Liverpool Frontline Church's Ministry to Gays

From The Guardian's Comment is free, by yours truly:

If you're a Pentecostal or charismatic Christian in Merseyside, you'll know that Frontline church, in the Wavertree area of Liverpool, is pretty much the hip place to be. But a thought-provoking Guardian video report by John Harris last month reveals there's more to Frontline than just trendy worship and dynamic preaching. Its volunteers are reaching out to sex workers, drug addicts and people in poverty, sometimes with traditional methods, such as food banks, and sometimes in quite progressive ways you might not expect from a conservative church, such as distributing condoms to prostitutes.

Harris asked if Frontline could be "the church to calm our secularist outrage". And I can't muster up any outrage about feeding the poor and offering genuine friendship to the vulnerable, even when it's motivated by the kind of evangelical faith I've long since abandoned.

But I do have some major concerns about a side of Frontline church that has gone unreported. Frontline runs a ministry called Life, a group connected to a larger, US-based organisation "called and ordained to set people free from homosexuality through the truth and power of God and His Son, Jesus Christ".

I've followed it up on Ex-Gay Watch with some backstory on Liverpool Frontline Church's ex-gay ministry.

The Origins of David L Rattigan

I adopted the pen name David L Rattigan in 2003, when I was a young gay man desperate to escape the closet but too afraid to own what were, to me, the three hardest words in the world: I am gay.

"Rattigan" comes from Terence Rattigan (1911-1977), the gay British playwright. His works -- which fell out of fashion in the late 1950s but seem now to be the subject of renewed appreciation --often featured vulnerable, shame-filled characters trying to repress their supposed sexual failings; characters like the tragic classics teacher Andrew Crocker-Harris in The Browning Version and the haunted Major Pollock in Separate Tables. It was never difficult for me to look at these creations and recognize their gayness.

I was blogging almost daily back then, but I never revealed to my readers why I had chosen the name Rattigan. The choice was a faint cry for someone to recognize me and affirm me. I hoped, not entirely consciously, someone would make the connection and do for me what I was struggling so fiercely to do for myself.

Then there's the "L." Do you know what it stands for? Neither do I. I have some ideas, but I've never been certain. I like to imagine David L Rattigan as my alter ego, a part of me I still don't completely know myself. I've a feeling the "L" will always be mysterious to me.

Being Gay in Bible College: Part 1

At Bible College, I went to great lengths to avoid discussions of homosexuality, whether in the classroom or, ahem, out. I had known I was predominantly gay all of my adolescence, though I'd never stepped over the line and become a "practising homosexual." I'd tried to capitalize on the small percentage of me that was sexually and romantically attracted towards women. I worked hard to convince myself there was some important quality to my relatively minor heterosexual attractions that made them stronger than and superior to my homosexuality. In my mind, I was a heterosexual with some homosexual issues.

Ethics was a required course in my first year. The subject of homosexuality had occasionally been discussed in other classes. Even then I would start to sweat and squirm, terrified that my secret would be forced out of me, but the mention was usually brief, and I got through it. An entire three-hour class devoted to the topic would be unbearable, however. The mere announcement in the previous week's lecture immediately set my pulse racing and my mind turning over possible ways I could avoid attending.

I settled on pulling a sickie. I told my roommate I was feeling ill, and I holed up in my room, dreading a knock on the door. I spent three hours in turmoil. I couldn't stay inside forever, so I emerged from hiding later that day. The prospect of questions about my absence had me literally shaking as I prepared to face my friends. They did remark on my absence, but I doubt it truly raised any suspicions. Life in the closet had made me paranoid, constantly afraid that the slightest wrong move would give me away, crippled by the fear that people were analyzing every word and mannerism for evidence of homosexuality. Skipping class that day was an epic emotional event; it was a couple of weeks before I felt the air had cleared.

Another time, a Pentecostal pastor who claimed to be "ex-gay" visited the college to run a weekend men's workshop/renewal event, focused on male sexual issues. The scenario was the same: My anxiety increased as the day approached; I invented an excuse to avoid it; I trembled in the aftermath as I fought off the possibility of exposure. If anything, I suppose it was worse this time. Missing a lecture on homosexuality was mildly suspicious, but surely dodging another gay-related session was proof positive that I was in the closet?

There were times when the struggle became particularly fierce. There were emotional attachments and crushes. One passing infatuation led to such unconstrained lust that I became convinced a night of sickness was God's way of disciplining me. I laid on my bed in an intense, fever-fuelled delirium that actually made me wonder if I were experiencing the kind of delirium that makes people want to die. The following day, I reasoned that God had been punishing me, and I determined to learn my lesson.

