Amanda Pilbrow | Spiritually directing LGBTIQA+ people of faith
An SGM Interview with Amanda Pilbrow
Spiritually directing LGBTIQA+ people of faith
Amanda Pilbrow is a spiritual director, an LGBTIQA+ ally and speaker. She is the founder of www.alreadyenough.co.nz, a website to resource LGBTIQA+ people of faith, (and those who walk beside them), exploring theological frameworks and interpretations around human sexuality. In this blog post, Kathryn Cass has a conversation with Amanda about her recently published Special Interest Project, ‘Spiritually Directing LGBTIQA+ People of Faith’ and the personal journey that lies behind it.
Amanda, what did you explore in your Special Interest Project?
The full title is Spiritually Directing LGBTIQA+ People of Faith: Investigating Contemporary Knowledge Gaps, Gauging Awareness, and Resourcing Personal and Professional Development.
The paper offers both encouragement and tools to help spiritual directors explore theological frameworks of faith and sexuality, so that we are better equipped and more open to holy whispers as we journey alongside any directee that might be part of the rainbow community (or who might yet come out).
It also asks, ‘how aware are spiritual directors concerning sexuality, statements of position, and interpretive frameworks around the ‘clobber verses’ that might have formed our understanding and responses to LGBTIQA+ people, especially people of faith?
Could you share some of your personal journey into exploring the experiences of LGBTIQA+ people of faith?
Often people assume that my interest in the LGBTIAQ+ community is one of personal identity, or through a close connection with someone who identifies as LGBTIQA+. Actually, I am a cis-gendered straight woman. I am an ally of the rainbow community, not part of it myself.
My motivation comes from quite a different place all together. For me, the LGBTIQA+ community are yet another group of people being asked by the Church to either remain silent, shut up, or stay within their ‘God given’ lane. And I have had enough of that.
Let’s step back a bit.
I grew up in a Church tradition where women were not permitted to be in positions of leadership. It became problematic when my husband, Bruce and I began a three year chapter at Bible College (Laidlaw) in 2000.
I discovered through my study that I had something to say and a voice to say it with – alongside a developing skill to teach and lead. However, my faith tradition held a theology that didn’t permit women to be in leadership over a man and continued to place glass ceiling upon glass ceiling above me at every turn. And so a wrestling match between God and myself began. Frustration is a mild description of my internal reality at the time.
Questions swirled: “God, why have you placed this desire and gift in me to speak and lead only for me to denied access?” Why do I have to sit under (some) men who are at best winging it and at worse abusing their positions?” And the most authentic question: “Am I a second-class citizen in your family?”
I kept asking, who’s wrong? God, me, or the Church tradition?
This was the first time I began questioning what I had been taught – because it directly affected me. But I think the deeper crisis for me was wrestling with the reality that if there were indeed second-class citizens in the family of God – did I want to be part of that family?
It quickly became a crisis of faith that thankfully turned out to be a critical pivot point in my faith journey and holistic wellbeing.
In the wrestling, researching, and questioning with God, I’ve unlearnt and learnt anew that no, there are no second-class citizens. It was me that needed to change my heart and mindset and move forward by revisioning the way certain scriptures had been interpreted and taught about women in leadership.
And so from there, a slow awakening began; to question and not simply regurgitate – first for my own sake, and then others.
At what stage did you begin to question your inherited theological stance on LGBTQIA+ sexual identity?
Jumping forward, I became a pastor in a large church with a portfolio for the young adults; 18-30yrs. Within our community of young adults, we were determined to provide a space for all questions; the messy, the seemingly unfaithful, and the challenging. We journeyed through cycles of un-learning, re-learning, and moving forward – taking one bite of the elephant at a time.
In the middle of my pastoring role, the church embarked on a 10 week series around relationships. Much to the senior pastors credit, and let’s face it – courage, one Sunday we were to look at ‘homosexuality’.
With four weeks to research (and I love to research) I became uncomfortably aware of how little I knew about the LGBTIQA+ community of faith and the variety of interpretive frameworks that existed theologically. The more I researched, listened to stories, and dumped my doubts before God, the more shocked and frustrated I became. I realised that I had been regurgitating theories, without questioning, again. Because let’s be honest, my generation, and the one before, were taught not to question the ‘bible’ – but we forgot to question the messengers.
The catalyst, or holy invitation, happened sitting around a table with my fellow pastors. While discussing this particular Sunday topic, without warning, I began to weep. I was hot, shaky, overcome. All I could say in that moment was “what if we have got this wrong – again?”
And so it began – again. Increasingly, and repeatedly. I tried to resist taking up this cause. Believe, me I tried! I mean, why me? I have no ‘skin in the game’ around diverse sexuality. I was not trying to defend and justify this for anyone I knew. But the stirring of injustice, the realisation of regurgitation – of not-questioning, felt all too familiar.
After another year or so in the pastoring role my mental health began to spiral downward along with my faith as I knew it. It wasn’t handled well – and I probably didn’t help much either. It was a dark time, mentally and spiritually.
