“So, Katie,” my group of peers began ominously, “what do you think of Greg being gay?”

All eyes were on me.

I was in high school and was widely known for being an outgoing, kind, hyper-involved straight-A-student.  I was the poster-child for excellence.  However, I was also a poster-child for an outspoken, opinionated and legalistic brand of “Christianity” that had no room for people who were gay, Mormon or having sex outside of marriage.  I’m actually still not sure where I latched on to some of those ideas.  Let’s just blame TBN and move on with the story.

“Well,” I paused, “I like Greg, but I don’t think it is right.”

The classic ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ routine.  How progressive I was!  I wasn’t from the backwoods; I knew that Jesus loved everyone.  I just (somewhat unconsciously) thought he loved me more for being a straight virgin who didn’t break rules and volunteered copious amounts of time to a plethora of organizations.

I was 13 when I first experienced the possibility and truth of a contextual interpretation of the scriptures.  My mother was about to become a pastor in the ECC and, though they did not seem consistent with the God I loved, I knew full well the scriptures that spoke against women in ministry and leadership.  How could my pre-teen brain reconcile this dichotomy?