I eventually decided I should confide in someone. I had only ever "come out" to three people. One was an anonymous counsellor at a Christian camp. Another was a newly converted Christian friend who had admitted to me quite candidly that he was gay. The third was my own pastor, who told me it was a passing phase and never mentioned it again.

I chose the right person to come out to. He was a tutor with a reputation as somewhat progressive compared to rank-and-file conservative Pentecostals. It took me a few minutes to get the words out, but he was patient. I portrayed my plight as being mostly straight but with some gay issues. We met several times. I'm certain he was wise enough to recognize that I was likely gay and going to remain that way; he expressed no surprise when, several years later, I wrote him to say, "I'm openly gay now, and I'm content." But when I first laid bare my orientation to him, he didn't suggest I get counselling or therapy. He didn't mention the possibility of change. I don't even remember him giving me advice, as such. Instead, he just listened to me each time and then prayed.

I'm not sure any of my tutors would have suggested reparative therapy -- psychiatric or psychological help intended to change sexual orientation -- though some might have referred me to a counsellor or Christian ministry and made a much bigger issue of my confession. Thankfully, I had a shrewd confidant and never found myself pushed into more formal attempts at fixing myself, as many in the ex-gay movement have.

In part two, I'll write about what happened when one of my closest college friends found out his brother -- a husband, father and long-time Pentecostal elder -- was leaving his family and coming out gay.

The deadly truth about Uganda's anti-gay bill

Thousands of miles separate me from Uganda, but little separates me in spirit from the hundreds of thousands of Ugandans who are now in fear of their lives.

For the truth is, if Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 were passed in the US or Canada today, I would be awaiting death at this moment. I am what the proposed bill calls a “serial offender.” I would not be the only one. Every practicing homosexual in the nation would face the same fate. Every friend and family member who tried to protect us would risk imprisonment or execution. Anyone defending our right to live could be tried for promoting homosexuality, and could incur the same punishment.

At stake are neither abstract moral principles, nor simply human freedom, but actual human lives. The Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 is effectively a mandate for the mass execution of gays and lesbians, and their supporters.

The last few months have seen a widespread apologetic effort to distract from the true implications of the proposed legislation. One common claim is that the death penalty has been dropped from the bill. It is true that Uganda’s Minister of Integrity and Ethics was reported as saying this in December, 2009, but no further evidence has been forthcoming. In January, President Yoweri Museveni denied his government had any responsibility for the contents of the bill. To this day, only one draft remains: the original draft, recommending the death penalty. Nothing has changed.

A second claim is that the laws will exist only to protect the vulnerable – victims of gay rape, for example, especially the “boy child.” This too is alien to the actual content of the bill. While it does address victimization of children, it also makes it clear that serial offenders will be punished with death. Not only do serial offenses include physical acts – including simply “touching” with intent to commit a homosexual act – it also includes those guilty of “related offenses,” such as “promoting” homosexuality, or in the case of someone in authority, failing to report a homosexual within 24 hours.

Everyone of conscience should be open in opposing these brutal laws. Thankfully, the western world has many such people of conscience. They include both the religious and the non-religious, homosexual and heterosexual, conservative and liberal. They recognize this is a basic matter of social justice.

How sad, then –infuriating! – that a writer in the mainstream evangelical publication Christianity Today this month has offered such a lukewarm response to the impending legislation, arguing that “both silence and open condemnation end up violating important missional and human-rights principles.”

What possible human-rights principle is violated by speaking out openly to condemn this brutal assault on human lives? This week, the leader of the worldwide Anglican Church did not hesitate in describing the bill as “repugnant.” In December, evangelical pastor Rick Warren condemned it as “unjust, extreme and unchristian.” Dr Warren Throckmorton, a Christian psychology professor who holds to traditional sexual morality, has spearheaded the movement among Christians to denounce the threat to gays in Uganda.

Frankly, as a gay man, I am scared when I witness the reluctance of some intelligent, civilized, Christian people to speak out against this potential atrocity. Whether they explicitly affirm the proposed Ugandan legislation or simply shut their mouths and let it pass silently, my only thought is: Who will come to my defense when they come for me?

It is not time to waver in speaking out. This is an issue that transcends partisan lines. Regardless of personal politics, religion or sexuality, unequivocal condemnation of Uganda’s ugly, violent and fundamentally inhumane Anti-Homosexuality Bill is the only proper response.

