Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Spank a Wife for Jesus?
Just when I thought I had seen it all, I come across this website. "Loving wife spanking in a Christian Marriage" ??? Please tell me it is a joke! When fundamentalist want to talk about how "depraved" the "Gay Agenda" is, just send them to this site.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Some Evening Thoughts
Nick is trying to sleep and I am not feeling very sleepy so I decided I would try to write something.
Some times it just knocks me over that this house is not going to be mine in a few months. Soon it will belong to the bank and I will be left with nothing to show for it except a bad credit rating. I look out of my window at the quiet neighborhood and it really makes me sad.
I supply preached today. I don't know if I will ever get used to the Episcopal "hand jive." So much of it seems like an attempt to control God. If the flagon is on the corpral, then it is consecrated, if not, then it is just wine. Better not get it too close!! Sometimes it seems like we just get so caught up in the little details and we forget the big issues that face us. Why can't we just get it into our heard that God loves us, just as we are? Why do we feel the need to have to tell others that God doesn't love them? It is so unChristian if you ask me.
I always feel like I am bordering on the edge of insanity. I just about went postal on the job last week and decided that it was better for me not to be working it. Getting up at 4:30 am for an $8 per hour job is not worth it. And then to have the exec tell us that we had to stand on the concrete floor for eight hours while visually inspecting plastic lenses (thousands of them, literally!) without having a pad to stand on was too much. When I almost barged into his office to tell him that he could bring his ass out of his office and stand for eight hours for $8 per hour, I knew that I was going over the edge. Lets fave it, visual inspection of lenses does not give you much to think about so, in my case, my mind went nutzo.
Sorry it seems like all I do is complain. Lately there doesn't seem like a lot to be happy about.
Some times it just knocks me over that this house is not going to be mine in a few months. Soon it will belong to the bank and I will be left with nothing to show for it except a bad credit rating. I look out of my window at the quiet neighborhood and it really makes me sad.
I supply preached today. I don't know if I will ever get used to the Episcopal "hand jive." So much of it seems like an attempt to control God. If the flagon is on the corpral, then it is consecrated, if not, then it is just wine. Better not get it too close!! Sometimes it seems like we just get so caught up in the little details and we forget the big issues that face us. Why can't we just get it into our heard that God loves us, just as we are? Why do we feel the need to have to tell others that God doesn't love them? It is so unChristian if you ask me.
I always feel like I am bordering on the edge of insanity. I just about went postal on the job last week and decided that it was better for me not to be working it. Getting up at 4:30 am for an $8 per hour job is not worth it. And then to have the exec tell us that we had to stand on the concrete floor for eight hours while visually inspecting plastic lenses (thousands of them, literally!) without having a pad to stand on was too much. When I almost barged into his office to tell him that he could bring his ass out of his office and stand for eight hours for $8 per hour, I knew that I was going over the edge. Lets fave it, visual inspection of lenses does not give you much to think about so, in my case, my mind went nutzo.
Sorry it seems like all I do is complain. Lately there doesn't seem like a lot to be happy about.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Tadpole Waterslide From Hell
I went out to check how thing were in the backyard pond. I am sorry to say that the fantail comet is now in the big fishbowl in the sky. But the tadpoles are having a good time!
I have two waterfalls in my pond, the larger waterfall and pump have a filter system on them. The smaller one, though, does not.
So the tadpoles are being sucked up in the pump and being deposited at the top of the waterfall to cascade (usually) back into the pond. Unfortunately, some of them get stuck on the landing rock, just before plopping into the pool at the bottom. But, hey, I guess the bodies of the tadpoles that don't make it make for a good obstacle course for the next ones to come!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
"The Book: Gay Pastor"
I was ready to face my life but I had the whole problem of “Page 13” to contend with. I either had to continue to live a celibate life and remain a pastor or I had to leave the ministry. Since I had gone this long without a relationship, I really didn’t want to continue without a relationship. So to be openly in a relationship, I could not be an ELCA pastor.
Now I must say that I think the ELCA’s prohibition on openly gay pastors is just silly and I have always thought it was silly. I have to question a denomination that would rather have its leaders lie about what who they are as opposed to being honest. Well, that is their loss. But loss or not, there was a tenet of the faith that said I could be gay, I just needed to be celibate.
I had to struggle with what I wanted to do. I could stay in the ELCA and fight what I thought was an unfair, and frankly unchristian, rule. Or I could respect the rules of the church and find a new denomination. As I thought about it, it became clearer to me that I would need to leave the denomination.
