Brad
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My Spiritual Path
The journey to find one's spiritual path can produce deep feelings of fear and love. Sometimes when things are bleak, we humans have a tendency to question our spirituality. However, I have found a path that creates a deep sense of gratitude in times of personal challenges. I grew up in a family who was being influenced by the organized religion of the Christian Reformed Church in North America (CRC). When I convey my experience to others, many classify it as 'religious extreme'. Comparatively speaking, it was obviously so. The teachings of the church were quite poignant. While attending the church's Sunday School class as a child, I was taught that the CRC was one of the largest religious organizations on the face of the Earth. And, as for the other religions? Well, I was taught that most were going to hell ... especially the Catholics. Buddhists and Muslims? Don't even think about it ... they are already condemned to hell! Our family's life revolved around the CRC. Church was attended twice on Sunday (morning and evening) ... prayer before and after each meal ... and, a reading from the scripture before we were granted leave of the dinner table. I was required to attend Cadets (a church sponsored military type of group complete with uniforms), Sunday School & Summer Bible School. My parents were so involved in the church, they had little time for us kids ... Elder one year, Deacon the next ... Ladies Aide ... Choir ... Song Service Leader ... Coffee Break ... Bible Study ... and on and on and on. Since my childhood, of course, I've learned that the CRC is not one of the largest religious organizations in the world ... actually, quite the opposite. Although they have made efforts to modernize and adapt, the teachings of the CRC continue to be condemning. That fact, combined with the continued self-education and enlightenment of the general populous, makes for no big surprise that the CRC's membership continues to decline. I am the youngest of my three siblings. My mother once advised me that "we tried our best raising you kids; but once we got to you, we just let you grow up". I chuckled internally when I heard that statement. After all, since they were so involved in the church, they didn't have much time for anything other than 'just letting me grow up'. Please don't get me wrong. Being involved certainly shows dedication; and, that's quite admirable. However, there is 'that line' that can be crossed. And, I felt as if it had been crossed many times. That all being said, my parents brought me up the best they knew how. Many parents find it difficult to strike a balance between their church requirements and family demands. My parents were no different. I don't believe they consciously ignored spending the time that many other families would deem necessary to create family harmony. They simply believed that God was first in their lives. And, as such, time should be devoted to Him. I think they believed that God would bless our family and somehow take away all the problems that we faced. Life at home was quite different than the time our family spent within the church building itself. God forsake us if we didn't appear as "upstanding members" of the church. Every effort was made by my parents to make our family appear as upstanding members ... no matter what kind of miserable life we were suffering at home. When we entered the front doors of the church, one would think my parents had the best relationship in the world. They were actually kind to each other ... something I rarely witnessed at home. So, for me, going to church meant that I was able to be in an environment that felt somewhat warm and inviting ... simply because it meant that I was out of the environment of verbal, physical, and mental abuse; albeit just for a couple hours. But, it also felt fake. Our family had to put on a happy face, no matter what hell we were experiencing at home. For if we chose otherwise, we put ourselves at risk of being degraded or even threatened with excommunication. If we chose to seek guidance by fellow members and/or the leadership of the church, the gossip machine would surely be supercharged to deliver the goodies to all those who sought anecdotal gossip throughout the membership. And, it seemed like most every member of that church was looking for juicy gossip. I remember being privately questioned by other church members about my family. Even as a young child, I could tell the questioning was not the type one may ask out of concern ... but, out of sheer pleasure to solicit and spread gossip. I wondered about this practice. The community of church should be such that a person should feel comfortable turning to fellow members for comfort in times of trouble and unrest. Why then did I not feel that comfort? Even though it felt good to be out of the hell of home, being in church also felt like I was living a life that was not my own. Sermons from the pulpit were stunning. I remember thinking that there was no way that I'd ever live within the small little box, detailed with exacting boundaries of personal conduct that was being spelled out for our lives. Of course, if we failed, we could all just pray to God for forgiveness and all was forgiven ... at least for our 'minor sins'. For those sins that were viewed by the church as 'not so minor', it was obvious to me that those sins were so frowned upon that no one batted an eye when church members spewed hateful statements about the 'sinner'. Years later, I had a personal urge to find out if my personal experience with the Christian Reformed Church was unique, or one of commonality. Over the years, I have spoken to many others who were brought up within CRC families. Many that I spoke to had attended the very same church as our family (Hanley Christian Reformed Church in Grandville, Michigan). I was stunned at the similarity in the stories of our upbringing. It has taken years of counseling and reflection to understand the full impact that the