What the Archbishop did - and didn't - say

Ruth Gledhill reports that Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, made a "profound apology" to gays and lesbians in his presidential address to the Anglican Church Synod today.

Here is the relevant part of ++Rowan's speech:

The debate over the status and vocational possibilities of LGBT people in the Church is not helped by ignoring the existing facts, which include many regular worshippers of gay or lesbian orientation and many sacrificial and exemplary priests who share this orientation. There are ways of speaking about the question that seem to ignore these human realities or to undervalue them; I have been criticised for doing just this, and I am profoundly sorry for the carelessness that could give such an impression.

I am not sure the apology, or the apparent acknowledgment of gay priests and parishioners, extended to all gays and lesbians. For ++Rowan glides over the fact that the "many sacrificial and exemplary priests who share this orientation" also share their lives - and their beds - with same-sex partners.

Did he not include them in his apology? Or did he hope that by not mentioning them, he could escape the fact that this debate is not primarily about "sexual orientation," but about the actual day-to-day lives of gay Christians and priests and the partners they love?

It is a telling omission. I suspect the man in the middle has once again tried to please both sides, expecting the conservatives to say, "He's quite right, as he was only talking about non-practicing (ie celibate) homosexuals," and the LGBTs and liberals to say, "Look, he's said we're okay and he's on our side."

Unfortunately, by dodging the real issue, ++Rowan has only succeeded in insulting those on both sides of the debate.

Why I'm not convinced by 'ex-gays'

A few weeks ago I did a bit of a Q&A with a Christian friend from my Bible college days. One of the questions he asked was what I made of ex-gays, ie Christians who say they have been turned from homosexuality to heterosexuality. He cited the testimony of a mutual acquaintance who claims to have been healed of homosexuality literally overnight, and is now married with children.

I'd like to post my response here, since it struck me as a good summary should anyone ask me the same question again.

In evaluating ex-gay testimonies, I’d point to three things.

First, my own experience. I was a Pentecostal and I fought “same-sex attraction.” I can testify from my own experience that the capacity to con yourself into thinking you have overcome or are overcoming your basic sexual orientation is huge. I was in denial a long time, knowing deep down that I was still basically attracted to men. There were times when I was so “victorious” in the Christian life that I thought infrequently enough about men that I could convince myself I’d changed or was changing. I tried desperately to exploit the 20 percent of me that was attracted to women (yeah, there’s a hint of bisexuality in me). For periods I could “triumph,” but it never lasted. Nothing fundamentally changed.

Second, other people’s experience. In the whole ex-gay movement, the examples of people who claimed to be “healed” of homosexuality only later to turn back or be caught out are numerous. At least two founding members of Exodus, the world’s biggest ex-gay organization, left the movement and admitted they were still gay. Another of their head honchos got married, but had to leave too when he was photographed chatting up guys in a gay bar. Jeremy Marks, an Anglican who founded Courage, one of the UK’s main ex-gay ministries, did a total turnabout on the issue when he realized after years it just wasn’t working for him or anyone else. I talk to people every day who have survived the ex-gay movement, some of whom have spent thousands on therapy, counseling and ministry over the years.

To this I might add that even the most impressive ex-gay testimonies I have heard turn out to be more complicated once you scratch beneath the surface. A common report is that attractions resurface and temptations still occur when the subject is feeling down, stressed or weak. That suggests to me that they are managing their attractions, but their basic orientation towards males remains unchanged.

Third, the scientific evidence. There basically is no scientific evidence that sexual orientation can be made to change through therapy, ministry, prayer etc. There have been two or three deeply flawed studies, but even the best of these (carried out in the US a couple years ago) points to a minuscule success rate. The consensus of psychologists and psychiatrists is that this kind of therapy is useless at best and dangerous at worst.

That’s not to say sexual orientation can never change, of its own accord, say, but can it be made to change? Everything I know to be true says no, it can’t.

So what do I do in the case of [our ex-gay acquaintance]? Assume he’s lying? No. There are many possible explanations. Maybe he grew naturally into heterosexuality? (As I said, sexuality changes, it just can’t be forced to change.) Maybe he was bisexual all along? Maybe he’s kidding himself? (I kidded myself a long time about my success at changing.) All I can really say is that based on my experience, others’ experience and most importantly the scientific research, that God made him straight overnight is the least likely explanation.

I write regularly about the "ex-gay" phenomenon at ExGayWatch.com.

