Not everyone in my position would agree with my stance on this particular issue; but I think members of our congregations who struggle with same-sex attraction, believing such activity to be sin, would agree with this: we need the church to speak clearly and compassionately on this matter. Please, fellow elders and pastors, don’t be wishy-washy on sexuality. If there were a crack in the wall, I would have walked through it a long time ago.

My church, the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA), just finished its General Assembly (GA), a meeting of commissioner delegates from among the congregations and ministers of our church. Every year, our regional courts/bodies overture the GA asking them to amend rules, make statements, and consider procedures.

This year, three overtures came to the GA regarding same-sex marriage. Two of them (here and here) asked the assembly to reaffirm our position on homosexuality and to take actions in support of those persecuted for their stance on the issue in the public square (chaplains, ministries, etc). The third overture, Overture 43 asked the GA to “go on record” in support of, and gratitude for individuals and organizations taking a stand on the issues of homosexuality and the sanctity of life (pro-life). These overtures were more than likely spurred on by the overwhelming cultural tide in support of same-sex marriage and the federal policies which find private institutions required to cover abortifacient contraceptives.

After a committee worked on these issues, the first two overtures were essentially denied. It is not common, and perhaps not proper in some people’s minds, for our church to address the civil magistrate and call for, or potentially call for, what amounts to civil disobedience. (for the record, I don’t agree with this line of argument, though I understand it). Overture 43 also came to the assembly floor with a recommendation to answer in the negative (as in, not take action on it, or, ignore it).

When Overture 43 came to the floor, a minority of the committee working on the overtures (to amend them, and make suggestions about how to handle them) disagreed with the rejection, and offered a substitute answer to Overture 43, which reads as follows:

Be it resolved that the Presbyterian Church in America expresses its gratitude to the Lord for sustaining by his grace ministers of the gospel, chaplains, and Christians serving in the public sphere who are experiencing ostracism, penalties and persecution for taking a Biblically faithful stand for the sanctity of human life and declining to participate in the cultural redefinition of marriage; and

Be it further resolved that the General Assembly pause and offer prayer to the Lord on behalf of such ministers of the gospel, chaplains, and Christians.

In the committee and on the floor of the assembly, many pastoral and adroit arguments were made for and against passing such a resolution. Those against the passage don’t support abortion or same-sex marriage. Their concerns were pastoral: a call to prayer is a “come at me bro” kind of statement to an already hostile culture. Why stir the pot? Why make evangelism harder? Why do we need a call to prayer? Why can’t be just pray?

For a good portion of the debate, I was on the side of these men. As a man, a Christian, a husband, and a pastor who struggles with same-sex attraction (SSA), who ministers to men who struggle with SSA, and who engages regularly in apologetic and evangelistic conversations with LGTBQ friends, neighbors, and family I found myself thinking: this is the last thing we need. A bunch of conservative, rich, white, Presbyterians picking on the gays.

That’s not the most charitable interpretation, but it’s likely the narrative (or a form of it) that many would read by our action. This would have been especially true if we’d passed the unamended versions of the three overtures. But then I got to thinking. I kept hearing opponents of the new resolution make “us vs. them” arguments. “How can we say this to them? How will they take it?” And then, I felt a clear call to speak.

Mind you, I think speaking on the floor of GA is the worst idea I’ve ever had. I’m only two years into the ministry. I’m not a PhD, I’m not a successful minister, I’m not a wise man. I knew I was about to share a piece of my own story. I get really annoyed in debates when people use personal narrative to win an argument, what was I thinking. I was so nervous, my leg shook uncontrollably, and after speaking I spent ten minutes sobbing in the bathroom like a 14-year-old girl at a middle school dance (at which point I think I had an anxiety attack and had to lay down for an hour because I mustered up some excruciating pain in my back).

But there are five main reasons I stood and spoke in favor of calling for prayer for ministers, chaplains, and Christians facing hardship when they take a stand on these issues, with same-sex attraction in particular focus for me.

