I have been reluctant to say anything about Jen Hatmaker's pro-LGBT statements from last week. Some of the young women associated with our congregation are infatuated with this charismatic speaker. I have taken flak in the past for being critical of her stance on World Vision's policy on homosexual employees. "You're not a woman, so you can't speak to this issue." "You don't have homosexual friends, so you can't speak to this issue." Apparently truth is trumped by gender and friendship.
So instead of speaking to the issue, I am going to direct all my readers to an article by someone who is qualified to speak to Jen Hatmaker. She is a woman and she used to be a lesbian. She is qualified.
So instead of speaking to the issue, I am going to direct all my readers to an article by someone who is qualified to speak to Jen Hatmaker. She is a woman and she used to be a lesbian. She is qualified.
Love Your Neighbor Enough to Speak Truth
A Response to Jen Hatmaker by Rosaria Butterfield
If this were 1999—the year that I was converted and walked away from the woman and lesbian community I loved—instead of 2016, Jen Hatmaker’s words about the holiness of LGBT relationships would have flooded into my world like a balm of Gilead. How amazing it would have been to have someone as radiant, knowledgeable, humble, kind, and funny as Jen saying out loud what my heart was shouting: Yes, I can have Jesus and my girlfriend. Yes, I can flourish both in my tenured academic discipline (queer theory and English literature and culture) and in my church. My emotional vertigo could find normal once again.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to lose everything to have Jesus. Maybe the gospel wouldn’t ruin me while I waited, waited, waited for the Lord to build me back up after he convicted me of my sin, and I suffered the consequences. Maybe it would go differently for me than it did for Paul, Daniel, David, and Jeremiah. Maybe Jesus could save me without afflicting me. Maybe the Lord would give to me respectable crosses (Matt. 16:24). Manageable thorns (2 Cor. 12:7).
Today, I hear Jen’s words—words meant to encourage, not discourage, to build up, not tear down, to defend the marginalized, not broker unearned power—and a thin trickle of sweat creeps down my back. If I were still in the thick of the battle over the indwelling sin of lesbian desire, Jen’s words would have put a millstone around my neck.
Read the rest HERE.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to lose everything to have Jesus. Maybe the gospel wouldn’t ruin me while I waited, waited, waited for the Lord to build me back up after he convicted me of my sin, and I suffered the consequences. Maybe it would go differently for me than it did for Paul, Daniel, David, and Jeremiah. Maybe Jesus could save me without afflicting me. Maybe the Lord would give to me respectable crosses (Matt. 16:24). Manageable thorns (2 Cor. 12:7).
Today, I hear Jen’s words—words meant to encourage, not discourage, to build up, not tear down, to defend the marginalized, not broker unearned power—and a thin trickle of sweat creeps down my back. If I were still in the thick of the battle over the indwelling sin of lesbian desire, Jen’s words would have put a millstone around my neck.
Read the rest HERE.
Comments