Growing up as a pastor's kid, I hid my homosexuality because I didn't want my father or my family to know that I was a "mistake."
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.
And then my wife came up the stairs and saw me in my deplorable state. I was attempting to fix the bathtub plumbing. And losing.
"How could you take a bath?" The question seemed ludicrous to me. I walked a lot that day. I was tired. My legs were sore. The bath was hot. This guy is a genuinely nice guy who loves God. But he's bought into a delusional sense of masculinity based more on actions than identity.
I still get tense and nervous and start shaking just thinking about coming out again. Some days it's better; other days it's not.
I love sports and competition. I love the push, the struggle, the fight toward victory. I love how my chest burns when I'm on the brink of exhaustion.
After going through all the crap my church threw at me, however, my love of the Lord lessened and my love of sex grew again. I crashed and burned.
I did my best not to break down, but I could feel the tears falling down my face. I sucked it up, took a deep breath, and walked out of the church.
I was told I couldn't serve in various areas of ministry, including the youth ministry and being around the younger children at the church.
Before I applied for SOM, some friends were talking to me about becoming a Bible study leader. I grew thrilled at the idea of leading and serving there.