I opened the closet door, I found grace in the room

Last week, I wrote about "coming out" - coming out gay, coming out liberal among Christian friends, coming out as "David L Rattigan," my writing alter-ego.

It provoked a mixed response among friends, but there was one particularly gracious response that stood out. It was from a Pentecostal pastor, a fellow Bible College student and the wife of my former Principal, no less. If anyone were to take offense at my often-harsh assessment of my days as an evangelical Pentecostal, it would be someone closest to the situations I wrote about. So it was a welcome surprise that Alison recognized my integrity and greeted my story with openness and understanding.

She has given me permission to post from an exchange we shared on Facebook. In it, we discuss my Pentecostal days and my sexuality, and I think the discussion exemplifies a "generous space" (an expression I owe to my friend Wendy Gritter) we all need to find ourselves in if we're to live together.

Alison began:

I've just spent some time reading your open letter and a couple of the links to your writing which is, of course, challenging to those of us who haven't shared your journey. I thank you for your intellectual honesty and ability to analyse. Also for not misrepresenting the Christianity of your past and my present and not, therefore, having rejected it out of hand. There's a lot of ongoing discussion which could be had - my own thinking re sexuality attempts to be faithful to biblical revelation which I still believe to be God's word (with all that implies); my hermeneutics are very influenced by a feminism which makes me, I think, more liberal than many of my fellow Pentecostals, but wouldn't take me nearly far enough in your estimation, I have no doubt.

I am uncomfortable with the anti-homosexual rhetoric of much of my community but retain a belief that God's intention for sexuality includes the element that both genders should be involved. That men and women together make up the image of God seems to me to be important: faithfulness; vulnerability; give and take; complete openness to the other are all expressed in sexual intimacy with one person for life - sex is to that deepest of human relationships what worship is for the human and God. But I also have to acknowledge that all those things are possible in a gay relationship and that heterosexuality is no guarantee of healthy sexuality.

I am therefore much less sympathetic to heterosexual promiscuity and abuse than to homosexual monogamy or monoandry (is that a word? - it should be). And probably feel that the current controversy re sexuality is analogous to the NT example of meat offered to idols, to which Paul's response in Rom14 is not to attempt to convince those on the other side of the fence (though you know which side he is on and that he is firmly convinced he is right!) but to accept that we all must stand before God and follow our own conscience with regard to how we act. Notwithstanding Rom 1, maybe a 21st century Paul would include sexual orientation issues as a 'disputable matter' (14:1). Thanks also for the Tillich quotation re grace; an unexpectedly lucid Tillich-ism (sorry, I always struggled to read him and usually fell asleep - liked this bit though!)

Let mercy triumph over judgement.

I responded:

Hi, Alison. I sensed from our conversations that you were definitely one to "live and let live," and that you were the sort of person who would be open to other people's stories - but still I am surprised you are so liberal compared to your Pentecostal peers.

I am so warmed to hear that you don't feel misrepresented as a Christian by the things I've written. I look back with a genuine affection - if ambivalence at times - on my days as a Pentecostal, and even though I have some harsh criticisms for evangelical Christianity, I strive to be evenhanded. It means all the more to me that you sense no malice in my writings, since if anyone is going to interpret me as unfair or spiteful, it would be someone so close to the situations I wrote about - an Elim pastor, a Regents member of staff or the wife of the RTC Principal!

Re: homosexuality, I agree that even from a perspective that treats the Bible as the authoritative Word of God, there is room to ask how someone like Paul would answer *today's* questions, and whether he might answer them quite differently from the questions of *his* day.

I can see a real honesty in the way you approach the sexuality question. One thing that led me initially to question the traditional teaching on sexuality was that so many Christians seemed to rely on slandering and misrepresenting homosexuals. It occurred to me that if homosexuality was wrong, surely the case could be argued without recourse to all kinds of myths, slurs and pseudo-science. (I'm talking about the old standards here: gays are a risk to children, being gay is just about sex, there's no love in gay relationships, all gays are promiscuous, being gay is a mental illness, the "lifestyle" is dangerous and ends in early death.)

You seem unprepared glibly to repeat the same deceptions and half-truths, and that's wonderful. When you show a grace like that, I can live with you being on "the other side of the fence," just as you've shown you can live with me as I am.

PS The Tillich quote comes from a sermon found in The Shaking of the Foundations. I've never persevered with Tillich's heavier academic writings, but I've really enjoyed his sermons. That particular one is called You Are Accepted. You can read it online here.

