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Heavy Burdens: Seven Ways LGBTQ Christians Experience Harm in the Church
Religious faith reduces the risk of suicide for virtually every American demographic except LGBTQ people. Generations of LGBTQ people have been alienated or condemned by Christian communities. It's past time that Christians confronted the ongoing and devastating effects of this legacy.Many LGBTQ people face overwhelming challenges in navigating faith, gender, and sexuality. Christian communities that uphold the traditional sexual ethic often unwittingly make the path more difficult through unexamined attitudes and practices. Drawing on her sociological training and her leadership in the Side B/Revoice conversation, Bridget Eileen Rivera, who founded the popular website Meditations of a Traveling Nun, speaks to the pain of LGBTQ Christians and helps churches develop a better pastoral approach.Rivera calls to mind Jesus's woe to religious "They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them" (Matt. 23:4). Heavy Burdens provides an honest account of seven ways LGBTQ people experience discrimination in the church, helping Christians grapple with hard realities and empowering churches across the theological spectrum to navigate better paths forward.
219 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 26, 2021
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February 11, 2022
Summary: Rather than an argument about what the Bible says about LGBTQ persons, a discussion of the ways LGBTQ Christians, regardless of their beliefs, have suffered under heavy, and the author would argue, needless burdens.
This is not one more book arguing about what the Bible says about LGBTQ issues. Bridget Eileen Rivera, a celibate, lesbian Christian committed to the church’s traditional teaching about sexuality and marriage (often labeled Side B in this discussion) offers a much needed account of how the church often wounds young men and women struggling both with their faith and sexuality, often driving them away from faith, and sometimes to the point of suicide. One of the sobering truths this book talks about is that, unlike any other demographic group, religious involvement of LGBTQ persons actually increases their likelihood to commit suicide. Equally troubling, these burdens have nothing to do with what we believe the Bible says about sexuality.
The first of these is the double standard around celibacy. On the one hand, much of the church glorifies sex within marriage and has little to say about celibacy–except for gay persons–even though the Bible commends both celibacy and marriage.
The second is that no matter what an LGBTQ person does (or doesn’t) do, they are often treated as pathological sinners. Actually, in doing so, the church follows Freud and not scripture, which only speaks about acts rather than orientation. Freud helped construct the idea of “homosexual identity.” Many in the church brand members who simply admit attractions or struggles with gender identification as “perverted,” sometimes banning them from working with children (even though they usually pose no danger to children) or expelling them from families or congregations. We define them as sinners beyond grace.
Third, the church has often branded all LGBTQ people as folk devils and moral enemies when our real enemies are not flesh and blood and we are called always to embody the grace and truth of the gospel. Even more troubling is that many of those so branded and consigned to hell are still teenagers and may not have even acted upon their inclinations. Remember trying to figure out your sexuality in middle and high school? And sometimes we made poor decisions. What if on top of this we were branded enemies of the church and consigned to hell?
Fourth, Rivera shares the complexities in the texts applied to LGBTQ persons that are often described as clear, even while passages referring to adultery, divorce, and the church’s case for or against contraception are often described as complicated. She points to figures like John Piper, who speak of allowing others grace, even though he would disagree with them on matters like divorce. But no grace for LGBTQ persons.
Rather than go into the other burdens in detail, I will note that Rivera discusses issues of how masculinity and femininity are defined, sometimes expressed toward gay men as bullying to get them to “man up,” and the gender essentialism that galvanizes opposition to transexuality, which she argues is rooted in Aristotelianism rather than scripture. Finally, she pleads for as much grace for LGBTQ Christians as is extended to cisgendered straight Christians in all their sexual sins.
I do wonder if there is a tendency toward making the Side A/Side B discussion merely adiaphora–a matter of personal conviction over which Christians disagree and extend grace toward each other. But this does not take away from her powerful witness to the destructive burdens laid upon LGBTQ persons that are not a necessary corollary of the church’s historic beliefs around sexuality and contrary to the gospel.
Rivera and I would agree on our understanding of scripture’s teaching about sexuality, though I suspect her arrival at her convictions was probably harder won than mine. Furthermore, she gives language to my dis-ease about what has seemed an obsession of the church’s focus on the sins of LGBTQ persons, a minority, while blithely ignoring or covering up sexual abuse, pre- and extra-marital sex among Christians, pornography addiction and domestic violence in marriages. She also raises important questions about the extra-biblical material we have imported into Christianity concerning orientation and gender roles. She reminds us that there is much more to the identity and personhood and sexuality of all of us than sex. She touches on something I’ve wondered–what would happen if we began to ask how LGBTQ people may be gifts rather than problems for the church? She leaves me hoping for the day LGBTQ people will not feel they need to leave the church to preserve and find their lives.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
This is not one more book arguing about what the Bible says about LGBTQ issues. Bridget Eileen Rivera, a celibate, lesbian Christian committed to the church’s traditional teaching about sexuality and marriage (often labeled Side B in this discussion) offers a much needed account of how the church often wounds young men and women struggling both with their faith and sexuality, often driving them away from faith, and sometimes to the point of suicide. One of the sobering truths this book talks about is that, unlike any other demographic group, religious involvement of LGBTQ persons actually increases their likelihood to commit suicide. Equally troubling, these burdens have nothing to do with what we believe the Bible says about sexuality.
The first of these is the double standard around celibacy. On the one hand, much of the church glorifies sex within marriage and has little to say about celibacy–except for gay persons–even though the Bible commends both celibacy and marriage.
The second is that no matter what an LGBTQ person does (or doesn’t) do, they are often treated as pathological sinners. Actually, in doing so, the church follows Freud and not scripture, which only speaks about acts rather than orientation. Freud helped construct the idea of “homosexual identity.” Many in the church brand members who simply admit attractions or struggles with gender identification as “perverted,” sometimes banning them from working with children (even though they usually pose no danger to children) or expelling them from families or congregations. We define them as sinners beyond grace.
Third, the church has often branded all LGBTQ people as folk devils and moral enemies when our real enemies are not flesh and blood and we are called always to embody the grace and truth of the gospel. Even more troubling is that many of those so branded and consigned to hell are still teenagers and may not have even acted upon their inclinations. Remember trying to figure out your sexuality in middle and high school? And sometimes we made poor decisions. What if on top of this we were branded enemies of the church and consigned to hell?
Fourth, Rivera shares the complexities in the texts applied to LGBTQ persons that are often described as clear, even while passages referring to adultery, divorce, and the church’s case for or against contraception are often described as complicated. She points to figures like John Piper, who speak of allowing others grace, even though he would disagree with them on matters like divorce. But no grace for LGBTQ persons.
Rather than go into the other burdens in detail, I will note that Rivera discusses issues of how masculinity and femininity are defined, sometimes expressed toward gay men as bullying to get them to “man up,” and the gender essentialism that galvanizes opposition to transexuality, which she argues is rooted in Aristotelianism rather than scripture. Finally, she pleads for as much grace for LGBTQ Christians as is extended to cisgendered straight Christians in all their sexual sins.
I do wonder if there is a tendency toward making the Side A/Side B discussion merely adiaphora–a matter of personal conviction over which Christians disagree and extend grace toward each other. But this does not take away from her powerful witness to the destructive burdens laid upon LGBTQ persons that are not a necessary corollary of the church’s historic beliefs around sexuality and contrary to the gospel.
Rivera and I would agree on our understanding of scripture’s teaching about sexuality, though I suspect her arrival at her convictions was probably harder won than mine. Furthermore, she gives language to my dis-ease about what has seemed an obsession of the church’s focus on the sins of LGBTQ persons, a minority, while blithely ignoring or covering up sexual abuse, pre- and extra-marital sex among Christians, pornography addiction and domestic violence in marriages. She also raises important questions about the extra-biblical material we have imported into Christianity concerning orientation and gender roles. She reminds us that there is much more to the identity and personhood and sexuality of all of us than sex. She touches on something I’ve wondered–what would happen if we began to ask how LGBTQ people may be gifts rather than problems for the church? She leaves me hoping for the day LGBTQ people will not feel they need to leave the church to preserve and find their lives.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
October 20, 2021
I am a straight white cis-gendered pastor who holds to Side B/ the traditional sexual ethic. You will probably want to filter my review with that understanding. I am weirdly the target audience for the book and also the audience that might be the least receptive.
The book tries hard to straddle the line between affirming and non-affirming. Rivera is Side B(non-affirming) and is celibate herself. She tries hard to avoid the discussion and several times emphasizes that the book is not about that particular debate. However, by the end of the book she places the entire discussion as a non-essential one. She compares it to baptism as something that believers can disagree about and still follow Jesus. That will be a difficult pill to swallow for many. I'm not convinced on that point, but she makes her argument well.
Most of the book focuses on the seven ways LGBTQ people have been harmed in the church. She lays out the arguments with two chapters each explaining how the church has gone beyond the bounds of Scripture in various ways. It is hard to debate, and shouldn't be, that Christians have been ungodly towards LGBTQ people. This needs to be confronted and repented of. The book does a good job of laying out various ways that this has happened.
Some of the burdens were better explained than others. As the book went on I found myself disagreeing more and more in places. I agree with her overall point, but found myself nitpicking here and there. Most Christians should be able to agree with a lot of these burdens even if they disagree with others.
I find myself conflicted on the book. I am uncomfortable with framing the discussion as a completely non-essential issue. But there is a lot of wisdom to be found here. Those who are non-affirming and not apart of the LGBTQ community may struggle more with the book. But I think it is still worth reading and wrestling with. If nothing else to listen to the perspective of someone who agrees with you largely, but is trying to point out what you got wrong. I imagine those who are more affirming will be really enjoy this book and find it healing.
In the end people should read it. It effectively makes the case that Christians have harmed LGBTQ people even if you disagree with some of the particulars. It is especially strong for a debut in a difficult topic.
Introduction
Burden 1: Sex . . . err . . . Celibacy Is Great!
