Review: The Secret Thoughts of An Unlikely Convert

Rosario Butterfield went from being a professor in Syracuse University’s Women’s Studies Department, an English major specializing in Critical Theory, particularly Queer Theory, a practicing lesbian who owned two houses with her partner, a political activist and outspoken advocate for numerous gay and lesbian causes, and a “tenured radical,” to being a Christian, heterosexual, married, mother of multiple adoptees and foster children, and pastor’s wife. Her journey, chronicled in this short 150 page book entitled Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, is one of the most compelling testimonies I’ve ever read.

There were no fireworks for this “convert.” No fall on your knees, dangling by the fingertips, come to Jesus moments. The terrain that’s traversed here is spiritual, intellectual, and relational. But the author describes it with humor and candor:

“How do I tell you about my conversion to Christianity without making it sound like an alien abduction or a train wreck? Truth be told, it felt like a little of both. The language normally used to describe this odd miracle does not work for me. I didn’t read one of those tacky self-help books with a thin gentle coating of Christian themes, examine my life against the tenets of the Bible the way one might hold up one car insurance policy against all others and cleanly and logically, ‘make a decision for Christ.’ While I did make choices along this journey, they never felt logical, risk-free, or sane. Neither did I feel like the victim of an emotional / spiritual earthquake and collapse gracefully into the arms of my Savior, like a holy and sanctified Scarlett O’Hara having been ‘claimed by Christ’s irresistible grace.’ Heretical as it may seem, Christ and Christianity seemed eminently resistible.”

Perhaps what I liked best about Butterfield’s testimony is its open-endedness. By that I mean, there’s no simple answers as to how she went from one cultural, ideological, spiritual extreme to the other. Except God’s amazing grace. If you’re looking for an evangelistic blueprint, you won’t find it here. Save for the timely orchestration of events (namely, a non-threatening letter from a local pastor that started the ball rolling), the only real “secret” here is the gracious, patient, non-condemning community of saints to which Butterfield was introduced. These relationships with “genuine” Christians turned her preconceptions, and defenses, on their ear. It’s a beautiful glimpse into the simple power of long-term, loving relationships with non-believers.

Furthermore, if you’re looking for an anti-gay tract, this isn’t it. In fact, Butterfield doesn’t flinch in describing the rich relationship she shared inside the gay and lesbian community, and the heartbreak of having to distance herself from it. She broods, knowing that to openly profess Christ will cost her so many cherished relationships, if not her career. Her decision to publicly speak about her transformation while delivering the Graduate Student Orientation Convocation at Syracuse is utterly captivating. (A copy of her address, entitled “What King Solomon Teaches Those in the Wisdom Business: Active Learning and Active Scholarship,” is included in its entirety and, in my opinion, worth the price of the book.) Along the way, Butterfield walks the tightrope between the Christian community and the LGBT community, immersing herself in Scripture while receiving counsel from a transsexual, ex-Christian minister. It’s a fascinating, gritty glimpse into an intersection of unlikely worldviews.

And in case you think the author is simply pitching Christianity or glossing over the Church’s blemishes, she’s not. In fact, she speaks with brutal honesty.

“Christians always seemed like bad thinkers to me. It seemed that they could maintain their worldview only because they were sheltered from the world’s real problems, like the material structures of poverty and violence and racism. Christians always seemed like bad readers to me, too. They appeared to use the Bible in a way that Marxists would call “vulgar” — that is, common, or, in order to bring the Bible into a conversation to stop the conversation, not deepen it. …Their catch phrases were (and are) equally off-putting. ‘Jesus is the answer’ seemed to me then and now like a tree without a root. Answers come after questions, not before. Answers answer questions in specific and pointed ways, not in sweeping generalizations. ‘It’s such a blessing’ always sounds like a violation of the Third Commandment (“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain”) or a Hallmark card drunk with shmaltz. It seemed to me that the only people who could genuinely be satisfied with this level of reading and thinking were people who didn’t really read or think very much — about life or culture or anything.”

In a way, this is a story about how the Church both alienates and reaches those outside its walls. Butterfield’s conversion from a religion she loathed to one she was baptized into, is full of insights — about culture, academic institutions, adoption, home schooling, sexuality, leadership, etc. The story occasionally bogs down as Butterfield expounds upon her growing membership in the Reformed Presbyterian Church. But never do you get the feel that she’s proselytizing. Or insincere.

Interestingly enough, those on both sides of the aisle have taken some issue with this book. On the one hand are evangelicals who believe Butterfield does not distance herself enough from the LGBT community. On the other sides are those who dispute her conversion as a legitimate “reverse conversion” story. I find these responses fascinating. Butterfield does not make herself out to be (in her own words) “a poster child for gay conversion.” Instead, she speaks about “sexual sin,” pointing out that her struggle to overcome it is no different from anyone else’s.

This short book left me with many questions, but ultimately inspired me to remember that God is still at work, even among those we think the most lost. I highly recommend this book!