Bible camp

I spent the last week of summer with my family at the annual bible camp we have been going to for a number of years now. It’s become a highlight of the year, providing a final opportunity for summer relaxation with people I’ve felt quite comfortable with. The atmosphere is very different from most church functions — no dress codes, no putting on the church persona, just real people being refreshingly authentic. Lots of spontaneous drumming, and this year a band from England playing great contemporary music. Far from the usual fare with our excruciatingly conservative lot.

The setting is stunningly beautiful, surrounded by tall temperate rainforest and next to a clear mountain lake where bald eagles and osprey dive for fish. My wife and I started each morning with a 30-45 minute walk, which gave us precious time to connect and talk about what was on our minds.

Sunrise over Shawnigan Lake

It was a strange mix for me this year. I have not been to church for a number of weeks now. I have been coming to the realization that that is the only way I can hope to salvage what is left of my faith. Still, I was looking forward to going to the camp and connecting with people I only see once or twice a year, people with whom I feel a special affinity that runs deeper than denomination or religious practice. And in that respect, I wasn’t disappointed. I had some great conversations that inspired me and gave me real hope. I came away with a renewed sense of optimism and opportunity.

Yet at the same time, I felt more alienated than ever. It seemed clearer than ever to me that the mainstream of my community will never be able to accept me and others like me for who we are, or even accept women as truly equal before God. After one of the kids’ classes, I bumped into my niece who exclaimed, “Auntie E’s class was so powerful!” I decided this was feedback the teacher needed to hear, so I went to let her know and thank her for her work. She said how ready the kids were at that age to tackle real life issues — like homosexuality, for example. It was so important, she said, to get the message through early, because once they get to secondary school all they hear is “tolerate, tolerate, tolerate”. I wished I could have pursued the conversation in a context where I could speak freely, but unfortunately E was working like a Trojan throughout the week and there was no opportunity to do so.

I vacillate between feeling that if only people could see us a real people, people they already know and respect, their attitudes might change — and feeling that they would just draw away in fear and hatred.

I was able to come out to another great friend, who not unexpectedly brimmed over with empathy and compassion. Being out to more and more people is amazing. I really had no idea what a tremendous difference it would make to my sense of myself. Thankfully, I have some incredible friends who have made it easier than I could have imagined. So far. Because always lurking in the back of my mind is the likelihood that when I stop carefully choosing, or when word gets around, being out may be a lot less comfortable for a while.