Dear Brother in Christ,
I heard recently that you “came out of the closet,” so I felt compelled by the fact that I love you to write this letter. As Brothers in Christ, you and I are supposed to love each other, and it is our love for one another that will identify us with Christ (John 13:35), and show the world that it desperately needs God, and that it needs to accept his Son, Jesus Christ, just as you and I have done, if it wants to escape God’s wrath. I know that when you decided to share with us, and with your friends and family about your decision, that there were a lot of people encouraging you in it. There were a lot of people applauding you for being courageous and bold. But there were a few people (not very many, as I recall) who told you they were sad, and that they would pray for you. Those people (the sad people) immediately got chewed out and sometimes cussed out by the first group of people. The first group called the second group “unloving,” “bigoted,” “judgmental,” and a host of things I’ll leave to your memory to recall.
Now, I want to offer you a hypothetical scenario, just the two of us, away from the emotional turmoil that ensued from your announcement to the world at large. This is just us here today. In my scenario, you are sitting in your home, drinking a cup of coffee, and you hear a knock on the door. It’s me, your friend, your Christian brother. You invite me in, because you’re happy to see me, because we’re both Christians, and we love each other. You invite me to sit down and you pour me a cup of your coffee, and you ask me why I came over.
“Well,” I say, rather excitedly, “I’ve decided to leave my wife.”
You know that I’ve been having a little trouble in my marriage, but you never thought I’d do that, so you ask me to clarify, and you’re confused by my own reaction to the decision. I’m happy, and that bothers you.
“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to leave my wife, and I think God’s put it on my heart, so I’m going to do it. It took a lot of courage, but no matter what everyone said I packed a bag and left her.”
“What about the kids?” you ask, rather flabbergasted.
“She can take care of them,” I reply confidently. “She’s got a good job and her mom lives close by so she’ll have plenty of help.”
“But,” you say, “I don’t think God would want you to leave her.”
At this point I’m getting a little irritated with you. I mean, all of a sudden you’ve thrown a wet blanket on my enthusiasm. After all, it’s taken a lot to get the courage up to make this big of an announcement, and I already have bigoted people in the church trying to bring me down with their judgments.
“Look,” I tell you, “this is what’s right for me. This is who I am. I can’t live with that woman anymore. She’s not for me. I don’t love her anymore.”
“But,” you argue, “the Bible says you should cleave to your wife, and that the two of you are one.”
Now I’m a little angry.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “Don’t you want me to be happy? God does! God wouldn’t condemn me for doing what’s right for me.”
“But God said it’s wrong.”
“How do you know that? How do I know you’re not just judging me?”
“Well,” you try to reason, “because you’re a Christian, and you believe the Bible. The Bible says we’re supposed to try to live with our wives with understanding, and love them, not leave them.”
“I don’t believe the Bible says that,” I retort.
“But it says it right here…” you take your Bible from the table and flip to a few passages, and even start to read some of them, but I stop you.
“You’re just being judgmental and bigoted,” I tell you, getting up angrily. “You don’t love me. If you loved me, like God loves me, you’d accept my decision, and love me because of it, not try to judge me with your Bible verses!”
I storm out, leaving you helpless at the table. You love me, but you know that what I’m doing is wrong, not because you said it was wrong, but because we both claim to believe the Bible, and I refuse to believe what it says. I’m not interested in hearing the truth. You’re frustrated, sad, and hurt, not because you don’t love me, but because you do. You’re sad because you know that what I’m doing will only hurt myself, and those around me. After all, I’ve already hurt you, and you weren’t even involved in my choice. If you hadn’t loved me, you would have said “peace” and sent me on my way, believing I was doing ok, even though you knew I was destroying my life.
So here we are, at the end of my hypothetical story. Except what was hypothetical is actually happening to you. You see, loving someone often means making them angry, because the truest form of love is to care: to be willing to do whatever is best for that person, even if it pushes them away from you. We do it to our kids all the time. They tell us they want to stay up all night, and we tell them no, and it makes them unhappy, but we know they need to rest. They tell us they want to eat a whole bag of candy, and we tell them no, and it makes them unhappy, but we know they’ll get sick.
