Journey: Not the Band, A Walk In Sexuality

The great divide between the religious and homosexual communities deeply saddens me.  At times it seems like the chasm is too wide to cross, wounds so deep that healing seems impossible.  These wounds are experienced and inflicted by both sides.  Both of these communities have spectrums, but at each of their extremes are passionate people with firm convictions unwilling to yield, respect, or listen to the other.  On the one hand, many homosexuals experience a deep dislike and mistrust of the church and people of faith; they are unwilling to acknowledge the traditions and beliefs of Christians and other faiths.  But Christians are entitled to their beliefs.  They are entitled to disagree with particular lifestyles.  They are entitled to their opinion, worldview, and moral system.  On the other hand, there are many Christians who have inflicted great harm to the entire LGBTQ community.  At the hands of many evangelicals, homosexuals have been deemed the great enemy of the church, a serious threat to the health and well-being of societal morality.  A fire-and-brimstone sermon about the abominable lifestyle that leads the sinner to an eternity of damnation and suffering.  Love.  Mercy.  Compassion.  Many virtues taught throughout the Bible completely discarded to hold fast to “Christian values”. 

I have seen and experienced both sides of the aisle.  I have met Christians who instantly discredit my faith when discovering that I’m gay.  People have indeed told me that I can’t be Christian or am not suitable to serve in ministry due to my “lifestyle”.  And I’ve met homosexuals, in fact people from all walks of life, who have discredited my faith, complaining that Christians are close-minded, judgmental, hypocritical individuals.  They disassociate with me and condemn my faith as a crutch for the weak. 

The reality is that there are many value systems in the world.  Many of these systems clash with one another.  They don’t always agree.  But that should not nullify love, compassion, empathy, mercy, or friendship.  Two adults from opposing belief systems should be able to sit with one another and have a healthy, respectful discussion without name calling or belittlement.  They probably won’t come to a consensus.  They most likely won’t change their beliefs.  But they could at least respect the other’s opinion, not counting it against them as a mortal flaw. 

Last week I walked you through, quite quickly and imperfectly, my faith journey.  Yes, I believe in Jesus.  I believe Jesus is the Son of God, in fact, God Himself in the flesh.  I believe he was born without sin, lived a life without sin, died on the cross for my sin, and rose from the dead to conquer sin.  I believe that my life has been redeemed through Him.  My faith has taught me the importance of serving others, most importantly those in greatest need.  My faith has led me to love people in ways that seem unreasonable.  My faith has given me great hope, joy, strength, courage, and peace. My faith has instilled in me a passion for justice and equity. This week, I will walk you through my other journey, again, quite succinctly and imperfectly: my sexuality.

Let me first be clear, this is not a theological discussion about the moral implications of homosexuality. It is not an attempt to convince you to believe what I believe. However, I will include three links to articles that I think address some of my personal beliefs.   To be as pithy as possible, I would fall into the label of Progressive Christianity, in that I do not believe homosexuality is a sin as traditionally viewed by evangelicals. 

The first link is to a blog written by a Christian pastor.  I love his words. I strongly encourage you to take time to read them. Click HERE

The other two go into a very brief and incomplete discussion that challenges the traditional view of homosexuality.  Article 1  Article 2

Before I begin my journey, I would encourage you to read my last two blogs to get a better, more complete understanding.  If you’ve already read them, let’s move ahead!

I “came out” at the age of thirty.  I went through thirty years of my life living with masks, trapped in a prison of confusion, insecurity and shame.  Thirty years of intentionally living without authenticity, petrified of allowing people to see the real, true me.  An intense internal battle, a war raging to find freedom and truth.  Peace and love.  Thirty years of treating the world as a stage, living the life of a character, no matter how convincing or mediocre the performance.  A struggle for identity.

But I did not become gay.

I have always been gay.

No, homosexuality, for me at least, was not a choice.  It is all that I have ever known.  From the moment I experienced sexual attraction, it has always been for the same sex.  Nature.  Not nurture.  Not a product of my environment.  Not a consequence of unfortunate events.  I can’t explain it.  I’m not going to try to justify it, because it does not need to be justified.  No need to feel guilty.  No need to feel dirty.  No need to feel shame. 

The typical story begins with young boys and girls starting to discover their own body.  The cootie stage is always comical.  They begin experiencing puberty and hormones, and it’s all downhill from there.  Boys find girls irresistible. Girls crush on young boys.  Sweaty palms at the first chance to hold hands.  A first kiss.  It’s all so “natural”.  But my natural was different. 

I very clearly remember the first time I recognized that something was “different”.  I was in fifth grade.  It was unmistakable.  All of those feelings and behaviors that young boys and girls feel about each other, that awkward attempt to flirt, started within me.  Attraction.  Nervousness.  Desire.  But it wasn’t for a young girl.  Nope.  It was for a friend of mine.  A boy. 

