I’ve changed my mind about same-sex marriage, but I can’t say sorry for my previous views.
I would never have described myself as a fundamentalist, that was something for Americans. I did have a list of fundamentals, but then don’t we all? But in 1987, I was a young fundamentalist convert, just as sure of myself and my God as the young fundamentalists in Iraq and Syria, so many of whom are recent converts too.
The Christian Union (CU) at my university was having a vote to change its constitution. Up until that point, only a man could be president of the student society, and the change was to guarantee that in the future there would be male and female co-presidents. If you have been a student, you will know how important student politics of all kinds seems at the time, and this was no different. The destiny of the whole church hung in the balance while a couple of hundred young people were given the weighty task of discerning God’ will.
It wasn’t all that weighty for me. In fact, it was easy. 1 Timothy 2:12 says, ‘I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet.’ Why were these people wasting time proposing something that was completely contradictory to scripture? I spoke up several times in the meeting to make it clear that the constitutional change was against the Bible, and therefore against the will of God. The CU Executive looked at me with what appeared to be a mixture of disdain and pity, and I returned the favour. They won the vote almost unanimously.
It was in the same term that I started to realise that the Bible was not a textbook of ethics, science or history. Not even theology. I won’t bore you with the details, other than to say I had a bit of a crisis of faith. Particularly I was forced to realise how much my faith depended not on God, but on the Bible as an eternally perfect textbook.
I was already familiar with some of the dualisms of Christian faith. Musically, I loved alternative music Monday to Saturday but on Sunday I went to church and sang the middle of the road songs that my church considered to be contemporary. In a similar way, I was politically very liberal, but still held conservative view about gender and sexuality. While my views on male-female gender difference/hierarchy changed quite quickly when I was still a student, my theology of sexuality remained very traditional. I believed that any sexuality other than heterosexuality was a disorder that God wanted to heal.
I actually got involved (a little) in Courage Trust, one of the main ‘ex-gay’ ministries in the UK at the time. I don’t identify as gay, but I do struggle with archetypal ideas of masculinity, which I couldn’t fulfil even if I wanted to. The people I met through Courage were beautiful and even though they were living out a theology that must have caused many of them great pain, they exhibited a faith and spirit of community that had a lasting impact on me and helped to expunge a significant proportion of the homophobia that comes with growing up in the 1970s and then being converted into a conservative church.
To be honest my views on sexuality changed very little in the next 30 years. Except perhaps to say that my wish that things were different grew. But just like my younger self voting against gender equality in the 1980s, it wasn’t that hard. Because the Bible was clear.
You’ll notice that I wrote that sentence in the past tense. I remember the moment everything shifted for me. Jeremy Marks, formerly the leader of Courage Trust, was explaining how he had changed his mind and decided to back the recent legislation on same-sex marriage. He didn’t speak once about sex, but rather about love and the God-given desire for intimacy and companionship. It was beautiful and something broke inside me. I experienced what the Bible calls repentance.
The Greek word which we normally translate as repentance is metanoia, which actually means ‘to change one’s mind.’ In modern Greek, if I go to the shops for a loaf of bread and return instead with croissants then I have experienced metanoia. In ancient Greek the word has more force, but it doesn’t mean saying sorry or feeling sorry. It means that something has changed inside you and your life will be different now. When Jesus calls people to repent in Mark 1:15, he’s not looking for them to say sorry, but to change their lives.
I’ve repented of my former view that same-sex marriage is wrong. That also means that I’ve repented of my attempts to treat the Bible as a history, science, ethics and theology textbook, because that was the one thing that was forcing me to take a traditional line. Let’s be honest: if that’s what it is, it’s pretty bad. Not just because we are imposing our definitions of history, science, ethics and theology onto a group of texts that are at least 2000 years old, but because they are something else altogether.
That’s for another day and another book, but let me give you one example. President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, after signing one of the most draconian anti-gay laws in history, claimed that the Bible justified his act. Romans 1:18-37 clearly states that those who have same sex relationships are doing so against their nature and (therefore) against God’s will. This is enough for President Museveni. He said that Romans 1 PROVES that homosexuality is a sinful choice and not ‘congenital’ (his word), and that science backs him up.
We know from other sources that the most public (certainly the most written about) gay relationships in the 1st century Roman Empire were otherwise straight men dominating slaves, prostitutes and entertainers. These ‘relationships’ had more in common with prison rape than mutual loving sex. So maybe Paul had a really bad view on gay sex and was right to condemn it is as ‘unnatural’ in that instance. But Paul says nothing of faithful monogamous homosexuality, probably because he knows nothing about it. So if we take Romans 1 to be a universal statement about all homosexuality, we are wrong. And if Paul thought he was making a universal statement about homosexuality, he was wrong too. If you’ve never been part of a conservative religious church or group, you may not know how naughty it is for me to write that.
