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| Sitting
with my parents during the Christmas Eve service in 1996, I looked
down the row of chairs and saw my sister and her husband. I felt a
mixture of anger and sadness as I thought of their recent decision
to “give up” on Christianity. What hypocrites they were,
sitting there so calmly with us! How could they appear so peaceful?
I went to the stage and sang “All is Well,” knowing full
well that all was not well with our family. I sat back down and felt
a twinge of conviction. How could I be so judgmental about their decision?
At least they were honest about where their lives were headed. I,
on the other hand, was living a huge lie. I was living with a lover. I once said that we grew up in a normal family. Now we joke and say that it was “our kind of normal.” I was born the oldest of three children into a Christian home. Only in later years could I admit that it was not a perfect childhood. I truly believe that my parents did the best they could. I admired my father even though I felt distant from him. I don’t remember that we spent time one on one other than an occasional fishing trip with my grandfather. Neither of them were very demonstrative. I saw fathers who took a more active role in their sons’ lives and wished my father would too. My parents readily admit that they had some very idealistic views of how their eldest son should behave. They expected me to act like an adult. Consequently I became very responsible and a “doer,” trying to please them. In many ways I related to adults better than to my own peers. This made the transition to school difficult. I was shy around kids my own age and found myself very isolated. I longed for friendships with other boys, but at the same time I was afraid of them and the rough games they wanted to play. Later in junior high, I realized how sheltered I had been as I encountered drugs and explicit sexual conversations. Both there, and on into high school, boys and girls alike would tease me, calling me “queer”, “fag”, and “sissy.” I didn’t know what a homosexual struggler was at that time, and I thought those titles were for men with effeminate tendencies. I knew I didn’t have any of those. My sex education from mom and dad covered feelings toward women, but it never entered their minds to talk about such feelings in reference to other men. By high school I realized that my admiration and envy of other boys was turning to sexual fascination. I was frightened and afraid to reveal this to anyone in the small town where my family was well known. My parents thought that sports would help my self-image and help me to be accepted by my peers. My first year of basketball was a disaster, and I begged them to let me quit. Teasing from my teammates was unbearable. The rest of my school career I focused on studies and music. There were times when I was extremely depressed and suicidal. Totally out of character for me, I went half way across the country for college. At the Christian college I attended I was able to start over, and God granted the request of many years. I was surrounded by healthy friends of both sexes. My sexual attraction to males diminished, and I was convinced that I was outgrowing that stage of life. Maybe I’d even marry someday as I had dreamed about throughout childhood! On a singing tour after university, another member of the team made sexual advances toward me. Again I felt like I had “gay” written in neon on my forehead. I was confused by conflicting emotions of revulsion and pleasure and vowed not to tell anyone. However, another member of the tour confessed a similar incident with this man. Not knowing what to do, the leaders congregated us all and asked us one by one to confront him if we had been violated. In the midst of this humiliation I was certainly not going to reveal my own inner turmoil. I went off to seminary determined to serve God. It proved to be one of the worst times of my life. I became emotionally dependent on a friend who had come with me from the tour. I found that I couldn’t do anything without him. Friends thought that we had a Jonathan/David relationship. In reality it was oppressive for him and frightening for me. I left class many times, driving away to walk for hours on the beach. “How could this God I was learning about make such a mistake and allow me to have these thoughts about men?” “Where was God?” I confessed my sin over and over again. I begged him to take it away. I had accepted Christ whn I was four years old and this struggle now, as in the past, made me question my salvation. At the end of the term, my roommate transferred to another school, and I was left devastated and once again alone. Finally in full-time ministry, I was convinced that I would never act out the sexual fantasies that I had entertained so long. For five years I was fairly content in the pastorate. For a short time I revived a friendship with a woman I had known in college and hoped this relationship would lead to marriage and put to final rest my desire for men. In the end it did not. I concluded that marriage and family were not in my future. Sitting in church that Christmas, I realized that my life had taken a major turn over the last few months. I was in the relationship that I had always desired. I was loved and accepted for who I was. Hadn’t he told me that he loved me? I had been living a double life. The guilt had quickly gone after the initial sexual encounter with my first “lover”. I could hardly wait to return to him after Christmas. Already he had called wondering when I would be coming home. I had met him at a Bible study, and we had hit it off right away. Over that year we spent more and more time together. I knew I was attracted to him, but I had been attracted to other men and nothing had ever happened before. Finally, I had a relationship with a man who saw me as his top priority. Looking back, I see now what I didn’t see then; a mutual seduction had taken place. Three days after Christmas I returned home, and things seemed to go along as they had before. However, that Sunday following a nap after church I awoke with an urgency to tell someone about my homosexual struggle. I dialed my parents’ number and heard my mother answer. I started to sob and scream over the phone. She asked me to tell her what was wrong. I continued to cry. She asked if I could tell my father and for some reason I said “yes.” Dad came on the line and I could hear myself screaming into the receiver: “Dad, I’ve struggled so long with homosexuality! Oh God, how can He ever forgive me? I’ve confessed it to Him over and over! Why didn’t he take it away? I’ve begged him to take it away!” They wanted to come up right away to be with me and I told them that I would drive to their home instead. I hadn’t told them that I was currently in a relationship. Dad met me at the door as I arrived and just held me as I cried. He told me that they would do whatever was needed to see me through this. I confessed to them what the past years had been like and the relationship that I found myself in. We prayed together and I asked for God’s forgiveness and for strength to leave my “friend.” Dad quietly asked me what I planned to tell the church where I served. The thought was overwhelming. My father offered to meet with the board chairman the next day. I gained a huge amount of respect for my father that day. I know that it couldn’t have been easy for him. He also accompanied me when I broke the news of my decision to the man I was living with. I went on to meet with my church leadership, and it was decided that it was best for me to resign for “personal reasons.” For the first time it hit me that I was leaving the ministry, a place I had invested my life. Over many weeks, I began to meet one on one with close friends to share this most intimate aspect of my life. I found that they were surprised but not repulsed. No one had even guessed my secret. They were loving and accepting. Determined to do anything and everything possible to speed the process of my recovery, I sought counseling, advice and a local support group. Several pastors and leaders came together at my request and formed a restoration team that met with me weekly. Through this process, we decided that I would share my story with my church, attempting to restore the relationships I’d once had. I didn’t want to have them hear the confession from anyone but me. Friends and family came for support as I stood before a couple hundred of my parishioners. I read my statement, stumbling over the word “homosexual” halfway down the page. I looked up to see tears on most of the faces. The church members lined up afterwards to hug me and tell me that they loved me. One lady told me her son was a homosexual and that she had never been able to share this with anyone. Another said that she thought she could never love a homosexual but now realized that she already knew and loved one. I heard about illegitimate children, affairs, and numerous other secret sins. It was an earth shattering revelation to be loved and accepted despite what I had done. God’s people had been purveyors of His grace in a way I never thought possible. Subsequent years have been difficult, but I have, by God’s grace alone, continued down the path of healing. I’ve learned that my struggle is more relational than sexual and that God will meet those needs Himself or through others. I have had to keep the long-term goal in sight as daily I feel the pull to return to that old relationship. The last three years God has proven himself faithful. He has enabled me to remain pure, focusing on “walking out.” He has used The Portland Fellowship to minister to me and now as an avenue to share the hope I have with others. He has given me a unique opportunity to use the relationships I have with other pastors to share what I have learned and experienced. I’ve even assisted other churches going through similar processes. “All is well,” thanks to the work of Jesus Christ and the grace extended by those who faithfully call Him “Savior”! He has taken what Satan meant for my destruction and made it an opportunity to extend His grace to others. |