space at the table
It's the story of a father and son. An evangelical theologian father, Brad, and his gay son, Drew. It's a story of faith and loss of faith, of love and pain, of welcome and rejection, of talking and listening and not quite communicating.
It's a remarkably profound book.
You should buy it and read it for yourself. I think your response will depend on where you are in this story. I very much feel that fathers and sons will read this book differently; gay and straight will read it differently; those who hold a traditionalist theology of sexuality and those who don't will read it differently - and for all those reasons, I commend it.
As a gay man, a bit of a wanna-be theologian, and an evangelical, I fit into different bits of this book at different times.
There were moments in Drew's childhood stories of self-discovery where I shuddered with self-recognition. Oh yes, I knew those moments.
But I also felt, time and again, for Brad, and his world and his church and his faith.
He says to his son at one point - "I have to face the fact that I am one of the reasons that you experience trauma".
You have to read the book to see why he says that. And that final section, where there is genuine trauma, is a bit skated over. Neither father nor son really wants to go too deep there. I don't blame them - the level of self-revelation throughout this volume is such that I am again and again in awe of just how open they are. They have the right to remain silent from time to time. They have earned the reader's respect.
All I might add is - every parent causes every child trauma at some point. Every child returns the favour. We are all flawed. And, unless there is a weight of evidence not given, I'm minded to be very, very generous to both men in this story.
I'm not always minded to be so generous to the theological mindset that lies behind the story.
The evangelical, traditionalist theological mindset revealed here (though rarely discussed), which I myself grew up through as a teenager and young adult, is shown to be a system that can rob gay people of self-worth, that tells them from childhood on they are sick and different and need to be cured, that presents false hope of deep inner change which can never be fulfilled and which then leaves people (real, breathing people) feeling like perpetual failures, placing upon them constant moral and spiritual demands which are unrealisable in the real world.
This is a hard read. I've commented elsewhere that good people don't mean harm. But harm is what happens, and this book doesn't shy away from it. Drew's comments on some Christian responses to AIDS/HIV are his strongest anywhere. Many of us who have grown up with a traditionalist theology of sexuality know that this system which robs us of self-worth also condemns us for lack of self-worth; this system which tells us we may never have relationships then condemns us when we find making long-term relationships difficult; this system which complains at our inability to make long-term relations, tells us when we do that we must exercise the kind of moral restraint out in the real world that would be hard to fulfil in a cloister.
I never cease to be amazed when people call this system 'biblical Christianity'. It's nothing of the sort. As I said though, good people don't mean harm. So this book is really helpful. As Jesus said - by their fruit you shall know them. Brad Harper is clearly a good man who finds himself completely unprepared by all he knows as he has to grapple with loving his gay son. He clearly - really clearly - does his best. He critiques those who fail to see people in front of them and just stick to the system. And yet it is Drew Harper who shows the full fruit of the flawed traditionalist theological system. Drew ends up spiritual, but without faith in Jesus; taught not to commit to another and yet needing to love; believing he is damaged, and yet harming himself more and more.
I see in every page a God who loves both these men, passionately, and I know this God who calls all of us to 'life in all its fulness'. But I don't see that life here. I find myself crying out - there has to be a possibility for a different way. There has to be a possibility for a better way.
Evangelicalism has such potential for good - as an understanding of Jesus I am committed to the whole wider scheme of it as the best and most Biblical way to live. But there are huge moments within Evangelicalism when we need to do better. A book like this shines a piercing light on such a time, such a place.
We must all of us pray and talk and work and find that better way forward together, because we hear so often about folk getting hurt by the way the church treats gay people that a book like this actually qualifies as a 'good news story' - and everyone here has gone through so much hurt and known so much pain. There's too much Friday and not enough Sunday in this tale, and these guys are the lucky ones. What about the gay kids of Christian homes who aren't so loved, so welcomed, so cared for as Drew? What about the other gay folk Drew knows who will go nowhere near a church because they already have enough fear and failure without the shed-load of guilt they expect to receive if they do?
Read this book. Pray for this family. And your own. This is a profound read that reminds us we all need to work to make God's church a place where healing isn't about gay people being forced to be (or to pretend to be) straight; true healing is where all of us just get to live well.
I'll book a space on that table any day.
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