This is the second part of a series reviewing Greg Coles book entitled Single, Gay, Christian. In Part I, we noted that this book is a textbook example of attempting to shoehorn and crowbar a faulty socially constructed framework of sexual orientation ideology onto Scripture…and the bad conclusions that often come with it.

In reading through the third chapter, I had some hopes that Coles would find comfort in II Cor. 12, where the Lord promised Paul that His “…grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” in response to Paul asking the Lord to remove the unspecified thorn in his flesh. And he did, to a point. Coles still sees his temptations as inherent to his personhood in ways not reflected in Scripture:

“…I began to realize that my sexual orientation was an inextricable part of the bigger story God was telling over my life. My interests, my passions, my abilities, my temperament, my calling – there was no way to sever those things completely from the gay desires and mannerisms and attitudes that had developed alongside them.”

This is a classic example of centering and amplifying the significance of one particular desire above all others – allowing it to define you in ways that are not true. We’ve often referred to Michael W. Hannon’s essay about this:

…there is good reason to doubt that sexual orientation is such a constructive construct. First of all, the heterosexuality-homosexuality distinction is a construct that is dishonest about its identity as a construct, masquerading as it does as a natural categorization, applicable to all people in all times and places according to the typical objects of their sexual desires… Claiming to be not simply an accidental nineteenth-century invention but a timeless truth about human sexual nature, this framework puts on airs, deceiving those who adopt its distinctions into believing that they are worth far more than they really are.

…because ultimately, the empirical problem with the sexual-orientation framework we have been handed is that it is too neat, that it works by oversimplifying an incredibly messy web of attractions and drives and temptations, and that it inhibits the taming of those desires by improperly amplifying their significance.^[1]

It is quite possible to separate one’s interests, passions, abilities, temperament and calling - along with mannerisms and attitudes - completely from the experience of same sex attractions. Often at last year’s Revoice conference, where Greg Coles has served as a worship leader in the past, I would hear a speaker credit their choice of clothing to “being gay.” One man who said this was wearing the same color orange used by Home Depot. Home Depot is on record for choosing that color because it appeals to men seeking to buy hardware and work on home improvement projects. (As opposed to the blue color used by their rival Lowes which more women, on average, find reassuring. This information was part of my employee orientation when I worked for Lowes.)

What Coles is describing here are stereotypes – we don’t have to link these aspects of our lives together with a temptation in the way he’s doing here.

In chapter 4, Coles rightly critiques the mindset of some Christians who find that “The best possible evidence that Christ had shown up in a gay person’s life was for that person to become straight.”^[2] That is not true – the best possible evidence in the life of someone who experiences same sex attraction that Christ has shown up is their obedience, just as it is in the life of any other Christian who experiences any other temptation. Unfortunately, Coles then leads his readers on a quest to find positive purposes for same sex temptations that don’t line up with Scripture, and can lead to unhelpful choices. For example:

“Is it too dangerous, too unorthodox, to believe that… …my orientation, before the fall, was meant to be a gift in appreciating the beauty of my own sex as I celebrated the friendship of the opposite sex?”^[3]

Although the question is meant to be rhetorical, the answer is yes – there was no same sex attraction before the fall, and his proposal is unorthodox. Coles goes on to describe how, when he cuts his own hair in front of the mirror mostly unclothed:

“I would gaze into the eyes of a gay man as those eyes gazed into mine.

…I would look at myself and wonder what God had seen in me back in the Garden of Eden, back when he declared that his handiwork was very good. Had he known, when he spoke those words, the thing I would become? Had he known the lusts I would fight, the trysts with a pornography that was somehow worse than other people’s pornography, the broken desires that seemed to disqualify me from marriage or romance or intimacy?

…Was it possible that he could have known all this and still called me good?^[4]

There are a string of bad ideas in this line of questions. Again, he is starting with the conclusion that this one temptation defines his personhood. Then he puts himself in the Garden of Eden, along with that temptation, inappropriately. He also refers to himself as a “thing” – which is utterly dehumanizing! The Lord does not see us in this way. He goes on to include the confusing wording, “the broken desires that seemed to disqualify me from marriage or romance or intimacy…” Experiencing attractions for the same sex does not disqualify anyone from intimacy. Of course the Lord knows the temptations each one of us will face – but rather than call them good, or allow them the primary place in our personhood, He died for them and rose again.

