I too wonder about the conflation of unsafe with uncomfortable, particularly with younger people who I feel have gotten comfortable with crying “unsafe” when in reality, they’re uncomfortable with complicated conversations, that may in fact lead to growth and spaciousness in their souls. This is not at all to discount those times when things actually are unsafe, when personhood or dignity are threatened physically or emotionally, or when some line in the sand must be drawn. But as you point out in the love passage from Corinthians, love can bear a lot.
I do think love can bear a lot—at least the gritty, hard-won, resilient kind of love that I'm thinking about rather than the cushy and celebratory kind.
The one piece of gentle pushback I might offer from my own experience: I'm not sure it breaks generationally as you suggest. I recently had the opportunity to meet privately with a group of queer students at a university, and I was struck by their willingness to dispense with the niceties and dive straight into some really hard and complicated theological and relational questions. It was so encouraging.
When my mom was really mad at my sister and me when we were kids, she'd sometimes say, "I love you, but I don't like you right now." So—unlikable, perhaps. But who is unlovable? I think that's on us, as people called to love.
This is a beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing your experience. Family is complex and usually far from perfect. But I also feel this way - that making space for relationships that are not easy is part of love. I don't always know how much breadth to give either. The spirit of this piece was wonderful. Thanks again.
In terms of "breadth," I often say that sometimes it's helpful—maybe even necessary—to love from afar. Love doesn't always have to happen in close proximity. Love can be a prayer of blessing, or a short text message, or a birthday card.
This part was exactly what I was going to say. The binary of either in or out, endorsed fully or canceled, deep relationship or estranged... It isn't reality. Boundaries, degrees of closeness, earned trust and intimacy, even emotional safety vary widely by topic, context, life stage, etc. Families are not divided into healthy vs. abusive. There's a huge range of complexity.
This is so well said. It is not always all or nothing. The hard part, I find, is figuring out what kind of love expression is safe or okay for people who are not always trustworthy, safe, emotionally available, motives aren't clear, etc. And when you have family gathering together and there is a mixture of closeness, boundaries, etc. How to let my guard down or not be on edge in those circumstances. I don't have experience with the lack of acceptance or lgbtq issues as Jeff does, but just with healthy boundaries and emotionally variant group of family members (lol).
Thanks once again for your beautiful thoughts and your example. Loving people is what we’re called to so I’m grateful for your leadership here, reflecting Christ.
Thank you for sharing your ordinary family! And for sharing your Uncle Lawrence. I was neighbor to Lawrence and Nora in HK. He introduced me to your writing one time by sharing a magazine article. I have been wondering how he was since I left HK.
This is so kind and tender. Especially after reading Good Soil, I am struck by the way you handle life’s inevitable tensions. The same Love draws you in different directions outward (Tristan and your family of origin both being truly, wholly family) but anchors you in God and God in you at the center. You can be fully yourself in each iteration of family because you have an intrinsic sense of belonging that’s also honest about the disagreements and hard things and doesn’t employee magical thinking. Your honesty about grief, as I see it, is also a gift of acceptance that opens you up to a sustaining joy. I’m really inspired by that. Thank you!
Thank you for this sharing. I relate so much to the longing I sense here. I agree that discomfort does not equate unsafe and the difference can be difficult to figure out sometimes. For me, the lines have been drawn by those I love and I don’t see much I can do other than continue to live my life honestly and lovingly. And happily. Who knows when someone might change their mind. And if they do I will be there ready with a smile and a heart open for honest conversation.
I have always admired your grace toward your family and unwillingness to cut them off, despite their hurtful stance toward your spouse. I will never forget the beautiful story of your mother gifting chopsticks to Tristan, an incredible story of our ability to change, however slightly.
I am working toward my own ordination, likely this fall, and will probably not invite my family of origin or in-laws. My gender and my "liberal" DOC denomination are problematic for them, and I want nothing but love and joy present that day. While a piece of my heart will long for them to share in this day, I also am learning to love them for who they are and how we are able to be (and not be) in each other's lives.
I've been thinking about your words for a couple of days now, and I suppose because they keep coming to heart and mind, I've been wrestling with how to respond. First, I want to say this: Congratulations! (And commiserations.) Ordination is such a huge step—and a ridiculous commitment. You will be in my prayers as you continue your preparations.
As I said in my essay, it's not for me to tell anyone else what they ought to do. I'd like to share some of the things I was thinking about ahead of my own ordination, though, which I think are not entirely unrelated to your circumstances.
I am who I am in part because of my family. Regardless of where we have landed—and how we are still becoming—I owe much of my love for Scripture and my perspective on the world to them and to the formation I received as a child. As part of "learning to love them for who they are," as you put it, I want to honor that.
