“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
— Proverbs 16:18
“Be careful of the dragons you seek to slay, lest you become one of them.”
– Chinese Proverb
Pride 2009
Another Pride Parade. Yawn. Jim and I had fought through crazy traffic and cursing bus drivers to get a parking spot close to where we were meeting friends. I was hobbling toward Broadway on crutches and he was schlepping my folding chair. That’s what friends are for. But before we could cross the street we heard the man shouting with a bullhorn, “Why do you women have short hair?” Pause, louder, “Why do you women have short hair? It’s because you hate men.” There were three men dressed in bright orange t-shirts with large black letters reading, TRUST JESUS. The two other men marched along silently staying close to the man with the bullhorn. They looked embarrassed and tried to melt into the background.
The man with the megaphone persisted, “YOU WILL NEVER BE LOVED.”
At that point, the anger rose within me. I wanted to cross the street and beat the man to the ground with my crutch. I wanted to smash his face. I wanted to grab his bullhorn and shout painfully loud in his ear, “Shut up, you crazy fuck!” He had won. I had become like him. I felt no love, no pity, no compassion … just hate and revulsion …
self-righteousness.
The crowd seemed unfazed. They laughed and jeered at the man. Crowds further down the street tried to drown him with applause or singing. But I knew that someone heard him and for a moment someone believed him. For someone an inner tape began to play, “You are an abomination in the sight of God.”
I never confronted the man. Confrontation only fuels the self-righteous. I sat and watched the parade go by … the silly, the colorful, the well-intentioned, the bawdy, and the bored.
Seattle 1998
In 1998 I was asked to speak at a communion service for gay Christians, in Seattle. I was recently out and still serving as a pastor. I shared about being a “grape juice Nazarene,” and the power of my first communion as a gay man, using real wine. During the communion in Seattle there was a lot of crying and tears. But I will never forget the heart-wrenching sobs of the young man who was literally being carried to the communion rail by his mother and aunt. The boy was the son a Primitive Baptist pastor in Arkansas. His mother, the pastor’s wife, had risked much to attend this conference with her son, as had his aunt. As he came closer to where I was seated, I could make out his cries, “I am not worthy. I am not worthy.” I tried to pray for him, but was speechless.
Uncle Dave
Recently, out the blue, I heard from two people from my past. One letter was from a woman I had almost married. We had lost touch for over thirty years, but she got my e-mail address through a chance meeting with a mutual friend. She wrote to ask how I was doing and to share some fond memories. She had no idea that I had come out as a gay man. I responded with a quick recap of my life and that I was no longer a pastor and now living as an out gay man.
Lois wrote back and said, “I have written this letter so many times and started over. I had no idea you were gay, but only knew that there was something in the way of our relationship. You are a wonderful person and you will always be a pastor.”
The second letter began, “Uncle David … this is Jonathan Grover.” I was at the hospital the day after he was born. I was his pastor during his childhood. His father Dennis was my best friend, a friendship that ended when I came out.
Jonathan had grown into a young man and become an accountant. He was doing an audit near the church I work at and had recognized my license plate (TUF187) and car. In his letter he asked if I would like to do lunch. I was thrilled.
During lunch I could tell that Jonathan was very nervous, but he recounted vividly some of his favorite memories of our shared past. I asked him if his dad had ever told he and his brother, Kirk, why our friendship ended? No, he hadn’t told them. They knew it had to be over something very serious, because their father and I were like brothers.
Jonathan had a long conversation with his father before our lunch. I asked Jonathan why Dennis could not continue our friendship. Early into our friendship I discovered that Dennis’ sister was a lesbian. Dennis grew up with a preacher father. When Diana came out she left the church. Dennis remained in touch with his sister. But when I came out, he ended our friendship. I was confused.
“Dad told me that he ended his friendship with you because you claimed to still be a Christian. Aunt Diana never claimed that.”
As we stood at his car after lunch, I hugged him tightly and told him how much it meant to hear him call me Uncle Dave. He said, “You will always be my Uncle Dave.” I have never heard from him again.
My father’s words often linger with me. His words when I came out were, “You are my son and I will always love you.”
Dennis and man in the orange TRUST JESUS t-shirt, I believe less and less because of you, but there is still one thing I believe about the economy of God. The very essence of who God is says, “You cannot NOT be loved by me.” I still believe that.