1. The Protestant Sexual Revolution
2. The New Sexual Order
Burden 2: Sinners Saved by Grace
3. Perverted Identity
4. Freud's Lasting Influence
Burden 3: Folk Devils
5. Political Christianity
6. Hellfire and Judgment
Burden 4: The Bible Is "Clear"
7. Culture and Context
8. Double Standards
Burden 5: "Real" Men, "Good" Ladies
9. Effeminacy
10. Emasculation
Burden 6: Made in the Image of God Sex
11. Gender Essentialism
12. More Than Just Monkeys?
Burden 7: Jesus Saves Damns
13. Vessels of Wrath
14. Grace for Me but Not for Thee
A Better Way
15. Recentering the Gospel
16. Setting Down the Burdens
17. Weights of Glory
I received a copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for a review.
The book tries hard to straddle the line between affirming and non-affirming. Rivera is Side B(non-affirming) and is celibate herself. She tries hard to avoid the discussion and several times emphasizes that the book is not about that particular debate. However, by the end of the book she places the entire discussion as a non-essential one. She compares it to baptism as something that believers can disagree about and still follow Jesus. That will be a difficult pill to swallow for many. I'm not convinced on that point, but she makes her argument well.
Most of the book focuses on the seven ways LGBTQ people have been harmed in the church. She lays out the arguments with two chapters each explaining how the church has gone beyond the bounds of Scripture in various ways. It is hard to debate, and shouldn't be, that Christians have been ungodly towards LGBTQ people. This needs to be confronted and repented of. The book does a good job of laying out various ways that this has happened.
Some of the burdens were better explained than others. As the book went on I found myself disagreeing more and more in places. I agree with her overall point, but found myself nitpicking here and there. Most Christians should be able to agree with a lot of these burdens even if they disagree with others.
I find myself conflicted on the book. I am uncomfortable with framing the discussion as a completely non-essential issue. But there is a lot of wisdom to be found here. Those who are non-affirming and not apart of the LGBTQ community may struggle more with the book. But I think it is still worth reading and wrestling with. If nothing else to listen to the perspective of someone who agrees with you largely, but is trying to point out what you got wrong. I imagine those who are more affirming will be really enjoy this book and find it healing.
In the end people should read it. It effectively makes the case that Christians have harmed LGBTQ people even if you disagree with some of the particulars. It is especially strong for a debut in a difficult topic.
Introduction
Burden 1: Sex . . . err . . . Celibacy Is Great!
1. The Protestant Sexual Revolution
2. The New Sexual Order
Burden 2: Sinners Saved by Grace
3. Perverted Identity
4. Freud's Lasting Influence
Burden 3: Folk Devils
5. Political Christianity
6. Hellfire and Judgment
Burden 4: The Bible Is "Clear"
7. Culture and Context
8. Double Standards
Burden 5: "Real" Men, "Good" Ladies
9. Effeminacy
10. Emasculation
Burden 6: Made in the Image of God Sex
11. Gender Essentialism
12. More Than Just Monkeys?
Burden 7: Jesus Saves Damns
13. Vessels of Wrath
14. Grace for Me but Not for Thee
A Better Way
15. Recentering the Gospel
16. Setting Down the Burdens
17. Weights of Glory
I received a copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for a review.
October 30, 2021
Heavy Burdens is both hard to read and very inspirational. I can't even say whether I "agree" with everything Bridget wrote because the goal of her book is not to argue that God supports gay marriage or that the very existence of gay people is a sin. Rather, using both personal anecdotes and objective data, Bridget illustrates how very wrong the Christian church has been in how they treat LGBTQ folks. There must be a better way. Spoiler alert, "hating the sin and loving the sinner" is not it.
My heart ached at the stories of folks who sought fellowship and comfort in the church only to be turned away or driven to suicidal ideations at the hate they encountered. This is not the way of Jesus.
Bridget's mic drop point is 100% how inconsistent the American church is regarding sexual ethics. On the one hand, you have churches unwilling to come down on whether divorce is ok or birth control or any number of other "matters of conscience," yet say without blinking that the Bible is clear on other matters of sexuality that doesn't affect heterosexual relationships, namely how it applies to LGBTQ folks. I was inspired by the stories of gay Christians who pour over Scripture to seek truth in a way most heterosexual Christians would never to address their own questions of sexuality.
I also think Bridget makes a great point about how heterosexual Christians gate-keep the Gospel and act like the grace and love of God cannot extend to those *they* determine to be unforgivable. How very unacceptable.
Anyway, I went into this book pretty much already agreeing with the premise, but I have come away with renewed conviction. I think all Christians, especially those in leadership and ministry, ought to read this book.
Full disclosure, the author Bridget was a college classmate of mine and we have stayed connected over social media in the years after graduation. That definitely affected my review because I think she is just a wonderful and wise human.
Thank you to Netgalley, Brazos, and the author for the eARC in exchange for my review.
My heart ached at the stories of folks who sought fellowship and comfort in the church only to be turned away or driven to suicidal ideations at the hate they encountered. This is not the way of Jesus.
Bridget's mic drop point is 100% how inconsistent the American church is regarding sexual ethics. On the one hand, you have churches unwilling to come down on whether divorce is ok or birth control or any number of other "matters of conscience," yet say without blinking that the Bible is clear on other matters of sexuality that doesn't affect heterosexual relationships, namely how it applies to LGBTQ folks. I was inspired by the stories of gay Christians who pour over Scripture to seek truth in a way most heterosexual Christians would never to address their own questions of sexuality.
I also think Bridget makes a great point about how heterosexual Christians gate-keep the Gospel and act like the grace and love of God cannot extend to those *they* determine to be unforgivable. How very unacceptable.
Anyway, I went into this book pretty much already agreeing with the premise, but I have come away with renewed conviction. I think all Christians, especially those in leadership and ministry, ought to read this book.
Full disclosure, the author Bridget was a college classmate of mine and we have stayed connected over social media in the years after graduation. That definitely affected my review because I think she is just a wonderful and wise human.
Thank you to Netgalley, Brazos, and the author for the eARC in exchange for my review.
January 25, 2022
I really enjoyed this book. I enjoyed it because I learned a lot about church history as it pertains to sexuality, because of the personal anecdotes about the devastation LGBT+ people have experienced in the church, and because Rivera challenges the reader on multiple fronts.
As a sexual minority and a Christian, I felt very seen and understood by this book. I can’t say I agree with all of Rivera’s points, but she certainly has challenged me. There are a billion sticky notes and highlights in this book for things I want to research, to remember, to lament about, to share with others, to think more deeply through.
I also lead a ministry for LGBT+ people inside and outside the church, and I believe this book will be an excellent resource for me as I do so.
Also also also—Rivera doesn’t always answer debates she beings up and openly asserts that doing so isn’t the point of her book. So, it’s a great read to get the church thinking and being more curious and open and loving and supportive and empathetic.
10/10 recommend
As a sexual minority and a Christian, I felt very seen and understood by this book. I can’t say I agree with all of Rivera’s points, but she certainly has challenged me. There are a billion sticky notes and highlights in this book for things I want to research, to remember, to lament about, to share with others, to think more deeply through.
I also lead a ministry for LGBT+ people inside and outside the church, and I believe this book will be an excellent resource for me as I do so.
Also also also—Rivera doesn’t always answer debates she beings up and openly asserts that doing so isn’t the point of her book. So, it’s a great read to get the church thinking and being more curious and open and loving and supportive and empathetic.
10/10 recommend
August 10, 2022
In this book, Bridget Eileen Rivera hits on a theme I've been tracking more and more over the past few years, which is the church's hypocrisy in regards to its LGBTQ+ members. Many a time I have heard Christians insist that you "can't set your personal/sexual identity above your identity in Christ!!" when A) no other LGBTQ+ Christians are claiming to do that, and B) it is actually the mainline majority who is so obsessed with sexual identity to the point where anything that doesn't align with strictly heteronormative values is read as heresy. Heteronormative marriage has become the idol of the church, and Rivera breaks down a lot of the ways that the church's vision of marriage has changed over the years, and how modern Christians are willing to forgo any number of commands in order to preserve their vision of normativity yet refuse to give that same grace to anyone even considering LGBTQ+ rights. Divorce and contraceptives have just as much "Biblical precedent" for their exclusion in the church, and there are more theologically-important topics like the Eucharist or Baptism that we are comfortable agreeing to disagree on, so why have we refused to create space for the possibility of LGBTQ+ inclusion? Rivera reveals that the barriers to entry for LGBTQ+ Christians are less about "Biblical consistency" so much as they are about maintaining the status quo. But if our status quo means the harm and, often, death of those around us, then we need to wake up and take action.
September 27, 2022
I may not be entirely persuaded to Rivera’s viewpoint in a number of areas, but she presents some important challenges to theologically traditional churches regarding the way they (we?) have mistreated LGBTQ Christians and seekers. Her arguments are certainly worth considering and wrestling with.
Here are a few good reviews:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Here are a few good reviews:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
December 10, 2021
This book is well worth reading and thinking through for Christians today, regardless what they believe on this topic. Rivera addresses core ways that the modern, Western church tends to harm LGBT people, and includes stories from people from diverse backgrounds about their experiences, instead of only writing from her own experiential perspective. She also incorporates research and historical context for how some ideas about sexuality and gender that Christians tend to hold were socially constructed at particular hinge points in history and aren't necessarily biblical. She covers such a wide range of topics and issues that the book felt overwhelming to me at times, and I don't think that she provides enough argumentation for some of her conclusions, especially when it seems like she is using someone's personal story as an argument.
Personal stories are significant, but people who disagree with her in different directions could find moving personal stories to support their points, too, and there are times where she makes very controversial or assertive statements and then quickly moves on without fully unpacking her perspective or shoring up her argument with enough evidence. I respect Rivera's choice to write about so many deeply controversial issues while knowing that people on both sides of the debate will strongly disagree with her on certain points, but I felt that some of her arguments and conclusions focused on the weakest, most poorly thought out arguments from one side or another. There were many times where I would have a thought or counterpoint that she would never address, focusing instead on more generalized, shallower ideas that are common in church culture.
