Uncertain that... sexuality is simple.

Over the summer, I spent a lot of time thinking about gender issues. I wrote the post below “Gender in crisis?” on my Facebook and invited a whole range of people to comment. Some did, others sent me their thoughts privately, and it was a privilege to hear so many takes on the whole set of issues. It gave me a whole load more to think about, and I’m not sure I’m much closer to many answers.

At the same time, something which I’ve been thinking a lot about and is in various ways related to gender issues is sexuality. There are SO many questions to ask, I could try to list them but I'd be here all day. Here’s a few fairly universal questions: what do we mean by sexuality, and attraction? What are the differences between romantic attraction, sexual attraction, desire for friendship, admiration? How do we know that when I use one of those terms, I mean the same thing that you understand by it? Have those categories always been separated in the same way as they are now, or have people used different terms for different things at different times? Can we predict who we will feel those different things towards, does it depend on the people we meet, or is it set for each person? Do these aspects of our sexuality change or are they generally consistent? How much do societal expectations of sexuality and the boundaries of our definitions of relationships affect what we experience towards different people? What would the spectrum for sexuality look like if those expectations were different?

I’ve got so much to ask.

There’s a whole other set of questions as a Christian too. I’ve been fortunate really in that having a gay mum and a gay friend who are both Christians has meant I’ve had a great excuse to bring up some of these questions in Christian contexts, to challenge the status quo and the sometimes very ignorant assumptions of some of the Christians I’ve spent time with. I’ve think perhaps I’ve gained myself a bit reputation for being “difficult” on this subject, especially among some of the more conservative evangelicals I’ve met, because I’m never really comfortable with the certainty I’ve found. What I mean is this: in evangelical churches, this thing exists which is “The Homosexuality Issue”. It’s a little bit troubling for many because it’s this Big Issue which people outside the church sometimes use to force Christians to say something very unpopular. Conversations can go something like: “Why does God hate gay people? Is my mate going to hell because he’s gay? Christians are so homophobic.”

So inside the churches, they’ve come up with this defence strategy. The response is meant to be “God doesn’t hate gay people, he loves everyone. Homosexual acts are sinful because God designed sex to be for a man and a woman inside marriage. But we’re not homophobic because we still think God loves you, so please come to church anyway and we’ll do our best not to stare at you.” Maybe that’s not quite the response we’re meant to actually give, but it’s the spirit of what I’ve heard sometimes. I understand why conservative evangelical Christians want to be able to give this certain, clear cut answer, I really do. It’s so much safer to know what we think, to have the set piece, and to avoid the pitfalls of sounding blatantly homophobic or the condemning stares of other Christians if we don’t say something clear enough about it being Wrong when questioned. It’s safe to have an answer to stick to, even if other people disagree.

But... there’s so much more to say, so much more to ask. The idea that there’s just one “Homosexuality Issue” for the church to respond to is ridiculous. For a start, it’s not like there’s just this one group of “gay people” over there that we need to respond to, and the questions can’t be as narrow as who sleeps with whom. If we take the widely held view that human sexuality constitutes a spectrum along which most people lie (others being asexual and not considering themselves on that spectrum at all) and many people move, then there are surely far more questions going on for far more people than just that group of “gay people” who we’ve handily put in a box over in the corner while we discuss them. Surely those universal questions I asked above are questions for everyone?

For those of us asking them from a Christian perspective, they take on another dimension which in my mind only increases the questions we can ask: what does the God who created us have to say about all those universal questions? Are these categories of friendship, romantic attraction, intimacy, sexual attraction and so on, categories defined by society or by God? What parameters, if any, has he set around them, and what if our experiences don’t seem to fit in to those parameters, if they exist? Are those boundaries about who we are, what we do, or what our relationships look like? Can we even separate those categories?

For some people, I think these questions are completely alien. I know that because of the completely confused/blank/bewildered looks I’ve got when I start asking them at church or with certain Christians. To some Christians, these questions seem to be totally irrelevant. They are totally clear on their own gender identity and are attracted exclusively to people of the opposite gender. They experience a very clear division between feelings of friendship towards people of their own gender and attraction to people of the opposite, although they may occasionally get these muddled when it comes to friends of the opposite gender, but this is not too much of a problem.  They get happily married, and have a good group of same gender friends around them for accountability and support. Gay people, to them, are just doing it all the other way around. They must experience that same clear cut distinction between sexual attraction and friendship (the only two categories) but their sexual attraction goes the wrong way. That makes them either sinful (if they act on it by having gay sex) or to be pitied (if they don’t act on it, by not having gay sex.) For some people, there’s not a lot else to say.