Facebook comments became too restrictive by this stage (the above exchanges had to be posted in tiny parts), so Alison wrote a full-length 'Letter to David' in reply:

David, thank you for the warmth I perceive coming from you. I was bold enough to write that i didn't think you had rejected our brand of Christianity out of hand, so I am cheered by your reference to genuine affection and I can affirm that I did not read malice in your writing, though there was, of course, lots of criticism.

There is plenty that is cringeworthy in Pentecostalism certainly; I can't defend excesses though I sympathise with people who are genuinely trying to hear from God and often make mistakes. Actually I don't have to sympathise with those people: I am one! Ah well. I happen to highly value the American prophetess about whom you have written and don't consider her to be extreme. I don't remember the particular prophecy about banks etc. so can't comment on that. As far as her workshop session goes, I was part of that and know that from her angle it was an introduction to teaching people to listen for God's voice. To give Christians the confidence that they are able to hear from God more than they think is, in my pastoral experience, an important thing. We do have the mind of Christ and most sincere Christians who wonder if they have anything to say which might be used by God to speak to others need to be given the confidence to speak out. Then there is the process of weighing and discernment which is where the Christian community and sensible leadership comes in.

What is indefensible is the sort of rhetoric which you mention which 'demonises' gay people. But (oops maybe I am approaching a defence? call it an attempt at explanation?) most evangelicals don't know any gay people personally (that's to say they don't knowingly know any ...) and when one's information comes from media which, referring to any kind of sex, is more concerned with titillation than information, they are afraid, uncomfortable and suspicious. Also there is the concern that society is concerned with equality to the detriment of Christian sensibilities and we are presented as less tolerant than we really are.

Still, I am happy to affirm that gay and straight (don't like that term) people probably: think about sex as much (or as little) as each other would rather not be defined by their sexuality - it is part of a person not the whole are capable of long term commitment and loving relationships often sin sexually.

I'm not sure of the value of vicarious repentance, but as part of a Christian community whose members have often made hurtful comments to you and others, I'm sorry.

BUT ....

I value relationships where I can genuinely disagree with someone without personal abuse intruding and I sense I have one here. I agree with you that if I think homosexuality is wrong then I should be able to justify that position "without recourse to all kinds of myths, slurs and pseudo-science." So here's the beginning of such an attempt.

For me the first two chapters of Genesis are foundational to a meaning of sex. Male and female are made in the image of God and as such express that image most fully when they get their relations right. I argue against many men (including church fathers) that women do not possess God's image in a secondary sense, but just as much as men; against some radical feminists I would insist that women need men too! Gen2 describes the creation of one being which is then divided into two. "For this reason" men and women have sexual relations, thus restoring the original (one flesh) complete image of God. The one-flesh relationship must therefore include the two. Not only that, it is a productive relationship: the two become one who then bear offspring.

So our sexual ethics must reflect our view of God. Promiscuity and prostitution are wrong because we must not create a one flesh relationship casually (1Cor6). Sex outside marriage is wrong because it should entail complete giving of oneself to the other for life, as God has given himself to us and we to him. That's the ideal: God knows that we are also sinners and Jesus said it was because of hardness of heart that Moses allowed divorce. It is no accident that there is so much sexual sin in the world as it is the one area which directly attacks the image of God in humans and when we get it right it is so good.

The danger of what I just wrote is that people will think I mean that single people or infertile people as well as homosexuals are somehow less than God's perfect image. That would be a gross misinterpretation. Man and woman as one flesh says something about God. But every individual also bears God's image and is precious.

There it is - a very imperfect offering which I hope does not wind you up too much!

I must thank you for recognising grace in my previous comments and hope there is just as much in the above. At root, though I'm clever enough to have been an academic, I am really a pastor who finds that my ethics have to work in practice. You said you thought I am the sort of person who would be open to other people's stories; thanks again. I believe it is a pastor's lot to listen more than she speaks, support and value. Please take these two long responses to your original letter not fundamentally as an attempt to (re)convert you to a particular point of view, but as the sort of serious response you deserve. To do less would have been to value you less.

Anyway will shut up now. I hope this has not been too polemic.

Grace to you,

Alison x

True to her signature, I found grace in Alison's words. I responded thus:

I'm really glad we're having this conversation. You have a lot of grace, and as someone whose experience of evangelical Christians has all too often been graceless, I cherish that openness.

