(Don’t Get) Stuck on a Feelin’

My life as an openly queer pastor has led me to some interesting conversations.

A few years ago, I was engaged in a conversation in the comment section on one of my LGBTQ+-affirming Facebook posts with a woman in her late 50’s or early 60’s whom I’ll call Sue (name changed to maintain her anonymity).

I knew Sue through volunteer work I’d done with her organization during my first year of seminary. We know how fruitless those back-and-forths in the comments section can be, so I offered to meet her in person for an actual conversation. To my surprise, she accepted.

A few days later, we met for coffee and discussed the typical things: the “clobber” passages, how I came to understand my sexual orientation as a gift from God and not a sinful choice, and so on.

Then the conversation took an unexpected turn. Sue indicated that she’s “always had a heart” for the gay community because her sister is a lesbian.

She recalled the state-wide vote in Georgia in 2004, when same-sex marriage was on the ballot. She explained that her sister begged Sue and the rest of the family to think of her and her partner when voting.

Sue told her sister something like she loved her, but she “couldn’t vote against her faith.” The entire family voted against the ballot measure.

When the vote came back and it was announced that same-sex marriage was still illegal in the state of Georgia, her sister was crushed.

Sue then expressed to me that she was surprised her sister was hurt by her family’s vote; it was all I could do to bite my tongue and not say, “Well, you did hurt her.”

Sue was in denial that she had hurt her sister because she believes that she loves her sister. She thought that it wasn’t possible for her actions to negate the loving feelings she has toward her sister.

Her feelings were “right”; why couldn’t her sister simply believe that Sue loved her?

In too many American Christian contexts, there’s a huge disparity between our orthodoxy (what we believe) and our orthopraxy (what we do), which leads to our actions not mirroring our feelings.

For example, as evidenced by the Baptist Women in Ministry’s most recent report, there’s a huge gap between the number of Baptist churches that say they believe that God calls women to be pastors and the number of those same churches that have actually hired women to their pastoral staff.

That’s simply one of many examples I could cite.

We think that if we have the right feelings about something, then that’s enough; we believe that we have the moral high ground because our feelings are in the right place. We don’t have to take any actions to prove those feelings.

Let me tell you, Millennials and Gen Z folks are not having it.

Memes saying, “Don’t tell someone you love them, then vote for someone who hurts them” are flooding my timeline in the wake of the SCOTUS decision to overturn Roe v Wade.

To me, those memes are simply a way to rephrase something Jesus says in Luke 6:31, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

The Golden Rule is what the intersection of faith and citizenship is about.

It’s about recognizing that if my civic identity is rooted only in what makes me feel good and not in what’s actually good for my neighbor, then I’m not engaging in civic duty at all. I’m practicing self-aggrandizement that only allows me to “feel correctly,” not take actions that actually show love to my neighbor.

What might the Golden Rule look like in the context of faith-based civic engagement? Here’s a start.

Straight folks: If you wouldn’t want someone to vote for folks to invalidate the legality of your marriage, don’t vote for people who want to overturn Obergefell v Hodges.

Cisgender folks: If you wouldn’t want the state to mandate that you go against your doctor’s medical advice regarding the care of your child, don’t vote for people who are banning gender-affirming care for trans kids.

White folks: If you wouldn’t want your right to vote stifled, don’t vote for folks who continually redraw district maps so that historically Black neighborhoods are continually under-represented.

Christians: If you wouldn’t want someone of a faith tradition you don’t ascribe to leading your kids in prayer at their public school, don’t vote for folks who want to abolish the separation between church and state (even if they share your beliefs).

All of us: If you truly believe that you love your neighbor, then don’t vote for people who want to take their rights away.

Vote on behalf of others as you would have them vote on behalf of you.

If I have loving feelings toward my neighbor but my civic action causes them harm, then I don’t actually love them. I’ve just deceived myself into believing a lie that makes me comfortable in my own skin.

Loving feelings are not love. Love is action; if we love our neighbor, let us act accordingly.

Editor’s note: This article is part of a series this week focused on faith and citizenship. The previous articles in the series are:

What Is a Christian Who Wants to Be a Citizen to Do? | Paul Lewis

Focus on Conversation, Not Conversion | Kira Dewey