Ultimately, I think that is the biggest weakness of the book. Rivera focuses a lot on shallow, poorly thought out beliefs and their harmful implications, but the people who are most likely to read this book will already be reflective and well-educated on the subject, and will have already long moved past these beliefs in one direction or another. This book is academic enough that the average churchgoer isn't likely to read it, and people who have already thought, studied, and prayed tremendously about this issue will find her sometimes speaking more to the average churchgoer than to them. Ultimately, this book is well worth reading, because Rivera has a lot of significant points and provides helpful historical context to several issues, but it's not as strong as I hoped it would be.
I received a temporary digital copy through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Personal stories are significant, but people who disagree with her in different directions could find moving personal stories to support their points, too, and there are times where she makes very controversial or assertive statements and then quickly moves on without fully unpacking her perspective or shoring up her argument with enough evidence. I respect Rivera's choice to write about so many deeply controversial issues while knowing that people on both sides of the debate will strongly disagree with her on certain points, but I felt that some of her arguments and conclusions focused on the weakest, most poorly thought out arguments from one side or another. There were many times where I would have a thought or counterpoint that she would never address, focusing instead on more generalized, shallower ideas that are common in church culture.
Ultimately, I think that is the biggest weakness of the book. Rivera focuses a lot on shallow, poorly thought out beliefs and their harmful implications, but the people who are most likely to read this book will already be reflective and well-educated on the subject, and will have already long moved past these beliefs in one direction or another. This book is academic enough that the average churchgoer isn't likely to read it, and people who have already thought, studied, and prayed tremendously about this issue will find her sometimes speaking more to the average churchgoer than to them. Ultimately, this book is well worth reading, because Rivera has a lot of significant points and provides helpful historical context to several issues, but it's not as strong as I hoped it would be.
I received a temporary digital copy through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
March 28, 2023
2.5 stars, rounded down.
While I disagree with the author on some points, I am still glad I listened to this book.
Books based largely on personal feelings aren't usually my favorite, since I prefer facts/science/logic but it was still an interesting enough read. She makes a lot of claims and asserts ‘truths’ without really backing them up, as often happens in story-led books.
I say/teach all the time “feelings are valid, but feelings are not facts” and I wish the author believed that as well.
“But what about this sin” is a terrible argument and much of this book was just “but you sin too! and look at these evil pastors.” Yes, pastors abusing their congregants is wicked and evil and should be dealt with, but that doesn’t negate the fact that many Christians believe an LGBTQ lifestyle is still a sin. “Well this is worse” simply isn’t helpful.
she gave some solutions/suggestions at the end and to me they were just.. completely unhelpful, honestly. especially as someone who already works with LGBTQ youth at my church on a weekly basis.
While I did learn some things, and did appreciate some of the content, I don't think this is a book I’ll recommend. Especially since it was written for Christians, and a truly biblical approach would have involved a bit more Scripture-backed statements.
While I disagree with the author on some points, I am still glad I listened to this book.
Books based largely on personal feelings aren't usually my favorite, since I prefer facts/science/logic but it was still an interesting enough read. She makes a lot of claims and asserts ‘truths’ without really backing them up, as often happens in story-led books.
I say/teach all the time “feelings are valid, but feelings are not facts” and I wish the author believed that as well.
“But what about this sin” is a terrible argument and much of this book was just “but you sin too! and look at these evil pastors.” Yes, pastors abusing their congregants is wicked and evil and should be dealt with, but that doesn’t negate the fact that many Christians believe an LGBTQ lifestyle is still a sin. “Well this is worse” simply isn’t helpful.
she gave some solutions/suggestions at the end and to me they were just.. completely unhelpful, honestly. especially as someone who already works with LGBTQ youth at my church on a weekly basis.
While I did learn some things, and did appreciate some of the content, I don't think this is a book I’ll recommend. Especially since it was written for Christians, and a truly biblical approach would have involved a bit more Scripture-backed statements.
January 11, 2022
Rivera’s book breaks down the often graceless double-standards that cis-het Christians apply to queer folks, offering a more Biblical and consistent framework for how we can more accurately embody the love of God. The solutions she offers are novel and optimistic and lead with love, not exclusion.
Rather than focusing solely on doctrine or filtering experiences through a preconceived theological lens, Rivera allows queer Christians to share their stories on their own terms. It is the most poignant and laudable aspect of the work. It’s also why, I suspect, the book will not receive much play within the usual evangelical publishing circuit.
Rather than focusing solely on doctrine or filtering experiences through a preconceived theological lens, Rivera allows queer Christians to share their stories on their own terms. It is the most poignant and laudable aspect of the work. It’s also why, I suspect, the book will not receive much play within the usual evangelical publishing circuit.
January 27, 2023
I think this book will be very helpful for many diverse people. I appreciate the author’s determination to get past arguing about the topics around LGBTQ+ and get to the heart of the things that keep people from the Gospel grace of God. And determination is just what this 5 star review is about - a steady drumbeat reminder of “I refuse to say what is right and what is wrong for people, but I will say that we are hurting people, church.” (Heidi’s paraphrase) This drumbeat is important, brave, and impressive. I’m glad I have this book on my shelf. It’s a solid, trauma-informed resource.
September 16, 2022
The Church’s relationship with LGBTQ people is fraught. Bridget Eileen Rivera is a “Side B” believer who holds to a traditional understanding of sexuality (“Side A” believers affirm same-sex relationships) yet she also always strikes me as one of the more provocative Side B figures (indeed, another prominent Side B figure, Wesley Hill, offers an endorsement of Rivera’s book while acknowledging that he doesn’t fully agree with all of Rivera’s arguments). Many of her arguments focus on how contemporary beliefs we have around sexuality have changed over time. Most Christian books on LGBTQ issues wrestle with same-sex marriage but Rivera upfront states she won’t address that topic in this book. Instead, the focus is on ways that the Church has harmed LGBTQ believers. This allows the book to be a helpful bridge regardless of one’s moral convictions about marriage and sexuality since we ALL ought to strive to reduce harm to marginalized peoples.
The first way LGBTQ believers are harmed is in the Church’s attitude towards marriage and celibacy. The Protestant Reformation(s) ushered in many changes to medieval life. Roman Catholicism to this day offers places for celibate Christians as priests or nuns but there is no parallel place for celibate Protestants. Rivera writes “mandated celibacy was a natural requirement for the priesthood. Celibacy was the ONLY surefire way to pursue true and lasting holiness. By the time of the Reformation, this approach to human sexuality had become so institutionalized within Christian teaching that few could imagine the Bible teaching otherwise. Until Luther” (25). Martin Luther championed marriage, even asserting that sex is a “natural and necessary thing,” making sex a positive good (25-26). According to Rivera, Luther’s beliefs about sexuality were in stark, radical contrast to the prevailing attitudes around sexuality in the medieval church and Luther moved marriage and sexuality from the spiritual realm to the social realm (27).
Rivera’s argument is far too broad and generalized here. She ignores that from antiquity Eastern Orthodoxy has permitted married priests. Clerical celibacy in the West was an innovation imposed during the first half of the 1100s and a departure from Scripture which nowhere forbids clerical marriages. Rivera may admire Catholicism’s uplifting of the celibate life but as a Protestant should we hold to positions not found in the Bible? Lastly, Rivera ignores the fact that many medieval priests were NOT chaste; indeed, even Pope Innocent I was rumoured by Jerome to be the son of the previous pontiff, Anastasius I.
Another sexual reform instituted by Protestants was the gradual shift in thinking of sex for purely procreative purposes and more towards companionship (32). Rivera suggests that this helped to slowly lead to a liberationist, liberal conception of marriage that culminated in the 1960s sexual revolution (32-33). Rivera writes, “The end result is a system that would have been alien to most people at the start of the Reformation but that is largely taken for granted by many Christians today. What Christians today might call ‘biblical teaching on marriage and sexuality’ – whereby two people of the opposite sex pursue sexual fulfillment in the context of a romantic marriage relationship – is actually quite modern” (33). I wish Rivera revealed her own evaluation of this development; is romantic companionship in marriage better or worse than the older forms of marriage based on economic arrangement?
The term “homosexual” is clinical in origin and both it and “same-sex attracted” centre sex in ways that “gay” and “lesbian” do not (49-51). I have taken courses with Wesley Hill at Regent College where he remarks that he experiences the world PHENOMENOLOGICALLY as a gay man but would not emphasize this as an ONTOLOGICAL part of his identity (60-61). Rivera believes that “gay” or “lesbian” can be used to describe a lifestyle unattached to sexual desire (59-60). Yet if queerness is not actually about gay desire or sex, why not try to come up with other terminology that wouldn’t be freighted with longstanding sexual assumptions? She offers a good critique of conservatives exemplified by Denny Burk:
“By reducing the gay identity to nothing more than the ‘sum total of fallen sexual desire,’ Burk defines gay people by disordered sexual desires in order to tell gay people to stop defining thesmelves by disordered sexual desire. The result is a reductionistic portrayal of the gay identity wherein Burk insists that to identify as GAY is to identify with SIN. However, it’s not actually gay people who define themselves in this way. It’s Burk who defines gay people by SEX and thereby concludes that gay people are defined by SIN” (58).