Thanks for your exposition of Scripture, which I didn't find too polemical! For you the Bible is primarily the (infallible?) Word of God; for me it's primarily the word of humans. So biblical arguments may inspire me or lead me to reflection, but they'll never be authoritative in the same way as they are for you. The biblical idea of the image of God in humans strikes me as a beautiful way to view ourselves and our relationships, but I'd want to extend the metaphor to other kinds of human relationships. Since Eve was formed from Adam's side, perhaps Genesis contains the suggestion of androgyny in Adam. From that, can we ask whether two males joined together might adequately reflect the image of God? This is just a thought.

Onto the American prophetess. Following the lead of social scientists, I don't dismiss religious experiences such as prophecy out-of-hand as simple fakery. I think some of those experiences could be valuable. I regard them as "altered states," temporary "alternate realities," or "heightened states of awareness," but also I believe they originate in the human psyche, not the supernatural. My major problem with these experiences in Pentecostal circles is not the experiences themselves, per se, but how they are interpreted for and by the community. I think I would be more comfortable with Pentecostal prophetic experiences if they were framed as indirect impressions of where God might be leading, viewed more tentatively as subjective experiences and open to critical exploration, rather than being considered the "voice of God," or direct "messages," or "words" from God.

I know there are pastors and teachers who try to various extents to emphasize the provisional nature of prophecy, but in my experience the effect is often nullified by the language of "words," "messages" and "voices."

Alison couldn't see my point about androgyny in Genesis, so I elaborated:

I think the androgyny point actually originated in rabbinical interpretation, but I could be wrong.

What I mean is that Adam had in him both male and female. I guess you could interpret that as either very anti-feminist (man is complete without woman) or radically pro-feminist (Adam was *neither* male nor female, so gender distinctions postdate creation).

The exchange continued somewhat, but it widened to include other commenters' points, so I shall leave it there.

Since I've outed myself as Rattigan to friends who only know me by my "real" name, perhaps I should step a bit further out of my closet for readers who know me only as Rattigan. I won't reveal my name (though it probably wouldn't take a great deal of detective work to find out), but I will share a bit more about my background, to put the above discussion in context.

I spent 1993 to 2001 in the Elim Pentecostal Church, which I think I'm right in saying is the second largest Pentecostal denomination in the UK (it is to Assemblies of God what Foursquare is to Assemblies in Canada and the US). I earned my theology degree through Regents Theological College, the organization's official Bible college. Despite being a conservative denomination, the college gave me a fairly thorough theological education, which introduced me to the full array of biblical criticism and alternative, non-conservative Christian and non-Christian ideas. (Not that everyone approved. I remember my decidedly anti-intellectual pastor warning me in advance of the heretical ideas that were "floating around" at Regents. Many pastors, and even some students, scoffed at the college's increasingly academic emphasis.)

I think the broad scope of my education this was partly the result of my choice of classes - I opted for the more academic modules, such as New Testament Interpretation, Philosophy of Religion and Contemporary Theology. Had I chosen just the more pragmatic subjects, such as Evangelism and Missions, it would have been quite easy to coast through college without ever encountering non-evangelical approaches.

Ironically, then-Principal William Atkinson's NT Interpretation classes were ultimately the most formative in my later liberal approach to the Bible. I think this is a credit to his ability to teach without simply imposing his own biases on students. I recall raising laughter by hugging William enthusiastically as I stepped up to the platform at graduation - but it was an embrace of genuine affection, which remains today.

Against this background, it's been a risk to share my changed perspective, my writings and my journey with friends, acquaintances and colleagues from those days. But I opened the door and I found grace.

Coming out liberal: an open letter to my Christian friends

Peggy Campolo once wrote a wonderful short essay entitled In God's House There Are Many Closets. In it she describes how she once hid from others, afraid to be honest about who she really was, and she relates it to the experience of closeted gays and lesbians.

I can identify at least two closets in my own life, and although I with at least one of those I can point to a single moment of "coming out," at the same time I'm always having to come out of the closet. Every time a conversation turns in a certain direction, or every time I catch up with an old friend and face the inevitable questions, I come out all over again.

The first of those closets is of course my sexuality. I am (if it's necessary to put labels on these things) gay. I was over halfway into my twenties before I had the courage to accept myself for who I was, and almost in my thirties before I brought myself to tell others. And each time I am asked, "Are you married yet?" or "Do you have a girlfriend?", I'm coming out for a second, a third, a fourth, fifth, sixth and hundredth time.