So if I have repented of my view that all same-sex sex is sinful, why am I not sorry? Another story: I remember going for a walk with a friend I had known for a long time. Originally I had been her youth pastor but now she was all grown up and our relationship was more equal. Nonetheless, she had come to me for some advice and we had decided to take my dog to Bolton Abbey for a stroll. My friend was now in her twenties but unsure of what she should do career-wise. I remember exactly where we were when I answered her, because what I said was shocking to me even as I said it: ‘Perhaps you just need to get married, and your husband will define who you are.’ It was like The Spirit of Patriarchy took over my mouth for 30 seconds. I knew immediately that what I had said was wrong, stupid, cruel, oppressive, but I carried on as if it was a completely normal thing to say. Looking back, I think it just popped out because I didn’t know what to say. Years later, when this friend was married, I finally plucked up the courage to say sorry, and she remembered too and forgave me. I knew I was in the wrong. That wasn’t the case when I held a traditional view of sex and marriage – I genuinely believed that I was following God’s way.
When we progressives call all Christians who uphold the traditional teaching of the church homophobic, we do them a great disservice. We are actually doing ourselves a great disservice too, because we end up looking hateful. If you campaign against illegal settlements in Palestine, you will very soon get called anti-Semitic. It’s just silly. I don’t think I’ve been particularly homophobic. When a teacher at my school came out to me, he followed it up with, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t fancy you.’ I was offended that he didn’t fancy me, not that he was gay. Of course there are many, many homophobes hiding behind church teaching, and many, many who have been groomed into homophobia by church teaching. But not all. Most people I know who hold a traditional position on sex and marriage do so because of their desire to follow God as faithfully and as seriously as they can. The Bible is their primary tool for doing that, and a surface reading of scripture seems to indicate that God doesn’t like gay sex.
That was me. I’ve always taken my faith very seriously, and I’ve always taken the scriptures very seriously. I don’t answer to you, or to my family, or to my church, but to God. How can I say sorry for that? Yes, I think I was wrong. But I could also be wrong now, overcome by my desire to make everything OK. I’m not writing to please or upset you, dear reader, whoever you are, but to lead you to God as well as I can. Have I repented of my old view? Yes. Do I wish I had done so earlier? Yes. Do I regret trying so hard to discern God’s will and getting it wrong? Sorta. I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused and contributed to, but even though I now believe I was wrong, I can’t apologise for following Jesus to the best of my ability.
I still have a very traditional view of sex and marriage, and here it is: if you are having sex with someone, I encourage you to consider whether or not you are willing to give your life to and for them, until death separates you. If you are willing, I urge you to get married. If not, I urge you not to have sex with them but to love and honour them in a different way. I believe that a lifelong, faithful, monogamous covenant relationship reflects both God’s nature and the best of human nature. I know that you may not agree, and you might object to me imposing my ideas on you in this way, but I’m sorry, I’m not sorry.
Simon Hall.
I would never have described myself as a fundamentalist, that was something for Americans. I did have a list of fundamentals, but then don’t we all? But in 1987, I was a young fundamentalist convert, just as sure of myself and my God as the young fundamentalists in Iraq and Syria, so many of whom are recent converts too.
The Christian Union (CU) at my university was having a vote to change its constitution. Up until that point, only a man could be president of the student society, and the change was to guarantee that in the future there would be male and female co-presidents. If you have been a student, you will know how important student politics of all kinds seems at the time, and this was no different. The destiny of the whole church hung in the balance while a couple of hundred young people were given the weighty task of discerning God’ will.
It wasn’t all that weighty for me. In fact, it was easy. 1 Timothy 2:12 says, ‘I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet.’ Why were these people wasting time proposing something that was completely contradictory to scripture? I spoke up several times in the meeting to make it clear that the constitutional change was against the Bible, and therefore against the will of God. The CU Executive looked at me with what appeared to be a mixture of disdain and pity, and I returned the favour. They won the vote almost unanimously.
It was in the same term that I started to realise that the Bible was not a textbook of ethics, science or history. Not even theology. I won’t bore you with the details, other than to say I had a bit of a crisis of faith. Particularly I was forced to realise how much my faith depended not on God, but on the Bible as an eternally perfect textbook.
I was already familiar with some of the dualisms of Christian faith. Musically, I loved alternative music Monday to Saturday but on Sunday I went to church and sang the middle of the road songs that my church considered to be contemporary. In a similar way, I was politically very liberal, but still held conservative view about gender and sexuality. While my views on male-female gender difference/hierarchy changed quite quickly when I was still a student, my theology of sexuality remained very traditional. I believed that any sexuality other than heterosexuality was a disorder that God wanted to heal.
I actually got involved (a little) in Courage Trust, one of the main ‘ex-gay’ ministries in the UK at the time. I don’t identify as gay, but I do struggle with archetypal ideas of masculinity, which I couldn’t fulfil even if I wanted to. The people I met through Courage were beautiful and even though they were living out a theology that must have caused many of them great pain, they exhibited a faith and spirit of community that had a lasting impact on me and helped to expunge a significant proportion of the homophobia that comes with growing up in the 1970s and then being converted into a conservative church.
To be honest my views on sexuality changed very little in the next 30 years. Except perhaps to say that my wish that things were different grew. But just like my younger self voting against gender equality in the 1980s, it wasn’t that hard. Because the Bible was clear.