Adult people are the same way, but about bigger stuff. Now, you’ve decided in your own mind that you want to be a homosexual, and I know that I can’t stop you, but I will try, not because I don’t love you, but because I do. Because I know what the Bible says about homosexuality, just as you know what the Bible says about leaving a wife. But even without the Bible, we know that being homosexual isn’t right, because it isn’t natural. God just thought it was so not right that He had to mention it many different times in the Bible, just so we couldn’t say He wasn’t against it. But we do anyway. We decide in our heart what we’re going to do and we decide in our mind that we’re going to ignore what God said, and just assume that His love will cover anything we want to do.
But it won’t. God will never stop loving you, and that’s why He’s going to punish you. I don’t know how, but He will, and I don’t want that for you. That’s why I’m pleading with you. Yes, I’m judging, but I’m not a judge, and I don’t have any interest in condemning you before God, or men. I judge that your decision goes against God’s Word… that it displeases Him. The word “judge” can either mean to condemn legally, which only God can do, or to “make a distinction or determination about something.” You know, like how I “judge” a hot dog to taste good, or how I “judge” that your other friends doesn’t care for me.
But the whole “judge” thing is kind of a smoke screen, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve judged that I’m judgmental, so really all you’re saying is that I don’t have a right to disapprove of what you did. But what you don’t realize–what you don’t want to realize–is that it isn’t that I don’t disapprove of you personally. I disapprove of what you’re doing. I want you to be happy, and healthy, and I only want those things because I love you. And I only disapprove of what you decided to do because I believe it isn’t best for you. I believe that in the end, you will be more unhappy than you can know. And I believe that, because I read what God said about it, and I accept what it says. If I opened the Bible and it said God was ok with homosexuality, then we wouldn’t be having this talk. If God had written “men working with women that which was seemly” then I’d be a homosexual too. But that isn’t what it says. I choose to pattern my life, my morality, my whole worldview, on what the Bible says. Sometimes it may be hard to understand, but this isn’t one of those things. And you know it, because you’re a Christian, and you’ve read the Bible.
Frankly, I don’t care what your friends, family, and a host of acquaintances and strangers say to and about me because of what I’m saying to you. I care about you. And you’re right, it did take courage to do what you’re doing, but not because you’re going against a host of bigoted Christians and churchgoers who are going to vilify you and condemn you (how you seem to use the word “judge”). It doesn’t take courage to go against real Christians, because we’re going to love you no matter what you do, and no matter how wrong we know it to be. It takes courage to do what you’re doing because you are God’s child, and God says that whom He loves, He disciplines. He loves you, and so I know He will discipline you. And you are courageous, and bold, to dare His discipline. That’s not what I want for you, and that’s why I’m asking you to turn back.
I’m not calling you names. I haven’t stopped loving you. I haven’t stopped caring about you. In fact, I care for you now more than ever, because I know you’re in trouble. And no, I won’t condone or accept what you’re doing, any more than you would condone or accept it if your daughter decided to become a prostitute, or if your son decided to take drugs, because those things are wrong, and you know they’re wrong. But love, true love, constrains us to hate those things that are destroying the people we love, and to try to dissuade them from any behavior that would harm them.
So, there you have it. A sincere letter from my open heart. I love you, my Brother, and I hope that God will open your eyes to what it is you’re about to do, before it destroys your life. And I want you to know that I realize you’re angry with me, because no one wants to feel like they’re wrong. No one likes it when someone they care about tells them they’re making a mistake. I’m the same way. But believe God, and believe me: it’s wrong. At the end of your anger, when you’re away from all the people telling you you’re courageous and that they love and accept what you’re doing, I implore you to look into the Bible, and read the passages again that I know that you know, and ask yourself honestly, “Is this really ok with God?” and then ask yourself, “Do I care what God really wants me to do, and not to do?”
Because in the end, God is God, and let God be true and every man a liar. Don’t believe me, but I love you anyway. But do believe God, because you claim his Son.
Love,
Your Brother in Christ
Word Weld 
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