That might be most people, I don't know. I might be alone in thinking that there are a zillion other questions like those I’ve raised. I might be the only one who things human relationships are more complex than sex or not-sex. I might be the one person who missed the memo about a universally accepted and understood set of definitions about relationships and intimacy and sexuality. But I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. There’s this whole huge interesting conversation about gender and sexuality and relationships and all sorts going on outside the church. And as the church, we’re shutting our eyes, putting our fingers in our ears, and repeating our set piece on "The Homosexuality Issue" until people go away and stop asking us difficult questions. We’re missing out! Surely we’ve got loads to learn? Surely we have questions to ask too? Perhaps we might even have something to contribute too? I’d suggest we start by listening though, because we’ve got a bit of catching up to do.

On a personal note, you might be wondering where all these questions have left me. Somewhat predictably, I don’t know. I mentioned earlier that having a gay mum and a gay friend has been helpful in being able to explore these questions for reasons that are not too personal. But naturally, they’re questions I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about myself. How do I personally want to understand and label and classify my whole range of experiences with friendship, intimacy, and attraction? The best conclusion I’ve come to at the moment is that I don’t. Not for now. See, I’m not sure I like the idea that everyone is straight until they come out otherwise. If we are complicated creatures, and these questions are real and valid, isn’t it silly to start with any assumption at all? Doesn’t it discourage questioning, and exploration, and ultimately understanding of ourselves? The way I see it, labels are for people who know. Or are at least people who know they want to use that label. So if the majority of people in the world want to define themselves as straight, that’s totally fine. I just hope they are using that word themselves, having thought through their own experiences of their sexuality as a whole. I hope it’s something deliberate. Same for people who define themselves in other ways – that’s totally cool for them. I’m glad they are sure enough to be able to pick a label that expresses them. As for me, I’m not sure of much yet. I don’t think I’m clear enough on what we mean by these various words and categories, what everyone else means by them and what I mean by them. I’m not sure enough yet how they define different types of relationships, and who I want those types of relationships with. I’m not sure of my answers now, so I’m certainly not sure what my answers will look like in 5, 10, 50 years time. Maybe I will have clear cut answers then, maybe I’ll have a label. Maybe not. So I don’t think any of the labels are right for me yet, because labels are for people who know.

So to clarify, I’m not saying I’m bisexual, I’m not saying I’m gay, I’m not saying I’m straight. Or anything in between. I’m not even defining myself as “questioning”. I’m just rejecting the idea that we should be labelled as something until proven otherwise, I’m starting from a clean sheet if you like.

In the mean time, I just want to join in the conversation. I wish the rest of the church would too. I’m sure there are plenty of Christians in fact who already are, so I’m off to find them and I hope at some point I can take a few others with me. 

Gender in Crisis?

[[This was originally posted on my Facebook page on August 31st 2012, and there were some interesting replies which sparked many more questions for me.]]

I've been thinking a lot about gender over the last few months. The issues seem to pop up everywhere. Supermarkets are finally getting rid of the gender divisions on their magazine racks (so it'll now be acceptable for women to take an interest in politics, science, technology...) and Oxford's academic dress rules  no longer include gender distinctions. When Bic brought out biro pens "for her" in pink and purple, the product was mocked and targetted for sarcastic reviews on Amazon. It all seems really positive.

At the same time, I've been questioning with other Christians what gender is meant to mean to us. A few seem to hold the view that housework really is a woman's job, and should a woman find herself too busy to do it, it is her responsibility to organise a cleaner, rather than expect that her husband might do it even if he has more time. It's been suggested that I should aspire to be a vicar's wife rather than a vicar, and that even before I'm married I can practice submitting to my husband by stepping back to allow men to take more leadership roles. I've also seen Christian men and women stand on a stage and explain very clearly that God has given women and men equal authority to lead, equal gifts and equal roles, that Christian leadership should in no way be limited by gender. 

I've spoken to people fed up with being told to get a sense of humour when they challenge a sexist remark, read endless stories of sexism so normalised it almost goes unnoticed, and I can understand when  some people begin to say that distinguishing between people by gender at all only seems to do harm.

So I've got some questions that I'd love to hear your thoughts on: (if I've tagged you, it's only because I thought you might have a thought to share,if I haven't tagged you, please do contribute anyway!) 