The second closet is my faith. Or the ambiguity of it, lack of it or at least its strange metamorphosis over the last seven or eight years. Ten years ago I was a fiery born-again Christian, thoroughly evangelical and unabashedly Pentecostal. I studied theology and was an associate pastor for almost two years. I spoke in tongues, preached the Bible as the inerrant Word of God and condemned unrepentant unbelievers to an eternity in hell. Now I am a confirmed Anglican, too liberal for most liberals and pretty much agnostic on the question of God's existence.

It is unsurprising then that bumping into a Bible College friend, an old church pal, or someone who once knew me as Pastor Dave, is yet another coming-out. Coming out gay and coming out no-longer-evangelical often coincide, since the two journeys are closely intertwined.

The response from Christian friends varies. (Edit: Let me clear up some confusion here. I'm not eager to pigeonhole friends into the following categories. They're just broad categories based on my observations. Chances are if the issue of my sexuality has never come up in conversation, I don't expect a response.)

The most common response is simply to continue as if I never said anything. Some old friends and acquaintances seemingly pretend they didn't hear me. They don't affirm me, but nor do they condemn me; they just go very quiet for a while and then never bring up the subject again. It's odd, and in many ways I'd prefer it if they bit the bullet and just told me I was going to hell. It's strange to exchange emails with people and go through the motions of taking an interest in each other's lives when it's obvious they're avoiding the elephant in the room.

A related response begins the same way, but ends with me gradually dropping off their radar altogether. Eventually I'll notice they're missing from my Facebook friends list, or they've blocked me from their Messenger.

Another response is simply to live and let live. They don't affirm me, necessarily, and they don't go out of their way to condemn me, but nor is there an awkward silence as if I'd said nothing at all. It's not a big deal, and I'm not made to feel there are parts of me and my life that are off-limits.

Then there are those who patently don't have room for what and who I am. Perhaps surprisingly, this has been comparatively rare, but it still happens. These are the people whose only response is to condemn me, exhort me to repent, or worse, try to fix me. This response baffles me, since it indicates to me they haven't heard a word I've said. If after hearing my story you still think that quoting Bible verses at me is going to change my mind, you either haven't been listening or you think I'm a bit dumb. Frankly, when I get this reaction - especially after I've made a heartfelt effort to share my journey - I just feel patronized and insulted. This is what I hear: I don't care about your story, where you've been and where you're going. I'm not interested in hearing about you. I just want to fix you so your story fits my agenda again.

Lastly, there are those who affirm me. They listen to my story and they accept me for who I am and where I am. They affirm me for being who I am and being true to myself, and they know that even though many of the externals have changed, I'm still me. They know I'm still the same Dave and that inwardly I still have the same grace, love, character and integrity that I always had. It goes without saying that this is my preferred response.

Those who choose the last option prove that their hearts are spacious enough to accommodate me. They accept my story as I accept theirs. And you know the conversations I most enjoy? The ones I find the most gracious? It's not when an old friend lets me spout off all the arguments I have against their religion and then turns round and says, "Hey, Dave, you're totally right. You've convinced me. I'm going to be a liberal like you!" (as if it ever happens that way, anyway). The conversations I love most are those when a friend genuinely listens to my story and I genuinely listen to theirs. We compare journeys, share openly where we're at in life, and sometimes puzzle over how we ended up at such different destinations. But our differences? No biggie. Friends like that prove that it's not our churches or creeds, but our common humanity that binds us.

This week I took a big risk and stepped out of the closet on Facebook. I've never been secretive about the fact I'm gay or that I'm a (very) liberal Christian, but I've also never publicly revealed the pseudonym I write under. Outing myself as David L Rattigan opens up dozens of old church and college friends to the whole scope of my writings - and some might be offended, some might be shocked, and some might not really want to know me any more. It's a risk I take, but as others have already pointed out, those who can't accept where I am are probably not worth knowing anyway.

If you're a Christian friend or acquaintance, don't mistake the brutal honesty of my writings with a desire to reject you. If you're still an evangelical, I don't want to fix you. My heart is wide enough to love and accept you if you can open your heart wide enough to love and accept me. When I emerge from the shadows of my closet, that's the kind of welcome I love best.

Addendum: For anyone wanting to get to grips with my writings, here are a few links to get you started:

Fantastic Voyage: Surviving Charismatic Fundamentalism from Leaving Fundamentalism: Personal Stories, ed G Elijah Dann (Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2008)
Out and Cowed? Ex-gay in the UK from Third Way magazine (2006)
Leaving Fundamentalism (various articles from myself and others)
Rattigan Writes (my blog)
DavidLRattigan.com (my website)

Licence for prejudice: You died young... and you're gay

Jan Moir's column about the late Stephen Gately is an ugly and infuriating display of prejudice, even by the Daily Mail's standards.

