We Need Each Other's Stories
Wesley Hill’s book, Washed and Waiting, is a presentation of a young man’s struggles with homosexuality, Christianity, and the way those two lifestyles do and do not coalesce. Hill’s account walks readers through much of his own personal experience, while also referencing the lives of two prominent writers who themselves dealt with same-sex attraction—Henri Nouwen and Gerard Manley Hopkins. The book is told as a firsthand account that brings in a combination of personal stories and experiences alongside theological analysis and arguments. Hill walks us through Scripture, yes. He brings in outside resources and prominent Christian leaders and thinkers, yes. But first and foremost, he bears his own soul, and in doing so, he encourages readers to join him in the murky and uncertain struggling, thinking, writing, arguing, doubting, praying, and discerning.
Hill argues for a life of celibacy for homosexual Christians. Though, the term argue is at once too harsh and fails to acknowledge the nuance with which Hill writes. Indeed, his position in the matter is made clear from the foreword, which states, “Since his highest love is the triune God, he understands his unique vocation (as a gay Christian) to be celibate.”[1] Therefore, in reading this book, one can understand that Hill is arguing from a life of celibacy as opposed to toward one. The book is written in more of a narrative form that invites readers to participate alongside the story, as opposed to an argument that challenges the logic and rational of leaders.
This is a highly effective method of writing. Though Hill’s writing contains a myriad of Scripture references, it in no way attempts to drown readers in proof texts for why homosexuals should commit to celibacy. He doesn’t exactly argue anything. Instead, he just tells his experience, his side of the story. And in doing so, it’s hard to point out how, let alone if, any of his conclusions are right or wrong. And while that may sound like a critique, it’s not. Because in response to the topic of homosexuality, so much of Christian writing is intent on defining what is “right” and what is “wrong.” That’s not the goal of this book. Again, as Eve Tushnet tells us in the foreword, that “Far from being a ‘final answer,’ it (the book) has value precisely because it is a first attempt.”[2] And for a first attempt, it does quite well.
It succeeds not because of the merits of any argument, but because of the compassion and empathy it elicits. Hill describes the impetus for his writing by saying, “I have never found a book I could resonate with that tries to put into words some of the confusion and sorrow and triumph and grief and joy of the struggle to live faithfully before God, in Christ, with others, as a gay person.”[3] He is writing in the middle of the process. Compare this to a race. Why would we expect the athletes still running to accurately describe the sensation of crossing the finish line? Strangely, this is exactly the type of expectation modern Christianity places firmly on the shoulder of those processing homosexual desires.
Hill does away with that burden by making it clear that he has not finished this race, that the process of living and learning is still ongoing. And readers benefit for it. Yet, at the same time, this writing is not without form. Rather than being a meandering memoir, Washed and Waiting is an intentional construction of what it means to process homosexuality through personal experience, theology analysis, and artistic expression. And in each of these three categories, Hill invites readers closer and closer into his struggle and its similarities to the struggles of every Christian, regardless of sexual orientation.
PERSONAL EXPERIENCE: AN INVITATION
Throughout the entire book, Hill shares his personal story. Readers learn that he understood that he was gay from a young age, he grew up in a normal evangelical household, and he has doubted both his faith and himself in ways that any Christian can relate to. And in doing so, he displays a badge of courage. As Hill says, “It is no secret that a large number of gay Christians feel frightened at the thought of sharing the story of their sexuality with their fellow believers.”[4] It is woefully ironic that this is the case. For in the telling of our personal narratives, we most often find that our stories are not unique, that others share our highs and lows, our doubts and fear, our hopes and dreams.
Hill understands the need for shared conversation and for storytelling. He shares that “being known is spiritually healthier than remaining behind closed doors, that the light is better than the darkness.”[5] If this is true for any Christians, it’s true for all. And how much more do those who find themselves facing something that is both unclear and undiscussed need to know that there’s room at the table for their struggle? Hill understands the need to breakdown this idea that “certain sins” do not belong in the light, that some things should remain hidden. In doing so, he says, we put up manmade limitations on God’s unending mercy, all the while “the dynamics of human sinfulness and divine grace are the same for all of us, regardless of the particular temptations of weaknesses we face.”[6] This is not an abstract or theoretical thought. Human sinfulness is shared by all in the same way that divine mercy is offered to all, and in sharing personal stories, everyone can more easily find themselves as having flaws and needing (And receiving) grace.
Hill’s vulnerability makes it possible for others to come forward with their own personal experiences. While the Church as a whole may not have the perfect response to questions of sexual identity and gender (when has the Church ever had the perfect response to anything for that matter?), it is the role of individual believers to begin this conversation. Hill’s personal experience and theological convictions make him the type of person who can spark a dialog that can hopefully replicate in church buildings everywhere. Or else we risk voluntary ignorance by ignoring the plight of so many even though, as Hill aptly reminds us, “ignoring is not the path to redeeming.”[7]
Thankfully, Hill’s personal story doesn’t stop as just an example of personal experience. Instead, he takes the conversation one step further by grappling with the very real theological issues underpinning this conversation—and in doing so, he invites a famous theologian to argue this point for him.