You’ll notice that I wrote that sentence in the past tense. I remember the moment everything shifted for me. Jeremy Marks, formerly the leader of Courage Trust, was explaining how he had changed his mind and decided to back the recent legislation on same-sex marriage. He didn’t speak once about sex, but rather about love and the God-given desire for intimacy and companionship. It was beautiful and something broke inside me. I experienced what the Bible calls repentance.
The Greek word which we normally translate as repentance is metanoia, which actually means ‘to change one’s mind.’ In modern Greek, if I go to the shops for a loaf of bread and return instead with croissants then I have experienced metanoia. In ancient Greek the word has more force, but it doesn’t mean saying sorry or feeling sorry. It means that something has changed inside you and your life will be different now. When Jesus calls people to repent in Mark 1:15, he’s not looking for them to say sorry, but to change their lives.
I’ve repented of my former view that same-sex marriage is wrong. That also means that I’ve repented of my attempts to treat the Bible as a history, science, ethics and theology textbook, because that was the one thing that was forcing me to take a traditional line. Let’s be honest: if that’s what it is, it’s pretty bad. Not just because we are imposing our definitions of history, science, ethics and theology onto a group of texts that are at least 2000 years old, but because they are something else altogether.
That’s for another day and another book, but let me give you one example. President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, after signing one of the most draconian anti-gay laws in history, claimed that the Bible justified his act. Romans 1:18-37 clearly states that those who have same sex relationships are doing so against their nature and (therefore) against God’s will. This is enough for President Museveni. He said that Romans 1 PROVES that homosexuality is a sinful choice and not ‘congenital’ (his word), and that science backs him up.
We know from other sources that the most public (certainly the most written about) gay relationships in the 1st century Roman Empire were otherwise straight men dominating slaves, prostitutes and entertainers. These ‘relationships’ had more in common with prison rape than mutual loving sex. So maybe Paul had a really bad view on gay sex and was right to condemn it is as ‘unnatural’ in that instance. But Paul says nothing of faithful monogamous homosexuality, probably because he knows nothing about it. So if we take Romans 1 to be a universal statement about all homosexuality, we are wrong. And if Paul thought he was making a universal statement about homosexuality, he was wrong too. If you’ve never been part of a conservative religious church or group, you may not know how naughty it is for me to write that.
So if I have repented of my view that all same-sex sex is sinful, why am I not sorry? Another story: I remember going for a walk with a friend I had known for a long time. Originally I had been her youth pastor but now she was all grown up and our relationship was more equal. Nonetheless, she had come to me for some advice and we had decided to take my dog to Bolton Abbey for a stroll. My friend was now in her twenties but unsure of what she should do career-wise. I remember exactly where we were when I answered her, because what I said was shocking to me even as I said it: ‘Perhaps you just need to get married, and your husband will define who you are.’ It was like The Spirit of Patriarchy took over my mouth for 30 seconds. I knew immediately that what I had said was wrong, stupid, cruel, oppressive, but I carried on as if it was a completely normal thing to say. Looking back, I think it just popped out because I didn’t know what to say. Years later, when this friend was married, I finally plucked up the courage to say sorry, and she remembered too and forgave me. I knew I was in the wrong. That wasn’t the case when I held a traditional view of sex and marriage – I genuinely believed that I was following God’s way.
When we progressives call all Christians who uphold the traditional teaching of the church homophobic, we do them a great disservice. We are actually doing ourselves a great disservice too, because we end up looking hateful. If you campaign against illegal settlements in Palestine, you will very soon get called anti-Semitic. It’s just silly. I don’t think I’ve been particularly homophobic. When a teacher at my school came out to me, he followed it up with, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t fancy you.’ I was offended that he didn’t fancy me, not that he was gay. Of course there are many, many homophobes hiding behind church teaching, and many, many who have been groomed into homophobia by church teaching. But not all. Most people I know who hold a traditional position on sex and marriage do so because of their desire to follow God as faithfully and as seriously as they can. The Bible is their primary tool for doing that, and a surface reading of scripture seems to indicate that God doesn’t like gay sex.
That was me. I’ve always taken my faith very seriously, and I’ve always taken the scriptures very seriously. I don’t answer to you, or to my family, or to my church, but to God. How can I say sorry for that? Yes, I think I was wrong. But I could also be wrong now, overcome by my desire to make everything OK. I’m not writing to please or upset you, dear reader, whoever you are, but to lead you to God as well as I can. Have I repented of my old view? Yes. Do I wish I had done so earlier? Yes. Do I regret trying so hard to discern God’s will and getting it wrong? Sorta. I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused and contributed to, but even though I now believe I was wrong, I can’t apologise for following Jesus to the best of my ability.
I still have a very traditional view of sex and marriage, and here it is: if you are having sex with someone, I encourage you to consider whether or not you are willing to give your life to and for them, until death separates you. If you are willing, I urge you to get married. If not, I urge you not to have sex with them but to love and honour them in a different way. I believe that a lifelong, faithful, monogamous covenant relationship reflects both God’s nature and the best of human nature. I know that you may not agree, and you might object to me imposing my ideas on you in this way, but I’m sorry, I’m not sorry.
Simon Hall.