In 2016, I gave a workshop at what was then called the Gay Christian Network conference in Houston. One evening was set aside for an open microphone, not for singing or comedy, but for personal stories. One by one, people walked to the microphone and talked about what happened when they came out as gay or transgender.
Some lost friends. Some lost families. Some lost church communities. Some became homeless. Some were fired.
Again and again, I heard variations of the same story of love withheld. That parents wouldn’t love them, that friends wouldn’t love them.
That God wouldn’t love them.
Unless they became someone different than who they were.
I sat in the back of that ballroom and cried. I wasn’t witnessing a theological debate; I was witnessing the consequences of certainty.
The people who rejected these individuals weren’t usually trying to be cruel. Most believed they were helping. Most believed they were protecting something sacred. And that’s what makes this difficult. Harm is often easiest to recognize when it comes from malice. It’s much harder to recognize when it comes wrapped in conviction.
Especially religious conviction.
Once we become convinced that God is on the side of our belief, we may stop paying attention to the consequences.
If God wants it, then perhaps the suffering it causes must be justified.
If God wants it, perhaps the harm isn’t really harm at all.
The belief becomes untouchable. And once a belief becomes untouchable, we stop asking what that belief is creating in the lives of real people.
Every Pride Month, we seem to end up having the same argument. Is it a sin? People quote Bible verses. Other people quote different verses. The debate goes around and around.
But after sitting in that ballroom years ago, I don’t think the most important question is who’s right. I think the more important question is: What if I’m wrong?
What if I’m wrong? Not just about sexuality. About anything. Politics. Religion. Parenting. Education.
Any belief that affects another human being.
What if I’m wrong? What if you’re wrong?
One of the things I’ve come to believe is that there is always more we don’t know than what we do know.
Every answer opens ten more questions. Every mystery reveals a larger mystery behind it.
That doesn’t mean truth doesn’t exist. It means our understanding – about everything – is always incomplete.
Years ago, I developed two questions for evaluating spiritual beliefs and practices:
What is life-giving about this belief?
Does it cause harm to self or others?
Lately I’ve realized these questions may apply to much more than spirituality.
When I sat in that ballroom listening to personal stories, I wasn’t evaluating theology. I was witnessing outcomes. I was witnessing the fruit of other people’s beliefs.
The fruits of fear. Shame. Family estrangement. Homelessness. People who believed they were fundamentally unlovable.
Whatever position we hold, we have to be willing to look honestly at what our beliefs produce. Not just what we intend. What they actually produce.
Good intentions do not erase harmful consequences.
Shouldn’t our beliefs produce good fruit? More compassion? More honesty? More love? More life?
And if a belief repeatedly produces fear, rejection, shame, and suffering, shouldn’t that matter too?
If I’m wrong about a movie, very little is at stake. If I’m wrong about a restaurant, its no big deal. If I’m wrong about a political strategy, the consequences might be larger.
But what if I’m wrong about another person’s dignity? Another person’s worth? Another person’s ability to love, belong, and flourish?
Now the stakes have become very different.
How certain does someone need to be before harming someone else? Before restricting someone’s freedom? Before curtailing the freedom that allows a life to prosper?
What’s the level of certainty required to decide another person’s flourishing is less important than my interpretation?
These questions become even more important when private beliefs become public policy.
Once beliefs become laws, healthcare restrictions, school policies, or limitations on rights, they move from personal conviction into public consequence.
Now we’re no longer talking about ideas. We’re talking about human lives.
What happens when people lose the ability to marry? To adopt? To access healthcare? To participate fully in public life? To feel safe being themselves?
These aren’t abstract questions. They’re questions about harm. They’re questions about flourishing.
We all hold strong beliefs of one sort or another. Not just around sexuality. So ask yourself:
Is this belief helping me grow more love? Does it make me more compassionate? More honest? More humble? Are there those who benefit from my belief? And who is being harmed?
What are the consequences – to myself and others – if I’m wrong?
I don’t know everything there is to know about God. Neither do you.
I don’t know everything there is to know about human sexuality. Neither do you.
I don’t know everything there is to know about the Infinite Mystery beyond our understanding.
No one does.
But I do know that beliefs have consequences. They shape lives. They shape families. They shape communities.
And if we are going to hold a belief strongly, we should be willing to look honestly at the fruit it produces. Does it help people grow in love—for themselves, for others, and for the Infinite?
Or does it cause harm?
Because perhaps the most important question isn’t whether we’re certain.
Perhaps the most important question is:
What are we creating … if we’re wrong?
Joni Miller, Ph.D., is a writer, researcher, spiritual coach, and speaker who uses her knowledge, education, and love of all things spiritual to help spiritual wanderers find a place they can call home, navigating by the light of Love. www.SpiritualGeography.net
Photo by Tom Fisk: https://www.pexels.com/photo/view-of-a-marsh-at-sunrise-25549229/
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