Loud music pumped through air, lights pulsed and pierced the dark room as N* led a group into dance routine after dance routine. As a choreographer and dance instructor, he had the ability to make anyone feel like a professional dancer at any level of experience. In all of 2.5 seconds I knew I wanted to get to know his story, because really, he was amazing.

We built a friendship upon our mutual love for dancing. Flamboyant and energetic and incredibly talented, Nick and I would chat after class about his latest diet or my inability to look serious while trying to do a lyrical dance move. We moved from gym friends to Twitter buddies until one day something changed. Our light-hearted conversations after class turned cold and distant, always cut short by an appointment or errand he had to do. The separation gap grew increasingly apparent until I waited for him after class as the students piled out to find out why.

Me. Him. And an empty dance room as cold as our friendship.

I asked how he was doing and if everything was okay. He laughed his usual laugh and smiled at me as if everything was okay, but I’ve lived in Orange County long enough to know plastic when I see it. I prodded more and the laughter subsided as truth was revealed.

N grew up in Hawaii in a Christian environment, was rejected by peers, isolated from staff, and eventually kicked out from his Christian school because he told his teacher he was gay. I read your blog and found out you’re a Christian, he said seriously. I know you know I’m gay and I didn’t want you to hate me like everyone else who said they were Christian, he admitted callously towards the end of our conversation.

His statement took me aback. Of all the things Christian believers could have taught him, his only memory was the hatred and rejection from the people who claimed to emulate the life of Christ. How did the beauty of the gospel, the fullness of grace, the redemption song we valiantly sing, be reduced to that? Jesus—the friend to sinners and thieves and prostitutes—was lost in the condemnation and judgement of his followers.

We know the scriptures in Leviticus. We know how God feels about homosexuality. But may we never forget the message of grace! May our identity as followers of Christ not be defined by the Law like the Pharisees, but in the scandalous message of grace. Yes, yes, I know sin is bad. But don’t forget that grace is the hallmark of Jesus’ ministry! The woman at the well, Matthew the tax collector, eating with Zacchaeus, the compassion toward the hemorrhaging woman, and the forgiveness he displayed to the woman caught in adultery.

Where are these kind encounters in our lives today?

N,

If you ever read this blog again know that there is a God who loves you. Period, the end. We all are marred and broken and sinful, but God loves us. It is through through His love we are able to live the life He desires for us to live. You smile through pain, but I know the wounds are deep. You may not be able to believe my words because the words of others have deafened you the message of grace, but know this: You are loved. You are accepted. You are a child of God.

Like Billy Graham says, It’s God’s job to judge. It’s the holy spirit’s job to convict. And it’s my job to love. N, you’re loved.

Do you had radical stories of grace shown to you? Or have you played the role of pharisee and lived to regret it? Feel free to share. It’s an open forum.

*To respect his identity, his name has been changed.

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