Some of you are squirming in your seats.  You feel uncomfortable. You don’t understand.  That’s OK.  Because the same way that you feel is how I try to comprehend heterosexual attraction.  I don’t experience it.  It doesn’t make sense to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I find beauty in women.  But beauty and sexual attraction are two very different things.  A desire to love and be loved is not synonymous with beauty.  Truly, I can look at a woman, a woman with whom most men would be infatuated, and I will recognize her stunning beauty.  And then it stops dead in its track.  Yup, she has a great body.  And that’s where it ends. 

Those feelings and desires and attractions only grew as I matured.  They didn’t go away.  It wasn’t a phase.  It wasn’t taught to me.  It wasn’t even introduced to me.  I simply experienced it.  Naturally.  Organically. 

No, it was not a choice.  Trust and believe, if it was a choice, I would have never chosen it.  Choice?  Really?  You think I would choose to experience the thirty years of loneliness and confusion and self-hatred and bullying?  You think I would choose to regularly be reminded of my sinful choice?  You think I would willingly choose ostracism?

The older I got, the stronger the feelings.  The stronger the desire.  It didn’t go away.  It didn’t change. 

I chose to pretend.   Nobody would know that I was gay.  I would put on the best show possible.  Honestly, it wasn’t very convincing.  There were plenty of people, from sixth grade on, who would tease me, sometimes quite intensely.  Some would laugh.  Joke.  Question.  But it was obvious that I wasn’t the best theatrical performer. When I was confronted or teased, I adamantly refused.  Sometimes angrily.  With deepest conviction I would refute the assertion.  This masking, this charade, this staging was extremely unhealthy.  I can clearly remember hating myself, loathing my sexuality.  Confused.  Why can’t I be normal?  Why can’t I be like everybody else?  Why do I have to be this way?

Sexuality is part of our identity.  Sexuality is natural.  Sexuality is human.  And I was denying it.  I was denying my identity.  I was denying my humanity.  Not only denying.  Destroying it.  Tearing apart my humanity.  My self-worth. 

It probably didn’t help that I was extremely involved with the church.  A church that preached very traditional and conservative beliefs.  These beliefs became indoctrinated within me.  Not only was I experiencing the harassment, I was being told how bad of a sinner I was.  Quite regularly.  It wasn’t intentional.  The church wasn’t aware that I was gay.  But homosexuality was sin.  Sinners are bad.  Sinners go to hell.  Homosexuals aren’t Christians.  They can’t be! God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.  It isn’t natural.  It’s a choice! How do people so willingly choose to live in sin?  It wasn’t this simple; I’m being quite juvenile in my description.  Everything was so convoluted in my head.  What I was being taught and what I was experiencing wrestled one another tirelessly in an epic battle. 

This experience continued throughout college as I attended a conservative Bible school.  Very. Conservative. 

I used to try forcing myself to like women.  I know that sounds silly. 

I would repeatedly tell myself that I was attracted to women and wanted to with be them and marry and have children.  I tried subliminal messages, to myself of course.  I would view naked pictures of women while trying to force myself to be heterosexual.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was broken.  Lost.  Hear me loud and clear: homosexuality is not something that needs to be cured!  Young gay men and women may need counseling, but that is to help them work through the process of a society that still has not accepted them.  Peers that will bully them.  Adults who will tell them that their sexuality is wrong and that they need help. 

Later in my life people tried convincing me to attend counseling as a tool to “fight the temptation.”  What would counseling do for me?  I had a wonderful father figure, incredible family, and an amazing childhood.  I was not raped.  Molested.  Abused.  Neglected.  Touched by a male family member.  How was I going to explain why I was attracted to men?  I could explain what I was attracted to, but now why.  Are “straight” people encouraged to explain why they are attracted to the opposite sex? I believe that recommending counseling to homosexuals as a form to overcome their sexuality is born in pure ignorance, not matter the intentions.

I tried dating women.  Sincere, honest efforts to date. Pure intentions of living a heterosexual lifestyle, no matter how miserable it would make me.  I never dated in high school.  I went to events such as homecoming or prom with females, but this was always with a really close friend. There were two relationships with women in my adult life.  One I treated much more like a best friend than a serious partner.  We would spend a lot of time together, but the physical aspect of our relationship was non-existent.  There was no spark.  No flame.  No interest.  No desire. 

The second relationship was serious.  Even if I was “straight”, I’m not sure the relationship would have lasted.  We had some great moments together.  But the relationship also had its rough spots.  Mountains instead of mole hills.  Once again the relationship lacked physical intimacy.  After roughly a year and a half, I decided to call it quits.  Not because I decided to “come out”, but because I was not happy.  The relationship was not coming easily, even aside from the limited physical aspect.  There were too many fights.  Too many disagreements.  She was actually a wonderful person, but I think our personalities simply clashed in some ways.  In other ways, they blended together extremely well.  To this day I wish we could be friends but completely understand why this is not possible.  Will and Grace is just a sitcom, not real life. 

