Knowing in Part

The God We’ve Known

"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Love is one of the hardest things to accept. Not because we don't want it, but because it can be difficult to believe we are truly worthy of it. I learned that lesson early.

There is this vivid memory of a parent-teacher conference I attended at my Christian Elementary School in New Jersey. My teacher's biggest concern wasn't bad behavior or poor grades but rather my fixation on the Cross. Drawings, writing assignments, and even all the books I checked out of the reading corner all equaled what she coined a “Jesus Killed Day”. Now, up until that point, my salvific fixation in a Christian school was considered virtuous. But a few days prior, on the playground, I had made some adults upset by letting the kids in my class crucify me on the jungle gym. My willingness to let the rough herd of my fellow kindergarteners stretch my arms across the climbing rope and throw dirt at me had prompted parents and teachers to break it up. As strange as it sounds, I remember thinking: "This is what it means to be loved."

As I grew older, my fascination with Jesus never went away. Neither did the feeling that I was different. Often, it would seem to me like there was something I wasn’t quite getting that everyone else was in on. Church became both a place of genuine devotion and a place where I learned to perform. Being enthusiastic about faith at a young age earned praise. I became "the little pastor" and "the future bishop" in the eyes of the elders in our Church. The more religious I appeared, the safer I felt.

Then I began noticing something I didn't know what to do with: my attraction to both guys and girls. My faith performance became the perfect armor against spaces that continually drilled into me that such a desire was perverted. Deep down, I believed if I was enthusiastic enough, maybe nobody would notice the parts of myself I was afraid to acknowledge. Or at the very least, if they did find out about my thoughts, I couldn’t be thrown out because of the level of my belief. The irony is that while I knew a great deal about God, I struggled to believe God actually loved me.

In many of these high-control church spaces, I heard far more about sin than love. Sermons about Hell and judgment were more common than those about grace. I became comfortable with a version of God who tolerated me at best and condemned me at worst. But over time, God began teaching me something different.

What is Love?

Christian mystics have long described spiritual growth as learning how to receive God's love. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote in his Four Degrees of Love that many people begin their spiritual lives loving God for what God can do for them. Eventually, however, we are invited into the deepest level: learning to love what God loves, which is yourself. We often think this has to be a future version of you, polished and with everything together. But Bernard is describing the current you that is worthy of God’s love.

This is why the story of Lazarus has become so meaningful to me. In John 11:38-39, it says, “Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said. “But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

When Jesus arrives at the tomb, Martha hesitates. She knows what is inside: the smell, the grief, and the mess. At the historical site of this tomb, it is a dark cave with descending staircases and various chambers. Jesus would have climbed into the dark cave where a stone would have been lifted up from Lazarus’ chamber. It’s an image of the heart, showing how much of our spiritual life is spent trying to keep certain parts of ourselves hidden. We assume that if God saw everything, he would turn away. Yet the Gospel tells the opposite story. Resurrection begins when the stone is rolled away. God already sees everything we are dealing with and stays anyway. God already knows everything we think and feel and loves us unconditionally. That truth changes how we approach conversations about sexuality and gender.

“In Part” to “Impart”

Over the last few articles, we've explored why these discussions become so difficult. We read Scripture differently. We bring different cultural experiences into the conversation. We have different stories. It is impossible to be objective in a conversation like this, but that is by design. None of us sees or knows completely. We all know in part. That doesn't mean truth doesn't matter. It means humility does. What would it look like for us to take what we know “in parts” and “impart” it to one another in humility?

Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 13 are striking because they come after one of his greatest discussions of spiritual gifts. Paul touches on impressive and intimidating feats like prophecy, faith, and wisdom, giving them all their level of importance and weight. But without love, they become meaningless.

‘If I… can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,… but do not have love, I am nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:2)

In other words, you can have detailed arguments, impressive theology, and even be right about it all. But if you do not have love, you have nothing. That is the invitation: to love despite a lack of certainty or agreement. Some might even call that faith.

The question beneath this whole series is not "What is your position?" or "Which side are you on?" It’s much deeper than that. Who are you? The modern temptation is to immediately answer that question with a political affiliation or job position. Some might start with their sexuality or gender. Maybe the church-goer would say “a Christian”. Others might go the patriotic route and mention their nationality or race. But those labels fade with time and wither with the grass, only to apply temporarily to this life.

Who are you beneath all of that? That is the spiritually formative question, I hope we can all get to as we humbly offer our parts of this grand experience to one another. For me, the answer is still unfolding, but I have come to believe this much. Before I am anything else, I am someone who is fully known and fully loved by God. Perhaps learning to accept that love is the beginning of learning how to extend it to others.