As I was preparing for my ordination and as I was imagining the service, I began to wonder whether "honor," in the context of the ordination, meant being willing to let the good of that familial relationship shine. After all, I chose a Chinese fabric for my ordination stole; that's not to say that I believe everything is good about Chinese culture—far from it!—but I did opt to honor my culture of ancestry and origin with that gesture.
So my parents came, which was their choice, despite our theological disagreements. I let them deal with whatever was problematic. I still don't know how they felt about the service, or about my preaching the following day, because they have never really said anything about any of it to me. I've heard some things through the grapevine (mostly good!), but that's secondhand and hearsay. Again, I let them deal with whatever was problematic.
I don't know how exactly things work in the Disciples of Christ, but in the RCA, ordination is a public worship service. All are welcome. Do we really mean "all" though? As I was putting the service together, I thought a lot about that and about the various people who told me they were planning to come. On that day, there were Christians, yes, of all different denominations and none; Jews; at least one Hindu; atheists and agnostics in abundance; some who would say they don't even know where they are with God or religion. Love and joy were present in all these folks! Could I allow love and joy to be present through my parents as well, whatever baggage they (and I) brought with them into the space? I wanted to try.
As I reviewed the ordination vows, I was reminded too that the promises I was making had no escape clause regarding the people I find unlikeable or the people I find objectionable or the people I disagree with or the people I struggle with. The flock is the flock; I do not get to choose who sits in the pews on any given Sunday, or to dole out the good news only to those I deem to be good.
Let me reiterate that I absolutely am not telling you that there's a right or wrong thing to do in your case; I just wanted to share how I thought about things when it came to my ordination. I, like you, wanted only love and joy to be present that day. I also realized that love and joy ended up appearing in ways that I could not foresee; grief, after all, can be an expression of love, and joy is often not the same thing as happiness.
Cheering you on as you continue your good work and prepare to make your own promises to God and to the Church.
Jeff, thank you for your thoughtful response. I also find myself appreciative of aspects of my evangelical church upbringing, including my love of scripture and the centrality of a church community to my faith.
I think my reluctance comes from a place of fear. I would rather not invite them than risk their rejection of the invite. My father passed away just a couple of weeks ago, my mom many years ago, so it's mostly my sisters (both married to Baptist ministers) who are at the heart of this dilemma. I appreciate your comment that grief is an expression of love, for that is where I am dwelling in there days following the loss of my dad. You have given me much to consider and I so appreciate your kindness.
I am so grateful for your honest reflection, Amy! The fear of rejection is real and so relatable. I will continue to pray for a sense of overwhelming peace and unshakable belovedness as well as the courage that comes with that.
Our Adult Christian Education this year has focused on the "Great Commandment", how do we love. We have recognized that the charm is often clearer than the reality of day to day life. At one of our sessions we read 1 Corinthians 13 from The Message, and where ever it said love, we substituted "God". My attention was captured by your reflection " If love bears all things, someone must be willing to do the carrying." This will find it's way into our discussions of the story of Phillip and the Ethopian Eunuch, which begs the question of who was converted: Phillip or the unnamed Ethopian man? Thanks for your reflections!
Love is patient, love is kind--I think both you and your uncle are doing your best to reach across the things that divide you, and in that kind of effort there is genuine love and kindness. That is how, ultimately, we can build bridges that will lead to greater understanding. How can greater understanding come when we cut each other out of our lives? I am so sorry you did not feel able to bring your husband, but I am glad you were able celebrate this man who played an important part in your young life. And bless your husband for his generosity and love in saying, go! You've got a keeper there.
I'm going for the grouper soaked in ginger! YOU TOO have a great smile (that I suspect covers a lot of other stuff). It is welcoming. Then regarding families and being known--even accepted. I'm a couple of decades beyond you and have been writing about just that--having concluded that in this life being known at large is not safe, particularly in this polarized world we are living in. So it has to suffice, to satisfy--to have a select few where I am known, all the way through--the good yet also the bad, the ugly. The world at large is judgmental often because they are not known by anyone--even themselves. Maybe the next realm will be better at acceptance--beyond just tolerant.
I too wonder about the conflation of unsafe with uncomfortable, particularly with younger people who I feel have gotten comfortable with crying “unsafe” when in reality, they’re uncomfortable with complicated conversations, that may in fact lead to growth and spaciousness in their souls. This is not at all to discount those times when things actually are unsafe, when personhood or dignity are threatened physically or emotionally, or when some line in the sand must be drawn. But as you point out in the love passage from Corinthians, love can bear a lot.
