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A review by emeelee
Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gays-vs.-Christians Debate by Justin Lee
4.0
Justin Lee was raised a devout Southern Baptist, known as "God Boy" by peers at school, and interested in pursuing a career in ministry. Yet he harbored a secret shame: he was sexually attracted to boys, not girls. After he came out right before he went to college, his experience as an openly gay, though celibate, Christian opened his eyes to the uncompassionate and disgraceful ways Christians interact with queer* people. Now, his goal in life is to foster honest, compassionate dialogue between (straight) Christians and queer people (and especially queer Christians). [*Lee never uses the word "queer", and most often uses "gay" or "LGBT".]
As someone who was raised evangelical Christian, but has begun to distance myself from the church mostly out of doctrinal disagreement (including the stance on LGBTQIAP+), I really appreciated reading Justin Lee's story. In many ways, his experiences echoed mine. I look back and cringe on the times I sincerely said, "Hate the sin, love the sinner", and how insufferably self-righteous I was in high school. I especially related to this quote:
What Lee's story really has going for it is that his youth was fairly unobjectionable to most Christians. He was outspokenly religious, raised by wonderful Christian parents, never experimented with alcohol or drugs, earned good grades, and was saving himself for marriage. He even had a chaste relationship with a good Christian girl in high school. The only thing "wrong" was that he experienced attraction to boys. Even that, though, he dealt with as a young man in the Christian-approved manner: he prayed for God to "take the gay away", gave conversion therapy a shot, and resolved to remain celibate. (Though a "spotless record" doesn't mean he's more deserving of compassion and understanding than anyone else, unfortunately this will matter to a lot of Christians who read this book, and hopefully help them be more open to listening and learning.)
However, none of Lee's earnestness changed the way he felt about boys, nor made him feel something different for girls. No matter what he did, he was still gay. So he began to wonder, is this really what God wanted for him: a life of celibacy, loneliness, and self-hate? That's when he began to dive into research on what the Bible has to say about homosexuality. His research process is certainly worth reading in its entirety, but the eventual conclusions he draws are: 1) The commandment to love God, yourself, and your neighbor is both absolutely paramount and also the only law we're beholden to under Christ; and 2) We all ought to mind our own business and not focus on other people's sin so much.
Although most of Lee's conclusions weren't new to me, and oftentimes line up with my own, I really appreciated his take on Sodom in particular. While I, too, (as most sensible people should, imo) interpret the city's sin to be violent inhospitality rather than homosexuality, Lee framed that interpretation in a new way that really struck me.
Lee is especially critical of so-called "ex-gay" movements, AKA "conversion therapy". While he does not straight-up call these strategies abusive (though they are), he does show that they are not effective and can be damaging. Even leaders of "ex-gay" organizations admit that they've never completely gotten rid of their desires, but have instead commited to suppressing them (not always successfully) and pursuing the expected, mainstream, heteronormative lifestyle instead. This often turns out badly, not only for them but for their families. Unfortunately, in many Christian circles these "therapies" are still the first line of defense, if not the only option for a believer experiencing homosexual attraction. It is crucial, as Lee asserts, that churches become educated in the inefficacy and outright cruelty of these ideologies.
Torn is not a perfect book, and is lacking in a few ways. For one, it contains little in the way of statistics or actual scientific studies surrounding homosexuality or queerness in general. Though Lee addresses the sad fact that queer people are more likely to be depressed and commit suicide, he doesn't give us the numbers. He is also clearly quite ignorant of queer culture (understandable since he was raised conservative Christian), and does not seem to do much to learn about the history of struggle for sexual equality. Lee is a white, upper-middle-class, Christian man, and does not do anything to address how different racial, class, gender, or religious intersections make identifying as gay much harder in American society than how he had it. There's a lot of "same-sex"/"opposite sex" language that doesn't acknowledge the existence of a gender spectrum. I was impressed that he demonstrated knowledge of the difference between sexual attraction and romantic attraction ("I not only lacked sexual attraction to women; I lacked any kind of romantic feelings for them." 101), since that's something that is very important to me as a romantic asexual person, yet a lot of queer people still don't get. He also understands that, while it is fine and dandy for some people to be content with lives of singlehood and/or abstinence, such a life is not fulfilling for everyone, nor does God call all gay people to lives of celibacy.
