A hundred years ago, if you’d asked the average Christian to articulate their views on homosexuality, it’s not hard to imagine the response. It’s an abomination, they would say. A perversion of God’s design. Two hundred years ago, you’d hear much the same. Go back a thousand years, and the answer would be just as predictable. And we don’t even have to imagine what the answer would have been two thousand years ago; Paul says it himself in the first chapter of Romans: “For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error.”

And yet, if you asked the average Christian about their views on homosexuality today, it’s not clear what the answer would be. In just a few decades, two thousand years’ worth of consensus has been swiftly muddled. The speed and scope of this transition are so unusual that I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the current rift in the Church on the issue of homosexuality is one of the most interesting developments in the history of Christianity.

It’s not hard to see the allure of each side of the discussion. Those who denounce gay relationships do so because of their commitment to God’s truth. They fear for their brothers and sisters who seem to have given up on what is clearly written in Scripture in favor of blind acceptance of whatever feels right. They see clear, if not perfect, parallels between today’s LGBTQ movement and both the modern rise of subjective truth and the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah. They fear what will become of the institutions of marriage and family, not to mention the individuals who choose sin over obedience, if God’s guidance for holy and healthy lives is subverted and abused.

And those who affirm gay relationships do so because of their commitment to God’s love. They see and hear the stories of psychological and spiritual harm done by those who have denounced gay relationships, and they fear that they will be participating in that harm if they join in the rebuking. They see clear, if not perfect, parallels between today’s LGBTQ movement and the abolitionist Christians of the 18th century. They can’t see the point in preventing anyone from living together in a loving, monogamous relationship that hurts no one; in fact, they think that sort of needless relationship-policing is the opposite of love.

Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up, the affirmers say. I may not fully understand why Paul denounces homosexuality, but I can’t go against my conscience and deny others the right to eros, a form of love. God is love, and He has commanded me above all else to love God and love my neighbor. Unless someone can show me how denouncing homosexuality is loving to anyone, I’m going to affirm it.

The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, the denouncers respond. I may not fully understand why Paul denounces homosexuality, but I know that the Bible holds a wisdom greater than my own. It might not seem very loving at first glance, but God is love, and he has a clear plan outlined in Scripture that I trust is better than anything anyone else can think up.

The former tread the path of love, trusting that what is loving is ultimately what is true. The latter tread the path of truth, of sound theology, trusting that love will ultimately be found to be on their side. Both cling to the words of Christ for comfort: you will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved.

I don’t think we should sacrifice love for truth, or truth for love. But I also don’t blame those who take either path, because the question of homosexuality is simply really, really hard. It demands clarity in some of the most intractable theological matters of our time: the purpose of symbolism, the scrutability of God, the roles of men and women, the applicability of the Hebrew law, and that lightning-charged third rail of American Christianity, the sexual ethic. It is no wonder that our answers to the question of homosexuality are as varied and muddled as our positions on these larger issues.

And it is with these vast considerations – and their wide-ranging implications – in mind that I have come to what I believe to be the right answer to the question of homosexuality. I assure you that the weight of this claim is not lost on me, and I am not so arrogant as to believe that my answer is necessarily correct. To the contrary, I have come to this answer with much fear and trembling, and even now, I know the question and its implications to be far greater than myself.

But on the other hand, I believe that most answers to this question fail precisely because they don’t consider the broader implications of their claims. Rather than tremble, many theorists on both sides boast that the answer is simple, or that their interpretation is obvious to the discerning mind. This could not be further from the truth. I share my answer not because I believe it to be infallible, but in the hopes that it will convince others that what they consider obvious is often obvious only because it hasn’t been considered deeply enough, and is sometimes built on false foundations. If my explanation is not as convincing to you as it is to me, my hope is that it challenges you and provokes you to deeper thought and humility on matters concerning the deep things of God, as it continues to do for me.

Summary

For the reasons above, my answer is very long. It’s not enough to briefly state whether or not homosexuality is wrong; in order to properly address the question of homosexuality, I had to question the underlying ideas which lead to either conclusion. Now, having done so, I am retreading my steps, mulling once again over the implications of my thoughts – only this time I’m inviting you along to do the same.

