Getting my thoughts down today is going to be a tough one. I haven’t been writing a lot lately because I’ve been having fun with photography so it’s good to sit down and actually write again. I write about what my thoughts are and sometimes that means doing some deep soul searching to be able to express how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. Expressing my own thoughts sometimes means that I might offend someone else. I suppose that is true in some cases because I do have a sharp tongue at times. However, I try to keep an open mind and let new ideas have a chance to work their way through my norms and standards, then take a look at how it all fits into my life.
See, last weekend, I attended my first wedding of two women. Two brides.
Being a people watcher and enjoying good company, I always like meeting new people and picking their brains to see what makes them tick. I have a biblical perspective on life and that’s where my values are founded. On the other hand, I have lots of stretch in those values and can be open to ideas and people that others may oppose. Without investigating, they close the door on objectivity just because they are happily set in their ways and see no reason to consider new ideas. Needless to say, this was certainly a challenge.
When presented with alternate lifestyles, or alternate cultures, I like to get to know the individual rather than the group. And therein lies the clash. I liked both gals who were being married while at the same time, generally oppose gay and lesbian marriages, or those kinds of lifestyles. In spite of that, what I observed at the wedding was people with the same needs and desires as me. I saw love and affection. I saw devotion and loyalty. I saw a safe place for scrambled lives to find a home in their family. I saw flamboyance and I saw reservation. I saw zest and I saw depression. I saw more tattoos that I expected. I was most surprised by the cross gender dressing, that is, girls dressed like men in slick suits with their hair gassed back like James Dean. I saw ladies in feminine sun dresses and pretty legs and heels. I saw Dockers trousers and Izod shirts on gals who could easily pass for mechanics or forklift operators. I saw a tall thin man with the neatly cut hair of a hospital surgeon who turned out to be named Deborah ( I changed the name for privacy).
When the hours had passed, I sat in the open courtyard. I watched the waning enthusiasm and the dancing get sloppy inside the reception hall. I looked up at the star filled sky and thought to myself, “Who am I to judge?”
While these folks don’t fit into my understanding of God’s outline for a blessed life, a close look at my own life would leave me equally guilty. It’s just that my brand of sin and my style of lust make sense to me, but would certainly leave me red-faced if they were exposed. My righteous outer shell would be shattered if others knew all of my deepest, darkest thoughts. So, who am I to judge.
I have to consider this too – that Christ loves all of us. Not just the pretty and the pure. He loves all of us. He says that when we do for others, even the least of them, we are actually doing it for him. In other words, love one another.
Is my degeneracy more sanctified than another’s? Probably not.
I’ll keep my values. I choose the safety of God’s boundaries for me. I’ll confess my sins and admit that I will certainly fall short again. I will love the individual just as Christ can love someone as screwed up as me too. I choose to reject homosexuality, yet I stay humble enough to know that my lifestyle can be judged equally lacking.
God is love. I choose not to judge in this case. I liked both brides.