Overall, I think Lee did a great job of explaining his own story of struggling with his faith and his sexuality, and also in dissecting the "clobber verses" of scripture without being too shallow nor too academic. He stays amazingly upbeat and kind-hearted throughout the book, even when detailing the prejudice he experienced and the deep effect that had on his spirit (even sending him into a depression at one point). I can't tell if he's genuinely so forgiving in nature, or if he's just purposely bending over backwards trying to avoid offending homophobic Christian readers. It is effective either way, as evidenced by the reviews of religious readers who don't agree with his conclusions or "lifestyle" but can't fault his writing. (As is clear from my own review, I am not nearly so capable of remaining nice and civil.)
I recommend this for literally anyone who calls themselves a Christian, but who struggles with reconciling Christianity and queerness. In fact, I handed this book over to my mother as soon as I finished it (I'll report back about how that goes). I especially recommend this to Queer or Questioning Christians, who need some hope that their lives aren't doomed because of their sexual orientation. You're not alone.
As someone who was raised evangelical Christian, but has begun to distance myself from the church mostly out of doctrinal disagreement (including the stance on LGBTQIAP+), I really appreciated reading Justin Lee's story. In many ways, his experiences echoed mine. I look back and cringe on the times I sincerely said, "Hate the sin, love the sinner", and how insufferably self-righteous I was in high school. I especially related to this quote:
I avoided ["locker room"] conversations, telling myself that the reason I didn't lust after women was that I was a good Christian boy. Lust was a sin, so I convinced myself I just didn't objectify women the way some of my friends did. That wouldn't have been Christlike, after all. (20)because I, too, sort of considered myself less sexually sinful than my fellow Christians because I wasn't tempted to have sex or talk/think about people in a sexual way (although in my case, it turned out it was because I was asexual, not a repressed homosexual). I also know what it's like to have really fond memories of growing up in the church, to love and want to serve Jesus Christ, and to have two really lovely parents who (though we disagree on some things) I have never doubted love me and love people-- this is what makes it hard to completely break away from the church. But when the church claims that who you are at your core is sinful, what else is there to do? Well, tell the church they're wrong, of course.
What Lee's story really has going for it is that his youth was fairly unobjectionable to most Christians. He was outspokenly religious, raised by wonderful Christian parents, never experimented with alcohol or drugs, earned good grades, and was saving himself for marriage. He even had a chaste relationship with a good Christian girl in high school. The only thing "wrong" was that he experienced attraction to boys. Even that, though, he dealt with as a young man in the Christian-approved manner: he prayed for God to "take the gay away", gave conversion therapy a shot, and resolved to remain celibate. (Though a "spotless record" doesn't mean he's more deserving of compassion and understanding than anyone else, unfortunately this will matter to a lot of Christians who read this book, and hopefully help them be more open to listening and learning.)
However, none of Lee's earnestness changed the way he felt about boys, nor made him feel something different for girls. No matter what he did, he was still gay. So he began to wonder, is this really what God wanted for him: a life of celibacy, loneliness, and self-hate? That's when he began to dive into research on what the Bible has to say about homosexuality. His research process is certainly worth reading in its entirety, but the eventual conclusions he draws are: 1) The commandment to love God, yourself, and your neighbor is both absolutely paramount and also the only law we're beholden to under Christ; and 2) We all ought to mind our own business and not focus on other people's sin so much.
Although most of Lee's conclusions weren't new to me, and oftentimes line up with my own, I really appreciated his take on Sodom in particular. While I, too, (as most sensible people should, imo) interpret the city's sin to be violent inhospitality rather than homosexuality, Lee framed that interpretation in a new way that really struck me.
[Sodom and Gibeah] are not generous and welcoming to strangers; they are cities full of hate, mistrust, and prejudice toward them. These are cities that say to outsiders: You're not welcome here! We don't want your kind here! If people like you set foot in our town, we will do the most violating things to you we can think of, to send a message to anyone else who might dare to come onto our land. It's the same sentiment that underlies racism, hate between nations, and many other kinds of prejudice. (173)I abruptly realized that the sin of Sodom (and Gibeah) is very alive and well in the church today-- not in queerness, but in xenophobia. Perhaps as a society we should change the definition of "sodomy" to something more fitting to the actual crime of Sodom, and start calling all those Christians we know crying about border safety "sodomites"...