Rivera is very attentive to ways that the concept of homosexuality have been included into Bible translations. She notes that the first time “homosexual” entered a Bible translation was in 1946 in the RSV: “For the first time in Christian history, the Bible now said that an entire group of people known as ‘homosexuals’ not only existed but were also condemned” (47). The passage Rivera refers to is 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and she discusses how the term “homosexual” or “men who practice homosexuality” were used in place of the Greek words “malakoi” and “arsenokoitai” (93-97). While many think “men who practice homosexuality” is an improvement over “homosexual,” Rivera critiques this because even supporters of the term tend to conflate ALL gay experience as sin, even uncontrollable elements such as attraction (see the debate over concupiscence at The Public Discourse) and she queries what people mean by “practicing homosexuality.” For me, “practicing homosexuality” would be physical intimacy (I think even many Side B believers and their allies would agree with this). It’s obviously important to pay attention to language, use, and meaning, but there is a whole tradition of translating the “spirit of the text” and I think “practicing homosexuality” (or perhaps “engaging in same-sex intercourse”) is the best way to indicate active, physical gay lifestyles (96-97). Rivera’s focus is really only on 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and doesn’t bring tradition’s interpretation into it the same way that she does for contraception.
Rivera points out the double standard in that gay Christians are called to celibacy whereas straight Christians are never admonished to be celibate (101). Rivera wants to both combat the false belief that celibacy is impossible and a lesser life-calling while insisting that celibacy must ultimately be pursued not out of legalistic coercion but out of a heart passionate for Christ; for Rivera, celibacy should not be enforced as a moral injunction, especially considering the deep divisions in the Church over the validity of same-sex intimacy; “FORCING people to be celibate forever doesn’t work” (194-95). I understand Rivera’s point in that for gay Christians who cannot enter into a mixed-orientation marriage, celibacy is their perpetual reality whereas straight, unmarried Christians desiring marriage still have future hope for one. But Christians have ALWAYS been called to celibacy if unmarried, whether gay or straight.
Rivera makes much of Christianity’s shifting views on contraception, seeing it as a moral matter in which many Christians have departed from long-standing injunctions against it. She does not condemn those who use contraception but she attempts to draw parallels between LGBTQ issues and changing attitudes towards contraception (104). Rivera points out that the condemnation of contraception rested largely on interpreting the “sin of Onan” as going against the Genesis mandate to procreate but that in the 1920s this passage was reinterpreted “to emphasize the illegality and selfishness of Onan’s behavior” (102). Rivera marshals a host of quotes across the ages - including from Protestants - who condemned contraception (102-03). Yet some of these rest on faulty understandings of the conception itself. Rivera quotes John Calvin’s interpretation of Onan’s sin in which the Reformer states “Deliberately avoiding the intercourse so that the seed drops on the ground is double horrible. For this means that one quenches the hope of his family and kills the son…before he is born” (102-03). Calvin’s view doesn’t accord with biological reality which requires sperm to fertilize an egg before it is considered human life. Rivera also quotes St. Clement who chastises those who engage in sex without the aim of procreation: “pleasure sought for its own sake, EVEN WITHIN THE MARRIAGE BONDS, is a sin and contrary both to law and to reason” (104). Again, this attitude downplays the companionate bonding that sex inculcates between husband and wife; though it is a newer conception of what sex in marriage can offer, it also accords with Roman Catholic thinkers such as Dietrich von Hildebrand who realized that sex need not be limited purely to procreative purposes.
But Rivera has a response to this. For people like myself who believe that Onan’s sin was misinterpreted across the ages, she counters that “many gay Christians likewise say that condemnations of homosexuality rely on a misreading of a few verses and a similarly Draconian interpretation of the creation mandate” (105). She further asserts that “this whole debate about contraceptive sex was not even disputable for most theologians historically. The procreative restrictions of the creation mandate were ‘clear’ and the punishment for subverting this mandate equally explicit. How is it that heterosexual Christians today legitimately believe they’ve somehow discovered a groundbreaking new heterosexual truth that was otherwise unknown to the Christian church prior to the twentieth century?” (105). Rivera points out that while ancient people did not understand biology as we do today (sperm must fertilize an egg), gay Christians can equally claim that antiquity did not understand sexual attraction between same-sex equals as we know it today (105-06). Rivera points out that removing procreation as the primary purpose of sex can be considered against the natural “created order” and that it weakens injunctions against gay sexual love. Beneath Rivera’s challenges lie questions of authority. I am not one to say that medieval Catholicism was not Christianity but Luther’s recovery of “justification by faith alone” demonstrates how flawed interpretations can become dominant and need reforming.
Rivera points out that over the decades many denominations have relaxed their stances on divorce and remarriage without condemning remarriages as adultery and Rivera wonders if we can make room in the Church to disagree on LGBTQ issues (106-09). She rightly points out that all Christians will go to the grave with some incorrect beliefs; Arminians and Calvinists, premillennials and postmillennials, will both be in Heaven together (170). Sanctification is about the lifelong journey of growing and conforming to Christ: “Struggling to determine the boundaries of a particular sin doesn’t condemn you to hell. It makes you a child of God who is learning to be faithful with the life God gives you to live” (174). She uses the harrowing history of baptism to plead for more openness for disagreement but I have trouble accepting the analogy (186). ALL Christians recognize baptism is a fundamental aspect of faith - it just depends on when it happens; but if traditional sexual morality is correct, same-sex intimacy is a sin that is utterly unlike the goodness of baptism.
Along with “Double Standards,” I thought Rivera’s discussions of gender were strong though some of the content drifts away from specifically LGBTQ issues and instead revolves around what it means to be male and female. I agree with much of what Rivera argues as she critiques stereotypes of masculinity and femininity as found in the popular works of John Eldredge. Rivera makes the interesting point that men who show signs of femininity “fail” at being men in a traditional gender-role worldview whereas women who show masculine attributes are often praised: “If femininity is an inferior expression of humanity, then a man DEBASES himself by engaging in the activities that mostly women do. On the other hand, if masculinity is a superior expression of humanity, then a woman ELEVATES herself by engaging in the activities that mostly MEN do” (126).
Rivera discusses how conservative Christians equate biology with gender in such a way as to foster “gender essentialism” (i.e. the belief that men and women have separate traits like aggression and protectiveness in the former and submissiveness and a nurturing spirit in the latter). She notes that the earliest notions of “gender essentialism” stem from Greek philosophers such as Aristotle (137-40). Not all individuals conform to their “apparent” gender; some men are nurturing and domestically-minded while some women are bold go-getters who thrive in the public sphere. In contrast to Rivera, I would keep in mind that “gender” itself is a modern conception that was first coined only in 1955 by sexologist John Money. I believe we ought not to separate biology from gender as this is an artificial distinction; instead, accept the reality that some men are still being men when they may act more effeminately and that tomboys (a threatened species) are still being women even if they adopt more masculine traits.
Rivera is frustrated that conservative Christian scholars like Robert Gagnon rest their understanding of sexual morality so firmly on biological design (i.e. that male sexual organs fit with female sexual organs with procreative capabilities) and she sees in this a subtle appropriation of pagan thought a la Aristotle (153). Rivera summarizes, “The idea that sex determines gender, otherwise known as gender essentialism, is a concept deeply rooted in paganism, leading to an approach to human identity that encourages hypersexualization, reducing men and women to gender roles defined by sexual biology and nothing more. Quoting proof-texts and repeating that ‘God made them male and female’ isn’t enough to address the problematic anthropology that essentialism entails” (200). Again, I find myself in the middle; unlike Aristotle and Gagnon, I do not believe that biological sex necessitates a hierarchy of sexes (Aristotle thought men superior while I assume Gagnon is complementarian) but I do believe that there is something about our givenness as male and female in the created order that requires that (married) male-female intimacy be the only acceptable form of sexual intimacy and that there need be no reason for one sex to be over the other. On page 155 she makes the bewildering statement that:
"At the end of the day, saying that a man isn’t a ‘real’ man unless he is heterosexual and saying that a man isn’t a ‘real’ man unless he has a penis are only different as a matter of degree…The implications are far-reaching, and troubling questions arise…Certainly, God created the male and female sex in the Garden of Eden. But it’s a stretch to take this fact and claim that sexual biology ought to determine the identity of every single person ever created in the image of God. As Lianne pointed out to me, this requires ‘reading back’ gender essentialism into the biblical narrative. Intersex people like Lianne, who don’t neatly fit the sexual categories in the garden of Eden, expose the limitations of sexual reductionism. God made Adam and Eve male and female, but God also made Lianne, a woman who is both. Her experience of womanhood is not a ‘sign of the fall.’ Her womanhood is made in the image of God like anyone else’s (155-57)."
There is a lot going on in this. First, biology matters. Transgender and intersex people need tender care, compassion, and grace but too often they are used to deconstruct the majoritarian, natural order of male and female that Rivera acknowledges was created by God in the Garden of Eden. Given that the concept of “gender” itself was only developed during the mid-twentieth century, we inherently DO have to “read back” gender essentialism into Scripture since the Bible knows nothing about the modern distinction between sex and gender. Lastly, Rivera breezily says that an intersex person’s mixed sexual condition is “not ‘a sign of the fall’.” But if one believes in total depravity one believes that EVERYTHING has been inherently distorted in some way by the Fall. When it comes to transgender and intersex cases, I tend to adopt the “disability” framework as laid out by Mark Yarhouse that views gender dysphoria (and being intersex) as an unchosen affliction that should be compassionately treated, not proudly celebrated (201).
Throughout the book Rivera begins each chapter with tragic stories of LGBTQ Christians who have faced prejudice, rejection, and harm at the hands of fellow believers. She references the terrible story of how Jerry Falwell Sr. viciously bullied his gay gym teacher and how one conservative pastor praised the Pulse nightclub shooting for eliminating “50 pedophiles” (80-81). Rivera tends to focus on the worst culprits of conservative evangelicalism – figures like Burk, Rosaria Butterfield, Albert Mohler, and Andy Savage (whose confession of sexual assault was greeted with applause and not punishment, 189-90). These figures have made many inflammatory comments about LGBTQ Christians that I would disagree with (these comments are often wrapped up in complementarian views on gender) as an egalitarian evangelical. I also think that she largely ignores the mainstream LGBTQ movement and its allies who ARE threatening Christians and religious liberty (e.g. cake makers and campus ministries). Admittedly, Rivera’s book focuses on how the CHURCH harms LGBTQ believers but one cannot ignore the surrounding culture dynamic; LGBTQ Christians DO face prejudice and persecution in churches but I also suspect that much of the opposition LGBTQ victims face is due to simplistically-minded Christians conflating them with the non-Christian LGBTQ movement that very publicly opposes orthodox Christianity (203).
