In the simpler '70s -- the tell-it-like-it-is days -- there was little support for athat position. Christians, coarsely and clumsily perhaps, were clear on the issue.So was God,, through His Word. The evidence was overwhelming and theacceptance of homosexuality was pretty much limited to the non-Christiancrowd. Gay and affirming were two words not worthy of a hyphen. As time passed, emboldened ones learned to disguise deep deceits as simple truths.So lets build a life on feelings. Whoa . . . whoa . . . whoa . . . feelings.Feelings over truth.Desires over doctrine.Collective deceit over self-denial.Besides, don't you know, don'ts are so depressing. The search is on for the birdsof a feather, as there's a flock for everything these days.Years earlier, as a little boy, I took a stroll through a Halloween carnival. Iremember a booth where we had to put on blindfolds and reach into bucketsand pick up objects and identify them through feeling them. In the environmentof the darkening night and the musings of a searching mind, innocent everydayobjects became everything from animal guts to eyeballs to elements of torture.That's what they
like. Guesses, right or wrong, were rewarded with candy.A life built on feelings leads to a slow strangling, trying to swallow intangiblesin efforts to convince ourselves that we are on some divine path . . . or, failingthat, convince ourselves that there is no divinity. If that be the case, thenindeed, why not let feelings rule? We can become rulers over our personally-designed kingdoms, dropping the drawbridge and throwing open the doors towords that match our mind's eye on the things that matter to us . . . and boltingthe doors tight to keep out thoughts and ideas -- and truths -- that might hurt . . .our feelings.I wish it were that innocent: just a little pouting over petty disagreements,rather than people determinedly self-drowning themselves in deep deceit whilethe keepers of the life-rafts check the equipment and position themselves on thedeck to be ready if needed, not aware that misled souls are dropping overboardin silence. Why do we think we need to watch people wear themselves outdashing between the dance partners of the culture and the church until finallywe hear some near-death scream of desperation and have to make a decisionwhether to cut the rope to which they cling or haul them in?