Queer And Christian: Book Review

Josh Klein
Jun 19
21 min read

Updated: Nov 5

I first became aware of Brandan Robertson through TikTok. Brandan has over 250,000 followers on the platform and often goes viral for his takes on progressive theology. His following on Instagram (17+ thousand) and X (22+ thousand) is modest in comparison, but his influence on progressive theology is only increasing. Queer and Christian: Reclaiming the Bible, Our Faith, and Our Place at the Table is currently the #1 new release on Amazon in the category of “Gender and Sexuality”. So, it's most definitely relevant, and worth engaging. Especially since Robertson states in the introduction he would be:

“…laying out the best arguments to disarm the anti-queer interpretation of these texts.” (pg. XXIV)

The book communicates his arguments effectively and clearly. He draws on contemporary and historical biblical scholarship from the liberationist and progressive traditions but does not, as far as I can tell, engage with any orthodox scholarship. A danger in reviewing this book lies in misunderstanding what Brandan seeks to accomplish. This is not a book for me or for any conservative Christian. Robertson is not making arguments to convince myself or others like me.

“For every argument you make, there will be a counterargument, and ultimately, non-affirming Christians will usually write off affirming arguments as false teaching and move on.” (pg. 226)

Rather, he is seeking to write an apologetic for people already within the progressive and LGBTQ+ stream of theological thought. While I will engage in his arguments, and would love to do so face to face with Brandan sometime, it is hard to review this work effectively for that reason. His goal seems to be to encourage already convinced LGBTQ+ people (and their “allies”) that studying the Bible and Christianity is accessible to them if they approach the text in certain "creative ways." I believe his book could accomplish this goal, but if it does, only at the peril of those who would heed its advice and interpretations.

“This is why I have written this book: to provide an accessible guide for queer people and our allies to understand what the Bible actually says about queer sexuality and gender, and offer a path toward reclaiming the Bible...” (pg. XXIII) “By this point, I hope you can see that when examined through a critical and sometimes creative lens, the Bible does not have to be seen as a weapon to control or condemn queer people but can actually be a profound tool in our continued struggle for queer liberation and equity.” (pg. 171)

Theological Underpinnings

First, Brandan Robertson is a Christian Universalist. While Christian Universalists still believe in sin and repentance they do so mostly focusing on the process of reaping what we sow in this life rather than in eternity as they believe all people will ultimately be saved. This theology focuses on the innate goodness of humanity. Passions we are born with, while they should be harnessed in a certain direction, are innate and thus, part of the “very good” creation:

“In fact, the Scriptures make it clear that God does not dwell in sanctuaries made by human hands (Acts 7:48-49) but is present throughout the entire world that God has made and called “very good” (Genesis 1:31).” (pg. 241)

Robertson seems to pull from the Critical Theory as well (the opening chapter of the book quotes Bell Hooks, a prominent feminist in the Critical Race Theory tradition, and elsewhere Brandan has mentioned the influence of Michel Foucault

and Gayle Ruben) in his understanding of human nature and sin and throughout his theology and interpretive methods.

On the use of the term “queer”

“In its broadest sense, when applied to people, to be queer means to resist and rupture the repression of our true selves and the forces that demand that we conform to others’ ideas of who we should be. It’s a radical declaration of our commitment to living authentically and being who God created us instead of who our society, community, or religion tells us we need to be… In this sense to be queer is holy – it is an affirmation of the truth that God doesn’t make mistakes....” (pg. 4)

Robertson seems to use queer both in referring to a sexual lifestyle divergent from heterosexuality and in living outside acceptable cultural norms more generally. Thus, when Robertson claims that the Bible is a “queer text” it is not synonymous with homosexuality but with a divergence from socially constructed norms. He states that the challenging of societal norms and the changing thereof is called “queering”. Christianity, though, has been uniquely resistant to queering.

“One of the areas that have been most resistant to queering is Christianity. On the one hand, this is unsurprising. Religions are remarkably resistant to change, and the institutions of Christianity have fought long and hard against virtually every change that has been thrown at them.” (pg. 6)

It is this attempt at “queering” that leads Robertson to write this very book. And it is this effort that one Carl Trueman might call a "death-work." The central thesis of Robertson’s argument is that the Bible has been used as a cudgel to beat “queer Christians” down when it is anything but and his argumentation is meant to lead (primarily) queer believers into embracing selected truths of scripture with a “queer” lens rather than rejecting Christianity and the Bible outright because of the pain they have experienced through the wielding of such scriptures.

