately restrain ourselves. By seeking to deny legal freedom of expression to any segment of society, we insult the principle that protects this freedom for ourselves. In short, we as Christians have a remarkable constitutional promise of religious freedom that comes at a price we too often overlook. This price is called tolerance.

In practice, tolerance means that you and I ought not to praise the U.S. Constitution for its protection of religious freedom for evangelical Christians while simultaneously seeking politically to enforce our spiritual perspective (and its corresponding value system) on other Americans. The rights of our non-Christian friends to be unspiritual, to reject the Lord, to disagree with us, and to behave in ways that we find unsavory (within legal limits) must be enthusiastically preserved if our own rights are to be preserved.

Others who share my view have undoubtedly been perceived among evangelicals as supporters of all manner of destructive behavior (e.g. substance abuse, addiction, sexual promiscuity, violence, materialism, pornography, adultery, abortion, etc.) This is untrue. I abhor these activities, as do you. The essence of this commentary concerns not whether such behavior is evil (it is), but how we, as Christians, ought and ought not to confront other Americans whose actions are not consistent with our own worldview. I think our response is very often unsatisfactory because we forget the critical balance between freedom and tolerance in American society.

Although we have the right and responsibility to express honestly, publicly, and politically our opinions on issues of morality and ethics, we seem all too often oblivious to the risks of trumpeting our ethical and moral standards without primary emphasis on the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I think that it is both a political and a theological mistake for evangelical Christians to enter the political arena with the explicit goal of an American ethical and moral revival. Even if you disagree with this position, please take a moment to consider my reasoning.

When Christians unite to oppose what they perceive to be immoral or sinful, we are too often representing ourselves as Americans whose primary goal is to change the behavior of other Americans by restricting freedoms. The bottom line is a patent advertisement by Christians that the essence of Christianity is a series of restrictions on freedom. Is this how we want to be presenting Christianity to America? I must protest.

When we present Christianity to non-Christians as a system that seeks to restrict freedom of behavior, we cause alienation and we promote a heresy: that the behavior of Christians is the basis of their relationship with God. All our well-intended efforts to correct immorality and unrighteousness often serve only to imply that the elimination of these offending behaviors is the goal of Christianity. It is not. The theological truth expounded so vibrantly by St. Paul is that if we please God, it is not because of our behavior, but in spite of our behavior. God has chosen to set aside our actions (which, if you haven’t checked lately, are still sinful and no less imperfect than the behavior of non-Christians) through our voluntary acceptance of his grace as manifested in the atonement.

Like you, when exposed to the evils of our society, my first response is usually frustration and a (misplaced) sense of righteous indignation. Then I consider tolerance, the price of freedom. Then I think of Jesus Christ, and realize that the problem is not behavior. If the problem were behavior and the standard were God’s standard, we’d all be instantly and justly condemned as imperfect. None of us is reconciled to God by behavior. No, the problem is spiritual. If we are serious about addressing this real problem, you and I must share with individuals the Gospel of repentance and atonement in Jesus Christ. It is grace that we must promote, not good behavior. I ask that you and I give thoughtful consideration to the concept of tolerance, and redouble our efforts to facilitate the process by which God first changes hearts, then changes lives.


1991

about grandma

July 4, 1989

Dear Dad,

I wanted again to express to you how sorry I feel about Grandma's death. It was news that I knew would come sooner or later, but it was still difficult to be philosophical about losing her. Laura and I feel very sad not to be able to look forward to visits with Grandma. We also had dreamed that she might have been able to see her first grandchild.

Since meeting Laura, she tells me how often I retell childhood stories that take place at Grandma's house – how much she influenced us as children. I think her influences as a collector of children's books, a legacy that she left to us through your devotion to reading to us as children, has had a major impact on my life.

It may seem strange, but as I think of how to encapsulate my feelings about Grandma, I keep coming back to a certain memory that doesn't even take place in Iowa City, or have anything to do with Grandma herself. I vividly remember my first reading, as a boy, of Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory. I found the book on our shelves at home – I don't know whose it was. I remember sitting down in the living room on a winter evening, probably around Christmas time, and finding myself absorbed in the story. The friendly woman relative that Capote describes immediately was Grandma to me. I remember how strongly moved I was at his reflections on this remarkable friend, and how I was stirred first by the account of the loss of her dog, and then by the story of her death, pictured as the free flight of a child's kite in the sky. Like the woman in the story, Grandma took the time to fly kites with us.

We miss her.

Along the lines of family information for her obituary, Laura Lee Moseng was born on November 11, 1962 in Madison to Barbara Sue (Bruce) Moseng and Myral Julian (Mo) Moseng. We had our first date on May 19, 1979, and were married on July 2, 1983.

All our love

jim

cemetery

Sunrise. Two distant roosters crow almost simultaneously. The first rays of the orange light begin to criss-cross the green meadow – angular shadows of the leaning grass appear across the smooth granite surfaces on the brightening hillside. The songs of the evening crickets are replaced by the many voices of fluttering birds. From tree to granite slab to bush they fly, making a sea of jubilant music.

Wind now parts the branches of the trees, but is quickly lulled by the radiant sunshine. The last clouds of dawn burn from the sky – all is bright and glowing. The din of distant cattle drifts high in the air with the sweet smell of clover. Farm machinery from beyond the tree-lined glade adds a customary rumble to the morning symphony. Other daily events take their usual turns: a distant auto on a country road, the buzzing of cicadas, silent flight of butterflies, the evaporation of dew from the polished marble monuments with plastic bouquets at their bases.

And yet, a stranger appears in the air – the sputtering of loose gravel and a nearing engine. The birds are silent for a moment. The noise approaches, and its dusty source grinds to a halt just outside the rusting fence and gate. Dust settles, and birds move to higher vantage points. A metallic click, and footsteps from the road are heard, crackling in accumulated leaves - the creaking of the gate and slow footfalls through unmown grass. Minutes pass in silence.

A sniff, a subdued sob, and a white handkerchief is brought to dampened eyes.

Moments later an exit is made, and dust leaves a trail settling along the road. The gate stands open, but soon things fall back into their usual pattern.

By noon all has been forgotten.

6/1/1977

for Terry Mashman's writing class

In memory of Mo Moseng, 1933-2019

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