- What kind of an understanding of gender do you think our society is or should be moving towards, as we try to eliminate more and more discrimination on the basis of gender? Are we trying to eliminate any concept of gender altogether, to reduce it to something as arbitrary as hair colour or taste in music? Do we still want to understand it as a key part of identity or is it less important than that?

- Is there a difference between what we can say descriptively about gender ("Generally speaking, women are likely to own more shoes than men") and prescriptively ("You're a woman, you have to enjoy buying shoes") - or does one flow from the other so much that we should not make any descriptive comment? Is it possible to talk about gender descriptively without offending, discriminating or excluding some? 

- Is it more acceptable to hold on to an idea of gender identity, gender differences, and some kinds of generalisations based on gender, as long as we are happy for everyone to choose which gender if any they want to identify with? How do we stop that from being artifically created categories for everyone to slot themselves into? Is there anything we can say about gender that isn't purely a social construct, or is it okay that it is? 

- Given that gender is used so negatively, to shame and manipulate ("man up!", "you throw like a girl", "she trains like a man"), is it possible for gender to become a postive way to identify ourselves, or is it beyond redemption as a concept?

Bonus question - for those who are interested from a Christian point of view:

- Some Christians seem very clear on gender roles, that men and women are 'equal but different', equally in the image of God, equal in dignity and value, but given different roles. Not only do Christians coming from this view find it easier to define what men and women should do, in terms of leadership, marriage and so on, but also seem to be far clearer on what men and women are (as well as should be) like - try "Wild at heart" and "Captivating" for books that are confident they can describe and explain the differences between men's and women's hearts.

For those Christians who don't agree on the different roles of men and women in terms of leadership and marriage, for those who think leadership and authority are given to men and women equally, do we have much left to say about a biblical view of gender? What does it mean to be a Christian man if not that you can preach a sermon, what am I as a Christian woman if not designed to be a mother, wife, Sunday school teacher, and cake-baker? What do we mean when we say "male and female God created them?" 

So, thoughts if you have any? If anyone does want to post a few, could you keep them to your own thoughts rather than replying to anyone elses? And feel free not to post an essay (unless you're super keen). Thanks, I'd really like to hear what you think.

Claire 

A personal reflection on Psalm 1

[[This is a first draft of an attempt at a reflection on Psalm 1. I use daily Bible notes which are meant to help the reader apply a passage of the Bible to their lives, but I think it's a hard task to write something meaningful and helpful in only a couple of brief paragraphs, and to make the application points so general that they'll suit everybody. I wanted to experiment with something a bit more personal, a sort of  guide through my own reflections on a few Psalms, without trying to create a one-size-fits-all style devotional guide. I wanted to see if reading one persons reflection was helpful for other people in thinking through the specific relevance to their own lives. I want to make a little booklet of a few of them, and get friends to try them out and report back. So this is attempt number one.]]

At 22, in my final year of university, and faced with a seemingly infinite number of choices about the life panning out before me, a good bit of wisdom never goes amiss. Psalm 1 is known as a wisdom psalm, sharing its literary style and themes with other wisdom literature like Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. This kind of writing in the Bible often has a sense of passing down advice through the generations, sharing the accumulated wisdom of many years experience. I imagine this Psalm as a poem sent from a grandparent on an important birthday, making sure I know how to make the most of my years to come.

It asks us a big question, the answer to which will shape our lives – whose advice are you going to take? We’re given two options, a group described as “wicked”, “sinners” and “mockers” (v1) or the law of the Lord. When I consider my usual sources of advice, I’m not at all sure they fit into either category. I haven’t been to the local prison to ask if or when I should get married, nor turned to Leviticus to see if I should apply for a graduate scheme next year. It’s common in wisdom literature, and in Hebrew thought in general, to use polar opposites to make a clear point, and sometimes that feels uncomfortable to our post-modern, tolerant, accommodating way of thinking. But sometimes we need to be jolted out of our ambiguous, shades-of-grey thinking. Jesus uses such contrasts – “whoever is not with me is against me.”[1] It’s difficult to swallow, but however lovely and genuinely helpful our friends and family are, ultimately they fall on one of two sides. Either they’re following God, and living for him, or they’ve rejected God and are living for themselves.