I do think love can bear a lot—at least the gritty, hard-won, resilient kind of love that I'm thinking about rather than the cushy and celebratory kind.
The one piece of gentle pushback I might offer from my own experience: I'm not sure it breaks generationally as you suggest. I recently had the opportunity to meet privately with a group of queer students at a university, and I was struck by their willingness to dispense with the niceties and dive straight into some really hard and complicated theological and relational questions. It was so encouraging.
I believe the true test is in loving unlovable people. As you have done. Thank you for this.
When my mom was really mad at my sister and me when we were kids, she'd sometimes say, "I love you, but I don't like you right now." So—unlikable, perhaps. But who is unlovable? I think that's on us, as people called to love.
Such a good distinction - thank you for that.
This is a beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing your experience. Family is complex and usually far from perfect. But I also feel this way - that making space for relationships that are not easy is part of love. I don't always know how much breadth to give either. The spirit of this piece was wonderful. Thanks again.
In terms of "breadth," I often say that sometimes it's helpful—maybe even necessary—to love from afar. Love doesn't always have to happen in close proximity. Love can be a prayer of blessing, or a short text message, or a birthday card.
This part was exactly what I was going to say. The binary of either in or out, endorsed fully or canceled, deep relationship or estranged... It isn't reality. Boundaries, degrees of closeness, earned trust and intimacy, even emotional safety vary widely by topic, context, life stage, etc. Families are not divided into healthy vs. abusive. There's a huge range of complexity.
This is so well said. It is not always all or nothing. The hard part, I find, is figuring out what kind of love expression is safe or okay for people who are not always trustworthy, safe, emotionally available, motives aren't clear, etc. And when you have family gathering together and there is a mixture of closeness, boundaries, etc. How to let my guard down or not be on edge in those circumstances. I don't have experience with the lack of acceptance or lgbtq issues as Jeff does, but just with healthy boundaries and emotionally variant group of family members (lol).
I agree—and I will also add that *I* am not always trustworthy, safe, emotionally available, or clear, even with myself, about my motives!
Yes such a good point!!! Coming from places of imperfection as well. Trying to give grace and receive grace for all of our faults.
The complexity of our families of origins is a journey that we all travel upon. May it always be accompanied by love and understanding.
What a beautiful story Jeff. Your writings always leave me with the feels and the desire to be a better human being.
Thanks once again for your beautiful thoughts and your example. Loving people is what we’re called to so I’m grateful for your leadership here, reflecting Christ.
Thank you for sharing your ordinary family! And for sharing your Uncle Lawrence. I was neighbor to Lawrence and Nora in HK. He introduced me to your writing one time by sharing a magazine article. I have been wondering how he was since I left HK.
Oh wow! Small world!
This is so kind and tender. Especially after reading Good Soil, I am struck by the way you handle life’s inevitable tensions. The same Love draws you in different directions outward (Tristan and your family of origin both being truly, wholly family) but anchors you in God and God in you at the center. You can be fully yourself in each iteration of family because you have an intrinsic sense of belonging that’s also honest about the disagreements and hard things and doesn’t employee magical thinking. Your honesty about grief, as I see it, is also a gift of acceptance that opens you up to a sustaining joy. I’m really inspired by that. Thank you!
This was a gorgeous column. The two lines that struck me the most were
*If love bears all things, someone has to be willing to do the carrying.
*Even as we bear witness to heartbreak, we also have to keep looking for the miracles.
I'm writing both of those down right now.
Thank you.
It is courageous.
It is instructive and revealing of Gods Grace and mercy in our lives.
It speaks hope.
Thank you for this sharing. I relate so much to the longing I sense here. I agree that discomfort does not equate unsafe and the difference can be difficult to figure out sometimes. For me, the lines have been drawn by those I love and I don’t see much I can do other than continue to live my life honestly and lovingly. And happily. Who knows when someone might change their mind. And if they do I will be there ready with a smile and a heart open for honest conversation.
I have always admired your grace toward your family and unwillingness to cut them off, despite their hurtful stance toward your spouse. I will never forget the beautiful story of your mother gifting chopsticks to Tristan, an incredible story of our ability to change, however slightly.
I am working toward my own ordination, likely this fall, and will probably not invite my family of origin or in-laws. My gender and my "liberal" DOC denomination are problematic for them, and I want nothing but love and joy present that day. While a piece of my heart will long for them to share in this day, I also am learning to love them for who they are and how we are able to be (and not be) in each other's lives.
I've been thinking about your words for a couple of days now, and I suppose because they keep coming to heart and mind, I've been wrestling with how to respond. First, I want to say this: Congratulations! (And commiserations.) Ordination is such a huge step—and a ridiculous commitment. You will be in my prayers as you continue your preparations.
