Speaking to the Silent Audience: Reflections on a Public Exchange about Faith, Gender, and the Power of Contemplation

 

Public debates rarely end with one person convincing the other they are wrong. Minds seldom change that way. Yet sometimes those conversations matter deeply for another reason. They are not really between two people at all. They are taking place in front of an audience.

Nearly fifteen years ago I found myself in a lengthy public exchange with Dr. Michael Brown, a well-known evangelical author and speaker. The conversation unfolded online in the comment section of a Facebook page associated with his ministry. What began as a direct conversation between two individuals soon evolved into something much larger.

At first glance, it appeared to be a familiar kind of debate. A conservative Christian leader expressing theological objections to transgender identity. A transgender Christian responding with questions, personal experience, and scripture.

But as the exchange continued, something subtle happened.

People began to gather around the conversation. Some left comments, others simply watched. The dialogue was no longer private. It had become public.

Link: https://lisainbc.blogspot.com/2011/08/and-then-there-is-dr-michael-brown.html

When the Audience Revealed Itself

Years later my friend Kathy Baldock reminded me of something important about that exchange.

At the time she was watching the conversation unfold from the sidelines. Kathy had already had her own interactions with Dr. Brown and knew from experience that he was not inclined to concede arguments. In fact, she had previously been blocked from participating in discussions on his page.

For reasons neither of us fully understood, he did not block me.

As the exchange continued, Kathy began noticing something else. Comments and reactions were accumulating beneath the conversation. People were reading, responding, and sharing their thoughts. The dialogue was drawing an audience.

That was when she pointed out what was really happening.

She said that at some point the conversation was no longer primarily between Dr. Brown and me. Whether he realized it or not, I had begun speaking to the people gathering around the discussion.

In other words, the real audience had quietly shifted.

Looking back now, that insight explains a great deal about the tone and direction of the conversation that followed.

The Context of the Exchange

At the time, debates about LGBTQ people and Christianity were intensifying across the evangelical world. Books were being written, conferences were being organized, and ministries were mobilizing to oppose what they described as a growing cultural acceptance of homosexuality and transgender identity.

Dr. Brown had written extensively on these issues and was organizing a public outreach event intended to confront LGBTQ activism with what he called “God’s better way.”

I responded to statements on the ministry’s page that addressed transgender people in particular. As a transgender woman who had spent decades wrestling with faith, scripture, and identity, I felt compelled to speak.

What followed was a long and detailed exchange that covered theology, scripture, medicine, personal history, and the responsibilities of Christian leaders.

At times the conversation was cordial. At other times it revealed deep disagreements that neither of us could resolve.

Yet something important was happening beyond the immediate dialogue.

Why This Conversation Could Only Happen in Writing

There is something else worth mentioning about that exchange.

The conversation unfolded online, in writing. That mattered more than one might think.

By temperament I am not a rapid-fire debater. I am what might be called a contemplative ruminant. When I am wrestling with a difficult idea or trying to respond thoughtfully, I need time to reflect.

In everyday conversations this can sometimes be frustrating. Like many people, I have occasionally walked away from a discussion thinking, “I should have said this,” or “I wish I had framed that differently.”

Written dialogue changes that dynamic.

In an online exchange there is space between comments. That space allows time to read carefully, think deeply, and respond deliberately rather than react impulsively.

Looking back, I doubt the conversation with Dr. Brown could have unfolded the same way in a live debate or a televised exchange. In that environment responses must be immediate. Arguments become sharper, voices become louder, and nuance often disappears.

The written format allowed something different to happen. It allowed reflection.

Each response could be considered before it was posted. Each question could be phrased carefully. Each point could be grounded in thought rather than reaction.

In many ways the slower pace of writing made the conversation more thoughtful than it might otherwise have been.

And perhaps that is another lesson worth remembering in an age of instant reactions and rapid-fire commentary. Sometimes the most meaningful conversations are the ones that unfold slowly enough for people to think.

The Debate Was Never Just Between Two People

Public debates rarely remain private for long. Once others begin reading, the nature of the conversation changes.

Instead of simply persuading the other person, each participant is now communicating to an unseen audience. That audience may include supporters, critics, curious observers, and people quietly searching for answers.

In such moments the goal is no longer to “win” the argument. The goal becomes something more subtle.

The goal becomes demonstrating integrity, compassion, and intellectual honesty.

When readers encounter a debate, they often evaluate more than the arguments themselves. They notice tone. They notice patience. They notice whether a person listens, whether they respond thoughtfully, and whether they treat their opponent with dignity.

Those qualities can influence readers as much as the arguments themselves.

Without consciously planning it, that is the approach I found myself taking.

Strategy One: Maintaining Composure

One of the most important things in a public exchange is emotional discipline.

In the debate, Dr. Brown repeatedly placed quotation marks around my name. For him this was a theological statement. He believed calling me by my name without qualification would affirm something he considered untrue.

