What Do You Call Intimacy?

dedicated to my gay friends...

I've not been here for quite a while. Over the last couple of years, my words have mostly been offered aloud in the intimacy of church community or during sessions of spiritual direction and prayer rather than to the blogging world. But yesterday, Good Friday, I intentionally made myself absent from all such services. I went to the church in the quiet of its preparations and prayed a blessing for all those who would attend those services, but I did not attend them myself. I gazed appreciatively at the beautiful displays, stations to commemorate the life of and death of Christ, but I slipped out quietly before attendees began arriving.

My heart was deeply troubled. I  found myself echoing Job when he cried out, "O that thou wouldst hide me in the grave, that thou wouldst keep me secret until thy wrath be past, that thou wouldst appoint me a set time and remember me!" (Job 14:13)

I'd echo Job, but change one word. "O that thou wouldst hide me in the grace,"...But I see this is not the way things are structured in much of church life--not for you, and if I take an honest assessment, not for me either.
I know that the church is infamous for making the Bible "say things" through its cut-and-paste tactics
--The Lord is my Shepherd. (Psalm 23:1) Every shepherd is an abomination. (Gen.46:34.)--
I know the power of condemnation is drawn more from what is highlighted than what is left in the dark, (The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want...And Every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians.)
But, I also know there are passages that read condemnation when taken at face value. I know your hearts ache over how to hold those passages in holy reverence. My heart does, too.
If they say your sin is an abomination with a capital A, they should say the same of mine.
You see, I wear the capital A of adultery. 
Every day.
I am a woman divorced and remarried.
What the church should quote to me is Matt 19:9: "Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery: and whoso marrieth her which is put away doth commit adultery."
(I know you could squint and nit-pick over allowances, like "I'm a woman, and this verse applies to men, etc." But all such allowances seem to slap the spirit of the verse in the face. At that point, arguments are not made for Biblical law, but for justifying allowances.)

The church should tell me--of my 22-year, deeply committed marriage (as it tells you of yours)--that it must end and the children being raised in this home be disregarded for any recognition as part of a family.
The church should tell me I must do this before I am serious enough about being sinless, serious enough to join the ranks of those fit for holy corporate worship.
But most of the Church doesn't tell me that, and frankly, I'm in awe of the fact that you don't hold me up as a scapegoat. I'm amazed you don't point to me in confusion as people of faith say their commitment to Biblical law is the primary way they express their love to God, and thus they feel obliged to consider you second-class citizens in the kingdom. I do not doubt their sincerity, but I am surprised you don't highlight this glaring discrepancy.

Why don't you ask why? "Why is she 'ok' for faith-based intimacy and respect, and I'm not?"
You could ask this--the capital A thing, you know--but you don't. So I ask it.
I step out of the sanctuary, and I ask why.

I allow myself to feel deeply this alienation. I explore this aching mystery of living inside a human love that grows a family and seems to honor the defining characteristics of love--apart from one thing. (For you, the "one thing" is your capacity for literal physical reproduction as that love's expression into the future; for me, the "one thing" is that I must look into the past and see a sanctioned-by-the-church marriage that ended and that I replaced with another love that I refuse to set aside. Never mind that the church sanctioned it, too. That must have happened on a day when these things didn't matter so much.)

I go to God in my office now. I go to God looking out my own window. I pray Psalm 130:
Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord,
Lord hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.
If thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?
But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be revered.
I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.

As I pray, I see the place where charity leaks away. For my marriage continues--as does yours. Is it that we stand as reminders of the nature of things? Has the Church come to believe an underlying falsehood: that our need for grace carried us to the day we made a profession of faith, but then our commitment to holiness retained our position? What of those of us who stand in these places under designated beacon-lights of sin, ones that never go away this side of the grave?
Why does the target group change, but the spirit of rejection remain?
(Before you, it was me. Before me it was interracial couples, etc)

I do not know the answer to these questions, but this verse I leave with you, and hold for myself, too:

Above all things, have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins. Use hospitality one to another without grudging. As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. --1 Peter 4:8-10.

I want you to know, I recognize your fervent charity toward me. I pray you feel it from me, too.