I spent the next year in prayer, reflection, meditation, study, and research.  Was I going to pursue another relationship with a woman?  Was I going to choose to live solo and alone for the remainder of my life?  Was I going to “come out of the closet”? 

When I did decide to “come out” to family and friends, several people strongly encouraged that I call the woman that I had been dating to apologize. Keep in mind that this was a year and a half after we had broken up.  Not a week.  Not a month.  A year. And a half. I was so confused!  Apologize for what?  When we were together I gave it my best effort.  I struggled for the relationship. I was committed to the relationship. I was as good of a partner as I could be.  I was faithful.  Actually, from the outside, our relationship probably seemed quite healthy and normal.  I didn’t break up with her because I was gay; I broke up with her because I didn’t think the relationship was right. So what was I apologizing for?  Because I’m gay?  As if it were my fault?  As if I had done something wrong? If I had mistreated her or cheated on her or had been sneaking behind her back or a host of other things, I would understand calling for forgiveness. 

So let me question all of you good ole heterosexuals.  Have you called every one of your exes to apologize that the relationship didn’t work?  Even though you tried.  With your best effort.  And the relationship just didn’t work.  I didn’t think so.

In my year of prayer, meditation, study and reflection, I had to do some serious soul searching.  What did I want for my life?  Did I want to commit to a life of celibacy?  Why is homosexuality a sin?  Surely the answer must be more than “Because God said so.”  What is the context in which homosexuality is discussed in the Bible?  How did ancient culture and traditions affect the writers and writings of Scripture?

And I had to wrestle with the silence of God.  His lack of movement.  My entire life I beseeched God.  If homosexuality was so sinful, then I wanted it gone in order to live a pure and holy life.  If it was of such evil, I wanted it to be removed.  I prayed.  I fasted.  I pleaded.  On my knees.  I begged.  I cried. I wept.  I worshipped.  I studied Scripture.  I even mentioned it during a special “bondage breaking” counseling session with a church pastor.  God’s response: nothing.  Silence.  He didn’t remove it.  He didn’t “turn me straight”.  He didn’t answer the prayer. Silence.  Never once did I question God’s faithfulness.  Not his goodness.  It never made me doubt him.  Or his power.  But it did make me question the sinfulness of homosexuality.  If it were such an abomination, such a lifestyle of sin, why would he not intervene for one of his children?  And it wasn’t a day or week of praying and fasting and pleading.  It was years.  Decades of silence and failed intervention. Honestly, I think Christians have placed a disproportionate weight on homosexuality.  And I think we’ve got it wrong.  For years.  Centuries.  Millennia.     

So after the year of reflection, I decided to “come out” to family and friends.  Close friends only at first.  The very first person that I told was a friend from church with whom I sang praise and worship.  To say that she was supportive is an understatement.  She gave me the strength and courage to tell my family.  It was also my first conversation, ever, with someone about my preferences and attractions.  At thirty years old, I felt like a twelve year old.  I also told some close co-workers who had become friends.  And again I experienced unwavering support. These friends actually journeyed with me when I expressed interested in a guy for the first time.  We used to sit in the office, and I would share my experiences with them at these critical beginning stages.  The story is actually quite hilarious but one that we don’t have time for now.  But we would laugh.  And laugh.  And laugh.  And I probably looked like a middle schooler bubbling with excitement and energy with butterflies in my stomach and hearts in my eyes.

And then it came time to tell my family.  My sister had recently given birth to my niece, so I already had plans to go home to visit.  I called before leaving and told my parents that I had something to discuss with them.  Upon arrival, they took me to a local restaurant, where I opened up and shared my life journey.  Later that day, I sat down with my siblings.  I remember halfway through sharing my story, my sister-in-law came and hugged me.  And we cried together. My brother, who I was most nervous to share with, expressed undying support, with a hint of comedy (as always).  The conversation continued the next day, where fears were able to be shared and questions were able to be answered more fully.  There were legitimate concerns, but they were expressed with empathy and compassion.  My family covered me with grace and mercy those days.  I have never experienced the love of God in a more profound way than the way my family loved me through that conversation and the months to come. 

I am forever grateful.  Forever indebted to the family and friends who chose to journey through life with me. I remember an individual telling me not to choose homosexuality because it would ruin my life.  It would destroy my relationship with God.  I would wreak havoc in my relationships with friends and family.  However, the complete opposite is true.

Never has my faith been more genuine.

Never have I been more joyous and happy.

Never have I been more secure.  Confident. 

Never have I been more in love.

Never have I been committed to humanity.  To justice.  To peace. To equity.  To equality.

Never have I been more whole.

Never have I been more me.

And I love me.  For the first time.  I am happy with myself.  I accept myself.  I love myself.