For me, the quotation marks were painful and disrespectful.

Yet responding with anger would likely have reinforced the very stereotypes he believed about transgender people. Instead I tried to address the issue calmly and explain why the gesture was hurtful.

Observers reading the conversation could draw their own conclusions.

Composure in debate is not weakness. It is strength. It signals confidence and allows readers to focus on the substance of the discussion rather than the emotion surrounding it.

Strategy Two: Asking Questions That Reveal Consequences

Throughout the conversation I asked a series of practical questions.

Would I be allowed to join your church?
Would I be permitted to participate fully in the life of the congregation?
Would I be barred from leadership?
If I were married, would my spouse be welcome?
Would our children be treated equally?

These questions were not rhetorical flourishes. They were attempts to move the conversation from abstract theology to lived reality.

It is one thing to speak about doctrine in theoretical terms. It is another thing to explain how those doctrines shape the way human beings are treated in everyday life.

Questions like these invite observers to imagine the practical implications of theological positions.

Strategy Three: Engaging Scripture Rather Than Avoiding It

Many debates about LGBTQ issues become polarized because participants appeal to entirely different sources of authority.

Some rely exclusively on religious texts. Others reject religious authority altogether.

Because the conversation was rooted in Christianity, I chose to engage scripture directly rather than avoid it.

I referenced passages such as Jesus’ discussion of eunuchs in Matthew 19 and the story of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts. These passages, often overlooked in modern debates, offer profound insights into how early Christian communities wrestled with human diversity.

My aim was not to win a proof-text contest. Instead it was to demonstrate that faith traditions are often more complex and expansive than the narrow interpretations sometimes presented.

For readers who shared a Christian background, this approach opened space for reflection.

Strategy Four: Gently Exposing Contradictions

In debates, contradictions sometimes appear naturally as arguments unfold.

When they do, the most effective response is rarely an aggressive accusation. It is often more persuasive to simply point out the inconsistency and allow readers to see it.

At one point I noted that Dr. Brown placed quotation marks around my name while referring normally to a transgender scholar whose work he cited.

The observation was simple.

Yet it revealed a double standard that readers could easily recognize.

Sometimes clarity speaks louder than confrontation.

Strategy Five: Returning to Human Experience

Perhaps the most important element of the conversation was the repeated return to human realities.

The discussion was not merely theological. It involved real lives.

It involved decades of prayer and struggle.

It involved a marriage that endured enormous strain.

It involved the painful realization that living authentically might cost family, community, and social standing.

When debates drift into abstraction, people become invisible. By sharing personal experience I hoped to remind readers that these issues affect human beings, not theoretical categories.

Stories have a way of grounding moral reflection.

The Uganda Question

Another dimension of the conversation involved the global consequences of religious rhetoric.

Around that time, Uganda was debating what became known internationally as the “Kill the Gays” bill, legislation that proposed severe criminal penalties for homosexuality.

Several American evangelical figures had participated in conferences in Uganda where harsh anti-gay rhetoric was promoted. The connection between religious messaging and political consequences became impossible to ignore.

In the exchange I raised concerns about the potential impact of religious language that portrays LGBTQ people as moral threats or spiritual enemies.

Words spoken in pulpits or written in books do not remain abstract. They shape attitudes. They influence policy. They affect how people treat one another.

History repeatedly shows how quickly theological language can be misused when fear and moral panic take hold.

The Silent Audience

Perhaps the most important lesson from that experience is the existence of the silent audience.

In every public debate there are readers who never comment. They simply watch and listen.

Among them may be parents struggling to understand their child, young people wondering whether faith and identity can coexist, believers questioning long-held assumptions, and curious observers seeking clarity rather than confrontation.

These readers rarely announce themselves. Yet they are often the ones most affected by what they witness.

When conversations remain respectful and thoughtful, they can create space for reflection. When they devolve into hostility, they often reinforce fear and division.

Why These Conversations Matter

Debates rarely produce immediate conversions. People seldom change deeply held beliefs in the middle of a public argument.

But conversations do shape perception.

They influence how observers understand an issue, how they evaluate competing claims, and how they imagine the people involved.

If nothing else, respectful dialogue demonstrates that disagreement does not require dehumanization.

In a world where online discourse often descends into insults and caricatures, that lesson alone is valuable.

A Final Reflection

Looking back on that exchange now, I realize that I was not simply defending my own story.

I was speaking to anyone who might one day read the conversation and wonder whether faith and gender identity could exist in the same life.

For those readers, the debate offered something more than competing arguments.

It offered a witness.

A witness that faith can survive questioning.
A witness that dignity can survive disagreement.
A witness that love does not require silence and truth does not require cruelty.

Sometimes the most important thing we can do in a difficult conversation is not to defeat the person across from us.

It is to speak clearly enough, calmly enough, and honestly enough that someone standing quietly in the crowd may hear something that helps them see another human being more fully.

And if that happens, even once, the conversation was worth having.