The Ugly Legacy of "Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin"
What happened in Colorado Springs should, but probably won't, be a wakeup call.
His name was Daniel Davis Aston. He was 28 years old. He’d only recently moved to Colorado Springs from Oklahoma, but he’d already made a lot of friends. That was the kind of guy he was, according to those who knew him. He’d gotten a gig bartending at Club Q to pay the bills. He was the first of five victims to be identified in the mass shooting on Trans Visibility Day. ABC News reports that Daniel’s mother remembers him as “amazing.” Based on what we know about his brief life, “amazing” checks out. We shouldn’t have to do this without him. Being a trans man anywhere is no picnic, but I’d imagine being out in a place like Colorado Springs comes with its own challenges.
The city spent the 90s as the command center for a surging Moral Majority. Serving as the headquarters for Focus on the Family, the religious right looked to Colorado Springs for marching orders through the Clinton and Bush years. Dr. James Dobson’s central pitch was to return the traditional nuclear family to its rightful place as the bedrock of American society, but in practice, his teaching was much broader, touching on politics, education, entertainment, money, technology, business, biblical exegesis, psychology and, of course, sexuality. Though Focus’ influence has dwindled a little since its prime, its legacy is secure, as is its impact on the culture of Colorado Springs.
I am sure that many people who came of age in the evangelical culture of the 90s associate Colorado Springs with that part of their childhood, not unlike Orlando’s association with Disney. In the 90s, Focus was churning out its own sanctified brand of well-funded kid’s entertainment, with McGee and Me, Last Chance Detectives and, of course, Adventures in Odyssey instilling young minds with Focus’ spin on evangelical ethics. A not insignificant number of elder millennials raised in evangelicalism can still recite Focus on the Family’s Colorado Springs mailing address from memory.
In short, Focus on the Family spent a lot of time tying the city of Colorado Springs directly to its own work and mission. That would suggest that members of the LGBTQ community in Colorado Springs might encounter more than your average amount of bigotry and homophobia. Largely, perhaps, of the socially acceptable variety. People who don’t hate gay folks, but don’t exactly want them around either. Cold comfort in the wake of rising hate crimes.
"There's still so much hatred for our community and we're all just people trying to live our lives," Liss Smith told NBC News. Smith lives in Colorado Springs, where they serve as the communications manager for Inside Out Youth Services. They said rising homophobic sentiment over the last few years already had the local LGBTQ community on edge, and that was before the shooting. “We know as LGBTQ people that even our safe spaces carry some element of danger, because they’re our spaces. And I think that’s just something that you have to grow to accept as a queer person living today.”
Of course, most people in Colorado Springs aren’t harboring murderous intent. Focus on the Family was always clear on that point. “Love the sinner, hate the sin,” goes the popular refrain. It sounds so simple, from that side of things. “We don’t hate you. We don’t want anyone to kill you. We just hate the fact that you’re gay.”
This framework may have its uses around certain evils. But when it comes to sexuality, it falls apart. Here’s a simple thought experiment for straight people. Imagine if I told you I loved you, I just hate your marriage. Not only do I hate your marriage, I hate the very idea of it. I don’t even think it’s real. The very idea that you love the kind of person you love revolts me. I think it’s a sign that you’re at least mentally unwell, perhaps even an active agent of evil. If you try to convince anyone that you’re normal, I’ll call you a groomer. If you insist that I make space for your equal rights under the law, I’ll call you a fascist. If my pastor decides you can get married in our church, they’ll have to find a new church and a new job. But don’t worry. I love you.
Would you accept that kind of love love? Why should LGBTQ people, who already live under threat of unfair public policy, of news media fearmongering, of discrimination, of lack of representation and rising hate crimes in the U.S., add this kind of “love” to the list of things they have to worry about?
I do not doubt “love the sinner, hate the sin” people when they say they’re appalled and horrified by mass shootings like the one that took place at Club Q. But I don’t think it’s at all hard to see why LGBTQ folks don’t take such “love” seriously.
To be clear, there’s a good deal we don’t know about this gunman. As I write this, we know police are investigating the killing as a hate crime and that the killer chose November 20, Trans Visibility Day, as the day to carry out his attack. We know that this mass murder happened in the midst of a nationwide surge in anti-LGBTQ sentiment, during which respected pundits and ostensibly serious politicians are willing to entertain the idea that being trans is a mental disorder public school teachers are deliberately foisting on innocent children in systemic fashion.
And yes, we know that this gunman has a history of violence. We know that charges against him were mysteriously dropped earlier this year when his own mother called police to report him for making violent threats. We know that the respected pundits and ostensibly serious politicians who accuse gay people of attempting to overthrow the American way of life by grooming children for sexual exploitation will now condemn these killings, evidently shocked by the notion that anyone would take their daily diatribe against LGBTQ people seriously.
But I think we can see how unwell people with hate in their heart can get from “love the sinner, hate the sin” to “kill the gays.” After all, as the fever swamp of rightwing media is only too happy to remind us every night, this is a war. And one can start entertaining a lot of ugly business in war. You might start thinking you’re the only one with the courage to do what needs to be done.
And so far, the majority of American churches have been happy to extend their tent to include all manner of deeply troubling rhetoric around LGBTQ people, accepting more extremist talk about groomers and pedophiles in the public schools right alongside gentler “love the sinner, hate the sin” messaging, no matter how squeamish the latter might make the former. But these same churches have not been interested in opening the tent the other way, to include out LGBTQ people and their allies. Why should LGBTQ people consider the offer if it was extended? People who explicitly hate their guts are welcomed, tolerated, taken seriously, maybe even given a position of leadership within the church. They themselves are, at absolute most, permitted to sit in the pew. In this ecosystem, how could deranged gunmen not see the American Church as being on their side, in the grand scheme of things?
I am unequivocally for the LGBTQ community. What I am trying to do here is explain to those whose Christianity theology excludes the full acceptance of LGBTQ people why “love the sinner, hate the sin” is simply not good enough. It is not working. It has not convinced LGBTQ people that Christians love them despite all evidence to the contrary. It has only convinced the most violent enemies of LGBTQ community that when push comes to shove, the Church has their back.
And until that changes, I just don’t see why people like Daniel Davis Aston should look to the Church for love. The world they live and die in is dangerous enough as it is.
Whenever I write about LGBTQ issues, I get some questions about affirming theology.
Here are a few books that I find helpful.
A Theology of Liberation: Gustavo Gutiérrez.
God of the Oppressed: James Cone
Some articles that may be of interest.
I usually write a free article on Sundays, but I didn’t do that this week because Sunday was my birthday and I was with my wife and my dog at a beautiful cabin in Germany and I didn’t miss any of you at all. Thanks to everyone who sent me some well wishes!