Lee is especially critical of so-called "ex-gay" movements, AKA "conversion therapy". While he does not straight-up call these strategies abusive (though they are), he does show that they are not effective and can be damaging. Even leaders of "ex-gay" organizations admit that they've never completely gotten rid of their desires, but have instead commited to suppressing them (not always successfully) and pursuing the expected, mainstream, heteronormative lifestyle instead. This often turns out badly, not only for them but for their families. Unfortunately, in many Christian circles these "therapies" are still the first line of defense, if not the only option for a believer experiencing homosexual attraction. It is crucial, as Lee asserts, that churches become educated in the inefficacy and outright cruelty of these ideologies.
I don't believe [the negative messages I heard from Christians] have ever made anyone straight; all they've done is give people a reason to lie in order to fit in. (148)Even in these GR reviews, there are many saying things like, "Lee fails to acknowledge the redemptive and transformative power of Christ." These are people who can easily believe that God can and will snap his fingers to make a gay person straight, but can't believe in a God who loves and supports queer people. To those people I ask: if God has the power and desire to turn queer people straight, why hasn't He? I'm sure you believe it's because the queer person in question didn't actually want it hard enough in their heart-of-hearts; that really they want to "remain in unrepentant sin". To that I say, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. There are people killing themselves because of Christian rejection and the fact that they can't reconcile their natures with the hateful doctrine they've been fed. And you don't think they wanted to be straight badly enough? Get over yourselves and your self-righteous delusions. I say this as a Christian: you and your attitude are the real problem here.
Jesus never says, 'Love the sinner, but hate his sin.' Jesus says, 'Love the sinner, and hate your own sin. And after you get rid of the sin in your own life, then you can begin talking about the sin in your brother or sister's life.'(228, quoting Tony Campolo)
You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God's judgement seat[...] So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God. (246-7, quoting Romans 14)
Torn is not a perfect book, and is lacking in a few ways. For one, it contains little in the way of statistics or actual scientific studies surrounding homosexuality or queerness in general. Though Lee addresses the sad fact that queer people are more likely to be depressed and commit suicide, he doesn't give us the numbers. He is also clearly quite ignorant of queer culture (understandable since he was raised conservative Christian), and does not seem to do much to learn about the history of struggle for sexual equality. Lee is a white, upper-middle-class, Christian man, and does not do anything to address how different racial, class, gender, or religious intersections make identifying as gay much harder in American society than how he had it. There's a lot of "same-sex"/"opposite sex" language that doesn't acknowledge the existence of a gender spectrum. I was impressed that he demonstrated knowledge of the difference between sexual attraction and romantic attraction ("I not only lacked sexual attraction to women; I lacked any kind of romantic feelings for them." 101), since that's something that is very important to me as a romantic asexual person, yet a lot of queer people still don't get. He also understands that, while it is fine and dandy for some people to be content with lives of singlehood and/or abstinence, such a life is not fulfilling for everyone, nor does God call all gay people to lives of celibacy.
After all, seeing that Adam was alone, God did not simply say, "I am sufficient for you"; nor did God expect Adam to meet those needs with a friend. (100)
Overall, I think Lee did a great job of explaining his own story of struggling with his faith and his sexuality, and also in dissecting the "clobber verses" of scripture without being too shallow nor too academic. He stays amazingly upbeat and kind-hearted throughout the book, even when detailing the prejudice he experienced and the deep effect that had on his spirit (even sending him into a depression at one point). I can't tell if he's genuinely so forgiving in nature, or if he's just purposely bending over backwards trying to avoid offending homophobic Christian readers. It is effective either way, as evidenced by the reviews of religious readers who don't agree with his conclusions or "lifestyle" but can't fault his writing. (As is clear from my own review, I am not nearly so capable of remaining nice and civil.)
I recommend this for literally anyone who calls themselves a Christian, but who struggles with reconciling Christianity and queerness. In fact, I handed this book over to my mother as soon as I finished it (I'll report back about how that goes). I especially recommend this to Queer or Questioning Christians, who need some hope that their lives aren't doomed because of their sexual orientation. You're not alone.
I spent years thinking that something was wrong with me because I was gay and that in order for God to use me, I'd have to become straight. I now realize God's been able to use me even more because I'm gay. (243)