Vulnerability is uncomfortable, even scary, so why do we value it so highly in our community? Sharing our story, including our sexuality, may have once felt like the most daunting or impossible task. And yet what would have been the cost to our lives had we not been vulnerable? What if we had stayed silent, closeted, cut off from such a significant aspect of ourselves with ourselves, God, and other people? Indeed, what if vulnerability that feels like weakness is actually strength – especially when practiced in a community?
Joy and sorrow share a tenuous connection. We explore the presence of joy in our YOB community and why it wasn’t one of our original values. We bask in the joy of retreats past and explore the joy to be found in our lives and sexualities, looking to Jesus’ example as he took the cup from his Father, following the joy set before him. Join Tom, Ryan, and Will for their first joyful episode together!
Sometimes the scariest question in the world is: How are you doing? That question comes like a longed-for drink of water at the end of a grueling race. It comes like a lover, surprising and enticing in all its warmth and inquiry. It means someone cares. And yet...
All I wanted was to live a fantasy every weekend: to believe that some man wanted me. That he loved me just so I could take my mind off all the negative things I felt about myself. After 29 years of living that life and never once finding happiness or love, God in His own way brought me back to Him and the church. However, I also started experiencing added health issues.
After a significantly hurtful breakup, I questioned my own sexuality for the first time, even if for a blip in time before getting back to work. While almost my entire existence as a woman was sexualized, I still had no space to think of myself as a sexual being. I continued to do inner work in other areas and did a spectacular job hiding behind a door I kept closed. I had dinner with a friend one day, and out of nowhere he mentioned something about Your Other Brothers. We had never discussed issues of sexuality together, and regardless of his intention, God was working. He suggested I check out YOB's podcast on the way home, and I did, and I got hooked.
I board my first plane with another YOBBER, North Carolina-bound from Houston. I know exactly where I’m going, yet it is a new adventure all the same. Perhaps I should say, "I know what to expect where I’m going." Memories of the previous year’s YOB camp retreat replay in my head -- more static around the details than there used to be, though the feelings surrounding them remain unchanged. Chaotic. Flabbergasted. Humbled. Healed. I have to pull myself back to the present and prepare my heart for what may be a whole new set of feelings this year. I have to prepare my heart for growth.
Tom welcomes back fellow FOUR-TIME retreat-goer Eugene to recap our recently held YOBBERS retreat. Eugene shares a glimpse into his artist’s process handling retreat decor like glow-in-the-dark nametags and tribe stones, which turned out a tad slimier and stickier this year. Our tribe times were the favorite block of the retreat this year, from heartfelt discussions to the new silly photo contest! Eugene also catches us up on a new development in his life back home: joining a porn/sex support group with all straight guys.
It was surreal meeting brothers who I know better than many of my closest friends. We went from Zoom calls and private messages to meeting and communicating in person for the first time. I've been on many Christian retreats, and I have to say this one was spent with the kindest men. We shared a common experience as gay/SSA men, along with a real sense that each of us wanted to give all the other men a respite from the daily trials of life, if even for two days.
Beyond its romantic, mysterious plot-line, Love, Simon is an exploration of queer adolescence in the 21st century, complete with social media postings and aliases. The coming out experience lies central to the story, as Simon explores the new terrain of his sexuality with friends, family, and his entire school. I'd love all straight people – straight Christians – to watch Love, Simon, because it will show them how gut-wrenching (and also beautiful) the coming out process is for a gay person: of finally letting another human into the biggest secret of one's life.
How many of us have decided not to come out to our fathers because we knew it wouldn't go well? How many have been wrestling with the idea of telling our fathers for fear of the unknown? And how many of us have already come out to our fathers, a topic never again spoken about?