My friend and colleague, Guy Hammond of the Strength in Weakness Ministries, often evokes the image of Nehemiah wielding both tool and weapon while building the wall to defend against sudden attacks. This analogy resonates deeply with me when describing the challenges of our work in this field.

In a position already marked with the vulnerability of sharing intimate aspects of my life with public audiences, I must also remain hypervigilant to ensure my message is conveyed accurately. Yet, despite my best efforts, misunderstandings abound. For example, in just one week’s time I have received 3 conflicting pieces of criticism:

1. “How dare you say being in a same-sex relationship or identifying as a different gender is sinful! You are killing LGBTQ+ people all over the world!”
2. “How dare you NOT say that simply being attracted to the same sex is sinful! God can heal you and others from this affliction!”
3. “How dare you say having an LGBTQ+ identity is sinful! You can still call yourself ‘gay’ or ‘trans’ AND abide by the Biblical sexual ethic as a Christian! You’re killing gay and trans Christians all over the world!”

I find myself in the heart of the “messy middle” – a space that is messy for a reason, drawing disagreement from all sides of an argument. Even from the people who stand with me in the messy middle, every word I say is taken out of context, nit-picked apart, and then eviscerated. Serving in this way is … a lot of things:

Vulnerable

I openly discuss aspects of life that many keep private, sharing them with public audiences instead of confining them to personal spaces like diaries, conversations with loved ones, or a session with a therapist. It sometimes feels like being under a magnifying glass, where my experiences are closely examined to satisfy the curiosity of others.

One instance I frequently mention is a deeply personal (yet non-sexual) memory from my wedding night: my husband tenderly washing my feet and kneeling with me in prayer to set the tone for the beginning of our physical intimacy. This anecdote usually serves as a powerful illustration of building intimacy in a marriage that is centered on mutual love for God and each other. However, sharing it also leaves me feeling incredibly exposed. Even after countless retellings, I still feel a lump in my throat when I recount this precious memory because of its personal significance.

I not only share intimate details about my life with the public, but I also expose myself to criticism, ridicule, and disagreement from all sides. Occupying the messy middle, where truth and love intersect, invites dissent from all directions. This level of vulnerability can often feel daunting, overwhelming, and …

Exhausting

Though I am a serious introvert, and this type of work can deplete my energy, as it requires me to spend most of my time talking with people, it is exhausting in a whole different way as well. The messy middle space, where Jesus often stood, is not a popular place to be. It’s much easier to take a stance on the extremes of an issue. If you exist in an extreme, you at least have lots of support from one side that helps to bolster your morale when the other side vehemently objects.

When you exist in the messy middle, there is disagreement from both sides. People on the more liberal side of this issue have said to me, “How dare you even suggest that homosexuality/crossing gender boundaries is sinful!” And people on the more conservative side of this issue, equally enraged, have exclaimed, “How dare you befriend, interact with, and show love or respect toward gay and trans people!”

When you exist in the messy middle, people on both extremes are constantly ready to attack. Not only do I need to continue to grow internally in this area, but I also have to do it on the defense, which is exhausting.

Unrelenting

I’ve never had a burning bush[i] moment where, barefoot and trembling, I heard God plainly say to me, “Ellen, you must serve me in this way!” So I am not completely comfortable using the word “calling” to describe this work that I do for the Lord. However, I do feel an unrelenting compulsion to this type of service. Sometimes I am passionate and excited about this compulsion, overcome with gratitude that I get to serve in this way. And sometimes I beg God to take the compulsion away. Truly, my life would be so much easier if I did not feel compelled to serve in this way.

Not only would I be spared from publicly sharing some of the most intimate details of my life, but I also would be able to focus more on my day job. Unfortunately, the messy middle space is also the space that is devoid of funding. Few people want to support a ministry/cause that is in such a controversial area and especially one that seeks to exist in the messy middle. The organizations on the extremes of this issue receive a lot of funding, to be sure! But not those of us in the messy middle.