It’s worth noting the second alternative, the law of the Lord. If we think of law in its narrowest sense, the rules which told the Israelites not to each shellfish and to make sure they had a fence around their roofs, it feels pretty hard to “delight” in (v2). It feels more like a burden to bear. But when God gave his law to the people of Israel, it was never intended as a burden. When God gave the law at Sinai, it was all about relationship; it was about God choosing Israel as his treasured possession.[2] He gave them a blueprint, a gift which would show them how to live as his special people. They were to be “a kingdom of priests”[3], in other words a nation who would stand in the gap between the rest of the world and God, pointing other nations towards Him. It was a real privilege, and the law was a gift from God which would tell them how to do it. We still need God’s blueprint for life now, as His special people. We need to know how to live in relationship with Him, and how to live in a way which shows Him off to other people who don’t yet know Him. While some of the laws which helped Israel to do that wouldn’t help us in the same way now (for instance, a fence around the roof of my house wouldn’t do much good, as I don’t tend to have parties on it like the Israelites could have), the concept of God’s law is still the same – his gift of a guidebook for us, to show us how to live “life to the full”.[4]

The Psalmist wants to help us to decide then whose advice we will take, by giving us a plant-based analogy of the consequences of each option. On the one hand is the person who is like a tree (v3). This person refuses to get too comfortable with the advice of those who are against God. If I want to be this person, it doesn’t mean that I never ask my non-Christian friends for their opinions and help on my specific situations in life, of course I’m still to share my life with my friends. But I need to be aware that the priorities and assumptions, for instance of the glossy magazine I might pick up, will be very different from God’s. So I shouldn’t get too comfortable with taking my advice on sex and relationships advice from there. The problem is that its worldly advice we’re consuming all the time, without wanting to or even realising. Through various forms of media and people, we’re constantly being told what to spend our time and money on, what our priorities and career plans should be, how to dress and how to attract people. If we choose to not get comfortable with that advice and instead to listen to God’s blueprint, the law of the Lord, we’re going to need to do some serious countering. An hour a week in church, especially if I spend it doodling or turning the service sheet into an origami rabbit, will never drown out the saturation of worldly advice. I need to meditate on God’s blueprint for my life day and night (v2). This isn’t a meditation in the ‘clear your mind and think of nothing’ way, but a call to a serious focus, filling our minds with the words which God speaks about our lives instead. For me, this means trying to read a bit of the Bible when I wake up, and walking through the coming day in my head, imagining what different the message I’ve read will make to the things I say and do. Sometimes it’s meant writing a particular verse on a card in my purse, or setting it as a reminder on my phone, it’s meant putting posters on my wall and texting verses to friends. It’s trying to get my heart and mind as saturated with God’s word as it is by other messages and advice, and choosing to listen to Him instead.

The results are where the plant analogy comes into force. The person who chooses to listen to God’s law is like the tree – satisfied and strong, productive and prosperous (v3). It makes sense that following the Designer’s plans would produced a life like this. This tree has roots, it is connected to food and drink, it never goes thirsty. It reminds me of what Jesus said about himself as the one who could fully satisfy. In relationship with God, our deepest desires are met, and living His way ensures that. The tree produces fruit too, it has a purpose and it’s useful. It brings about good things. People who are productive, creative, bringing about a better world in the places they are and the things they do, those people are satisfied people. God’s blueprint tells us how to really live out our purpose.

The alternative is not such a nice image, listening to the world instead makes a person like “chaff” – dry and parched, easily swayed, not anchored or rooted in anything much. In fact, by listening to the advice of the wicked, those who are against God not for him, this person becomes “wicked” themselves (v4). The chaff is ultimately pretty useless, being discarded in favour of the wheat it came from, the useful part of the plant. But a sense of dissatisfaction and purposelessness are not the worst consequences of this way of life: v5 puts this whole decision about advice and lifestyle into a much bigger context. At the judgement, the day when we stand before God to give an account of our lives, those who have rejected God as the Designer of their lives will not stand. They’ll be judged guilty.

It’s a sobering note to end on. The difference between these two groups is crucial though – it’s not simply that one is obedient and one disobedient, that one tried harder than the other to be good. No, God’s law was never what made people right with Him. No-one will stand innocent at the judgement because they were good enough, because they obeyed the law enough, or even because they tried hard enough.[5] The law was given for people who were in relationship with God. He’d brought them out of Egypt where they had been slaves and made them into His own special nation. It wasn’t because they were good enough or tried hard enough. It certainly wasn’t because they obeyed God’s law: He hadn’t even given it to them yet! It was because God showed grace, kindness and love to them. The blessed person in the Psalm wants to live according to God’s blueprint because they have experienced the love and kindness of God, bringing them into relationship with Him. The wicked person rejects God’s law and listens to the world’s advice instead, because they reject God and His offer of relationship.