Long story short, I began to see a spiritual director who sat, listened, and provided a space for me to safely confront what was going on – from how my identify was tied to my pastoring role to the triggers and injustices rising from the second-class citizenship thread.
With the support of family, I resigned my role and spent six long months avoiding God’s people – but not altogether avoiding God. In that time I finished my undergrad and enrolled in a full-time Master’s of Applied Theology – I mean what else do you do when you’re anxious, frustrated, and raw?
My thesis was titled Navigating faith, sexuality, and wholeness in Aotearoa New Zealand : seven LGB-Christian narratives
How did your two-journey of formation as a spiritual director shape your journey?
After my Master’s I began crafting together a resource website www.alreadyenough.co.nz as an offering from my journey, filled with at least four years of research. Yet because of my own experience of receiving spiritual direction I wondered if training in this area would add another tool to my kete – not specifically in the interests of diverse sexuality, but more to be able to offer what had been offered to me.
I knew I didn’t want to be a pastor again, not in the way that I had. No, it was more about unlearning old pastoral habits and up-skilling in spiritual practices.
What has become clear along the way is my desire for people to know themselves as God knows them. Again, sexuality is not my primary focus - it’s about a holy invitation into peace and leaning into all God has made you to be. For some people, questions around sexual identity become part of that holy enquiry.
What were you hopes as you researched and wrote your research paper?
In my research, spiritual directors around New Zealand completed a questionnaire investigating their knowledge of the variety of theological frameworks around diverse sexual identies. I suspected that many spiritual directors may have inherited their churches theological position without exploring this area for themselves.
My first hope was that I would be proven wrong; that there wouldn’t be evidence of such huge gaps of knowledge around sexuality, statements of position, and interpretive frameworks around the clobber verses that are used to biblically defend a non-affirming view.
Secondly, I hoped that if the gap was evident, there would be an openness to filling that gap.
How would you describe your key findings?
Even though I hoped to be proven wrong, the key findings were not a surprise. Yes, the knowledge gaps are evident. Yes, there is work to do so we maintain an ethic of care for ourselves and our clients. Yes, there are more resources, stories, and LGBTIQA+ people of faith than people realise.
Also, overwhelmingly and encouragingly there was a clear openness to filling those knowledge gaps. We don’t know what we don’t know until we know.
Was there anything that surprised you in the questionnaire responses?
A couple of responses expressed a concern about my ‘agenda’, which was interesting because yes, I do have an agenda; breaking down barriers that contain people as second-class citizens in the faith family. I desperately needed this liberation and I believe others need it too. I guess also from a professional development angle my agenda is in some small way to question and notice if we are simply regurgitating unhelpful and harmful theology.
Hospitality is a key theme that comes across in your paper. Could you say something about the important of creating hospitable spaces in spiritual direction for LGBTIQA+ people of faith?
Hospitality is vital, and it can’t just be lip-service. ‘Welcoming’ is increasingly becoming a red flag word to LGBTIQA+ people. It means you’re welcome to attend the party but you can’t play – unless you change.
If we say we are ‘welcoming’ to LGBTIQA+ people of faith in our practice, we need to know that what they hope for is to be celebrated for all of who they are, including their sexual identity, not just tolerated in the name of ‘welcome’. If we cannot freely offer that depth of welcome we are compromising both a hospitable space and perhaps a holy and incarnated space.
Endeavouring to offer a hospitable space includes our own openness towards un-learning and learning anew. I know how difficult and unfaithful it can feel to move outside our confirmation-bias, to question, even silently, areas of our taught theology, areas that might not actually hold absolute definitive answers.
What do you know of the experiences of people not receiving that hospitality and what was the impact of that for them?
Conversion therapy wears many masks. Just when one has been exposed another one is put back on.
Some of the most triggering or harmful experiences can come from well-intentioned people who may be ignorant of the lived realities of the person they are relating to. I notice that then when people’s pride gets involved they can double down on their unexamined positions. This can show up as a form of arrogance, which further damages an authentic offering of hospitality.
Some people are walking away from Church and God because of their experiences of marginalisation. And it’s not just LGBTIQA+ people of faith leaving – their friends, families, and onlookers are leaving too. Everyone is impacted when spaces are not authentically hospitable. What’s changed in the last few years is their courage to find a voice – to no longer be silenced.
If you were to meet with a LGBTIQA+ person of faith in spiritual direction, how would you offer hospitality?
At heart, what I can offer a LGBTIQA+ person of faith is the same I hope to offer all my directees – the opportunity to know themselves as God knows them.
There is a beautiful Hebrew word ‘Teshuvah’. In our English we have butchered it to scream and stamp ‘repent’. But the essence of Teshuvah is to ‘come home’. A holy whisper to come back and see/know ourself as God sees/knows us, as Matthew Fox offers, ‘as an original blessing’.