Book Review – Queer and Christian: Reclaiming the Bible, Our Faith, and our Place at the Table.

Robertson is a gifted writer and communicator. His story telling is enjoyable and his writing is easy to follow and keeps the reader engaged. In fact, I rather enjoyed the quality of writing even if I disagreed with much of the content. Queer and Christian is organized in four parts. After a few introductory sections and Robertson’s own introduction on the why of the book he begins with his own story.

Part 1: Wrestling with the Bible

Much of what is written is effectively heart wrenching and difficult to read. My heart goes out to Brandan for what he went through in his childhood, his first church, and his experience at Moody. Robertson opens by detailing the story of his homelife and conversion and his desire to learn and grow within a fundamentalist context.

“I was told this was God’s church, so the more I progressed up the ranks of faithfulness, the closer I was to God.” (pg. 8) “Yet, for the first time, I realized there was a strict boundary line regarding my acceptance in this church – I need to quell my curiosity and toe the party line regarding doctrine.” (pg. 17)

Fundamentalism has beaten down and demonized many people and the legalism within the system certainly shapes one’s own self-worth and theology. I have seen too many people renounce their faith and too much abuse because of this type of fundamentalist attitude towards questions, struggles, and ideas. One is left to wonder what path Brandan might be on now if, at that time, his curiosity was met with grace and discipleship rather than legalism and condemnation. As it stands, these experiences seemed to shape his desire to forge the path he is now on.

“Over time, it was this discomfort that led me to believe that queering Christianity was the most faithful thing I could do – not just on the topic of LGBTQIA+ inclusion but on every topic.” (pg. 8)

“So, the goal of merely being included in Christianity does not seem like a worthwhile goal from where I sit. No, a queer revolution is what is called for.” (pg. 9)

His coming out story hinges on a horrifying experience at Moody.

“They invited me to name my sins and ask for God’s forgiveness and healing. Then... they started speaking in tongues loudly over me as they began pouring holy water on my head, on my chest, and over my groin. As I felt the water pour over me, something snapped within me. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, watching these two men babbling loudly, and I thought, This is not of God – this is crazy. At that moment, I realized that this whole enterprise of speaking magical prayers over queer people could not be what God desired at all and that it was a ridiculous endeavor.” (pg. 30)

Interestingly, I resonate with Robertson here. That was not of God. It was crazy and it was more for the perpetrators than it was for him. It was more for their own egos and self-interest than for his and his friend’s interest and for that I am truly sorry. However horrible these experiences might have been though, it does not follow that even if fundamentalists use truth to gain compliance rather than discipleship that this truth is then wrong.

A small example of this comes from Robertson himself within these stories:

“For gay men, she explained (college professor), this looks like an over-attached mother whose smothering behavior calls forth femininity in a young boy and a distant or abusive father whose behavior causes young boys to despise the masculine while also yearning to be affirmed by it… When this theory was initially presented to me (Robertson), it seemed pretty legit. It was true that I did have a closer relationship with my mom than with my dad, and my dad was often abusive…” (pg. 25)

However, even if the professor’s diagnoses was correct the actions that followed showed little concern for Brandan Robertson and more concern with Moody’s reputation. The school abdicated its responsibility to lead in discipleship and chose instead to bludgeon a broken young man to gain his compliance. Part one details Brandan Robertson’s “coming out” journey and effectively elucidates compassion in the reader for his plight and the way he was treated and ends with Robertson coming to the realization that there was hope, acceptance, and good scholarship on the side of LGBTQ+ people on the other side of the closet.

Part 2: Reclaiming the Bible

Robertson starts to tackle scripture itself and how it has become “anti-queer” and why it is either neutral or pro-queer rather than the other way around. Robertson’s understanding of scripture and inerrancy informs this perspective. Interestingly, he shows that his understanding of inspiration and inerrancy before his coming out was shaped through fundamentalist theology:

“I once believed the Bible to be a book dictated from the mouth of God to human writers, every word being objectively, eternally true. I believed that the authors of the Bible were divine scribes who, in trancelike states, heard the voice of God speaking to them as they wrote every word just as God said it.” (pg. 45)

But this understanding of inerrancy is not the general understanding within Christian orthodoxy. I do not know of an Evangelical pastor or scholar that believes the scriptures were written by men as they dictated it word for word from the mouth of God in a “trancelike state”. After letting go of this way of understanding the Bible Robertson seemed to swing the pendulum to the other side of the corridor. Perhaps not all the way to the other side, but quite far.