As I said in my essay, it's not for me to tell anyone else what they ought to do. I'd like to share some of the things I was thinking about ahead of my own ordination, though, which I think are not entirely unrelated to your circumstances.
I am who I am in part because of my family. Regardless of where we have landed—and how we are still becoming—I owe much of my love for Scripture and my perspective on the world to them and to the formation I received as a child. As part of "learning to love them for who they are," as you put it, I want to honor that.
As I was preparing for my ordination and as I was imagining the service, I began to wonder whether "honor," in the context of the ordination, meant being willing to let the good of that familial relationship shine. After all, I chose a Chinese fabric for my ordination stole; that's not to say that I believe everything is good about Chinese culture—far from it!—but I did opt to honor my culture of ancestry and origin with that gesture.
So my parents came, which was their choice, despite our theological disagreements. I let them deal with whatever was problematic. I still don't know how they felt about the service, or about my preaching the following day, because they have never really said anything about any of it to me. I've heard some things through the grapevine (mostly good!), but that's secondhand and hearsay. Again, I let them deal with whatever was problematic.
I don't know how exactly things work in the Disciples of Christ, but in the RCA, ordination is a public worship service. All are welcome. Do we really mean "all" though? As I was putting the service together, I thought a lot about that and about the various people who told me they were planning to come. On that day, there were Christians, yes, of all different denominations and none; Jews; at least one Hindu; atheists and agnostics in abundance; some who would say they don't even know where they are with God or religion. Love and joy were present in all these folks! Could I allow love and joy to be present through my parents as well, whatever baggage they (and I) brought with them into the space? I wanted to try.
As I reviewed the ordination vows, I was reminded too that the promises I was making had no escape clause regarding the people I find unlikeable or the people I find objectionable or the people I disagree with or the people I struggle with. The flock is the flock; I do not get to choose who sits in the pews on any given Sunday, or to dole out the good news only to those I deem to be good.
Let me reiterate that I absolutely am not telling you that there's a right or wrong thing to do in your case; I just wanted to share how I thought about things when it came to my ordination. I, like you, wanted only love and joy to be present that day. I also realized that love and joy ended up appearing in ways that I could not foresee; grief, after all, can be an expression of love, and joy is often not the same thing as happiness.
Cheering you on as you continue your good work and prepare to make your own promises to God and to the Church.
Jeff, thank you for your thoughtful response. I also find myself appreciative of aspects of my evangelical church upbringing, including my love of scripture and the centrality of a church community to my faith.
I think my reluctance comes from a place of fear. I would rather not invite them than risk their rejection of the invite. My father passed away just a couple of weeks ago, my mom many years ago, so it's mostly my sisters (both married to Baptist ministers) who are at the heart of this dilemma. I appreciate your comment that grief is an expression of love, for that is where I am dwelling in there days following the loss of my dad. You have given me much to consider and I so appreciate your kindness.
I am so grateful for your honest reflection, Amy! The fear of rejection is real and so relatable. I will continue to pray for a sense of overwhelming peace and unshakable belovedness as well as the courage that comes with that.
Our Adult Christian Education this year has focused on the "Great Commandment", how do we love. We have recognized that the charm is often clearer than the reality of day to day life. At one of our sessions we read 1 Corinthians 13 from The Message, and where ever it said love, we substituted "God". My attention was captured by your reflection " If love bears all things, someone must be willing to do the carrying." This will find it's way into our discussions of the story of Phillip and the Ethopian Eunuch, which begs the question of who was converted: Phillip or the unnamed Ethopian man? Thanks for your reflections!
This is such a beautiful read. Thank you❤️🌻
What a great post! Thank you!!
Love is patient, love is kind--I think both you and your uncle are doing your best to reach across the things that divide you, and in that kind of effort there is genuine love and kindness. That is how, ultimately, we can build bridges that will lead to greater understanding. How can greater understanding come when we cut each other out of our lives? I am so sorry you did not feel able to bring your husband, but I am glad you were able celebrate this man who played an important part in your young life. And bless your husband for his generosity and love in saying, go! You've got a keeper there.
I'm going for the grouper soaked in ginger! YOU TOO have a great smile (that I suspect covers a lot of other stuff). It is welcoming. Then regarding families and being known--even accepted. I'm a couple of decades beyond you and have been writing about just that--having concluded that in this life being known at large is not safe, particularly in this polarized world we are living in. So it has to suffice, to satisfy--to have a select few where I am known, all the way through--the good yet also the bad, the ugly. The world at large is judgmental often because they are not known by anyone--even themselves. Maybe the next realm will be better at acceptance--beyond just tolerant.