So as I finish university and stand at this crossroads of my life, the decision I make here is crucial. Will I accept God’s offer of relationship, accept Him as the true Designer of my life, and fill my heart and my mind with His blueprint? Or will I reject Him and turn to the media, pressure from others, and my own inner desires to guide my life? If I want to be like the strong and satisfied tree, I’ll plan to live as one who longs to listen to my Creator, free to live life to the full, and free from fear of judgement.

                                                                      

---

[1] Matthew 12:30

[2] Exodus 19:5

[3] Exodus 19:6

[4] John 10:10

[5] See Romans 3:20

Feminism is not a dirty word.

I wrote this to submit to our college newsletter; it will probably need to be edited and shortened  but I wanted to keep my first stab at it here. 

I have a friend from home who went to another university, and managed in her three years to fall into a particularly defined role. She was an activist for many causes like Amnesty International, took action against cuts for student funding and the NHS, occupied her university, has been on more marches than I can count, but perhaps most vocally of all, she’s a feminist. A very loud feminist. She hosts events, writes for her feminist society’s blog, and has made herself such an enemy in a man who has particularly different views to her on feminist issues that she was sponsored  hundreds of pounds to go on a date with him. That’s quite a reputation to get.

So when she asked me about the feminist scene in Oxford, I didn’t really know what to say. I shared a vague view that women and men should be treated equally in society, have equal opportunities, equal pay for equal work, and so on. I also agreed that it probably isn’t the case yet. But, I thought, there’s not a lot I can do about that, I don’t see any immediate problems I can fix, and I’ll probably be more useful to the world if I just concentrate on getting my degree. That meant, in my mind, I definitely wasn’t a feminist, thank goodness – because really, who would want to be associated with an outdated stereotype of bra-burning, armpit hair and body odour?

Over the last couple of terms, a couple of things have woken me up to the need for our generation of students and young adults to stake our claim on feminism – not the stereotyped version, but the heart of it, to say that the society we are part of and will increasingly shape should be one in which everyone is valued equally. The first thing that woke me up to this was a Facebook group, started last year, called “Misogyny Overheard at Oxford”. On it, I found numerous examples of stories of women being patronised, mocked, groped, and harassed, sometimes in the name of banter from their peers, and often as a result of institutionalised sexism which is rife in an institution as old as ours. From this, and similar communities on Facebook I came across the website “Everyday Sexism”, which recounts thousands of examples of women’s experiences in families, in workplaces and on the streets. The problems of sexism are literally everywhere when you start looking for them. I began reading more, from Caitlin Moran’s “How to be a Woman” to articles, news stories and blogs.  I’ve learned about the huge problems of victim blaming, where as a society we excuse rapists because women were “asking for it” by the way they dress or act. Depressing as some of the statistics and stories are, what I’ve read is encouraging – there ARE people, normal people, working to do something about this kind of inequality. No, they can’t fix everything single handedly, but they’re taking the time to do something, and to gather people onside.

Let me add a couple of qualifiers here – firstly, this is nothing to do with “women against men.” Like with any umbrella term, the name of feminism has been used by those with an anti-men agenda to push. That’s not okay. But it doesn’t mean that everyone who wants equality is anti-men, and it certainly doesn’t mean that men don’t have a very important part to play in bringing it about.  Secondly, this is not meant to downplay the hurtful experiences of other groups who are subject to discrimination and prejudice. It’s not to say that men are not subject to gender discrimination either. It’s not to say that homophobia, transphobia and racism are not serious and important issues. Trying to solve one problem doesn't mean we should ignore the rest, and most people would recognise that any attempts to bring about a more equal society are going to beneficial for all marginalised groups.

So qualifiers aside, what about us at Worcester? I've tried floating the word “feminism” about with friends and the odd drunk person at parties, to see the reactions I get. A couple of people have just walked off, in jest or otherwise. While my friends might have been making a joke about feminism being boring, the attitude is a real one: we don’t need that. It’s irrelevant, boring, and most importantly might challenge some parts of “lad-culture”. We couldn't have that. Some have seemed a little fearful of the word, as if not confident enough to claim it themselves: “ I'm definitely not a feminist but...” followed by some brilliant statement about the need to bridge the pay gap, for instance. Others have looked tentatively excited and surprised to find someone else using this word, sharing these concerns, trying to get people to listen. Could it be that there are in fact a whole load of us, hidden feminists at Worcester, both men and women who agree that actually, we’d like to be part of a society in which people are treated equally, and that that includes women?  If that’s the case, let’s come out of the woodwork and start talking. Start sharing those instances of every day sexism wherever we find them, so they can’t be ignored as a one off. Start calling people out on rape-jokes and find something funnier to say instead. Let’s share ideas, stories and ambitions, let’s start doing those little things that add up to bigger change. If you’re interested at all, if you might want to get involved, or just to listen in on a few ideas, drop me an email.