“My understanding of the sacredness of Scripture evolved from seeing it as a static book of Absolute Truth dropped from heaven by God to being a sacred scrapbook that we can look at to remember the past, and draw on the wisdom of and learn from the mistakes of our forerunners in the faith… transcending that which is unhelpful and including that which is useful and good.” (pg. 47)

Pick what is good, leave out what is bad. But by what standard, we are only left to wonder. Robertson argues an oft repeated theory that the Bible was transformed into being “anti-queer” through a conspiracy of Bible translation. Particularly concerning the term arsenokoitai. I’ve covered this briefly before and may do a more in-depth dive in the future as to why it’s complicated and likely non-conspiratorial.

Robertson then spends the next ten chapters seeking to dismantle the arguments surrounding scriptural passages (something LGTBQ+ people call the “clobber passages") that are commonly used to explain why homosexuality is a sin. At the end of each chapter, he has a small text box for a general take away of argumentation against the conservative understanding of the passage. One might call this a pro-queer apologetic. There are some major holes within his argumentation in these chapters. The first of which focuses on the story of Adam and Eve. He uses companionship alone as the guiding principle of the Genesis account rather than companionship for the sake of

procreation (in principle).

“The first humans who appear in Genesis 1 are not described as either male or female, but as simply humans who are given the command to “be fruitful and multiply” (v. 28).” (pgs 58-59)

But this is incorrect. In Genesis 1:27 the terms “zachar” and “nekevah” are used to refer to Adam and Eve as male and female:

“God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” (Gen. 1:27 NASB)

The "them" in this passage is of utmost importance. In fact, Robertson’s own source later in the chapter indicates that these two words mean biological male and biological female:

“The Talmud notes the existence of eight different gender identities ranging from zachar, meaning biological male; nekevah, meaning biological female.” (pg. 62)

As for the claim that the Talmud (Rabbinical Jewish commentary) recognizes eight different gender expressions? I believe Rabbi Yaakov Menken effectively dismantles this argumentation in this piece for Newsweek in 2020.

Robertson then goes on to touch on Sodom and Gomorrah, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Jesus and the letters of Paul. I may look at these individually in the future but will focus my attention here on Leviticus and Paul. Robertson’s argument is simple, that these laws were given mainly to Israel for Israel’s distinction from other pagan cultures and that these prohibitions relate more to worship than sexual activity due to the historical and literary context of the passage.

One substantive claim that Robertson makes is that the wasting of “seed” is a primary reason for the disallowance of same-sex sex. However, this seems not to be entirely accurate. Which seems to be a theme for how Robertson will evaluate scripture, he will take a sliver of truth or nuance and expand it into an argument. He does this with Leviticus, Romans, even with Ruth and Naomi and Jesus himself. When comparing Levitical law with other laws in scripture there is a correlation between created order and chaos. For instance, one might see the prohibition of boiling a goat in its mother’s milk (Deut. 14:21) as some nonsensical law but it is a law based in correct ordering of creation. Milk should give life to the progeny, not end it. Likewise, sex, in principle, is meant to bring forth offspring and is to be properly ordered in that context. Thus, merely wasting seed is not the point, the upsetting of the created order is. You can either have the created order as intended or devolve into chaos (similar insinuations to the Sodom and Gomorrah story).

For more on why these objections do not work with the overwhelming context of the Holiness Code see Dr. Robert Gagnon’s work on the topic. There is also the conflating of abominations. One of ceremonial or cultic import and one of moral import. One is of national import and the other of eternal. I do not have space to discuss it here but again, Gagnon addresses this well in his work.

Robertson then makes the case that Paul’s use of the term arsenokoitai in 1 Corinthians 6:9 is about “illicit sex”. Something that the NRSVUE has inserted into its translation of the text presumably for similar reasons.

“Virtually all scholars agree that Paul creates this word by drawing on the Greek translation of Leviticus 18:22, which uses both arsenos and koiten in its prohibition of what is likely exploitative, ritual, or incestuous sexual behaviors between two men.” (pg. 109)

Robertson’s claim that Paul is primarily thinking of exploitative sex or, at least, sex related to temple prostitution hinges on his interpretation of Leviticus and on the veracity of his claims concerning the context of the Corinthian church and the context of the letter itself. Paul specifically addresses temple prostitution in 1 Cor. 6:15-19, is he simply explaining his use of the term early in the same chapter or is Paul seeking to offer a more holistic understanding of sexual practice in the entirety of the letter to the Corinthians?

