Essay: 'I love the black church, but the black church doesn't love me'

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We think gays are a threat to the manhood of African American men, however as a Christian community we would rather only whisper about love on the ‘down low’ as opposed to addressing it openly.

We accept that the pastor is “only human” when he doesn’t abstain from the appearance of evil, yet the president can’t be human enough to recognize love when and where he sees it.

We think gays are a threat to the manhood of African American men; yet keeping up the front of love “on the down low” is whispered about, but never addressed openly.

We ignore the real threat to our communities: schools that are continually failing our children; while, “at least my pastor drives a fancy car and lives in a fabulous home.”

We think that being gay is the worst sin against God, yet fornication, adultery, gambling, and lying, all get a free pass from the pulpit.
We think if you are gay, you have no right to marry, and we forget that people who are black were once denied those same rights in this country, in the name of Christianity.

We believe you can “pray the gay away” in others, but you can’t pray away your own daily transgressions.

We know family members who are gay, and we invite them to feel the shame of their sexual orientation because it makes us feel more like a saint.

We live the black version of “don’t ask don’t tell” inside the sanctuary, where Deacon Never-Been Married can really “sang,” because all that matters is having a church with the best choir.

We treat the black church community like an exclusive country club as opposed to a place for “sinners” — and in this club, being gay is a “sin” that’s beyond acceptance.

We blame the media, saying they’re the ones pushing gay marriage, when reporting on those who are sounding the alarm for social change is the correct role for the media to play. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. marched in specific cities at specific times, but the civil rights movement wasn’t limited to Birmingham, Alabama or Washington D.C. — it was national; global. It would be naïve to think that all of those in the media who were reporting on the civil rights movement were in favor of you having a seat at the front of the bus.

The amnesia of many black churches is only eclipsed by the level of hypocrisy employed by some of its congregants. t’s easy to have the argument around what the Bible does or doesn’t say. It is tougher to accept that the marriage of Bob and Jim will have very little impact on what actually happens in your house, and to ask, “is my house in order?”

I have listened to many sermons where homosexuals were identified as the root of all evil in the world. The dysfunctional family where the children rule the house is without a doubt caused by your “limp-wristed” uncle… The rise in high school dropout rates is certainly attributed to your aunt who wears boxers… Your inability to stop having babies with different baby mamas? Surely, that can be blamed on the gay couple on TV’s “Modern Family” … And the inability of your church to fill the pews with an engaged congregation that makes a real difference in the community, no doubt is caused by the president’s support of gay marriage.
Will President Obama’s personal beliefs become public policy? If left to individual states, would blacks or women ever have been given the right to vote? And will the black church ever deal openly and compassionately with the issue of sexual orientation? These are questions without immediate answers.

And yet, there is one thing of which I am certain: the void in my life since I left the fellowship of the black church is deep. I miss hearing the different preachers who bring their unique cadence and unbelievable intellect to the interpretation of scripture. I miss being moved and deeply touched by the soul-stirring gospel music, sung as only a black choir can. What I miss most of all, though, is something that I never fully had: being in the cocoon of a black church that offers stability for those of us navigating unsteadily in world moving way too fast, offers a fellowship of faith that celebrates our quest to be better humans in the “here and now” and not just when we make it to the “bye and bye,” as so many black churches do today — but that also offers love without judgment.
I still love the black church, even though it doesn’t love me.