When they hear I'm attracted to men but married to a woman, straight people, particularly Christians, sometimes ask if I expect my attractions to "change" in this life. For the longest time, I prayed for God to change my attractions. To make me straight. I do still pray about my sexuality, but I don't pray that God would change my attractions to heterosexual.
If there's one thing that stands out about me, it's intentional community. As a single Christian guy with same-sex attraction, I find that I fight against sexual temptations much more effectively when living with other guys. I am much happier, too! But how does living with other guys work with all the potential problems?
Right on cue, in walks that cute guy again. Instantly, I'm back to spiraling, back to wondering if this faith thing can really work out in the end, or if I'm actually as crazy as I sound when I tell someone I'm pursuing celibacy. It's in these moments that God feels like the eternal God of "no" — no sex, no boyfriend, no husband, no romance, no intimacy. No love. God becomes the God who won't let me eat the fruit from the one tree I'm craving, instead of the God who provided an entire garden just for me.
As a kid, I said a lot of derogatory things about LGBTQ+ people. I cringe at the things I remember saying. When I realized I was gay, all of that hatred that I showed to others turned in on myself. That realization drove me to reparative therapy. The logic makes sense: I hate gay people, I am gay — thus, I need to not be gay.
Do I live the way I live purely because of the way I was raised? Do I still harbor any internalized homophobia of myself and others? Is that why I'm "Side B"? Is this all coming from a place of pious self-righteousness?
Humility is not about being hard on yourself; it's about fighting the urge to stand at the center of it all. As I stood there at this year's YOBBERS retreat, an observer rather than a participant, God reminded me I wasn't there to get as much as I could get, or even give as much as I could give. The YOBBERS retreat was bigger than me. I didn't need to stand in the center of anything.
How was I to respond to my friend's declaration? After everything that had happened in France, I felt even more confused about relationships and sexuality. My faith seemed in limbo, without much support from my summer community, so I didn't know where to put my friend in my life and understanding of faith.
I reached a point of knowing I could trust God, and I was able to choose a more adventurous, challenging life to accomplish more of what really matters! I wouldn't trade the experiences in those three years of my midlife crisis for anything.
God and I are going to have some time alone together at the beginning of the next life. For the wounds to heal, for the scars to fade, and for the tears to become mere memory. I used to think healing would happen in an instant, but I'm not sure that's how healing works anymore.
Arriving at my new house, I found no one there to greet me. I knew where my new housemates hid the key, so I let myself in. My emotions were almost more than I could take: fear, loneliness, and confusion.