I think some parts of this important book are poorly argued but Rivera’s impassioned plea for the Church to reduce harm to LGBTQ believers is noble. I do believe that even though she is a Side B Christian, she is more laissez-faire on sexuality than I am; whereas she is comfortable with the “messiness” that is belief and practice, I want MORE definition, more order. I agree with Rivera’s insistence that churches ought to be public about their stance on sexuality; many LGBTQ church members seek out voluntary and leadership roles only to find themselves barred from serving when their sexual identities come to light (197-98).
The first way LGBTQ believers are harmed is in the Church’s attitude towards marriage and celibacy. The Protestant Reformation(s) ushered in many changes to medieval life. Roman Catholicism to this day offers places for celibate Christians as priests or nuns but there is no parallel place for celibate Protestants. Rivera writes “mandated celibacy was a natural requirement for the priesthood. Celibacy was the ONLY surefire way to pursue true and lasting holiness. By the time of the Reformation, this approach to human sexuality had become so institutionalized within Christian teaching that few could imagine the Bible teaching otherwise. Until Luther” (25). Martin Luther championed marriage, even asserting that sex is a “natural and necessary thing,” making sex a positive good (25-26). According to Rivera, Luther’s beliefs about sexuality were in stark, radical contrast to the prevailing attitudes around sexuality in the medieval church and Luther moved marriage and sexuality from the spiritual realm to the social realm (27).
Rivera’s argument is far too broad and generalized here. She ignores that from antiquity Eastern Orthodoxy has permitted married priests. Clerical celibacy in the West was an innovation imposed during the first half of the 1100s and a departure from Scripture which nowhere forbids clerical marriages. Rivera may admire Catholicism’s uplifting of the celibate life but as a Protestant should we hold to positions not found in the Bible? Lastly, Rivera ignores the fact that many medieval priests were NOT chaste; indeed, even Pope Innocent I was rumoured by Jerome to be the son of the previous pontiff, Anastasius I.
Another sexual reform instituted by Protestants was the gradual shift in thinking of sex for purely procreative purposes and more towards companionship (32). Rivera suggests that this helped to slowly lead to a liberationist, liberal conception of marriage that culminated in the 1960s sexual revolution (32-33). Rivera writes, “The end result is a system that would have been alien to most people at the start of the Reformation but that is largely taken for granted by many Christians today. What Christians today might call ‘biblical teaching on marriage and sexuality’ – whereby two people of the opposite sex pursue sexual fulfillment in the context of a romantic marriage relationship – is actually quite modern” (33). I wish Rivera revealed her own evaluation of this development; is romantic companionship in marriage better or worse than the older forms of marriage based on economic arrangement?
The term “homosexual” is clinical in origin and both it and “same-sex attracted” centre sex in ways that “gay” and “lesbian” do not (49-51). I have taken courses with Wesley Hill at Regent College where he remarks that he experiences the world PHENOMENOLOGICALLY as a gay man but would not emphasize this as an ONTOLOGICAL part of his identity (60-61). Rivera believes that “gay” or “lesbian” can be used to describe a lifestyle unattached to sexual desire (59-60). Yet if queerness is not actually about gay desire or sex, why not try to come up with other terminology that wouldn’t be freighted with longstanding sexual assumptions? She offers a good critique of conservatives exemplified by Denny Burk:
“By reducing the gay identity to nothing more than the ‘sum total of fallen sexual desire,’ Burk defines gay people by disordered sexual desires in order to tell gay people to stop defining thesmelves by disordered sexual desire. The result is a reductionistic portrayal of the gay identity wherein Burk insists that to identify as GAY is to identify with SIN. However, it’s not actually gay people who define themselves in this way. It’s Burk who defines gay people by SEX and thereby concludes that gay people are defined by SIN” (58).
Rivera is very attentive to ways that the concept of homosexuality have been included into Bible translations. She notes that the first time “homosexual” entered a Bible translation was in 1946 in the RSV: “For the first time in Christian history, the Bible now said that an entire group of people known as ‘homosexuals’ not only existed but were also condemned” (47). The passage Rivera refers to is 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and she discusses how the term “homosexual” or “men who practice homosexuality” were used in place of the Greek words “malakoi” and “arsenokoitai” (93-97). While many think “men who practice homosexuality” is an improvement over “homosexual,” Rivera critiques this because even supporters of the term tend to conflate ALL gay experience as sin, even uncontrollable elements such as attraction (see the debate over concupiscence at The Public Discourse) and she queries what people mean by “practicing homosexuality.” For me, “practicing homosexuality” would be physical intimacy (I think even many Side B believers and their allies would agree with this). It’s obviously important to pay attention to language, use, and meaning, but there is a whole tradition of translating the “spirit of the text” and I think “practicing homosexuality” (or perhaps “engaging in same-sex intercourse”) is the best way to indicate active, physical gay lifestyles (96-97). Rivera’s focus is really only on 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and doesn’t bring tradition’s interpretation into it the same way that she does for contraception.
Rivera points out the double standard in that gay Christians are called to celibacy whereas straight Christians are never admonished to be celibate (101). Rivera wants to both combat the false belief that celibacy is impossible and a lesser life-calling while insisting that celibacy must ultimately be pursued not out of legalistic coercion but out of a heart passionate for Christ; for Rivera, celibacy should not be enforced as a moral injunction, especially considering the deep divisions in the Church over the validity of same-sex intimacy; “FORCING people to be celibate forever doesn’t work” (194-95). I understand Rivera’s point in that for gay Christians who cannot enter into a mixed-orientation marriage, celibacy is their perpetual reality whereas straight, unmarried Christians desiring marriage still have future hope for one. But Christians have ALWAYS been called to celibacy if unmarried, whether gay or straight.
Rivera makes much of Christianity’s shifting views on contraception, seeing it as a moral matter in which many Christians have departed from long-standing injunctions against it. She does not condemn those who use contraception but she attempts to draw parallels between LGBTQ issues and changing attitudes towards contraception (104). Rivera points out that the condemnation of contraception rested largely on interpreting the “sin of Onan” as going against the Genesis mandate to procreate but that in the 1920s this passage was reinterpreted “to emphasize the illegality and selfishness of Onan’s behavior” (102). Rivera marshals a host of quotes across the ages - including from Protestants - who condemned contraception (102-03). Yet some of these rest on faulty understandings of the conception itself. Rivera quotes John Calvin’s interpretation of Onan’s sin in which the Reformer states “Deliberately avoiding the intercourse so that the seed drops on the ground is double horrible. For this means that one quenches the hope of his family and kills the son…before he is born” (102-03). Calvin’s view doesn’t accord with biological reality which requires sperm to fertilize an egg before it is considered human life. Rivera also quotes St. Clement who chastises those who engage in sex without the aim of procreation: “pleasure sought for its own sake, EVEN WITHIN THE MARRIAGE BONDS, is a sin and contrary both to law and to reason” (104). Again, this attitude downplays the companionate bonding that sex inculcates between husband and wife; though it is a newer conception of what sex in marriage can offer, it also accords with Roman Catholic thinkers such as Dietrich von Hildebrand who realized that sex need not be limited purely to procreative purposes.
But Rivera has a response to this. For people like myself who believe that Onan’s sin was misinterpreted across the ages, she counters that “many gay Christians likewise say that condemnations of homosexuality rely on a misreading of a few verses and a similarly Draconian interpretation of the creation mandate” (105). She further asserts that “this whole debate about contraceptive sex was not even disputable for most theologians historically. The procreative restrictions of the creation mandate were ‘clear’ and the punishment for subverting this mandate equally explicit. How is it that heterosexual Christians today legitimately believe they’ve somehow discovered a groundbreaking new heterosexual truth that was otherwise unknown to the Christian church prior to the twentieth century?” (105). Rivera points out that while ancient people did not understand biology as we do today (sperm must fertilize an egg), gay Christians can equally claim that antiquity did not understand sexual attraction between same-sex equals as we know it today (105-06). Rivera points out that removing procreation as the primary purpose of sex can be considered against the natural “created order” and that it weakens injunctions against gay sexual love. Beneath Rivera’s challenges lie questions of authority. I am not one to say that medieval Catholicism was not Christianity but Luther’s recovery of “justification by faith alone” demonstrates how flawed interpretations can become dominant and need reforming.
Rivera points out that over the decades many denominations have relaxed their stances on divorce and remarriage without condemning remarriages as adultery and Rivera wonders if we can make room in the Church to disagree on LGBTQ issues (106-09). She rightly points out that all Christians will go to the grave with some incorrect beliefs; Arminians and Calvinists, premillennials and postmillennials, will both be in Heaven together (170). Sanctification is about the lifelong journey of growing and conforming to Christ: “Struggling to determine the boundaries of a particular sin doesn’t condemn you to hell. It makes you a child of God who is learning to be faithful with the life God gives you to live” (174). She uses the harrowing history of baptism to plead for more openness for disagreement but I have trouble accepting the analogy (186). ALL Christians recognize baptism is a fundamental aspect of faith - it just depends on when it happens; but if traditional sexual morality is correct, same-sex intimacy is a sin that is utterly unlike the goodness of baptism.
Along with “Double Standards,” I thought Rivera’s discussions of gender were strong though some of the content drifts away from specifically LGBTQ issues and instead revolves around what it means to be male and female. I agree with much of what Rivera argues as she critiques stereotypes of masculinity and femininity as found in the popular works of John Eldredge. Rivera makes the interesting point that men who show signs of femininity “fail” at being men in a traditional gender-role worldview whereas women who show masculine attributes are often praised: “If femininity is an inferior expression of humanity, then a man DEBASES himself by engaging in the activities that mostly women do. On the other hand, if masculinity is a superior expression of humanity, then a woman ELEVATES herself by engaging in the activities that mostly MEN do” (126).
