I threw every Bible I owned into a dumpster and decided to embrace a gay life even more than I had done previously. For four years, I had sex with as many guys as I could and didn't care. In my mind, since God and the church didn't care about me, why should I?
Does nice equal good? Does strong equal toxic? Commiseration is a drink that intoxicates quickly, yet we must weep with those who weep. Am I a man? Am I strong? What am I, and where is my place? What is the nature of masculine strength?
It is our first episode of 2022 as we hit the year running with a self-examination of bitterness. What do we hold against God, against others, and against ourselves? As it relates to our sexuality, where have we grown bitter in these three areas, and where is the blessing? Join Tom, Ben, and Will as we share some of our descents into bitterness, as well as our climbs into the sweetness of this Christian journey.
Sometimes you just have to be honest with yourself about who you are. After another year and a half in Germany, I woke up one morning, walked down to my first sergeant's office, and told him I was gay – that I didn't want to be in the Army anymore. My colonel had to sign off on that paperwork; he refused. And I was arrested. The Army rushed the investigation, and I was court-martialed.
As people of faith attracted to the same sex, we’ve learned to wait – and wait, and still wait. During this season of Advent, we connect our waiting for Christmas to our waiting for redemption, completeness, and peace. We share our histories with Advent, or lack thereof, both past and present, including our Christmas traditions. As we shift to our sexuality, we hold both our tension and our hope – our expectant waiting – with each hand.
Bridget Eileen Rivera (from Twitter!) joins us, along with her cat. She’s the author of the new book, Heavy Burdens: Seven Ways LGBTQ Christians Experience Harm in the Church (and just the second woman ever to appear on our show!). We discuss the burdens sexual minorities face regarding matters of so-called “clarity” in Scripture, stereotypical versions of masculinity/femininity, assumed pedophilia when working with children, and forced celibacy. Finally, we ask Bridget if her own choice to pursue celibacy stems from burdensome duty or life-giving joy?
I had tasted all these new intense bursts of touch in recent years, perhaps some healthy and others not so much, and during one isolating season I was desperate to share the warmth of masculine flesh again. I was having trouble making friends with other men, though...so where did I turn? To an app.
Growing up, I had few friends; those I did have were not the greatest. I brought up one boy, Jack, who I'd considered my best friend from first through third grade. I hadn't talked to him since high school. "I'm not sure what's happened to him," I said to my friend. "He could be dead for all I know." On a whim I looked up my old best friend on Facebook, and...yep, sure enough, he was dead.
I'm not one to call out miraculous. And I didn't grow up thinking that miracles happen. I wondered how to handle this gift, this grace when my teammates were in the hospital and even needed surgery? The answer wasn't obvious then. The emotions and lack of understanding come back swiftly when I think back on that weekend.
Frankly, all this relational turmoil boiled to the point that I thought: You know what? I'm sick of gay men. Tired of the super sensitive personalities, tired of the drama queens. Heck, the emotionless or stoic personalities of most straight men started to feel preferable to what I'd found lately with other gay/SSA men. Nonetheless, with our YOBBERS retreat coming up I needed to put aside my negativity as best I could.