Moir's tack put me in mind of the character of Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson) in the 1997 comedy As Good as It Gets. Intimidated by Frank Sachs (Cuba Gooding, Jr), Melvin shouts for the police and threatens, "Assault and battery," adding with triumph, "and you're black!"

Analyzing the circumstances surrounding the untimely death of pop singer Gately, Moir pieces together a few apparently suspicious details before revealing the clincher: And he's gay.

What were those suspicious details? Gately and his civil partner Andrew Cowles had been out clubbing; they returned to their apartment with Georgi Dochev, a young Bulgarian man; Cowles and Dochev went into the bedroom while Gately remained in the living room. Gately had "at least smoked cannabis" that evening.

Quite slender details on which to hang a concrete theory, but Moir gives it her best shot, jumping from the few available facts to the statement "Whatever the cause of death is, it is not, by any yardstick, a natural one." To do this, she discounts the results of the post-mortem, and reveals an astonishing medical ignorance: "Healthy and fit 33-year-old men do not just climb into their pyjamas and go to sleep on the sofa, never to wake up again." Even I know this is not true.

The byline refers to the "sordid details" of Gately's death. Moir says that its circumstances are "more than a little sleazy." Gately and Cowles "took" the young Bulgarian to their apartment (how suggestive a little verb like "take" can be) and "a game of canasta ... was not what was on the cards." She ends boldly: "[Once again] the ooze of a very different and more dangerous lifestyle has seeped out for all to see."

Sadly, this ooze has seeped only out of Moir's imagination. That's not to say the scenarios she suggests are not possible, but how does she leap from possibilities to such certainties? Aha. With the all-important final detail: And he's gay.

It is clear Moir already has a chip on her shoulder about gays, and in particular the idea of civil partnerships. She betrays this with her assumption that if they are to be legitimate, civil partnerships should be held to a higher standard than straight marriage:

Another real sadness about Gately's death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships.

Gay activists are always calling for tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships, arguing that they are just the same as heterosexual marriages. Not everyone, they say, is like George Michael.

Of course, in many cases this may be true. Yet the recent death of Kevin McGee, the former husband of Little Britain star Matt Lucas, and now the dubious events of Gately's last night raise troubling questions about what happened.

There is no more a happy-ever-after to civil partnerships than there is to heterosexual marriage. But for Moir, the failure of a handful of celebrity couples in the public eye somehow throws the whole concept of civil partnerships into question.

Few other people are held to such high scrutiny or expected to maintain such high standards in order to earn legitimacy. No one holds up OJ and Nicole Simpson as reason to question interracial marriage. These blacks, always going on about tolerance, but just look at OJ and Nicole. What about Jade Goody and Jack Tweed? Cervical cancer? We all know what's going on there. I'm sure there are some very happily married chavs out there, but you can't help but ask the question whether these sort of working-class, council estate types should be allowed to get married in the first place, eh? Jade and Jack was one thing, but now there's Jordan and Pete.

The folly of this kind of reasoning speaks for itself; its underlying prejudice is obvious.

Moir thinks that Gately's relationship status warrants a more intrusive kind of coverage. She complains that the story was reported "as if Gately had gently keeled over at the age of 90 in the grounds of the Bide-a-Wee rest home while hoeing the sweet pea patch," and protests that the "sugar coating on this fatality is so saccharine-thick that it obscures whatever bitter truth lies beneath."

Why is it so imperative that Gately's death be reported in more detail? That the "bitter truth" (remembering that this bitter truth is so far just speculation) be revealed? Clearly it has nothing to do with a general ethical principle or a journalistic standard that applies to young and old, straight and gay alike. No, this is for one reason: because Gately was gay.

Gately was gay: therefore otherwise negligible details become suspicious; therefore his negatives - not that she has any firm evidence for their existence - can be applied to an entire community and used to put an entire group of people and their relationships under public scrutiny.

Gately's sexuality is the one fact that, for Moir, sets his death apart from others. It is the justification for innuendo and contrivances that reveal only the prejudice of their author.

Update: The Daily Mail website has changed the headline from "Why there was nothing 'natural' about Stephen Gately's death" to "A strange, lonely and troubling death...". The byline in the sidebar was changed to "Jan Moir on the tragic end of Stephen Gately" from something I can't remember exactly, but which definitely made reference to the "sordid details" of Gately's death.