CRC has had on my life. I now understand that my parents did the best they could with my upbringing. Unfortunately, they did not choose to self-educate. Nor were they open to other thoughts or possibilities. As a result, they were simply carrying forward the impact of their own upbringings. Even though I have reconciled my experience as a child within my family life, I still to this day sometimes experience the sacrosanct thinking that is so prevalent within the CRC. That said, I've come a long way to shedding the impact of the fear-based religion. Today, I cannot understand how someone could go to church and be willing to subject themselves to the vitriolic hate that is spewed forth from the CRC's pulpits. How someone could be amenable to the idea of being taught that they are superior to others and, thus, able to condemn someone to hell for not having the same beliefs is simply beyond my understanding. Members of the CRC have been taught a standard response to such accusations. They will very quickly respond that they are only "hating the sin but loving the sinner". That particular phrase is used quite often in the CRC, as well as many other organized religions that are fear-based. The phrase conveniently creates the ability for their members to justify not only their words, but their actions as well. It really just boils down to a justification to treat others the way they deem necessary. Nothing more ... nothing less. Of course, they view my sexual orientation as a sin. I think that members of the CRC would rather the word 'gay' and 'bisexual' be stricken from the English vocabulary. Most CRC families simply try to ignore the fact that someone may be something other than a heterosexual ... kinda the "ignore it and maybe it'll go away" type of philosophy. Indeed, it's one of those 'not so minor' sins that seems to make the CRC'ers feel as if they can treat others other than Jesus would have loved. They may choose to believe what they wish, for it is certainly their right to do so. However, I draw the line when my partner, myself or our relationship is disrespected. My sisters and brother do not invite my partner to family events ... and, even told me such in no uncertain terms. Years ago, my sister Terri had told me that she did not want me ever mentioning my relationship or my sexuality to her kids. I had respected her wishes. After all, she had the right to raise her kids the way she desired. However, the negative impact that statement had on me was profound ... something that completely escapes her. Years later, my nieces asked me about my relationship. I chose not to lie to them. I told the truth. It's a decision that I am glad I made for a variety of reasons. Of course, the phrase "love the sinner but hate the sin" is used to justify my siblings actions in these matters. This continues to intrigue me. The Bible teaches that Jesus Himself broke bread with sinners. So, if they view us as living in sin, why do they not mirror the teachings of Christ and live by example? One reason .... fear. Love the sinner all right. Neither my partner nor I are remotely close to feeling the love that they speak of. As the years went by, my father had taken what he had learned from God's word and applied it to his life. His love for me was not contingent on me being heterosexual or believing in any one specific thing. His love was truly unconditional. I was always welcome in his home along with anyone I wished to bring along with me. I remember the day that I told him of my sexual orientation. The news didn't faze him in the least. He just looked at me and said ... "You're my son and I love you". Case closed. A few years ago, my father passed away after bearing the disease of Alzheimer’s for nearly 20 years. Just prior to his passing, he was transferred to a hospital with Pneumonia. I traveled to Grand Rapids from our home in Austin, TX and was able to spend a week with him prior to his passing. During this time, our family developed tentative plans for his funeral arrangements knowing his passing would happen soon. Even though I had not been on good terms with my siblings, we were able to put differences aside and lend support to each other as well as speak to each other with respect. Shortly after returning to Austin, I received a call that my father had passed. I fielded the call at midnight and by 11:30AM I was back in Grand Rapids. Upon landing, a cell phone call to my mother found the family in a meeting with the funeral director. I was able to drive from the airport to the funeral home to make the last half hour of the meeting. Since my career at the time was in event management, I naturally took on the responsibilities of organizing the funeral. I’m glad that I did … it kept me quite busy and ended up keeping my mind off from the nasty things to come. A day later, I looked at the obituary in the Grand Rapids Press and found that it did not contain my partner’s name, as was agreed prior to my father’s passing (it was supposed to read: “survived by son Brad and his partner John,” etc). I asked my mother about the omission. She informed me that prior to my arrival at the funeral home, my siblings said they did not want my partner’s name included in the obituary. My mother apparently conceded. Of course, once I arrived on scene, nothing was said to me about this incident. What burns my britches is not that my brother and sisters had an issue with my partner’s name appearing in the obituary, but that they didn’t have the balls to stand up and say so. Again, it’s that “just brush it under the rug” and maybe it’ll go away type of syndrome. It left me stunned and devastated … once again. But, I had learned these type of situations are par for the course when dealing with religious zealots. After hearing that news, I called each one of my siblings to let them know my partner John would be arriving that very evening. I conveyed the fact that John would be at the viewing as well as the funeral to lend his support. I told them that I didn’t call to discuss the issue; I