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Tip of the Iceberg
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I was born in the fall of 1976 in Biloxi Mississippi,
the son of a tough football captain turned machinist and of a popular
high-school cheerleader turned housewife. My parents had three children,
all boys, and I was the youngest by four years. My father was a jack-of-all-trades
and a quiet but intimidating man. He had a personal presence that
encouraged people not to bother him and a quick mind that was often
impatient with others. My mother was an energetic homemaker whose
sole interest in life was connecting with her family through conversation,
food, and shopping. Almost all my memories of her are in the kitchen
or the living room where she was constantly cooking, cleaning, or
visiting with someone. From my recollection, my relationship with my father was tense from the beginning. Everything about my father’s world was scary to me. I would watch him coaching my brothers in sports or working at his machine shop and be struck with fear. Everything about dad’s life was sparks, blowtorches, and danger. I was, quite simply, scared to death of him. Dad was discipline and power - a provider who was best respected and left alone. In contrast, Mom could not have been more inviting. She made up games for us to play and loved to listen about our days. She cooked wonderful things to eat and was always ready to interact and comfort us. Though I truly had two wonderful and dedicated parents, the situation I have described created an obvious preference for my mother and what I recall as an overwhelming isolation from my father. In addition to this, an older boy introduced me to sexual behavior when I was only six years old. This early intrusion on my innocence awakened desires I didn’t know how to handle. By the age of seven, I was fantasizing about sexual experiences with other boys my age. A very active fantasy life continued throughout my adolescence. Then in college I sought out other gay men and began pursuing sexual relationships with them. I kept this new behavior completely secret. To my knowledge I was viewed as an outstanding Christian young man, but my private life was becoming increasingly dark. In light of my sinful behavior, it may be surprising to learn that I was raised in church and had accepted Christ’s salvation as a boy. I consistently participated in Christian activities throughout my adolescence, but this did not make me immune to sexual struggles. In church and at home, the only messages I heard about homosexuality were related to its sinfulness. I never heard anyone talk about God helping people out of homosexual sin like He would from alcoholism, smoking, or even overeating. To my understanding homosexuality was a different type of sin. These beliefs thoroughly convinced me that I ought not talk about how I was feeling. To cope, I lived two separate lives. I was daydreaming about and later pursuing sinful sexual pleasure with other men, while simultaneously serving in my church, attending bible studies, and winning the praise and admiration of those around me. Rather than reaching out for help I chose to pretend my life was fine. It seemed better to maintain my image because I believed that if I told the truth, my reputation would be ruined. I would rather be thought of as a good man than confess my sin and get help to actually become a good man. This is really the crux of what went wrong in my life. I was afraid, or perhaps too proud, to ask for help. I was desperately confused by my desires, but if I had asked for help I might have learned that, homosexuality was really just the tip of an iceberg. It was the visible problem sticking up out of the surface of my life. Underneath was the darker more serious root of the issue, a mound of lies hidden just below the water’s surface. Long before I ever began to behave as a homosexual man, a foundation of untruth quietly grew under the surface of my life. The roots of this extend deep into my childhood experiences. I believed a lot of lies about myself, others, and God. I believed there was something weird about my desire to have close friendships with other men. I believed I was pathetic for not playing sports. I believed that others saw me as a weak, effeminate man. I believed that most men enjoyed close relationships with other guys, and I was the only one left out. Most detrimentally, I believed confession would bring only punishment and shame from the church and my family. I would look at the tip of the iceberg that was above the surface and wonder, “Why do I feel this way? Why won’t God take this away?” I never suspected the greater problem below the surface that was holding it all up. Satan had me right where he wanted me, frozen in lies and fear. Perhaps he thought he’d keep me there forever. If so, he underestimated the depth of my Father’s love and the power of His gentle whispers that were always calling me home. “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called the sons of God?” (1 John 3:1). God placed in me ceaseless longing for something better. For me, the ice began to break during my final year of college. After a round of particularly intense one-night stands that brought me dangerously close to being caught in my double life, I began to crumble emotionally. While home for Christmas in 1999, I decided, on a whim, to reach out to one of my older brothers and ask for help. I was horribly afraid of people’s ridicule and rejection, but I had been brought to a place of despair that made me willing to override my fears. I will never forget that night, the first moment I uttered to someone who loved me what was happening in my life. This was a critical step. I feared my brother’s rejection, but he overwhelmed me with his love. I showed someone what was inside, and they did not reject, ridicule, or accuse me. That night my brother had nothing but love for me. Through him, the love of Jesus swept over me like a tidal wave. Satan’s iceberg of lies was beginning to crack apart. They could not withstand the power of Christ’s love, the radiant burning warmth of His truth and light. My confession to my brother was only the first of many needed steps, but it might have been the most important. Through it God began to move in power – power unlike anything I have experienced in my life. By the end of my last semester, May, 2000, God brought direct aid in the form of a rumor I heard about a young Baptist pastor in my hometown who had struggled with homosexuality. He had resigned his position at the church and began sharing his story of how God was healing him and his family. My brother helped me get in contact with this man, and what ensued were the most transforming events of my life up to that point. After graduation I moved back home. The young pastor invited me to a bible study he was hosting. I met each week with other men who were struggling with various sexual problems (adultery, prostitution, pornography, etc). For the first time, I had found a place where I could be honest about what I was dealing with. In that honesty, God began to show me that Satan was a thief who had come to “steal, kill, and destroy” (John 10:10). More and more of the lies I had believed were brought into the light. Eventually, I shared my struggle with my parents, a critical step for me, the importance of which I do not here have space to explain. After that Summer I moved to Dallas to take my first job and got involved in a weekly support group lead by Living Hope Ministries. Over the next four years, God continued to bring new levels of healing into my life, not least of which was the restoration of my relationship with my father. God has now led me here to Portland where I’m learning more about how to help others escape the lies of homosexuality. To this day, I continue to struggle with my flesh and with some nagging lies that are a bit harder for me to “shake off”. The most persistent is that obeying God might be keeping me from something good – something I might want. In addressing any addiction, obedience can begin to feel like a lot of “no’s” and very few “yes’s”. Satan still attacks me and tries to convince me that God is keeping good things from me, but I am convinced that this lie too will melt away as I more deeply accept the truth that God wants what is best for me. “He did not spare His own son; How will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things” (Romans 8:31)? My Father is not in the business of keeping good things from His children. It’s with that assurance that we all find the will to trust Him and move forward in obedience. I’m not sure when the battle with homosexuality will die down to something small in my life, but I look forward to that day with eager expectation. I focus on God’s truth that we are being transformed and that one day we will be complete. “What we will be has not yet been made known” (1 John 3:2), but we know from His word that “death will be swallowed in victory” (1 Corinthians 15:54)! Until that day, I follow where He leads. |