Rivera discusses how conservative Christians equate biology with gender in such a way as to foster “gender essentialism” (i.e. the belief that men and women have separate traits like aggression and protectiveness in the former and submissiveness and a nurturing spirit in the latter). She notes that the earliest notions of “gender essentialism” stem from Greek philosophers such as Aristotle (137-40). Not all individuals conform to their “apparent” gender; some men are nurturing and domestically-minded while some women are bold go-getters who thrive in the public sphere. In contrast to Rivera, I would keep in mind that “gender” itself is a modern conception that was first coined only in 1955 by sexologist John Money. I believe we ought not to separate biology from gender as this is an artificial distinction; instead, accept the reality that some men are still being men when they may act more effeminately and that tomboys (a threatened species) are still being women even if they adopt more masculine traits.
Rivera is frustrated that conservative Christian scholars like Robert Gagnon rest their understanding of sexual morality so firmly on biological design (i.e. that male sexual organs fit with female sexual organs with procreative capabilities) and she sees in this a subtle appropriation of pagan thought a la Aristotle (153). Rivera summarizes, “The idea that sex determines gender, otherwise known as gender essentialism, is a concept deeply rooted in paganism, leading to an approach to human identity that encourages hypersexualization, reducing men and women to gender roles defined by sexual biology and nothing more. Quoting proof-texts and repeating that ‘God made them male and female’ isn’t enough to address the problematic anthropology that essentialism entails” (200). Again, I find myself in the middle; unlike Aristotle and Gagnon, I do not believe that biological sex necessitates a hierarchy of sexes (Aristotle thought men superior while I assume Gagnon is complementarian) but I do believe that there is something about our givenness as male and female in the created order that requires that (married) male-female intimacy be the only acceptable form of sexual intimacy and that there need be no reason for one sex to be over the other. On page 155 she makes the bewildering statement that:
"At the end of the day, saying that a man isn’t a ‘real’ man unless he is heterosexual and saying that a man isn’t a ‘real’ man unless he has a penis are only different as a matter of degree…The implications are far-reaching, and troubling questions arise…Certainly, God created the male and female sex in the Garden of Eden. But it’s a stretch to take this fact and claim that sexual biology ought to determine the identity of every single person ever created in the image of God. As Lianne pointed out to me, this requires ‘reading back’ gender essentialism into the biblical narrative. Intersex people like Lianne, who don’t neatly fit the sexual categories in the garden of Eden, expose the limitations of sexual reductionism. God made Adam and Eve male and female, but God also made Lianne, a woman who is both. Her experience of womanhood is not a ‘sign of the fall.’ Her womanhood is made in the image of God like anyone else’s (155-57)."
There is a lot going on in this. First, biology matters. Transgender and intersex people need tender care, compassion, and grace but too often they are used to deconstruct the majoritarian, natural order of male and female that Rivera acknowledges was created by God in the Garden of Eden. Given that the concept of “gender” itself was only developed during the mid-twentieth century, we inherently DO have to “read back” gender essentialism into Scripture since the Bible knows nothing about the modern distinction between sex and gender. Lastly, Rivera breezily says that an intersex person’s mixed sexual condition is “not ‘a sign of the fall’.” But if one believes in total depravity one believes that EVERYTHING has been inherently distorted in some way by the Fall. When it comes to transgender and intersex cases, I tend to adopt the “disability” framework as laid out by Mark Yarhouse that views gender dysphoria (and being intersex) as an unchosen affliction that should be compassionately treated, not proudly celebrated (201).
Throughout the book Rivera begins each chapter with tragic stories of LGBTQ Christians who have faced prejudice, rejection, and harm at the hands of fellow believers. She references the terrible story of how Jerry Falwell Sr. viciously bullied his gay gym teacher and how one conservative pastor praised the Pulse nightclub shooting for eliminating “50 pedophiles” (80-81). Rivera tends to focus on the worst culprits of conservative evangelicalism – figures like Burk, Rosaria Butterfield, Albert Mohler, and Andy Savage (whose confession of sexual assault was greeted with applause and not punishment, 189-90). These figures have made many inflammatory comments about LGBTQ Christians that I would disagree with (these comments are often wrapped up in complementarian views on gender) as an egalitarian evangelical. I also think that she largely ignores the mainstream LGBTQ movement and its allies who ARE threatening Christians and religious liberty (e.g. cake makers and campus ministries). Admittedly, Rivera’s book focuses on how the CHURCH harms LGBTQ believers but one cannot ignore the surrounding culture dynamic; LGBTQ Christians DO face prejudice and persecution in churches but I also suspect that much of the opposition LGBTQ victims face is due to simplistically-minded Christians conflating them with the non-Christian LGBTQ movement that very publicly opposes orthodox Christianity (203).
I think some parts of this important book are poorly argued but Rivera’s impassioned plea for the Church to reduce harm to LGBTQ believers is noble. I do believe that even though she is a Side B Christian, she is more laissez-faire on sexuality than I am; whereas she is comfortable with the “messiness” that is belief and practice, I want MORE definition, more order. I agree with Rivera’s insistence that churches ought to be public about their stance on sexuality; many LGBTQ church members seek out voluntary and leadership roles only to find themselves barred from serving when their sexual identities come to light (197-98).
July 12, 2024
I have so many thoughts about this book. Overall I would recommend, as I think it is an important book that every Christian should read and wrestle with.
Do I agree with everything? No. The author (who is a celibate gay Catholic) makes a lot of sweeping claims, say "Many Christians think" this and "Many Christians do" that. And in a sense she is right -- but how many is Many? One million Christians would certainly be many, but that would also be only 0.5% of the U.S. Christian population. So it's hard to know just how big some of these problems are, as there is not a ton of deep research being done to this end.
On the plus side, she opened my eyes to multiple things I hadn't thought about before (and I've read several books on the LGBTQ topic, from both affirming and non-affirming authors). For example, the "sexual revolution" led mainly by Martin Luther 400+ years ago was fascinating and something I had never heard of. Also, the meaning of the greek word that used to be translated "effeminate," and what that word meant historically, also quite interesting (and actually kind of important) -- I hadn’t seen that brought up before. And she somewhat convincingly argues that the Bible isn't quite as simple and straightforward about the LGBTQ debate as most would like to believe.
Also eye-opening was her explanation of how being gay/queer is much more than just sexual -- it is a different way of experiencing the world, an entirely unique perspective. And that perspective should be celebrated in the church as a unique part of the body of Christ. This was important for me to understand, as I had never thought about it before.
She also brought up some historical examples of things that used to really divide the church and were seen as incredibly important, but don't seem so much now. Infant baptism, having "contraceptive" sex (aka sex for pleasure, not procreation), and more recently divorce, these all have various analogous ties to today's LGBTQ debate, and they are important to be considered (although there are also important differences with each).
All in all, there were two overarching (and related) themes that the author was emphasizing:
1. Gay Christians need to be given space -- within the confines of a loving, patient, understanding church -- to wrestle with what it means to be a gay Christian and what does God want from them. Too often, the Church effectively casts them out simply for being queer -- regardless of whether they are celibate!
2. The Side A / Side B debate is not a matter of salvation. Important, yes, but -- like divorce or infant baptism -- not a matter of salvation. We need to stop treating the LGBTQ community as though they are condemned to hell unless they very carefully and very strictly, with no questions asked, walk this extremely narrow road that we have laid out for them.
I think I agree with those two themes. I really want the church to be a loving, compassionate, welcoming, safe place for LGBTQ people to experience Christ. Can a church be that while still being non-affirming? I would love to know if that is possible. I hope so.
Do I agree with everything? No. The author (who is a celibate gay Catholic) makes a lot of sweeping claims, say "Many Christians think" this and "Many Christians do" that. And in a sense she is right -- but how many is Many? One million Christians would certainly be many, but that would also be only 0.5% of the U.S. Christian population. So it's hard to know just how big some of these problems are, as there is not a ton of deep research being done to this end.
On the plus side, she opened my eyes to multiple things I hadn't thought about before (and I've read several books on the LGBTQ topic, from both affirming and non-affirming authors). For example, the "sexual revolution" led mainly by Martin Luther 400+ years ago was fascinating and something I had never heard of. Also, the meaning of the greek word that used to be translated "effeminate," and what that word meant historically, also quite interesting (and actually kind of important) -- I hadn’t seen that brought up before. And she somewhat convincingly argues that the Bible isn't quite as simple and straightforward about the LGBTQ debate as most would like to believe.
Also eye-opening was her explanation of how being gay/queer is much more than just sexual -- it is a different way of experiencing the world, an entirely unique perspective. And that perspective should be celebrated in the church as a unique part of the body of Christ. This was important for me to understand, as I had never thought about it before.
She also brought up some historical examples of things that used to really divide the church and were seen as incredibly important, but don't seem so much now. Infant baptism, having "contraceptive" sex (aka sex for pleasure, not procreation), and more recently divorce, these all have various analogous ties to today's LGBTQ debate, and they are important to be considered (although there are also important differences with each).
All in all, there were two overarching (and related) themes that the author was emphasizing:
1. Gay Christians need to be given space -- within the confines of a loving, patient, understanding church -- to wrestle with what it means to be a gay Christian and what does God want from them. Too often, the Church effectively casts them out simply for being queer -- regardless of whether they are celibate!
2. The Side A / Side B debate is not a matter of salvation. Important, yes, but -- like divorce or infant baptism -- not a matter of salvation. We need to stop treating the LGBTQ community as though they are condemned to hell unless they very carefully and very strictly, with no questions asked, walk this extremely narrow road that we have laid out for them.
I think I agree with those two themes. I really want the church to be a loving, compassionate, welcoming, safe place for LGBTQ people to experience Christ. Can a church be that while still being non-affirming? I would love to know if that is possible. I hope so.