1. For my congregation: I pastor in a rural/small town, largely blue collar context. I pastor a church of tired culture warriors who consume Fox News, vote republican, and largely abstain from alcohol and tobacco. I’m a down the line confessional pastor in a broadly evangelical, baptiterian/methodist church. And, when I candidated before the congregation and some one asked “What’s your biggest struggle in life?” I told them about same-sex attraction and pornography and activity in my life. My wife and I drove away from that interview thinking we’d never hear from them again. We were wrong. This wasn’t a congregation of culturally engaged, post-modern millennials. And yet, they welcomed me, and continue to welcome me, into their worship and lives as their pastor, counselor, and friend. They are my friends, my family, and my sheep. I already had to come back and tell them that we weren’t saying about theistic evolution (which worries them), and that we seemingly couldn’t fix our judicial process (which, in reality, they care little about). How could I say to them that we couldn’t call for prayer on this issue?
2. For chaplains: As much as inner-city pastors in liberal cultural communities will face persecution for their stance on sexuality; my chaplain friends face more. A dear brother in the Lord has essentially had his career in the Army ended because of his stances. I love him and respect him. How could we not make a statement of support for him?
3. For my mentors: Men, pastors in our denomination, who I love and respect have loved me enough to challenge me and call me to repentance. It will be riskier and riskier to do so. I don’t know if these men would have supported this resolution, but I supported them and so how could I not, as a member of my church court, call for their support publicly?
4. For other strugglers: Again, not everyone in my position would agree with my stance on this particular issue; but I think members of our congregations who struggle with same-sex attraction, believing such activity to be sin, would agree with this: we need the church to speak clearly and compassionately on this matter. Please, fellow elders and pastors, don’t be wishy-washy on sexuality. If there had been a crack in the wall, I would have walked through it a long time ago. It’d be easier, (and it will continue to be easier and easier) to go and live in the LGBT community than to take up my cross and follow Christ. Don’t for a second let me think that I didn’t need to. Tell me that God’s grace is good, that his law is holy, and that his love is sufficient for me, and help me walk in grace, love, and obedience.
5. For the future: There was something inherently strategic about my support for Overture 43: it represents the more culturally conservative members of our churches sense of need in this time. Honestly, I felt like they needed a win. I believe that the PCA has to speak clearly and compassionately on sexuality. I’m heart-broken by the repeated references to “homosexual persons” in the overtures and in the report from our cooperative ministries committee (think: the top guys in each group who get together and talk). Have mercy! I’m a man. I’m a Christian. I’m saved by grace. I’m Leeanne’s husband. I’m Kiski Valley’s pastor. I’m redeemed. I’m a son of God. Jesus isn’t ashamed to call me brother. I’m an heir of all things. I have every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places. I’m simply justus et peccator. Why, oh why, do I have to be a “homosexual person”? Where does anyone get the right to identify a Christian with one particular sin? We as a church need a clear, compassion, and Biblically faithful way to talk about sexuality and we’re not there yet. I know that the way I think and talk about sexuality (and the way others who share my theological anthropology) will make some of my culturally conservative brothers uncomfortable. So yeah, I supported their overture, full-heartedly, with the expectation that NOW we can get on to the more important work: a hermeneutic of sexuality and gender grounded in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I know there are conversations going on around the PCA about sexuality. I know different parties have different concerns. I don’t believe that I necessarily deserve a seat at the table. But pastors and elders in our church who know and understand same-sex attraction from the inside-out need to be part of the conversation. If my outburst at on GA moved the dial in that direction, even a little, then glory be to God! If my comments were brought on by a self-righteous wave of sensationalism, then I need repentance and forgiveness.

Fathers and brothers, pray for the persecuted, pray for the strugglers, pray for the lost, and pray that Jesus might be glorified as our church strives to minister the gospel in our present time.

Allan Edwards is a minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and serves as pastor of Kiski Valley PCA in Leechburg, PA. This article appeared in Allan’s blog and is used with permission.

[Editor’s note: The link (URL) to the original article is unavailable and has been removed. Also, one or more original URLs (links) referenced in this article are no longer valid; those links have been removed.]