As a teen, a group of my friends were really into anime, a stylized form of Japanese animation. I tagged along on occasion and saw some interesting anime TV shows and films, some more popular like Neon Genesis Evangelion, and others more obscure like Record of Lodoss War. The anime world is a entire subculture; just look at Comic-Con (140,000 people in attendance last year alone). Like many sub/cultures, it can be difficult for outsiders to understand the behaviors and motivations. Dressing up like your favorite anime character and going to a festival? Or from a conversation I just had the other day, "I just don't get anime. Why would anyone want to watch characters flying around in stagnant poses? It's like they don't even move, just the background moves. Ugh."
And obviously the world is filled with these subcultures. How many subcultures are there in Christianity alone? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? And I think I'm particularly aware of these faith-setting subcultures because of the decades in which I grew up: many, many folks from evangelical church backgrounds starting entire companies to fight culture wars. To compound the situation, I'm pretty sure at some point in my teen years I engaged in some form of said battling via face-to-face conversations, or disapproval and criticism of various media to my friends and family. And so I also got to see how much of a turn-off that was to so many secular people who might otherwise have engaged in intelligent -- or at least open-minded -- discussions. So, know these aren't potshots I'm taking at anyone else; if anything I'm saying, "I get the problem because I WAS the problem!"
A few months ago someone recommended to me Andrew Marin's provocative book "Love Is An
Orientation". Marin, for the uninitiated, is an evangelical Christian who started The Marin Foundation, a nonprofit organization intended to build bridges between the church and GLBT (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender) communities. He also has a blog worth spending some time on. And for all of the difficulties he has, seems like he's having some significant success. Just Google a bit... the guy is everywhere.
Having spent much time in both overtly democratic and republican cities, I have a sense for the political stakes involved. By the way, two thumbs way up for this book - if you get a chance I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. But clearly this conversation goes far beyond the political arena. You may remember the story of Ronald Gay (a churchgoer) who walked into a gay bar, opened fire, killing one and injuring several, and testifying later saying something about how he wishes he could have killed a few more.
I find myself connecting strongly to Marin's vision and mission. He's also articulately and helpfully asked to churches, to me, "How's your approach working for you? What if our immediate goal wasn't to persuade; what if our immediate goal was to form relationships? And what if out of those relationships, positive growth and change happened for all parties involved? What if the church and the GLBT community were able to point each other towards God? What might that look like?"
From Not the Religious Type blog, Jeff Heidkamp concurs:
Sociologically speaking, I've noticed that a lot of people, like me, who were kids and teenagers in evangelical churches at the heights of the Colson/Dobson/Reed culture wars in the 80s and 90s find ourselves suspicious of any attempt to impose faith-based values on secular people. Mainly because we saw the culture wars from the inside and we know how ugly they were for the church itself.
A few months ago someone recommended to me Andrew Marin's provocative book "Love Is An
Orientation". Marin, for the uninitiated, is an evangelical Christian who started The Marin Foundation, a nonprofit organization intended to build bridges between the church and GLBT (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender) communities. He also has a blog worth spending some time on. And for all of the difficulties he has, seems like he's having some significant success. Just Google a bit... the guy is everywhere. Having spent much time in both overtly democratic and republican cities, I have a sense for the political stakes involved. By the way, two thumbs way up for this book - if you get a chance I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. But clearly this conversation goes far beyond the political arena. You may remember the story of Ronald Gay (a churchgoer) who walked into a gay bar, opened fire, killing one and injuring several, and testifying later saying something about how he wishes he could have killed a few more.
So I ask you, what would that look like? It feels a lot riskier than simply throwing stones from behind a picket sign, or to do as I'd done in earlier years: judge, criticize, and disapprove. Especially in children's ministry, as teachers, as parents, as coaches, what are some helpful things we, the church, can do to build bridges in this direction? Seems like if adults are not able to successfully do this, our hope grows thin for future generations to do this well. Thoughts?
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