The space I hope I can offer is one of Teshuvah. One where sexuality is not the only ‘essence’ of a directee. Equally, one that trusts and honours that wherever a directee might land in terms of their personal sexual identity is between them and God.
For those who are wrestling with personal questions about sexual identity and their theology about it, I know what it feels like to question what I have been taught. I know what it’s like to feel ‘unfaithful’ in that process of questioning - while trusting it’s a holy invitation into something more expansive, liberating and inclusive.
The crisis of faith and learning to sit in the ‘unfaithful’ feelings in order to ‘teshuvah’ and find God are the darker but equally holy parts of the holy invitation. The other side of that process is the gift God offers - a more profound, freeing, hope-filled, wonderfully inclusive, liberated, and, yes, uncertain faith. Isn't that what faith is meant to be - waiting for the movement of the Spirit to direct us?
You call yourself an LGBTQIA+ ally. Can you share with us what that means for you?
Being an ally can mean different things to different people. For me it’s about turning up when I’m needed, or more importantly, asked. That might include education through workshops, or, to simply listen over a coffee.
Being an ally requires empathy, a bit of wisdom, and sensitivity to timing. There have been moments where I’ve bitten my tongue because the circumstances weren’t right and other moments when I have calmly spoken up, chosen my words deliberately, challenged and offered a different perspective.
Sometimes it has been turning up to comfort someone who is angry at a personal injustice or verbal attack. Other times it’s about finding new creative ways to embed a person’s inclusion.
I remember one occasion where a trans woman wanted to rededicate her baptism - as the woman she now is.
My immediate thought was all the traditional red tape that might get in the way and then I remembered the conversation between Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch. So, we filled the baptismal ‘bath’. I spoke about remembering the importance of our own baptism, its significance, acknowledging and honouring the changes that had taken place in us since that moment - spiritually and embodied. Next, the community was invited to wash their hands in the bath as an act of remembrance. Then our trans woman shared why it was important for her to remember and rededicate herself in baptism. She then washed her hands in the bath – the same water everyone had used – and the community prayed a blessing over her.
I have a section on the Already Enough website about what it means to be an ally. I suggest there that there are three stages: Awareness, Action and Integration. A fully-fledged ally will, when asked, stand in the gap for LGBTIQA+ people of faith.
If you feel called or challenged to be an ally please, do the work, read a recommended resource, listen to storiess of LGBTIQA+ people of faith. Know your ‘why’.
A ‘welcome sign’ is not the same as being a fully-fledged ally of the rainbow community. An ally knows their ‘why’’. They have a compassionate heart of welcome, backed up by head knowledge and they live authentically from their gut in their being and doing.
As allies, we also will have to deal with a few roadblocks, pushbacks and heartbreaks. We need to be aware that 'coming-out' as an Ally can upset some people. This is why knowing our 'why' is so vital.
In all honesty, being an ally includes some dangers – there may be consequences. Allies have lost friends, positions in leadership, jobs, support, community, family, and funding. And this sucks beyond words - it can break our hearts. But, it can also be a profoundly holy invitation into God's heart.
Its important to remember that being an ally doesn't mean we are 'part' of the Rainbow/Queer community; we are supporters - not members. We are not the fighters in the ring; we stand outside the ring, each ally at a corner rail, ready to ward off the armchair critiques, the self-appointed refs, the biased theologians, and perhaps tackle the rotten tomato throwers out the back door.
What’s next for you, Amanda?
Well, there are several areas I am leaning into.
1. The www.alreadyenough.co.nz website will continue to be developed and updated with resources.
2. I will be offering professional development workshops in this area that look at un-clobbering the clobber verses interpretive framework, comparing interpretative frameworks and ‘who says what’, sharing my top three resources etc. I’m also an enneagram practitioner and will be offering enneagram workshops.
3. Consulting by providing workshops for groups, educators, and church leaders who want to move into an affirming space: we explore: ‘what are the danger zones?’, ‘creating an ethic for all’, and ‘listening to stories’.
4. Building my spiritual direction practice: this is where my heart is most of all. I thought spiritual direction would simply be another tool in the ketē but I think it has become the ketē that holds everything else.
In all of this, my heart is to help people to know God and to be known and loved by God.
A Blessing
By Amanda Pilbrow
Put your feet on the ground.
Breathe deeply - in - out - repeat...
Holy whisper of Wisdom, Grace, and Justice
thank you for being ever-present.
Speak. Stir. Invite. Shake. Shift. Hold. Move.
Clean our ears to listen,
Embolden our hearts to brevity and openness,
Wipe dirt from our eyes,
seeing you in all people
we have been told you are not.
Lift our heads cupped gently in Wisdom,
towards unlearning – and relearning
May we grow in you
never-ending
Amanda was recently featured on the In The Shift podcast with Michael Frost
Amanda Pilbrow is a spiritual director, an LGBTIQA+ ally and speaker. She is the founder of www.alreadyenough.co.nz, a website to resource LGBTIQA+ people of faith and those who walk beside them. You can contact Amanda at hello@alreadyenough.co.nz.