Paul’s coining of the new term seems to encapsulate all same-sex sexual behavior that would fall outside of the designed order as outlined in the book of Leviticus itself. While we agree that Paul is pointing back to Leviticus in this instance we do not agree on why. Similarly, Robertson’s case for Eunuchs as a sexual minority, while common among progressives, conflates either unwilling mutilation or willing self-denial with sexual identity. The Eunuch argument is an anachronistic understanding of sexual identity imported into the text. Voluntary Eunuchs were not choosing to live in their own gender identity but choosing to forego sexual pleasures to accomplish something of infinite value. I agree with Robertson that sexual identity is foreign to the pages of scripture, not because scripture is neutral towards sexual activity but because sexual identity is a modern invention.

The idea that our sexual proclivities, passions, desires, are the most innate and definable features of us as humans is not only wrong but damaging. While sexuality is clearly very important, it should not rise to the level of identity. This likely highlights the very difference between how Robertson thinks of identity and how I and the many Christians before me think of identity. While sexuality certainly informs a great deal about myself, I would argue that I am not defined by it, nor should I or anyone else be.

“It is possible for the Bible to condemn behaviors but not identities.” (pg. 55)

Ironically, in many ways I agree with this statement, however, I also must say that scripture indicates we have a new identity in Christ (2 Cor. 5:17) such that our old identity must be brought into submission. The flesh and the spirit waging war within ourselves (Rom 6:19; Gal 5:17; James 4). Thus, the behaviors of our previous identity must be condemned because of our new identity (Eph. 4:22-24). In the end it matters not, spiritually or scripturally speaking, what desires we are born with, we must bring them into conformity with Christ (Rom 12:1-3).

This is not the same as praying the gay away or conversion therapy. This is simply discipleship for anyone with innate desires that are unbiblical (sexual or otherwise). When we treat sexual desires as a special case of innate identity that cannot be touched by the Holy Spirit we are forced to parse the text for the slightest gap to insert our own self-actualized understanding.

Finally, Robertson addresses Jesus’ handling of marriage in Matthew 19 as an indictment on divorce and the hard heartedness of the Jewish people rather than an affirmation of the marriage covenant established in a pre-fall context. It is true that Jesus’ primary concern is about divorce in this passage, however that does not prove that Jesus was not affirming the initial plan for marriage. When Jesus responds to the question of the teachers of the law about divorce, he responds by saying, “It was not so from the beginning” (Matt. 19:8). It is this proclamation that sets in stone that marriage was intended, from the beginning, to be one man-one woman for one lifetime. Jesus goes back before the giving of the law to point to how the relationship was created

to work.

This is why conservative Christians point to this passage even though it is dealing primarily with divorce. Marriage, by definition, meant the joining of two parts of a whole to produce (in principle) offspring. Any life-long commitment outside of that simply is not and has never been “marriage” until very recently in the history of humanity.

Once this definition gets obliterated it removes the necessity of marriage altogether and it becomes an institution of convenience rather than a bedrock of society and loses its capacity as a metaphor for Christ and the Church (Eph. 6).

Brandan Robertson seems to understand this, as later in this book he will go on to offer an ethic of queer-marriage to simply mean some sort of finite commitment, for a time, between a few parties because they love each other. This brings us to Robertson’s argument concerning Romans 1. Robertson argues that Romans 1 is about idolatrous sex. The Roman church lived in a time where sexual cults and celebrations were common so, according to Robertson, this must be what Paul was alluding to in his calling out of men and women foregoing natural (heterosexual) desires for unnatural ones with each other. Robertson goes into a great bit of detail concerning the use of sexual penetration as dominance from citizens to slaves and believes that Paul is speaking of this sort of exploitative sex.

It seems to me, and most modern scholarship, though that Romans 1:20 clearly indicates that Paul is speaking about the created order. This is not an argument directed only at Rome but at humanity in general. This disordered thinking led humanity to put things in the wrong place and worship the created rather than the creator which, in turn, would turn their hearts from the natural order of sexual relations to unnatural. Sean McDowell and Brandan Robertson have a good back and forth on this part of the book in a recent podcast.