I have often wrestled with confusion before God, wondering why he would put this unrelenting compulsion on my heart if it didn’t at least provide a living. I have prayed many times for a way to make this act of service my day job, but God has not provided this for me fully as of yet. Instead, I maintain a small therapy practice to pay the bills, so that I can continue to serve in this way.

I have to constantly fight for balance in my focus. Though I want to spend all my work time on matters of sex, sexuality, and gender, I often have to pull my focus from that in order to properly attend to my therapy practice. I am confident that God has a purpose in this particular path of mine, but it can sometimes feel confusing and jarring.

Faith-Building and Refreshing

When I first became a Christian, I begged God that he would use me as he sees fit, that I would be his vessel, his hands and feet to do with as he willed. My heart swells with gratitude that God answered this prayer so unmistakably.

In the moments when I slip into ingratitude and faithlessness, I reminisce on this early prayer of mine and stand in awe of God’s answer. This unrelenting compulsion reminds me daily of the devotion I continually offer to the Lord by awakening the sentiment expressed in Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Demanding

LGBTQ+ discussions are some of the most highly contested and controversial topics in our world today, not to mention our churches. Because many Christians have elevated this in their hearts as one of their greatest fears, they often do not want to preemptively educate themselves on these topics – especially parents! Instead, they hope and pray that they will be spared from facing these difficult topics.

When the dreaded fear becomes a reality for some people, manners tend to go out the window as they enter full-blown crisis mode. What can escalate this already tense time is when parents want a succinct, action-based answer from me to quickly remedy the “problem.” Unfortunately, such an answer does not exist.

The direction I give to parents usually starts on a heart level and requires systemic repentance and perspective shifts on their part. Though this kind of change is quite effective, it is not quick, easy, or fun. This can further fuel parents’ panic. Two a.m. phone calls, insistent emails like, “My son just came out; you need to call me now!!” and angry outbursts like, “Shut up! I don’t care about all of that! Just tell me exactly what I should say to my daughter to get her to stop!” become part of my reality when parents enter into this state of crisis.

While I have copious amounts of empathy and compassion for parents experiencing this and completely understand how rationale and courtesy can go out the window while in panic, truth be told, this can really wear on me. I have to continually fight for a godly perspective.

Before I speak with anyone about LGBTQ+ topics, I always beg God to allow me to see the other person (or people) through his eyes. This has often helped me not take it personally when these panic-induced demands come my way but instead to see that person for what they really are—a terrified child of God.

Incredibly Rewarding and Inspiring

For every demanding, panicky person, there are ten abundantly grateful and gracious people that I encounter. It is so moving to watch people bravely walk into the fire and be willingly refined due to their overwhelming love and devotion to God. To get to witness that kind of valiant obedience, courageous surrender, and tenacious faith day in and day out inspires me greatly and spurs me on in my own faith.

Hilariously Humbling

You know the kind of humility that comes from God giving you what you always wanted, but not in the way you expected it? I get to experience that a lot.

Like many kids growing up, I dreamed of one day having some kind of notoriety. I naturally assumed this would come in the form of international stardom. In fact, in grade school, I practiced my “famous signature” several times in preparation for my combination acting/singing career (the small obstacle of not being able to sing or act did not occur to me at the time). Instead, God gave me a different kind of notoriety—the kind that doesn’t make your head swell.

I attended a women’s retreat several years ago. I was drying my hands in the restroom when someone walked in and saw me, did a double take, and exclaimed, “I know you! Aren’t you the…the…”

Clearly realizing she didn’t know how to finish the sentence politely, her words trailed off while she just stood there helplessly looking to me for rescue. After embracing the awkward for a few seconds, I finally decided to extricate her from her social agony and said, “The former lesbian? Yep, that’s me!”

I had a good laugh with God as I realized that he did in fact allow me notoriety, just not in the way my eight-year-old self anticipated. Instead, he gave me the opportunity to boast in my weaknesses for his glory, while desperately having to rely on him to do so. I definitely wouldn’t trade this reality for what my eight-year-old self had in mind!

[i] Exodus 3.