Is that possible? Could I have gotten vibes from Zoe, could I have known about her even before she knew herself?
“I imagine you’re feeling . . . inadequate,” the pastor says. “Like maybe if you had been more of a man, this would never have happened.”
I can’t look him in the eye, but my cheeks are flaming.
“And I imagine you’re angry. You probably feel as if everyone who hears about her new lifestyle is going to be judging you, for being played the fool.”
“Yes!” I explode. “I just don’t—I can’t—” The words jam in my throat. “I don’t understand why she’s doing this.”
“It’s not her choice,” Pastor Clive says.
“But . . . no one’s born gay. You say that all the time.”
“You’re right. And I’m right, too. There are no biological homosexuals—we’re all heterosexual. But some of us, for a variety of reasons, find ourselves struggling with a homosexual problem. No onechoosesto be attracted to someone of the same sex, Max. But wedochoose how we’ll act on those feelings.” He leans forward, his hands between his knees. “Little boys aren’t born gay—they’re made queer, by mothers who are too smothering, or who rely on their sons for their own emotional satisfaction; or by fathers who are too distant—which leads the boy to find male acceptance in another, incorrect way. Likewise, little girls whose mothers are too detached might never get the model they need to develop their femininity; and their fathers were usually absent as well.”
“Zoe’s dad died when she was little . . . ,” I say.
Pastor Clive looks at me. “What I’m saying, Max, is don’t be angry at her. She doesn’t need your anger. What she needs—what shedeserves—is your grace.”
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
“When I was a young man, I served in the ministry of a pastor who was as conservative as they come. It was during the AIDS crisis, and Pastor Wallace started visiting gay patients who were hospitalized. He’d pray with them if they felt comfortable, and he’d just hang out with them if they didn’t. Well, eventually, a local homosexual radio station got wind of what Pastor Wallace was doing, and they asked him to come on the air. When he was asked for his opinion on homosexuality, he said flat out that it was a sin. The DJ admitted he didn’t like that—but he liked Pastor Wallace himself. The next weekend, a few gay men came to his church service. The week after that, the number had doubled. The congregation got skittish, and asked what they were supposed to do with all these homosexuals around. And Pastor Wallace replied, ‘Why, let them sit on down.’ The homosexuals, he said, could join the gossips and the fornicators and the adulterers and all the other sinners among us.”
He stands up and walks toward his desk. “It’s a strange world, Max. We have megachurches. We have Christian satellite television and Christian bands on the pop charts. We haveThe Shack,for goodness’ sake. Christ is more visible than He’s ever been, with even more influence than ever before. So why do abortion clinics still thrive? Why is the divorce rate climbing? Why is pornography rampant?” He pauses, but I don’t think he’s waiting for an answer from me. “I’ll tell you why, Max. It’s because the moral weakness we see outside the church has invaded it as well. Look no further than Ted Haggard or Paul Barnes—there are sex scandals in our own leadership. The reason we can’t speak to the most critical issue of our time is because, morally, we’ve given up our authority.”
I frown, a little confused. I don’t really get what this has to do with Zoe.
“At prayer meeting we hear people say that they have cancer, or that they need a job. We never hear someone confess to looking up Internet porn, or to having gay fantasies. Whyisthat? Why is church not a safe place to come if you’re tempted by sin—any sin? If we can’t be that safe place, we share the responsibility when those people fall. You know, Max, of all people, how it feels to sit at a bar and not be judged—to just have a drink and let it all hang out. Why can’t the church be more like that? Why can’t you walk in and say,Oh, God, it’s just you. Cool. I can be myself, now.Not in a way that ignores our sins—but in a way that makes us accountable for them. You see where I’m headed with this, Max?”
“No, sir,” I admit. “Not really . . .”
“You know what brought you to me today?” Pastor Clive says.
“Zoe?”
“No. Jesus Christ.” A smile breaks over Pastor Clive’s face. “You were sent here to remind me that we can’t get so wrapped up in the battle we forget the war. Alcoholics get recovery medallions to commemorate the time they’ve been sober. We in the church need tobethat token for the homosexual who wants to change.”
“I don’t know if Zoe wants to change—”
“We’ve already learned that you can’t tell a pregnant woman not to have an abortion—you have to help her do what’s right, by offering counseling and support and adoption possibilities. So we can’t just say that being gay is wrong. We have to also be willing to bring these people into the church, toshowthem how to do the right thing.”
What the pastor is talking about, I realize, is becoming a guide. It is as if Zoe’s been lost in the woods. I may not be able to get her to come with me right away, but I can offer her a map. “You think I should talk to her?”
“Exactly, Max.”
Except we have a history.
And I have hardly been at this born-alive-in-Christ thing long enough to be persuasive.
And.
(Even if it hurts me)
(Even if it makes me feel like less of a man)
(Who am I to say that she’s wrong?)
But I can’t even admit this last thought to myself, much less to Pastor Clive.