simply called to let them know of this fact and told them that I hoped we could put differences aside for the next few days. The calls went relatively well. I heard a couple quotes from the Bible ... and, none of them welcomed the fact that someone I cared about was going to be there to support me. But, none of them went off the deep end either. I didn’t know what to expect from my siblings over the course of the next couple days. I knew of their zealot nature … but thought that, perhaps, in a situation like this, they may offer *some* semblance of empathy. I thought that they may choose to be kind. My hopes diminished quickly. They decided to ignore my partner John … like he wasn’t even there. Only when my partner caught their eye and/or caught them off guard, did they acknowledge his existence. My brother nodded at him once. Woo-hoo! My sister Terri and her husband (who seems to have a lot of emotional issues on the subject ... hmmmm) totally ignored him. And, my sister Vicky conversed very briefly. I wonder what God would say about treating someone in that fashion. I guess they must have related the “hate the sin” portion of their standard statement to my partner John … because their actions and lack of words showed us that they obviously hate him with every fiber of their being. When the family was about to walk down the aisle to seat ourselves in the funeral, my sister Vicky held back her husband from walking in after John and I so they didn’t have to sit next to us. Then, there was a scene when we got to the front of the church. No one wanted to sit by John and me so everyone was trying to jockey for position. John and I just sat down and let everyone else make asses of themselves. My sister Terri and her husband wouldn’t even sit in the same row as us, so they sat behind us. During the luncheon following the funeral, a couple of extended family members made comments about the seating issue. Once I explained the situation to them, they commented how childish my sisters and brother were being. Yep, well, uh-huh ... welcome to my world! John and I had some wonderful conversations with some of the extended family. Interestingly enough, those who did not live in West Michigan seemed to be more educated on the subject of religion and homosexuality than the religious zealots themselves. Fascinating, really. After the luncheon, I met a final time with the funeral director to wrap things up with the invoice. Then, it was over. I was afraid of how I might react now that the funeral was over. My partner and I chose to take the high road throughout the entire event. But, now it was over. And, now we didn't have to take being treated like trash any longer. Part of me felt like walking up to each one of them and giving them a healthy piece of my mind before leaving. Even though I felt heartbroken that my relationships with my siblings had not improved, strangely enough, I became very calm and aware. It felt as if God was saying to me … “There, you see, it’s not about you”. And, He’s right. It’s neither about me nor my partner. It’s all about my sisters and brother and the religious zealot “stuff” that clouds their minds. My father’s funeral ended up bringing peace to me. I no longer feel that little part of me that wonders if it’s me or them that is creating this separation in our family. I no longer wonder if their view of being Christian has some semblance of walking with God. It doesn't. They just spew forth hate, and it has nothing to do with God's teachings. Strange, really … that my father's funeral could end up giving me a sense of peace. Truly, God does work in wondrous ways. My father had always been a yeoman in my life. He never let his religious beliefs stand in the way of his love for his son. He truly showed me what God's love is all about. My mother, over the years, has become more accepting of John and I. It is not an easy thing for her to do ... but, indeed she has tried. And, John and I take our hats off to her for her efforts. My brother Rick and my sisters Terri and Vicky are another story. They have become even more hardened and hateful over the years. As time goes on, Terri reminds me more and more of how my mother used to be ... which is incredibly ironic. My partner's family is also involved with an organized religion; but not the Christian Reformed Church. And, the difference between my family and my partner's family is dramatic. The contrast is not so much in religious beliefs as it relates to homosexuality. His family does not agree with our lifestyle either, but they treat us with regard and with love. They recognize our relationship. We have been able to find a common respect for each other's beliefs ... a vast difference from my own family. It wasn't until my early thirties that I became involved with a different church that recognized and even celebrated the fact that each individual is on different paths in their walk with God. I realized then that I found the true support and comfort I was seeking. The members and attendees of the church were as varied as snowflakes in winter. Some were highly spiritual, able to communicate the writings of the Bible quite eloquently. Others were new to religion ... and yet others were giving religion 'another try'. It was these later two types that were most vocal, sometimes openly vocalizing bitterness in their statements regarding religion itself. Yet all within the church supported each other because they understood that all were on different portions of the path to God's grace. Most important to them was supporting each other, no matter where on the path one may be. The contrast to the Christian Reformed Church is dramatic. And, thank God for that.
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Unity LAST UPDATED: February 3, 2006 *** This article may not be duplicated, published, transmitted, or copied without the prior written consent of the author *** |
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Copyright ©
2004, BRAD STEVENS |
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