Just because I'm "out" doesn't mean I'm always going out of my way to talk about sexuality. Outside my closest friendships, I still don't feel comfortable sharing. I still feel ashamed of my sexuality. Even after all this time. All these stories, written or otherwise.
Several of our authors recently attended the inaugural Revoice conference in St. Louis: a gathering for sexual minorities in the church. Here are our thoughts on the (controversial?) conference we experienced together.
Check out our new resources tab for books, blogs, and podcasts recommended by our authors. We may not necessarily collectively endorse every single resource on this page, but at least a few of us have found these books, blogs, and podcasts particularly helpful in this journey.
Why would I — someone who claims to believe in an omnipotent God who cares for me — wait to go to that God only until after I had tried everything else? When I began to sort out what my sexuality and gender identity meant to me as a follower of Christ, I didn't have to do it all by myself. I could take it all to God.
I'd transition to being a woman. I'd find a man to love me for who I was, and I'd become his wife. I'd run away with him and find freedom to be the woman I was supposed to be. This is not what happened, of course. Some would call it a mercy; others, a tragedy. I call it taking ownership of my gender identity.
I have mentioned before that I am a father. I want to protect my daughter. With the exception of Jesus and my wife, I have never loved a person so strongly.
I told my best friend that I had literally just come from gay sex in another man's bed. I'd found him on the Internet, then regretted it. I needed support.
As a man who strongly considered becoming a woman, I have a unique gender perspective that most Christians cannot fathom. Still, I wanted to be a man.