July 9, 2019 Ellie
Dear Evangelical Covenant Church,
My wife and I have been members of the ECC for over a decade, first at Buffalo Covenant Church in Buffalo, NY (which is sadly no more), and for the past nine years at Bethlehem Covenant Church in Minneapolis, MN. We found the Covenant to be a haven when the rigid fundamentalism of our past proved untenable. Our three children were born into the Covenant and have always known it as home. I am many things: I am a Christian; I am a parent, a musician, a teacher; I am (for now) a Covenanter.
I am also transgender and queer. Navigating a gender transition in the recent climate around sex and gender minorities in the ECC has been challenging, and has certainly given me plenty to think about. The last few weeks, surrounding the annual meeting in Omaha, I’ve been pondering two things, which, the more I think about them, seem to be two sides of the same coin.
The first thing I’ve been thinking about is how we tend to assume that members of a minority group speak and act out of bias or agenda, while trusting that those who do not represent a minority (or who actively represent the status quo) do not. When I presented myself as an educated straight white man, showing all indications of privilege, I could easily be accused of inexperience or just plain being wrong, but I don’t recall ever being accused of having an agenda. Whenever I advocated for myself, I was generally received as a reasonable person making a reasonable request.
Now, as a visibly trans and queer individual, I feel like my voice is inherently suspect when I talk about certain things that are important to me, particularly the inclusion of sex and gender minorities in the church. I feel like cisgender, heterosexual folks have an advantage over me in credibility, even when talking about the experiences of the LGBTQ+ community. At times, this means that other people are granted or assume they have more credibility than I do when talking about my own identity and experience. Fortunately, there are many allies who use their gift of credibility to amplify LGBTQ+ voices, but there are also people who use it against us.
This disregard of sex and gender minority voices was evident in a book I was given which claimed to be a Christian look at “transgenderism.” I am reluctant to name the book or author because I found it to be more a source of bias and ignorance than helpful insight, and I don’t wish to promote it in any way. The author was highly skeptical of the claims of trans folks, and devoted very little, if any, page space to their personal experiences or testimonies; instead he quoted cisgender people talking about them. This stands in stark contrast to a book like Austen Hartke’s Transforming, which gives space to multiple trans folks telling their own stories. (The author is himself trans, and interweaves his own and others’ personal stories with insightful and accessible theology. I highly recommend it for anyone trying to wrap their head around how trans folks can make their gender and faith work.)
Not only are LGBTQ+ voices often regarded as less trustworthy, on the other side of the coin, the very experiences, conscience, and discernment of sex and gender minorities are also judged to be less trustworthy. Presumably, our voices are received as less trustworthy because our experiences and internal processes are regarded as less trustworthy. This became very clear to me as I came out as trans and informed people of my decision to transition.
One of the most welcome responses to my news came from a long-time friend who basically told me, “I support you on principle, but I don’t understand. Please explain it to me!” My friend trusted what I said about myself, and wanted to learn more for his own edification and ability to support me. A less welcome response went along the lines of “This isn’t God’s plan for your life, and your feelings about your gender are wrong.” In this case, because my experience was difficult to reconcile with another person’s interpretation of a Biblical view of gender, they concluded that my personal experience must be invalid.
My friend’s response was welcome not only because it invited further dialog, but also because of what it showed about our relationship. People who have responded in a similar fashion generally demonstrate a trust in my personal discernment and a respect for my ability to make these important decisions for myself.
When someone tells me my feelings are wrong and this can’t be God’s plan, however, they’re implying that my discernment and decision-making are seriously flawed and untrustworthy. This is very different from when I was previously assumed to be a straight, cisgender person whose self-advocacy was reasonable. It is also an unpleasant contrast to my friend’s trust and openness, and even to a cautious but respectful response that says, “I disagree with you and would probably make a different choice in your place, but I respect your ability to make this choice.”
When someone from my church or denomination (especially someone in leadership) implies that I haven’t correctly discerned God’s plan, they usually include a reference to the ECC’s official position (as if that's just the way things are and we need to work within the system). For many the issue of sex and gender minorities’ place in the church was settled twenty years ago, so my attempts to share my evolving understanding can now only distract from our shared ministry. These individuals are less likely to refer directly to scripture, or to ask me how I interpret my experience in light of scripture. I leave conversations like this feeling distrusted as a potential source of division, rather than welcomed as a child of God, and it’s only worsened by the fact that the ECC has focused on sexuality, leaving gender largely unaddressed.
The pattern of dismissing a significant portion of LGBTQ+ persons’ experience and discernment has played out again and again in the Evangelical Covenant Church over the last few years as our inclusion has become a topic of intense conversation. I heard it last year at the 2018 annual meeting, where delegates spoke against a proposal to formally revisit the topic with more input from scholars and laity, and in the conversation since then. Particularly rankling to me has been the refrain that “we can continue to love well from a traditional position,” which strikes me as a thought-terminating cliché: at best naive, perhaps patronizing, and certainly dangerous to effective ministry. I heard similar things in the leadup to this year’s annual meeting, during the meeting itself, and most recently in the leadership’s July 3 letter.