THEOLOGICAL ANALYSIS: AN ARGUMENT
Admittedly, this is the weakest section of the book, though that may not in actuality be a fault. Hill’s theological analysis is best summed up in one quote:
In the end, what keeps me on the path I’ve chosen is not so much individual proof texts from Scripture or the sheer weight of the church’s traditional teaching against gay sex. Instead, it is, I think, those texts and traditions and teachings as I see them from within the true story of what God has done in Jesus Christ—and the whole perspective on life and the world that flows from that story, as expressed definitively in Scripture.[8]
One must forgive the seminary student who opens any required reading with the singlemindedness of expecting an argument to analyze and critique, or a position to disown or defend. Hill doesn’t provide the exegetical argument some might want. In its absence, however, he points readers to a theologian they are more than likely familiar with—Henri Nouwen.
Nouwen, as recounted by Hill, struggled with sexual identity his entire life. Faced with the options of being an openly gay priest or denouncing his religious post, Nouwen chose a life of celibacy. Or, as Philp Yancey describes, “He decided to keep living with the wound. Again and again, he decided.”[9] It is to Nouwen, then, that Hill appeals for theological backing. Instead of laying out his own theological or scriptural argument for a life of celibacy (or any other response to homosexuality for that matter), he chooses to cite Nouwen’s life as its own version of a proof text.
Again, readers looking for a deep theological analysis of homosexuality or gender identity, will not find it here. But, as mentioned earlier, what they will find is an honest man’s humble experience. And they will also find a form of art that allows the reader to enter into the experience of being a gay Christian that they may not have expected.
ARTISTIC EXPRESSION: AN UNDERSTANDING
Outside of Henri Nouwen, Hill also points to the life of Gerard Manley Hopkins, the famous English poet and Jesuit priest. Hopkins provides the mirror of Nouwen in that they both lived a similar life but responded to it somewhat differently. While Nouwen wrote some of the most well-read theological texts of the 20th century, Hopkins wrote poems. These different approaches ask the same question—how do I relate to a God with whom my very design seems to disagree? And it is this same question that Hill has committed himself to ponder.
The answer, unfortunately, isn’t obvious. But it’s in this cloudy and uncertain atmosphere that art shines a bright and comforting light. Hill says:
I keep coming back to Hopkins because in the midst of his struggle, he saw God and came to know the comfort of Christ and the Holy Spirit—and he wrote about this vision of God and experience of Christ in a way that continually refreshes, strengthens, and emboldens me for the journey toward wholeness.[10]
What Hill may not fully recognize is that his writing does something quite similar. For in the same way that Hopkins’ poems expressed the depths of emotion that only poetry can seem to contain, Hill has also picked up a pen to put words that encourage those who may share his story, or at least his feelings. Namely, he has looked to the written word as a way of wrestling, arguing, doubting, understanding, doubting again, and always asking and wondering, how would God have me live?
The foreword of this book explains that Hill has chosen a life of celibacy. Yet, throughout the entire book, the reader is more or less left in the dark as to why. There are hints and references throughout, but no clear stake in the ground presents itself until near the end when he says:
I am instead, slowly but surely, learning to view that journey—of struggle, failure, repentance, restoration, renewal in joy, and persevering, agonized obedience—as what it looks like for the Holy Spirit to be transforming me on the basis of Christ’s cross and his Easter morning triumph over death.[11]
This is beautiful because it is not unique. Hill’s story of homosexuality is a personal one for sure—though it’s also likely shared by many—but his conclusion provides readers of any age, race, and gender with something they can know is true.
And that’s what great art does. It provides a feeling that we are not alone, that others share our struggles in a myriad of ways. Art often delves deep into a specific subject only to bring out something completely ordinary. It’s no wonder that every superhero story contains a moment where the protagonist doubts him or herself—that’s because everyone in the history of mankind has doubted themselves at one point or another. Hopkins’ unique expression of loneliness and isolation via poetry is specific to his circumstances yet simultaneously shared by many.
Hill’s writing does the same. His ability to tell his story in a way that invites others to share in his experiences, regardless of whether they relate to the specifics, is profound. For in Hill’s unique life experience, he has discovered a diamond meant for all—that everyone is broken in their own unique way, and that everyone is invited to God’s table anyway.
PERSONAL APPLICATION
I’m a writer. That’s what I do both professionally and personally. What this book has reminded me is that there’s a reason abstract theological reflection and generic truths often fail to resonate. Humans are inherently creatures of narrative. We understand our surroundings—not to mention ourselves—through story. And Hill’s book is a great example of that.
If he had written a treatise on how Christians should handle homosexuality, I probably wouldn’t have read it to the end, regardless of whether or not I agreed. But because he shared his story, because he invited me in to experience something deeply personal, I was able to also experience something deeply profound—namely, that he and I aren’t that different.
And isn’t that what great writing does? It reminds us that life is a very level playing field. We all have different backgrounds and experiences, but at the end of the day, we’re all extremely broken and extremely desperate for a Savior. And what we also share is that the same Savior exists for all of us.
I strive to write with the same level of vulnerability that Hill shared in Washed and Waiting, though I admittedly fail in those attempts more often than I succeed. But I’m reminded through this book that while opening up the door to let others into my story is scary and unnerving, it’s the most obvious gift God has given me to share the love he has for me and for others. For in the myriad of broken cracks that my life vessel contains, God’s grace and goodness shine through. Hill did an excellent job at making the light of God shine even brighter by pointing it at his own darkness. I hope I can one day do the same.
[1] Hill, Wesley. Washed and Waiting (p. 16). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.
[2] Ibid., pg. 16
[3] Ibid., pg. 22
[4] Ibid., pg. 25
[5] Ibid., pg. 26
[6] Ibid., pg. 28
[7] Ibid., pg. 45
[8] Ibid., pg. 76
[9] Ibid., pg. 109
[10] Ibid., pg. 150
[11] Ibid., pg. 171