The decision to leave had been in the process for a while. My call to the congregation was as an assistant pastor. As such, I played second fiddle to the senior pastor. In the past, in situations that were marginally controversial, the senior pastor would give his support but then if anyone from the congregation would say something, he would crumble. If it came down to standing by his colleague, me, or caving to even one comment from a parishioner, he would cave. If he caved only once, I may have gone forward, but this behavior of collapsing when things go a little controversial has been a consistent pattern with this man.
So I began to look at various other denominations, looking for a place that would accept me as I am and not expect me to lie and that would also allow me to serve God as I felt I had been called to do. Actually, I felt more then ever that I had truly been called by God. As I looked at the way the church treated GLBT people, and as I was beginning to experience myself, I felt the need more than ever to bring the gospel to those for whom the church was not a safe place and may have actually been a place of pain and rejection. I still felt the call to ministry; I just knew I could not do it in the ELCA.
I looked at various denominations, trying to find a place where I would be welcome. Unfortunately, this search did not turn up many denominations. Many of the denominations like to tell how open and accepting they were to “all people.” This was the same thing the ELCA also said. And I truly believe these denominations do feel they are being open. But also like the ELCA, most would not allow an openly gay person to function as a clergyperson. Also like the ELCA, most of these denominations like to proclaim how they allow “all people into all aspects of church life.” But if leadership is closed to a certain segment of the population, is it really open?
Of the denominations I searched, I was only able to find three that were truly open to having GLBT people as clergy. These denominations were The United Church of Christ, The Episcopal Church in America, and The Metropolitan Community Church. Finding only three denominations was pretty disheartening. But since I had only these three to look at, I started to do my research.
The first denomination I look at was the MCC. I thought this would be a great place to minister as its traditional outreach is to the GLBT population. In this denomination, a gay pastor was not an oddity; actually, a heterosexual pastor would be the oddity. Within the MCC, homosexuality is the norm.
So with this in mind, I decided to go and visit an MCC church. I was surprised to find that, even with a major university in town, Lansing did not have an MCC congregation. But I still wanted to see what an MCC church was like. So, one Sunday morning while I was on vacation, I got up and drove to Grand Rapids to visit the church there.
That worship service was quite an eye-opener for me. I didn’t know what I should expect from the congregation there. This was my first foray out into the “Gay World” as one of the “locals.” I was not entering the “Gay World” as an outsider but as an actual gay person.
I was greeted by one of the members of the congregation who was very kind and asked some questions about me. These questions were not intrusive in any way but allowed me the opportunity to talk if I would want to. The member then asked me if I would like to sit with him and his friends during the service.
The service was relatively uneventful, similar to just about any other mainstream worship service. Well, actually, the sermon was anything but uneventful. The pastor preached about difficulties with those around us and working on coming to an understanding with those people. In the sermon, the pastor urged the congregation to confront those who have hurt them and then work toward resolution. This sounds good in theory but almost ended in a boxing match in the parking lot after the service. But the most eye-opening aspect of the service was how truly uneventful it all really was. These people, these GAY people prayed, sang, communed, and went out for lunch after the service just like everyone else. The sermon was not about being gay, it was about being a person.
That was one of the defining moments for me in creating my “gay identity.” I was able to go out and be gay but not be “GAY” as the stereotypes would have us think.
Now I must say that I think the ELCA’s prohibition on openly gay pastors is just silly and I have always thought it was silly. I have to question a denomination that would rather have its leaders lie about what who they are as opposed to being honest. Well, that is their loss. But loss or not, there was a tenet of the faith that said I could be gay, I just needed to be celibate.
I had to struggle with what I wanted to do. I could stay in the ELCA and fight what I thought was an unfair, and frankly unchristian, rule. Or I could respect the rules of the church and find a new denomination. As I thought about it, it became clearer to me that I would need to leave the denomination.
The decision to leave had been in the process for a while. My call to the congregation was as an assistant pastor. As such, I played second fiddle to the senior pastor. In the past, in situations that were marginally controversial, the senior pastor would give his support but then if anyone from the congregation would say something, he would crumble. If it came down to standing by his colleague, me, or caving to even one comment from a parishioner, he would cave. If he caved only once, I may have gone forward, but this behavior of collapsing when things go a little controversial has been a consistent pattern with this man.