“Feminism is the radical notion that women are people.” There’s nothing to be scared of in that.

Nameless night time poem.

There's a stirring that I don't understand,
When compassion is the last thing I feel.
A deep longing to take part in your plan.
A heavy weight that pushes me to kneel... 

Move me to pray for a world that is hurting,
Torn and divided but still we're flirting
With power and fame,
Seduced without shame,
By empty promises that house
But a dying flame. 
For our cult of the self,
Our addiction to wealth,
We're sorry and we turn to cry
We need your help. 
Move us to repent,
For even as the ones you've sent,
We're tempted by a gospel 
That was never what you meant. 
Take the shackles off our feet,
Release our tongues to pray,
To intercede for a broken world
And with our lives now to obey.
Fill us, send us, guide us, use us.
Bring your kingdom near us.
Build your kingdom now on earth,
Your will be done, God, hear us. 

Uncertain that... I'm a Proper Feminist.

My mother once told me that she couldn't understand how she'd raised a daughter who didn't call herself a feminist. At the time, I was convinced that feminism was this bunch of angry women who just couldn't accept that men and women are different. They'd be much more content, I thought, if they could accept that God had given us different roles to men, mainly submission in marriage and shutting up in church. Once they accepted that, they'd realise that it wasn't an oppressive, demeaning view of women, but in fact affirming and liberating. My main evidence for all this was a book I read about a woman's heart, the message of which was essentially "As women we want to be told we're beautiful. Men don't always tell us this properly, so we should look to God for it instead." Quite how that message affirmed that we should submit in marriage and shut up in church I'm not sure, but I was so taken by the fact that this book seemed to understand me perfectly, that I believed everything it told me about my station in life too.

Fortunately, I've since moved on. I studied theology better, talked to some wise people, met a few great women, tried a bit of preaching myself, and concluded that maybe God doesn't want women to sit down and shut up at all. With that sorted, my eyes were opened to the huge and very current problems of gender inequality, and I started to see what those feminists had been talking about all along. One read of How to be a Woman later, and I was converted.

Now, there are a good few reasons why I might not be a Proper Feminist. For a start, I've never taken any active protest, beyond talking. I've signed up to all the Facebook groups that make me feel part of the feminist community in Oxford, but I've only contributed a couple of times, and never actually got involved with anything. I've started to challenge casual sexism wherever I see it among my friends, but sometimes I choose to avoid the eye-rolling, or "banter!" retort, and don't. I'm a little scared of calling myself a feminist because the Proper Feminists, who actually do stuff about it and would never let casual sexism slide and go on marches and are far more clear on their opinions about everything than I am, might notice and expose me as a slightly uncertain fraud.

But here's the big reason why I'm not sure that I'm a Proper Feminist.

Feminists have to be Pro-Choice, and they have to campaign for abortion rights.

Now, this is where I get uncertain. On the one hand, I'm clear enough about what I think about abortion, clear enough for myself at least. I am, I think, clear in my own mind that I don't think it's right, in most circumstances, although put me in one of the nightmare situations that people always ask you about ("what if you were raped? What if you were likely to die in giving birth?") and I honestly don't know what I'd do. But in principle, yes, I think it's wrong.

On the other hand, I'm still working out what I think about Christian ethics and their relationship with social policy. There's this bit that really gets me in 1 Corinthians 5 about associating with sexually immoral people. Paul says, if someone calls themselves a Christian and yet is living a sexually immoral lifestyle, don't associate with them. But - and this is the bit he feels important enough to add - he's not talking about people who are not Christians. There is a different standard for people who call themselves followers of Jesus. I think there's an important reason for this, in that as a Christian, I want to live according to certain ethics because I personally know the God who gives us those ethical codes. I want to live in the way that he wants me to, because I know him and I love him and I want to please him and I want to represent him to the rest of the world. When we tell someone the gospel, we invite them into relationship with God first and foremost. The change in lifestyle and a new system of ethics is just the result of that. So, I don't think that it is the place of Christians to be preaching to the world on their morals. That's not what we're commanded to do - it is only once we've made disciples that we're to teach them to obey Jesus, not to teach people to obey before they know or love him. The fact that I think abortion is wrong means that I could not do it in good conscience as a follower of Jesus. But who am I to preach to others on their moral positions, when really I should be introducing them to God, the author of Good.

