Imagine...

 

Imagine with me, for a moment, a church that spoke to the world as it is rather than the way it wishes it was. Imagine, even, a church that listened rather than always spoke. Imagine a church that looked at everybody, whoever they were, and recognised the image of God in them. Imagine a church that looked for goodness rather than turned its face away in case because it felt uncomfortable. Imagine a church that saw each and every person as a child of God, beloved of God, holy and blessed and welcomed by the God we serve.

 

For a long time, those of us who think LGBTQIA lives and loves are held within the heart of God have expended time, energy, effort, arguing for a place at the table. We have become apologists, arguing on others’ terms to show that we’re not the second class citizens, at best, and the wilful destroyers of the church, at worst, that we’re painted as being. We have faced opposition at every turn, from bishops, from church authorities, from fellow Christians. We have been told to have warmer hearts and cooler heads. We have been accused of all kinds of evil. And yet, perhaps, at last, there is a chink in the armour. Perhaps, at last, change might be coming.

 

Now the church is by no means unusual in its participation in – even its role in the architecture of - the hatred, vilification, othering of LGBTQIA people. Wider society has spent centuries pursuing systematic oppression of those who can be scapegoated, who can be used as tools of political control. And yet the church proclaims the justice, peace and life-giving Gospel of Jesus Christ, and yet when the chips are down, when we need our defenders most, when we need our allies and our friends and our neighbours most, so many in the church, and the church corporate, closes its ears. It turns away, building unity on our backs. It would be heartbreaking if it weren’t so predictable.

 

This last week, the House of Bishops of the Church of England issued an apology, saying that they lament and repent of the failure of the Church to be welcoming to LGBTQI+ people and the harm that LGBTQI+ people have experienced and continue to experience in the life of the Church. And this apology must surely be welcomed and is long overdue. Yet let us take a step back for one moment and recognise how astounding it is that an organisation that proclaims the love of God might have failed to such a degree – failed in such a systematic, organised, intentional, all-encompassing way. And let us also remember that there were members of the General Synod of the church for whom this apology was a ‘step too far’, to coin a phrase. There may indeed be a chink of light, but those who wish to slam the door again are never far away. Our welcome remains conditional.

 

And yet. The church we belong to is not somehow other – it is a church which cannot blithely ignore us and shut us out, because we are not outside but inside already. The power to exclude does not ultimately lie in the hands of those who try to keep us out. For however much people might throw at us, they cannot stop us belonging to Christ. And the minute we start recognising that it is we who belong to Christ, and not the other way around, then everything changes – because it reminds us that the church doesn’t belong to anybody.

 

A queer church is a holy church. A queer church is one that embraces contingency, that constantly wrestles with scripture, with God, with the simplistic easy answers that we so often yearn for because of our fear of what might otherwise happen. A queer church is a church that listens, a church that is founded on holiness – on wholeness – and not on some spurious notion of purity. A queer church is one that gives away power, and doesn’t seek it for its own sake. It’s a church that calls itself again and again to introspection, to asking those questions which might build a place where all are made welcome not because we decide they should be, but because it is Christ who does the welcoming. A queer church is one that is willing to be vulnerable, that is willing to be open to the work of the Holy Spirit in the world.

 

A queer church is one that finds genuine radical equality in the pages of scripture, not despite the words of scripture – it is a church that preaches equality not because the world tells it so, but because it finds this equality, this human dignity, in the heart of God God-self. It is a church that recognises holiness when it sees it, recognises the fruits of the Spirit without having to own them or to define them. It is a church where doctrine is refined and interrogated, where our encounter with the scriptures is an encounter with the living waters. It’s a church that recognises that no battle is won when others are trampled over; a church that sees intersectionality as a reflection of the interwoven interconnectedness of God’s own essence. It is a church that offers resistance and solidarity. It’s a church that recognises that lies are no way to create the ultimate truth; that we cannot oppress others to end our own oppression.

 

And the brilliant, extraordinary, mind blowing, life enhancing, terrifying, awesome reality is that the queer church is a reality – in fact, it’s the greatest reality there is. For that is the church that Christ founded and to which we are called to belong. It may not look like it, but that is not because it cannot exist. It’s because those who yield power are not willing to open their eyes to the reality in front of them, and in their desperation to make the rules they fail to see the out-workings of God. For try as we might, we cannot nail down the Holy Spirit. We tried that 2000 years ago with the Son of God, and he burst forth from the tomb on Easter Day. And the Spirit moves where the Spirit wills – not where we will.

 

My friends, soon this church will come – soon – so let us commit ourselves to praying and working for it until that day. With all creation we groan and long for it, for a church that speaks out against injustice without the inevitable ‘but’, without the inevitable qualification. We groan and long for a church that could truly act as a chaplain to the whole nation. We groan and long for a church that sought out the very essence of God, love, a love that is fierce and never ending and holy and that rejoices in the truth.

 

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.