Part 3 Seeing Ourselves in Scripture

Here, Robertson explores what he sees as (possibly) queer characters in scripture. Once again, we must note the two different ways that Robertson uses the word “queer” throughout his writing. In one sense it is a departure from the normative cultural framework and in another sense, it is a sexual identity of a sort. He touches on the Ethiopian Eunuch, Ruth and Naomi, David and Jonathan, Joseph, and even Jesus and Lazarus. I will focus only on one for the sake of this review and others have been discussed elsewhere but will be formulating responses in the near future to more. Robertson is not shy about admitting his purpose in analyzing these texts. He is searching for queer voices in scripture. However, Robertson absolutely recognizes the difficulty in such a task:

“…we’ve already demonstrated that there was no concept of innate sexual orientation in the ancient world, so it’s quite literally impossible for the Bible, a 3,000-year-old book, to say, “God loves the queer community!” explicitly.” (pg. 131)

But therein lies the problem for Robertson’s perspective and a difficulty in reading his case in general. On the one hand he admits that this concept of sexual identity is foreign to the text, however, on the other hand he searches for hints of such within the scriptures. Some might view this as an inconsistency but I’m not sure this is correct. I tend to think Brandan Robertson believes that sexual identity is innate but simply not explicated or understood until now so there are hints of this innate “God-given” desire throughout history and especially within the biblical corpus.

“…the writers of Scripture clearly weren’t trying to highlight the sexual and gender minorities in their midst or even make explicit arguments about whether or not queer people were sinful.” (pg. 132)

Whether or not one is "born that way" means little in the realm of sanctification. According to orthodox Christian theology there are many "ways" in which we are born that all need to be cut off, transformed, and sanctified and much of it will not be complete in this life. This includes sexual desires. Robertson then turns his eyes towards Jesus himself. Robertson certainly intimates that there is some sort of queer relationship between Jesus and Lazarus. He postulates that Lazarus is the same as the rich young ruler in Mark 10 and uses the statement, “Jesus looked at him and loved him,” as a fulcrum to open a thought:

“Why would the author of Mark feel the need to includes this detail in the story? At this point, we enter firmly into the realm of speculation. Still, this young man must have been someone with whom Jesus had a special relationship – a close disciple, a dear friend, or even a lover.” (Pgs. 159-60)

Robertson then goes on an excurses of making this romantic connection to Lazarus through a manuscript called The Secret Gospel of Mark. In it, there is a story of what seems to be a homoerotic encounter between Jesus and Lazarus. Nothing is explicitly said to happen between the two, but Lazarus came to Jesus “clothed only in linen cloth upon his naked body. And remained with him that night, for Jesus was teaching him the mysteries of the Kingdom of God.” (pg. 160) Robertson does indicate that this document is controversial:

“While there is some debate about the authenticity of the Secret Gospel of Mark, many scholars believe it is an authentic ancient addition to the Gospel." (pgs 160-161)

In a footnote, Robertson cites Goeffrey S. Smith and Brent C. Landau’s 2023 book The Secret Gospel of Mark: A Controversial Scholar, a Scandalous Gospel of Jesus, and the Fierce Debate over Its Authenticity. He insinuates that Smith and Landau are among the scholars that believe it to be authentic. But Smith and Landau argue no such thing. In fact, they simply argue that it is a forgery of antiquity rather than of the 20^th century. According to this academic journal review they argue that:

“…it is a forgery from late antiquity—produced at Mar Sabas—in response to debates taking place at the time regarding monastic discipline: whether boys should be received as members of the monastic community or allowed to live with elder monks in a cenobitic setting. The forger was a participant in that debate and hoped to ensure continued access to these boys, the authors argue. Given the homoerotic nature of the Secret Gospel, the authors are inclined to think that this included sexual access. They link this in turn to the Byzantine rite of “brother-making,” first made famous by John Boswell in his Same-Sex Unions in Pre-Modern Europe (New York: Villard Books, 1994)”

Bart Ehrman, notable atheist and New Testament scholar, believes their argument falls flat however and argues that it was Morton Smith himself that forged the document:

“I’m completely open to this idea, but I don’t find their book convincing… I’ve decided to lay out some of the reasons that I suspect Smith may have forged the work. I’m not definite about the matter, and never have been. But I do have my suspicions.”

The scholarly consensus is that whether it is a forgery of antiquity or a forgery by Smith himself that the Secret Gospel of Mark is not authentic. To be fair, certainly there are

some that would believe it is a legitimate ancient document but there are those that still believe The Gospel of the Holy Twelve is not a forgery as well. While Robertson certainly does not outright claim Jesus had a homosexual relationship with Lazarus, he certainly dangles the possibility before his readers so they can import their own identity into the text and in so doing besmirches and blasphemes the Lord himself..

