The Book I Didn't Write

I have a friend in Los Angeles who asked me to partner with her on a book project. She is a bright, gifted writer, with a personal story of pain and abuse. She is a gay woman who grew up in a strict Christian home filled with rules and moral demands. Though she knew at a young age she was gay, she had no way of processing that with her parents.

When she finally did come out to them, which was an act of enormous courage, she was rebuked, sent to a physician who sexually abused her, and later was put in a mental facility to be treated, not for the abuse she endured, but because she was gay.

She grew up in the church, attending services three times a week, doing her best to follow all the rules while still trying to deal with her sexual identity. The church provided no support for her struggle. No affirmation for her as a gay person. Only condemnation. Her parents participated in her rejection.

She eventually left home, estranged from her family, and deeply hurt and bitter towards the church and Christians in general.

Though years later she worked through her issues with her parents and reconciled with them, she still carries profound wounds from them and the church.

She wanted to write a book that addressed these experiences, but she wanted it to be a conversation about how to make Christianity kind again. Knowing my background as a former minister, and my openness and total acceptance of anyone gay, she asked for my collaboration.

We worked on several chapters, but as the project went along, my friend’s anger regarding all she has been through took over her writing. The kindness she was asking for from Christians became something far less from her. There was more judgment, more bitterness, than encouragement to listen, understand, or change.

Those old wounds were still fresh and unhealed. And I sympathize and mourn for her because of that. What she really wanted was to confront and perhaps even hit back at those who had made her growing up years so miserable and disheartening.

I eventually dropped out of the project. She didn’t need me. This is her story to tell and it’s a powerful and painful story that will take some time for her to fully process.

I am frankly weary of fighting people, trying to get them to see how damaging their ideas are, how abusive their conduct is.

The church is going through a massive time of transition. I’m not sure it knows its mission any longer. Does it exist to entertain? To judge? To make money? To play politics?

It doesn’t interest me. For some, church and religion, provide an important service in their lives. It gives them hope, emotional security, moral rules to follow, and so forth. And those can be useful. But in terms of responsibly guiding society, improving the world, bringing people together, it seems, at least to me, to be failing.

I want to be a good human being. I’m often not, but I want to improve. I truly believe all of us know instinctively what is right and wrong. We know if we are hurting others in the way we talk or act. There is no outside religious force, like God, to make us make good choices. We have to decide to do that on our own. That’s how we grow as individuals. Many have done this and still do it and they can be models for us. Jesus is one of those models for me. My sweet grandparents long gone now, my children, my closest friends, teachers I have had, authors I have read—all of these have and do show me a better way to live. And I want to follow their lead.

I wish my friend well. She will continue her project her own way. And in time, perhaps find the inspiring voice she needs and wants to share her story successfully.

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The Unclad Soul

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