July 24, 2025
Although I don’t agree with everything Rivera writes, her content was extremely thought provoking and helpful in encouraging the church to love the LGBTQ community. I appreciate her breakdown of complex, calcified cultural norms/beliefs, and the ways she calls out the Western church to become more Christlike. I can assuredly say I have been humbled by this book. I have grown exponentially in compassion because of conviction brought through Bridget’s writing, and for that I am extremely thankful!
September 17, 2022
This is such an important read for Christians. I feel so challenged by her convictions and the stories and will be thinking about this book for a long time.
December 1, 2023
Depending where you are on the theological spectrum when it comes to LGBTQ+, you might rate this book 5 stars if you agree with everything in it and 1 or 2 stars if you disagree with it. I don't think that's how a book like this should be read or rated. One of the primary purposes of this book is to get the reader to empathize with LGBTQ+ people and specifically, LGBTQ+ people. You don't have to agree with everything in the book in order to get that transformative element from it. Most of us straight Christians do not have enough LGBTQ+ friends in our lives to understand the deep and complex pain and difficulties they live with. Those difficulties and complexities are heightened for those who are also trying to reconcile their sexuality with their Christian faith. If you want to grow in your empathy, read this book.
Rivera doesn't side with either of the two main theological views of LGBTQ+ sexuality, but takes a nuanced middle view, much of which I personally agree with, though her view is even more nuanced than the standard middle view. My conclusions don't match 100% with Rivera's, but we need to be mature enough as readers, Christians, and theologians to be able to learn from others that we don't 100% agree with everything on. Otherwise we are just listening to the same echo chamber, and never being challenged to look at our blind spots and grow stronger.
Rivera doesn't side with either of the two main theological views of LGBTQ+ sexuality, but takes a nuanced middle view, much of which I personally agree with, though her view is even more nuanced than the standard middle view. My conclusions don't match 100% with Rivera's, but we need to be mature enough as readers, Christians, and theologians to be able to learn from others that we don't 100% agree with everything on. Otherwise we are just listening to the same echo chamber, and never being challenged to look at our blind spots and grow stronger.
April 30, 2023
This is a must read for any Christian and especially any Christian in leadership. Bridget does not focus on side A vs side B, instead she focuses on how the Church leaves little room for the LGBTQ+ community to openly wrestle with theology. She notes how existentialism, hyper-sexualization of attraction/gender and misinterpretations of scripture through western culture have isolated the LGBTQ community. It made me step back and reconsider my own convictions on the topic. Most importantly, Bridget notes the double standard of the grace offered to others that is not extended to LGBTQ Christians when interpreting scripture (for example, divorce or contraception). There is no one answer on how to negate these 7 burdens. Nonetheless I truly believe this book would help others share the love of Christ, instead of adding pressure to those navigating faith. There is an emphasis on fruit of the spirit vs suffering, the good news, and the need to redefine family to allow LGBTQ people to feel welcome. This also requires all Christians to take a step back and consider at what depth are they considering scripture in their own lives. “In reality, however, I know few people who take sin and theological truth as seriously as LGBTQ Christians.”
October 27, 2021
I have often struggled to find LGBTQ resources that are deeply rooted in scripture and church history, but also help me grow in love and compassion. This book hit the mark! Rivera doesn’t try to solve every theological issue, but she dives in deeply enough that you realize things might not be as clear cut as some present. Heavy Burdens connects the dots from a hyper-focus on sex that has produced LGBTQ discrimination within the church to other current issues including sexual abuse and toxic masculinity. This book is a gift to the church at such a critical time. The church needs to develop a more nuanced approach to gay christians that is loving, welcoming, and allows the Holy Spirit to lead. As a pastor I highly recommend.
February 10, 2022
I will be chewing on Bridget Eileen Rivera’s incredible book for a long time. This is not an easy, Saturday morning read. The raw stories and illuminating histories will haunt me forever—so, too, will the hope and better way forward.
As someone who believes the historic Christian view of sexual ethics (like Rivera), I am grateful for Rivera’s boldness, strength, and courage in writing this book. Even where we might disagree, I am better because of her work. Heavy Burdens will challenge you, no matter your ethics—and let us not flee from challenge.
As someone who believes the historic Christian view of sexual ethics (like Rivera), I am grateful for Rivera’s boldness, strength, and courage in writing this book. Even where we might disagree, I am better because of her work. Heavy Burdens will challenge you, no matter your ethics—and let us not flee from challenge.
Read
September 2, 2022I'll rate and review this book at some point.
February 17, 2022
The author, referring to herself a "same-sex attracted person...who has journeyed with Jesus and found a tradtional approach to sexual ethics to be compelling and is therefore celibate," offers seven ways in which LGBTQ people have been harmed by the church over the past two centuries in particular. She covers how we got to this place, the impact on LGBTQ people, and what might be a way forward that upholds the humanity of all people.
She decided not to take up the big "debate" on whether or not same-sex marriage is Biblical/and how to interpret the Biblical passages so often used to condemn same-sex relationships. Instead she details the discrimination in the church that LGBTQ people have endured. It is a very difficult read.
She gives example after example of the ways in which Christians apply double standards, impossible standards, and unBiblical standards to LBGTQ Christians. These are the heavy burdens she refers to in the title. She uses scripture to support these claims and does this from a posture of humility with reverence and respect for context.
It is made plain that instead of a shelter and refuge as Church should be for all people, it is a place of chaos, rejection, discrimination, and pain for so many LGTBQ people. "This should not be," she says, and I wholeheartedly agree.
In the end, she is asking the Church for space, space for all Christians to wrestle with questions connected to their humanity as gender and sexuality are. This space is given to others and now is the time for it to be given to all people.
She decided not to take up the big "debate" on whether or not same-sex marriage is Biblical/and how to interpret the Biblical passages so often used to condemn same-sex relationships. Instead she details the discrimination in the church that LGBTQ people have endured. It is a very difficult read.
She gives example after example of the ways in which Christians apply double standards, impossible standards, and unBiblical standards to LBGTQ Christians. These are the heavy burdens she refers to in the title. She uses scripture to support these claims and does this from a posture of humility with reverence and respect for context.
It is made plain that instead of a shelter and refuge as Church should be for all people, it is a place of chaos, rejection, discrimination, and pain for so many LGTBQ people. "This should not be," she says, and I wholeheartedly agree.
In the end, she is asking the Church for space, space for all Christians to wrestle with questions connected to their humanity as gender and sexuality are. This space is given to others and now is the time for it to be given to all people.
October 29, 2021
“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. . .” - James Baldwin
Each chapter of Rivera’s book begins with real life stories of queer people from diverse backgrounds growing up in church. Reading these stories made me realize that I am not alone in some of my experiences and caused me to reflect on the harm I’ve perpetuated as well. I’ve felt comfort, clarity, and God’s Spirit leading while reading this one.
Rivera’s goal is not to explore the same sex marriage debate. Rather, she utilizes scripture, church history, sociology, and psychology to expose the Church’s discrimination and violence towards LGBTQ Christians. She examines the harm in the Church’s general disregard for celibacy but mandating celibacy for gay Christians and the fact that the Bible isn’t as clear on sexual ethics as some Churches claim, especially given Biblical context and translation. I loved how Rivera describes queerness as a relational experience, not just sexual but encompassing emotional, intellectual, aesthetic, romantic components amongst others, and explains how queerness is worthy of celebration. Queer people, too, are made in the image of God. Rivera ends the book with a pastoral call and approach to a better way forward where all God’s children can flourish.
I still have more questions about Rivera’s traditional take on sexual ethics, as she is a celibate lesbian. Again, she does not enforce celibacy on anyone else. She compares marriage to other doctrines in the church where people disagree but do not see others as any less Christian because of such beliefs, for example, baptism and the Eucharist. I get it, marriage does not have to be dogma or essential for salvation. I just would love to learn more about her traditional sexual ethics and how she arrived there.
Also love the title, so fitting. While religious authorities were hypocritically laying burdens on the people the leaders themselves could not bear, Christ called, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Each chapter of Rivera’s book begins with real life stories of queer people from diverse backgrounds growing up in church. Reading these stories made me realize that I am not alone in some of my experiences and caused me to reflect on the harm I’ve perpetuated as well. I’ve felt comfort, clarity, and God’s Spirit leading while reading this one.
Rivera’s goal is not to explore the same sex marriage debate. Rather, she utilizes scripture, church history, sociology, and psychology to expose the Church’s discrimination and violence towards LGBTQ Christians. She examines the harm in the Church’s general disregard for celibacy but mandating celibacy for gay Christians and the fact that the Bible isn’t as clear on sexual ethics as some Churches claim, especially given Biblical context and translation. I loved how Rivera describes queerness as a relational experience, not just sexual but encompassing emotional, intellectual, aesthetic, romantic components amongst others, and explains how queerness is worthy of celebration. Queer people, too, are made in the image of God. Rivera ends the book with a pastoral call and approach to a better way forward where all God’s children can flourish.
I still have more questions about Rivera’s traditional take on sexual ethics, as she is a celibate lesbian. Again, she does not enforce celibacy on anyone else. She compares marriage to other doctrines in the church where people disagree but do not see others as any less Christian because of such beliefs, for example, baptism and the Eucharist. I get it, marriage does not have to be dogma or essential for salvation. I just would love to learn more about her traditional sexual ethics and how she arrived there.
Also love the title, so fitting. While religious authorities were hypocritically laying burdens on the people the leaders themselves could not bear, Christ called, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
May 26, 2024
Yeah this one should be required reading for all pastors and probably anyone involved in a church.
Rivera’s explanation of historical frameworks and current cultural assumptions was both super informative and reorienting for me.
However, I wonder if there might be a wider gap between being truly hospitable vs not being hostile towards LGBTQ+ people, and the last section felt like a plea for civility over hostility rather than a movement towards Christian hospitality. But also maybe that’s where the majority of American churches are at?