In theory then, I don't think we should be attempting to hold the world, who don't know Jesus, to the ethical standards that Jesus calls his followers to. In that sense, I'm Pro-Choice. I fully accept that those who don't have a moral problem with abortion, and feel it necessary in their circumstances, should have the right to do so legally, without fear, and without resorting to desperate and dangerous methods.

But on the other hand (is this the third hand now?) - there must be a responsibility to fight injustice and to act of the oppressed, because that's what God tells us he's doing. His business in the world is fighting for the widow, the orphan, the poor, the voiceless. He calls us to advocacy on their behalf. So while there's no place for Christians to preach at others about their moral choices which are irrelevant for people who don't claim to follow Jesus, perhaps there is a place for trying to intervene where there is some oppression and injustice towards the helpless. Abortion seems to be the issue where these two things cross over at the most sensitive and difficult point, and as such, I just don't know what I think.

So I can't support the Pro-Choice campaigns that litter feminist Facebook groups, I can't go and join rallies on the street, and I can't protest against the 40 days for life vigils that have been happening around the country. I do feel the acute sense of the responsibility God gives us to fight for the weak and the oppressed.
But on the other hand, I can't support the Pro-Choice lot, who don't seem to understand how little sense it makes to try to inflict Christian moral values onto a world who doesn't know God. In doing so, they only seem to want to force people backwards into a dangerous world of illegal abortions and fear, shame and secrecy, which is not safe for anyone.

I'm uncertain that I'm a Proper Feminist. But I'd like to be, if they'd take me with my uncertainty.

Motto

"O Lord help us to be masters of ourselves that we may be the servants of others."

- Sir  Alexander Henry Paterson

I'm writing a book...

Writing a book has always been one of the top things on my bucket list (you know, the list of things you want to do before you die). But I always thought life would just present me with the right time to do it, probably at some point after I become Wise.

As I've thought more about what I want to do next year when I graduate* and have to go in to the World of Work, I just don't feel ready. I know it makes me sound like a knob, because most people don't have the luxury of just not 'feeling ready' to work, and I'm not sure I do either really. But my thinking is something like this: I've changed a lot at university, so most people who know me would say. I've grown up, I've had therapy, I've had some convictions shaken up, and others I've just better thought through. I've questioned my identity, I've discovered new identities. I've been left knowing far more about theology than I did before, and far less about myself and about life. That takes some processing, and I think it's a worthwhile process. When I'm in Oxford, I don't have much time to think and to process, there are a lot of essays and a lot of people. When I do find myself thinking, it usually means I forfeit sleep, or a decent essay. So if I want to think, to process, to work out if I've got anything to say to the world and how to go about saying it, I'll need a bit of time and space. 

I know the first thing I want to write though, my book. I can't explain what it is though, because I'm scared that if I try, it'll sound crap and I won't want to write it any more. It's a very fragile idea at the moment. But I want to try, to plan it, research it, write sample chapters, and see if anyone wants me to do it. If they don't, I'll probably just write it anyway, and consider myself one of those genius types who is only appreciated after their time. 

Today, I did Step One in the Grand Book Writing Plan. I bought a notebook for scribblings and thoughts. Actually, I did Step Two as well. I scribbled some thoughts. I'm not sure where one goes next in writing a book, but I know I need to get far enough into it that I can justify not diving straight into a graduate scheme or church apprenticeship straight after university, to make it a real project that is actually worth my time and energy. Maybe while I throw myself into that, I'll have time for all that other thinking I want to do too. We'll see. 

*I won't actually graduate for a while after I finish my degree because of Oxford's nonsensical system, but you know, I'll have finished the part of life where people tell me what to write and when. 

Questioning the Art of Questioning

[[This was originally a Facebook note, written in September 2012. I thought I’d post it here as a starting point, because it explains why I’m doing so much asking and not much answering at the moment.]]

