The shame over my SSA made me feel that I was something evil, repulsive, and unlovable. My loneliness and lack of friends seemed to prove it.
The other guys told me about the Korean spa and how those experiences helped them. This sounded like something right down my alley.
This isn't about same-sex marriage. It's not even about Eugene Peterson or LifeWay. It's about a significant sliver of stories going untold.
It's not just that I never had a childhood best friend; it's that I'll never have a childhood best friend. That era has come and gone, that chapter closed.
100 days later, my sexual sobriety still very much feels like a fantastical concept. But it’s easier now, I guess.
He decided he didn't want to be my friend anymore. I'm not entirely sure who was more to blame, and this not knowing still plagues me.
But is it wrong that I look for that true brother still, that I still pray for God to bring that true brother to me? I hope not.
My gay brother had been burned. What started as seemingly harmless sexual experiments ended as an out-of-control obsession that literally killed my brother.
I saw I was faced with a stark choice: it was gay sex or Jesus Christ, a relationship with one or the other, but not both.
I longed to be someone else. To not have to carry the burden of different. It was so heavy. I soon began to pursue perfection. Not because I wanted to, but because it was demanded of me.