So I began to look at various other denominations, looking for a place that would accept me as I am and not expect me to lie and that would also allow me to serve God as I felt I had been called to do. Actually, I felt more then ever that I had truly been called by God. As I looked at the way the church treated GLBT people, and as I was beginning to experience myself, I felt the need more than ever to bring the gospel to those for whom the church was not a safe place and may have actually been a place of pain and rejection. I still felt the call to ministry; I just knew I could not do it in the ELCA.
I looked at various denominations, trying to find a place where I would be welcome. Unfortunately, this search did not turn up many denominations. Many of the denominations like to tell how open and accepting they were to “all people.” This was the same thing the ELCA also said. And I truly believe these denominations do feel they are being open. But also like the ELCA, most would not allow an openly gay person to function as a clergyperson. Also like the ELCA, most of these denominations like to proclaim how they allow “all people into all aspects of church life.” But if leadership is closed to a certain segment of the population, is it really open?
Of the denominations I searched, I was only able to find three that were truly open to having GLBT people as clergy. These denominations were The United Church of Christ, The Episcopal Church in America, and The Metropolitan Community Church. Finding only three denominations was pretty disheartening. But since I had only these three to look at, I started to do my research.
The first denomination I look at was the MCC. I thought this would be a great place to minister as its traditional outreach is to the GLBT population. In this denomination, a gay pastor was not an oddity; actually, a heterosexual pastor would be the oddity. Within the MCC, homosexuality is the norm.
So with this in mind, I decided to go and visit an MCC church. I was surprised to find that, even with a major university in town, Lansing did not have an MCC congregation. But I still wanted to see what an MCC church was like. So, one Sunday morning while I was on vacation, I got up and drove to Grand Rapids to visit the church there.
That worship service was quite an eye-opener for me. I didn’t know what I should expect from the congregation there. This was my first foray out into the “Gay World” as one of the “locals.” I was not entering the “Gay World” as an outsider but as an actual gay person.
I was greeted by one of the members of the congregation who was very kind and asked some questions about me. These questions were not intrusive in any way but allowed me the opportunity to talk if I would want to. The member then asked me if I would like to sit with him and his friends during the service.
The service was relatively uneventful, similar to just about any other mainstream worship service. Well, actually, the sermon was anything but uneventful. The pastor preached about difficulties with those around us and working on coming to an understanding with those people. In the sermon, the pastor urged the congregation to confront those who have hurt them and then work toward resolution. This sounds good in theory but almost ended in a boxing match in the parking lot after the service. But the most eye-opening aspect of the service was how truly uneventful it all really was. These people, these GAY people prayed, sang, communed, and went out for lunch after the service just like everyone else. The sermon was not about being gay, it was about being a person.
That was one of the defining moments for me in creating my “gay identity.” I was able to go out and be gay but not be “GAY” as the stereotypes would have us think.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Adding Ads
Hi folks,
I am adding ad-sense to my blog. Yes, I have succumed to the lure of the ads. Hey, if I can get some extra money then that would be great. Just click on an ad and that helps me pay the electric bill.
I hope it doesn't become intrusive. If it does, I will remove them. But we will give it a go!
I am adding ad-sense to my blog. Yes, I have succumed to the lure of the ads. Hey, if I can get some extra money then that would be great. Just click on an ad and that helps me pay the electric bill.
I hope it doesn't become intrusive. If it does, I will remove them. But we will give it a go!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Rev. Jerry Falwell 1934-2007
I would like to extend my condolences to the family of Rev. Jerry Falwell. We in the GLBT community have much experience with the death of those who are dear to us and understand the pain that the death of a loved one can bring.
Know that at this time I pray that God will bring you strength and peace.
Know that at this time I pray that God will bring you strength and peace.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
This Is SOOOO Wrong!
Melinda is sooooo much better than Blake! Blake should have been sent home. Bad America!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
A Chance Encounter
Today I ran into one of my ex-bosses from the phone days. I was at Kelly filling out paperwork for an $8/hr job. He had the nerve to ask how things were going. (Aren't social nicities a wonderful thing.) I had the self control to not tell him.
"The Book: I'm Gay"
After a brief hiatus, The Book is back. The last part can be found here.
The subconscious part of me decided that since I was going to be all alone, that I needed to start getting on with my life. There was going to be no wedding presents to look forward to so I would have to start buying all of that stuff myself. I started to look for houses and eventually found one that I loved. It was pretty much everything I had hoped for. It had character, a fireplace, and a beautiful back yard. I also started to buy dishes and REAL furniture instead of the dorm room leftovers that I did have in my house. I decided that since I was not going to get married, I could not count on those things and it was time to stop living like a student and live like a real adult person.