My dad is a little odd, and so as well as postcards on our fridge and a sign that says ‘Mad House’ on the kitchen door, we also have a cartoon in our downstairs toilet – you can see it here:http://www.cartoonchurch.com/content/cc/i-have/ 

Being someone who would place themselves on the left hand side of this cartoon, both evangelical and vaguely charismatic, I’ve come to think it’s a shame that we tend to consider questioning a ‘liberal’ thing to do. (I also think there’s a place for crossing ourselves and such things in evangelical worship, but that’s another story.) The rest of us are missing out, perhaps through fear. 

A few years ago I heard a testimony from a young woman at my church who had lived in a Muslim country, and grown up in a Muslim tradition in which she felt there was no space for questions and for doubts. Not knowing nearly enough about Islam I couldn’t comment on how true this is of Islamic teaching as a whole, but at least in the experience of this young woman, to question God would be among the worst things she could do. She spoke of the freedom she found in discovering that the God of the Bible was big enough to take our questions, our doubts, our wonderings and our confusion. 

When I heard this, it rung true in my experience. I had some friends who were, in their own ways, interested in my faith. Some tentatively curious, others more opinionated and up for debate. The advice I was given by older Christians was to encourage them to question - that it’s good to be questioning who we are, why we’re here, and what the world is about. It’s even better to question who Jesus was, how we know, why he might have come and if we can trust him. It’s good to ask what relevance God could possibly have for my life and whether I want in. Evangelicals love questioning, when it’s done by people who don’t know Jesus, because we trust that in the midst of their searching and questioning, God will meet them with answers, with truth that will draw them to him. 

But what about those of us who are on the ‘other side’ of that process? Those of us who have asked who Jesus is, why he came and whether we can trust him, and who have concluded that all signs point to yes? What is our attitude to questions then? In my experience, we’re more inclined towards fear when Christians start to ask questions. Just think of the way we talk about those initial questions of those who are not Christians, questions like “Why so much suffering?” “Is God homophobic?” “What about when good people don’t believe the right thing?” We consider these ‘stumbling blocks’, barriers that need to be broken down before someone is willing to consider Jesus. We address these issues over lunchtime talks of our mission weeks before the focus on the important questions about Jesus in the evenings. 

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that at all, because these are real and important questions that need to be taken seriously alongside our conversations with people about Jesus Christ. But the implication is that these are questions for the not-yet-Christian, which the now-become-Christian won’t need to ask anymore. After all, they’ve been answered in a series of lunchtime talks. So when a follower of Jesus starts to ask questions like these, or keeps asking the questions even having heard the lunchtime talk answers, when a Christian goes through personal experiences that leave them struggling to accept the black and white answers they once had and needs to explore the grey, the evangelical instinct kicks in. It’s like there’s a little radar system in conservative churches, so we can home in on those who are wrestling with big questions, and sort out their confusion. With all the best intentions in the world, we want to sit them down and remind them of what they heard at that lunchtime talk a few years ago. To take them back to the clear cut, Biblical view that they used to find made perfect sense. While doing so might be helpful in some situations, and I know I have been really encouraged by friends who’ve wisely opened up the Bible with me and reminded me of the things that God says to us there, we also risk losing something very important and very Biblical – the art of questioning. 

As my friend giving her testimony found, the God we meet in the Bible is big enough to take our questions, our frustrations, our experiences and our confusion – and He even gives us models in the Bible of how to question! Start reading the Psalms, the prophets, stories of people God called throughout the history of his people, and you can’t escape the cries and the questions – “why the suffering, God? How long, God? What are you doing, God? Is this what you meant, God? Has something gone wrong, God? I don’t understand, God.” The remarkable thing is that these questioners are not turned away by God but loved by Him. They don’t always get the answers they want; sometimes the answer isn’t the important thing. But God uses the questions – sometimes the answers are so surprising that they force God’s people to press in closer and depend on him more (see Habakkuk 1:5 – “you won’t believe the answer even if I tell you. Look and be amazed.”) Sometimes the very process of questioning and crying out to God is what leads to a deeper understanding of all He’s been doing, and lead us to more confident prayer (try Psalm 13 or 74). The point is, God can take our questions, we only have to open the Bible to see that. 

So in our well intentioned encouragements, in our barrier-breaking talks, in our walk alongside friends who seem to have landed in a patch of grey - please let’s not seek to rid the journey of questions, let’s not leave all the puzzling to our more liberal brothers and sisters. If God is big enough to handle them, we’d hope our churches can be too. Perhaps we could pray that God will show us more of Himself even through our questions, as He did so many times for those who wondered long before us.