“The Secret Gospel of Mark and indeed the Gospel of John open the door for queer people to see themselves in the story of Jesus in a profound way.” (pg 161)

Part 4 – Commonly Asked Questions of Queer Christians

Multiple times throughout the book Robertson drops the terms “liberation” “equity” “gender identity” “intersectional” and the like. Echoes of liberationist theologian James Cone and philosopher Michel Foucault can be felt reverberating throughout the book. In fact, it is Robertson’s insistence that pleasure (with some guardrails) is the highest aim,

“We’re supposed to do what brings us pleasure, what makes us feel alive, what helps us feel like our lives have meaning.” (pg. 235)

Robertson goes on to give advice to queer people on how to relate to traditionalists, how to handle people who call themselves “ex-gays”, the type of spirituality that would fit withing a queer framework and so on. He insists on a hermeneutic of love but fails to explicate what that means. It seems to me that defining love would be paramount to his argument and I believe he and I would define it differently. He seems to boil sexual morality down to consent as well:

“…if the sexual encounter we’re pursuing is consensual and between adults, we can generally say it’s moral…” (pg. 191)

Of course this begs questions of incest without the risk of procreation particularly incest between two people of the same-sex. Would this be moral? It seems, according to Robertson’s framework this could be the case, however, he may hedge that by stating that on a case by case basis these sorts of relationships are likely not beneficial (pg 191) but then there must be some sort of standard by which we measure what it means to be beneficial. And if that standard is lasting pleasure then what stands in the way?

“The path to a vibrant spiritual life is not straight and narrow. It is open and free, not burdened by arbitrary expectations of what we should be doing but one that is liberated to do that which brings us joy.” (pg 236)

Conclusion

“We will continue to have disagreements and debates about our beliefs and practices – and we should, because these are important questions. But at the end of the day, it is my prayer that all Christians will cease drawing boundary lines to declare who is in and who is out and resist the urge to judge those who hold their faith differently than we do.” (pg. 224)

I do appreciate Robertson’s epistemic humility in parts of this book, particularly in the quote above. And while this book was not meant for me, it did shine a light on what progressive Christianity is most likely to become in the few years down the line (if it is not already there). Then the question becomes, can the two streams coexist? Should they?

“Queer people are declaring with a prophetic voice the truth that God is queer, and that as humans made in God’s queer image, our redemption lies in casting aside who the world thinks we should be and embracing the unique, creative, queer selves that God has created us to be.” (pg. 242) “…we (queer people) don’t need to fight for a place at a table we’re not welcome, but… we can create a table of our own, and trust that the queer Spirit of god will be powerfully present as we gather in authenticity and joy.” (pg 243)

If queer Christianity finds redemption in self-actualization rather than Jesus Christ and His redemptive work on the cross and if they seek to create a place for themselves then it seems we do not have two streams of Christian thought but two completely different Christianities altogether. While historic Christianity declares one can come as they are but not stay as they are it seems progressive Christianity says come as you are, stay as you are, and dive deeper into what/who you are. The elevation of sexuality to the highest marker of identity is destructive and the lens of queer theory, intersectionality, and critical theory being imposed on scripture leads to a self-aggrandizing gospel rather than the true Gospel of Jesus Christ. A final insight into how Robertson uses scripture is exemplified in his use of "when Jesus told his friend to come out" where he relates the story of coming out sexually to the story of Jesus calling Lazarus forth from the grave as a sort of metaphor for the queer experience. Robertson finishes the book by offering pastoral guidance for "queer Christians." From encouragement in relationships to spiritual practice to how to engage with non-affirming people in their lives. While Robertson's heart is clearly in a place of care in these sections of course I see his advice in many ways as damaging for individuals that have queer proclivities.

In the end I at least appreciate that I know where Brandan Robertson stands on these issues. He is not hiding the ball as Andy Stanley seems to be doing and he is not trying to have his orthodox cake and eat it too like Richard and Christopher Hays. If one wants to have a better understanding of what Queer theorists and affirming theology leads to, then Robertson's book certainly accomplishes that. Robertson is a serious thinker and his arguments must be dealt with by conservatives even if Brandan Robertson would invite "queer Christians" to make their own table. As for Robertson's claim to offer the best arguments. That may be the case, but none of what he offered was all that new. However, I do believe the church must do better at addressing these issues. Ignoring them, or hand waiving them away does no one any favors.