Rivera’s explanation of historical frameworks and current cultural assumptions was both super informative and reorienting for me.
However, I wonder if there might be a wider gap between being truly hospitable vs not being hostile towards LGBTQ+ people, and the last section felt like a plea for civility over hostility rather than a movement towards Christian hospitality. But also maybe that’s where the majority of American churches are at?
January 2, 2023
Online friend group read this together for a book club during pride month. Was very eye opening to read and learn more especially from a similar yet different view point. I appreciate the efforts of the author. Wish it would be easier to get all Christians to give this book a try and be more understanding & loving towards others.
July 8, 2025
5 ⭐️ - Can’t recommend enough
January 6, 2022
Great book highlighting LGBTQ+ experiences in the church. Easy and compelling read. Recommend to anyone who is interested in this topic regardless of your theological leanings.
October 21, 2021
Absolutely stunning. Bridget doesn’t argue for any specific theological stance on hotly debated issues, but instead pleads for Christians to see the ways that human beings are treated within our walls. Her primary argument is for Christians to embody empathy, humility, and a willingness to listen. I cannot overstate how desperately this book is needed by the church. I pray that pastors and those in ministry will pick up this book and put down their “well, actually…” argumentative stances for long enough to see and listen and mourn and grow in love for LGBT people.
July 12, 2023
Such an important read from Bridget Eileen Rivera, for both church and non-church goers. Grateful for her stories and the way she sets the table for the church to have deeper conversations about what it looks like to reflect on the past, move towards a brighter future, and ultimately love fully.
October 13, 2021
I finished reading Bridget Eileen Rivera's upcoming book, Heavy Burdens, over the weekend, and I cannot recommend it highly enough! This is an essential read for any member, and especially any leader, in any faith community! If you know I am a straight cisgender white woman, you may wonder why I am so fired up over a book about the seven ways LGBTQ+ Christians have been harmed by the church? Well, when I look around the landscape of my faith community as well as the others are represented in and by the media, I see such a messy variety of inconsistent thoughts and beliefs coming from individuals claiming to be Christians regarding people who fit the LGBTQ+ community.
I see attitudes all over the map, from Westboro Baptist type hate speech and demonstrations, to the belief that just by identifying with one of these lgbtq letters you will go to hell, to labeling people as pedophiles or a danger to the church, to always attempting to "pray the gay away", to a variety of attempts at welcoming and embracing--usually still with special expectations for the gay person. Sometimes that expectation is to not come out as a gay, but simply use the 'right' language (same-sex attraction).
All of this hurts my justice-loving and people-loving and Jesus-loving heart.
What this book does NOT try to do is solve the legitimate theological debates over orthodoxy and biblical interpretation. There are other books that attempt to do that. What #HeavyBurdens does through Bridget Eileen Rivera's skillful writing and her training in sociology is tell a searing history of the understanding of "homosexuality" by the Christian Church (reminding me of the history of Patriarchy and co-opting of politics by Evangelicalism told in Kristin Du Mez's Jesus and John Wayne). What it also does is challenge Christians to put those theological debates in their proper place and stop making them the hills they are willing to die on, at the cost to a significant percentage of real people hurt by this. Sprinkled along the way she tells countless stories of lgbtq people harmed. It is a wake-up call!
The best parts for me were the suggested ways forward that would work for all faith traditions, no matter whether fully affirming or holding to traditional theological views. The gift would be that the whole congregation gets to thrive.
I see attitudes all over the map, from Westboro Baptist type hate speech and demonstrations, to the belief that just by identifying with one of these lgbtq letters you will go to hell, to labeling people as pedophiles or a danger to the church, to always attempting to "pray the gay away", to a variety of attempts at welcoming and embracing--usually still with special expectations for the gay person. Sometimes that expectation is to not come out as a gay, but simply use the 'right' language (same-sex attraction).
All of this hurts my justice-loving and people-loving and Jesus-loving heart.
What this book does NOT try to do is solve the legitimate theological debates over orthodoxy and biblical interpretation. There are other books that attempt to do that. What #HeavyBurdens does through Bridget Eileen Rivera's skillful writing and her training in sociology is tell a searing history of the understanding of "homosexuality" by the Christian Church (reminding me of the history of Patriarchy and co-opting of politics by Evangelicalism told in Kristin Du Mez's Jesus and John Wayne). What it also does is challenge Christians to put those theological debates in their proper place and stop making them the hills they are willing to die on, at the cost to a significant percentage of real people hurt by this. Sprinkled along the way she tells countless stories of lgbtq people harmed. It is a wake-up call!
The best parts for me were the suggested ways forward that would work for all faith traditions, no matter whether fully affirming or holding to traditional theological views. The gift would be that the whole congregation gets to thrive.
February 28, 2022
For me, rating doesn't completely correlate with agreement but how successful a book (of this sort anyway) is in making its case or accomplishing what it set out to do.
That said there were some things I appreciated and some things I found frustrating. I don't think her point is arguing for or against a certain approach but relating stories that help you understand others' experiences and she does a good job of this and writes well/effectively. But it's always a bit tricky with this sort of book because stories are always selective. You select which stories to tell, which aspects of the story to tell, whose perspective within the story to tell... it's always hard to know that you've gotten the full picture. This isn't to say that I doubt that these stories (or that similar stories also happen, I absolutely believe that they do), but I'm enough of a skeptic, that it's hard to convince me that way. Another complaint that I have is that she questions the origins of the evangelical church's ideas about sex, sexuality, and gender, (which, by the way, is completely fair to do) but not the origins of contemporary society's (she seems to work from the premise that the constructs we've built today are the correct ones, even though they differ from what we had 10 years ago and are certainly still in flux). This may not be a fair critique on one level because this is written to the church, not society, but it's a weakness because she fails to remove the block many Christians will have that will prevent them from hearing what she's trying to say.
I've been mostly negative so far, but I do think her intentions are good and I appreciate what she's trying to do. She's trying to help us see our own blinders, prejudices, and hypocrisies - and we certainly have them. She's also reminding us that so often when we are "fighting the culture wars" we have people struggling to be faithful within our congregations and if we're not careful we're attacking our own wounded. On some level, I don't really care what the outside world thinks of the church, but I do care about what those within her are experiencing. Understanding requires listening, and I appreciate being given a way of doing that through this book.
I have more thoughts, but none I'd like to share on the internet.
That said there were some things I appreciated and some things I found frustrating. I don't think her point is arguing for or against a certain approach but relating stories that help you understand others' experiences and she does a good job of this and writes well/effectively. But it's always a bit tricky with this sort of book because stories are always selective. You select which stories to tell, which aspects of the story to tell, whose perspective within the story to tell... it's always hard to know that you've gotten the full picture. This isn't to say that I doubt that these stories (or that similar stories also happen, I absolutely believe that they do), but I'm enough of a skeptic, that it's hard to convince me that way. Another complaint that I have is that she questions the origins of the evangelical church's ideas about sex, sexuality, and gender, (which, by the way, is completely fair to do) but not the origins of contemporary society's (she seems to work from the premise that the constructs we've built today are the correct ones, even though they differ from what we had 10 years ago and are certainly still in flux). This may not be a fair critique on one level because this is written to the church, not society, but it's a weakness because she fails to remove the block many Christians will have that will prevent them from hearing what she's trying to say.
I've been mostly negative so far, but I do think her intentions are good and I appreciate what she's trying to do. She's trying to help us see our own blinders, prejudices, and hypocrisies - and we certainly have them. She's also reminding us that so often when we are "fighting the culture wars" we have people struggling to be faithful within our congregations and if we're not careful we're attacking our own wounded. On some level, I don't really care what the outside world thinks of the church, but I do care about what those within her are experiencing. Understanding requires listening, and I appreciate being given a way of doing that through this book.
I have more thoughts, but none I'd like to share on the internet.
October 25, 2021
It is no secret that the Christian church is in conflict about issues of sexuality and gender. Denominational conferences who dare to engage the issues often struggle, and, in some cases, schism results. Some resort to statements of faith and practice that disallow the discussion all together. As a result, the church is divided, and people are wounded and excluded.
In this well researched and well documented book, Bridget Eileen Rivera explains the historic origins of gender and sexuality classifications, both in the secular world and the church, and how those ideas have affected contemporary perspectives. She also addresses the reasons why people identify as LGBTQ and the double standards that give heterosexuals abundant grace regarding their issues and denies that same grace to LGBTQ folk. Though some people believe the Bible is “clear” about these issues, she gives compelling evidence to the contrary.
Rivera calls Christians, not to a unified perspective on the various questions involved, but to an acknowledgement of the devastation being perpetrated on LGBTQ siblings. She provides stark evidence of the harm being done and calls for a compassionate gospel response.
Whatever a person’s beliefs about these matters, Rivera’s book calls the Christian church to wake up to its complicity in the pain of this part of the Body of Christ and seek ways of offering hope, love, and home to those who have been rejected and “othered.”
This book is available here: https://www.meditationsofatravelingnu...
In this well researched and well documented book, Bridget Eileen Rivera explains the historic origins of gender and sexuality classifications, both in the secular world and the church, and how those ideas have affected contemporary perspectives. She also addresses the reasons why people identify as LGBTQ and the double standards that give heterosexuals abundant grace regarding their issues and denies that same grace to LGBTQ folk. Though some people believe the Bible is “clear” about these issues, she gives compelling evidence to the contrary.
Rivera calls Christians, not to a unified perspective on the various questions involved, but to an acknowledgement of the devastation being perpetrated on LGBTQ siblings. She provides stark evidence of the harm being done and calls for a compassionate gospel response.
Whatever a person’s beliefs about these matters, Rivera’s book calls the Christian church to wake up to its complicity in the pain of this part of the Body of Christ and seek ways of offering hope, love, and home to those who have been rejected and “othered.”
This book is available here: https://www.meditationsofatravelingnu...
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