I didn't have time today to write everything I wanted in reaction to the legalization of same-sex marriage, so I decided to do a mere Facebook post on the subject. But that itself turned itself into a basic blog post--foiled by my own good intentions! Here it is:
Darn it! I was going to write up an erudite treatise on yesterday's Supreme Court decision that was going to bring the house down. You would have wept from its eloquence, wisdom and undeniability.
But there's too much, I can't do it. Too much sun, too many things to do to prepare for the baby on the way, too many fireworks to buy, too many chores.
But I cannot let it pass without saying anything--so here is your Reader's Digest version: I was happy about the decision. I couldn't help myself. Let's set aside my personal religious instruction for a moment (of which my honest answer is--I just don't know what to think about sexual orientation and its proper relationship to the will of God right now; it's not that I don't have thoughts on it—I just don't know which ones are correct—if any—and I'm ok with that for the foreseeable future)—I was happy that so many were happy, I was happy because it felt like justice, happy that this stupid, horrible battle in the culture war maybe took one great leap forward in being put to rest.
A word to my Christian brothers and sisters who don't know what to think, or are unhappy, about yesterday's decision: The Constitution and the Bible are not one and the same. It is possible to support the right to same-sex marriage even if you don't agree with it personally. We have been lied to by our leaders into making sexual orientation into the winner-take-all battle/core issue that it has become. We've lost good friends/family and cultural influence because of our disproportionate war on sexual orientation—and the sooner we restore it to the complicated, little wrinkle in Scripture that it is, the better. The thing about this war is that it is make believe—if you crawl out of the trenches you'll find there were never liberal, godless cannons pointed at you in the first place—just a bunch of broken people (like you and me), trying to make their way in the world, trying to do right by the fading, weak flashlight beam we all have to light our path.
If you think that's long, brother, you have no idea the novel you were in for if this was a rainy October morning and my kids were somehow occupied.