Coles takes this bad spin on personhood and sets himself up for being easily wounded:

…the nature-nurture debate offers nothing to someone like me. If you prove to me that God didn’t intend to make me gay, it doesn’t change the face that I’ve tried and prayed and failed to be straight. All it does is make me wonder where I went wrong. It promises a highway to hope and then leaves me condemned when I find myself dodging potholes on a dirt road to nowhere. It proves I’m a freak, a mistake, something even God despises.^[5]

Note that these are a labels the author chooses to place on himself – no one else calls him these things. I never saw myself as a freak, mistake, or something God despises in part because I was able to separate my temptations from who I am as a person. Here Coles seems to have completely lost touch with the encouragement he’d found in II Cor. 12, where the Lord does not despise Paul for having a thorn in his flesh. Paul seemed to not define himself by his thorn, while Coles paints himself into a terrible corner here by doing that.

Coles goes on to describe continuing to not feel as though he fit in while in Christian circles, and it is important to understand that we don’t know the battles others may be fighting. He writes touchingly about a variety of ways in which he shared his experience of same sex attractions with others – stating that it never gets easier. (It did get easier for me, yet it is best to take time to listen whenever someone shares about something like this in their lives, and appreciate their trust in you.) I’m thankful that Greg has found a compassionate church and has been welcomed in sharing life with brothers and sisters in Christ.

However, he continues to make presumptions on the Holy Spirit with claims such as this:

“One of the most convenient things about being gay and celibate is that you can stop wondering whether or not you’re called to marriage.”^[6]

I’ve seen other followers of Christ making this assumption who are now happily married with kids. If you believe you’re called to celibacy, fine, but let’s not try to hobble the Lord of all creation like this. Coles is convinced that fluidity in attractions is “extraordinarily rare^[7]” (a presumption for which there is no solid data, as we’ve noted in R4R numerous times), and this can serve to put artificial boundaries where the Lord may not have placed them. Of course, there is no guarantee that his attractions will change. Yet there is a continuing pattern of perspective seen in this book, as noted earlier in this poignant prayer from chapter 2:

“You don’t understand,” I begged him. “This is my chance. There’s no woman I could possibly want to marry more than her. If you don’t say yes now, you probably never will, and I’ll be gay and alone for the rest of my life.”

Most of us are not gifted with the ability to predict the future like that.

Regrettably, Coles dismisses ministries such as the one I went to for help, Harvest USA, out-of-hand, relying on generalized anecdotes and painting a bleak picture of shallow ministry:

By talking in terms of attraction instead of sexual orientation, ex-gay advocates were better equipped to treat homosexuality as a passing phase, a problem that might come and go as readily as a foot cramp.^[8]

No one addressed same sex attractions as “a passing phase” at Harvest. They did not promise that change in attractions would come as the result of participating in their small group. The work we did was deep and life- giving for me, and it seems Coles is clueless as to what quality help is available. He writes of “The diminishing popularity – and, in some cases, the total collapse – of ex-gay ministries in recent years…”^[9] Meanwhile, Harvest USA and many other ministries are still going strong. The Restored Hope Network conference wraps up the day I’m writing this, with 50 ministries, including pastoral and individual counselors, connected through their work. I’m sorry that Greg has missed out on what is available.

Sadly, in his last chapter Coles portrays the sinfulness of same sex sexual behavior as a matter of personal conviction, rather than a clearly stated truth applying to everyone for eternity. This part of his book jumped out at other reviewers, such as Rachel Gilson:

But the one place where I felt disappointed was the section beginning on page 108, where he leaves space for this to be an agree-to-disagree issue—where we could “share pews with people whose understanding of God differs from ours” (109)—and compares it to the disagreement about modes of baptism. He writes, “[I]f I’m honest, there are issues I consider more theologically straightforward than gay marriage that sincere Christians have disagreed on for centuries” (108).

Of course sincere Christians disagree on baptism, but on that question there are arguments on both sides that make sense of the Bible as a whole. By contrast, Scripture’s witness on sexuality is painfully clear. Rather than hold out the possibility that the Bible might be okay with homosexual relationships—which I believe is likely to damage those in the thick of same-sex desires—I’d rather affirm in the strongest terms that God is clear, and plead that his Word be read.^[10]

It's disturbing to see Coles leave his readers with this door open to uncertainty on a matter which is certain in Scripture, especially after writing about his own journey to trust the Lord in regards to this very thing.

In Part III of this series, we’ll go over some suggestions on how to follow an alternative train of thought.

[9] “I Resonate—and Disagree—with This Gay Christian,” by Rachel Gilson, October 6, 2017