I do, however, recognize that it is a profoundly difficult task to read through a hundred-odd pages of my writing, and I don’t wish that fate upon anyone who wouldn’t benefit from it. So, I propose a compromise. I’ll list the main points of my thought-journey here, with corresponding chapter titles, and I only request that you read the chapters corresponding to the points on which we disagree. That way, you only have to do the work necessary to understand my argument.

In return, I ask that you not dismiss any of my arguments until you have read the full corresponding chapter, as these topics are complex, and it is impossible for me to fully explain them in just a few paragraphs.

And if you already fully agree with my answers to all of the questions below, I encourage you to put this book down and go do something more thought-provoking with your time; it is hardly helpful to learn what you already know, and it can be dangerous for the mind to read only the things with which you agree.

If instead you happen to disagree with all of my answers below, I’m sorry. You’re in for a long read.

The purpose of the Hebrew law was never to provide a perfect blueprint for right behavior. It exists for two major reasons: to show us that we are sinful, and to serve as a “guardian” for the Israelites until Christ came. As Christians, we are not under the Hebrew law and have no obligation to it at all. The distinction that some theologians make between “moral law” and “ceremonial law” is often more harmful than helpful, because we are not under any portion of the law – the entire law framework is obsolete. We can learn a lot from the law, but we should never force it uncritically upon anyone.

It is perfectly acceptable to view the law’s prohibition against homosexuality in the same way that we view the law’s prohibition against mixing clothing materials or performing labor on the Sabbath – as symbols which remind us of the holiness of God but which should never get in the way of our obedience to the two greatest commandments: love God and love your neighbor as you love yourself.

We should understand them as Paul meant them: not as laws, which Paul stood fervently against, but as guidance offered to teach us how to practically apply the love principle (love God, others, and ourselves) to our lives.

For Paul, the primary concept that set Christianity apart from Judaism was that we have moved beyond the law. If we simply follow Paul’s teachings as if they were a whole new law, instead of basing our actions on a solid foundation of faith, we fall right back into a form of legalism, the very action Paul warned most strongly against. Instead, Paul insisted that Christians should use wisdom and the guidance of the Holy Spirit to determine how best to apply the love principle in our own varied contexts.

Symbolism carries great importance in the Bible and today, but the moment that we choose to uphold symbolic restrictions rather than perform an act of love or kindness is a moment of idolatry. Jesus’ words and actions on the Sabbath are instructive and highly consequential: “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” We should honor our symbols, but they are flexible; we should not let them get in the way of love for God, others, or self. If we choose to hold rigidly to the symbolism of marriage between a man and a woman rather than prioritize the happiness of individuals who identify as LGBTQ, we have idolized the symbol in precisely the way the Bible has clearly warned us against.

Paul’s writings on homosexuality are very brief, which makes it difficult to understand why he thought it violated the love principle. In absence of an explanation from Paul, many thinkers have simply come up with their own explanations, ascribing their thoughts to Paul without any evidence that he truly shared their reasoning. This is not necessary. We can actually understand Paul’s thought process if we compare his words on homosexuality in Romans 1:26-27 with his words on head coverings in 1 Cor 11:1-16. In both cases, we can see that Paul uses three distinct argumentative appeals: an appeal to nature, an appeal to custom, and an appeal to symbolism.

The appeal to nature is rooted in natural philosophy, which I discuss in great detail in this chapter. Natural philosophy was the precursor to science, and it was one of the most common methods of justifying normative claims for much of history. But ever since the advent of modern science, we have learned that natural philosophy is an outdated and ineffective form of reasoning. Paul’s belief that men with long hair and homosexuality were “unnatural” was based on this pre-scientific reasoning, which was common in his time, but is now contradicted by modern science.

Like the appeal to nature, Paul’s appeal to custom is out of place in modern American society, where cultural customs would lead us to accept homosexuality, not reject it. And as we explored in great detail in Chapter 3, the appeal to symbolism is not binding when it hinders our ability to love.

As we discussed in Chapter 2, it is our responsibility to use reason to determine how best to love. Paul made his determinations about homosexuality and head coverings based on what he knew about the world, and he tried to teach us to do the same. Now that we have more knowledge, it only makes sense that we should arrive at different results than Paul did in some cases. And just as we no longer think it is unnatural for men to have long hair, we can safely conclude that, in today’s world, homosexuality is nothing to be ashamed of.