In responding to that letter, much could be said about Covenant values and denominational polity, but I want to focus on how I receive it as a member of the LGBTQ+ community. (Much of what I say here is applicable to John Wenrich’s address at the annual meeting as well). The following are some excerpts to which I particularly wanted to respond:
“We are not haters. We are not anti-LGBTQ. Rather, the ECC is pro-people, as is Jesus. It is true we have much yet to learn as a movement about formal ministry to LGBTQ individuals and communities; however, most of our Covenant pastors already have and are doing ministry with LGBTQ individuals in the context of their local churches. LGBTQ people continue to be welcome in Covenant churches. This has not changed. And we do have local churches doing excellent and effective LGBTQ ministry against the background of a traditional understanding of marriage.”
It is true that the ECC has much yet to learn about formal ministry to LGBTQ+ people, and this is why it’s difficult to hear cisgender, heterosexual people cite the denomination’s position without hearing us out. It is also true that sex and gender minorities may be welcome in Covenant churches, but officially only as long as we deny an important part of ourselves. The alternative is to accept limitations on how we can use our gifts in our churches and what kind of care and pastoral services are available to us. Until 2019 we did have local churches doing excellent and effective LGBTQ+ ministry without limitations, and in excommunicating First Covenant the ECC has indeed taken an anti-LGBTQ+ stance.
“There is really no “us and them”. As people of many orientations and backgrounds make their home in Covenant churches in the U.S. and Canada, it is important to realize this conversation is about us and our life together within our communally discerned and biblically grounded positions.”
The thing about spending three decades in the church as a closeted queer person is that I know exactly how Christians (including those within the ECC) talk about LGBTQ+ people when they think there aren’t any around: in non-affirming churches there is always an “us and them.” Usually “we” are “the church,” the ones with biblically-grounded positions, and “they” are “the gay people who need Jesus.” This, as if there weren’t closeted LGBTQ+ people in nearly every church–I lived in fear of my secret being found out because I didn’t want to become one of “them.” I am also struck by the utter audacity of saying there’s no “us and them” after telling First Covenant, “You’re not one of us.” If I disagree with the “communally-discerned position” I can no longer trust that I am a part of the community, regardless of my salvation or reliance on scripture.
“We recognize that many churches have not sought to learn and discern around these important societal movements and the attendant new language and understandings. To that end we direct you to the Embrace resources developed by our Make and Deepen Disciples mission priority. The breadth of understanding and spirit of compassion in these materials is reflective of our collective heart and desire to do better in essential conversations and to disciple all people in their flourishing.”
Although there is some merit in the Embrace resources, I have felt both misrepresented and othered by them in multiple instances. Once again cisgender, heterosexual voices are privileged with a small allowance for celibate LGBTQ+ people whose experiences and discernment are trusted because they are in line with the official position and therefore don’t risk division. Many of these voices are from outside our denomination, while faithfully dissenting Covenanters, both LGBTQ+ and allies, are excluded. Please let us speak for ourselves.
“Lastly, the decisions of the Annual Meeting, while difficult relationally and disappointing in the public perception of our movement, does not compromise our ability to minister effectively in these sensitive areas.”
I don’t know how anyone could write this without some twinge of conscience. After this meeting, closeted LGBTQ+ Christians can only hesitate more to speak to their pastors. Our young people are suffering severe depression and loss of faith. Along with many other LGBTQ+ people and our allies, my wife and I have been sickened and deeply wounded by the annual meeting’s process and decisions. I can assure you that these actions dramatically, perhaps even critically, compromise the ability of the entire denomination and the majority of its member churches to minister to sex and gender minorities.
The letter concluded by citing a study that begs for a careful review of its research procedures. It was interpreted as demonstrating that, more than anything else, LGBTQ+ people would be influenced to return to their faith communities by feeling loved–as if the other potential factors were unrelated to love!
I whole-heartedly wish that everyone who talks about loving well from the official position would understand that they cannot tell me when I am feeling loved. I feel loved when people listen to my story without the need to tell me why I’m wrong. I feel loved when people and churches listen to my LGBTQ+ siblings do theology and take it seriously. I feel loved when I am able to bring my entire self to church and be recognized as one of God’s image-bearers. I feel loved when I am able and encouraged to use my Spirit-given gifts for the good of the church. I feel loved when my denomination’s pastors are able to minister to me unfettered, and I can go to them without fear for their ministry. I feel loved when I am supported through a challenging time in my life and trusted with my own decisions. I feel loved when others step up to take the place of those who should be showing me love and support but are not.
I do not feel loved when pastors and a church of people who have shown me love are excommunicated for persistently expressing and demonstrating unfettered love to people like me.
I do not feel loved by the ECC. I feel like my voice can only be suspect and my personal experience and discernment can only be regarded as untrustworthy. In fact, any love that I might be shown by a denomination that can’t hear me is so conditional as to be worthless to me.
In lament,
Ellie Compton
(Queer trans bass player of the Covenant Collective worship service)