Granted, the house could feel empty at times, but I am a pretty “big” personality and can manage to spread out to fill my space. Soon I had gotten the house pretty much how I wanted it. Granted, it was messy, but hey, no one was stopping over soon.
I was going to fight this loneliness and remain true to God. Even with all the information I had about the Bible and the problems of interpretation with the “clobber passages,” I was going to bury my emotions and play the happy hetero when the need be. Besides, my denomination was telling me that “We accept all people;” just don’t let its leaders be gay. Oh, I should say, our leaders can be gay, just make sure they lie about it or hide it.
So that is what I was going to do. I would hide it. I would look at gay porn when no one was around and I would keep the possibilities of finding a “good woman” open. I would go to the gym and get an occasional peek at a naked man and hope to remain sane.
But it wasn’t working. I was feeling like a shell. I was feeling like I was lying and that people were going to find out. I was feeling constantly exhausted because I had to work so hard to keep the façade up. For those of you who are straight, if you don’t think it is hard, try going for just a day paying attention to all things that might be a “give away.” You have to be aware of making sure you say “she” instead of “he.” You have to be aware of what you do, is it too “gay?” I tend to be an artsy person so am I being too “artsy?” And always, how to deal with the “girlfriend” questions? It just gets so tiring.
This hiding continued until the end of my second year at the church I was serving. It was then that a series of chance events occurred that would set my life shooting off on a trajectory that I had never anticipated. I say “chance events” because in retrospect I am still not really sure what happened.
I was at summer camp with a bunch of kids. The Supervisor was also there with a group of kids from his congregation. We planned on being there together so we could share the teaching duties. And also, we enjoyed each other’s company and it gave us a chance to catch up on “old times.”
Now there was nothing out of the ordinary about this week at camp. I cannot think of anything that I would have done that would have pointed a finger. I did not go searching for an opportunity to “see” the Supervisor nor did we spend an inordinate amount of time together. It was just an ordinary week at camp.
On the last day of camp, the adult leaders take some time to clean the house we have all been sharing over the past week. The usual things: clean and sweep. I was cleaning in the kitchen and the Supervisor came in and asked me where he could find a broom. I said “I think there is one in the closet.” And for the life of me, I could have sworn that the Supervisor said under his breath but still loud enough for me to hear, “That’s not the only thing in the closet.”
I was both shocked and pissed. I was shocked because a comment like that form the Supervisor was so out of character. In the eight years I had known him, he would never make a comment like that. If he had something to say, he would generally be right up front about it. And I was pissed because, “HOW DARE HE THINK THAT ABOUT ME!”
I had a good head of steam going. I was hurt and I was not going to put up with this. I decided I would just avoid the Supervisor until we had to leave and then I could regroup. Hopefully after I had time to regroup I could talk with him and set him straight. This was not something worth ruining a friendship over, but the air needed to be cleared.
So I was walking around camp feeling righteously indignant when it suddenly dawned on me, “Am I that transparent? Am I really fooling anyone? I am using all of this energy to keep up a façade that is not fooling anyone at all?” And it was in that moment that the house of cards that I had built for so long, it was at that moment that all delusions disappeared and I finally came to the realization: I was gay.
My feelings about realizing I was gay were many as you can expect, however, the feeling that I remember most clearly was relief. Finally, after 40 years, I was able to state truthfully what I was. I could finally look into the mirror and say, “I am gay.” I could let down all the pretense that I held in my life and just be who God made me to be.
Now I would love to be able to tell you that I was able to come out to my family, friends, and co-workers and everything was ok. But as I have told others, “Lying is a sin” and I would not want to lie. So, in coming to terms with my homosexuality I was not at the end of the journey, I was just starting a new leg of the journey.
The subconscious part of me decided that since I was going to be all alone, that I needed to start getting on with my life. There was going to be no wedding presents to look forward to so I would have to start buying all of that stuff myself. I started to look for houses and eventually found one that I loved. It was pretty much everything I had hoped for. It had character, a fireplace, and a beautiful back yard. I also started to buy dishes and REAL furniture instead of the dorm room leftovers that I did have in my house. I decided that since I was not going to get married, I could not count on those things and it was time to stop living like a student and live like a real adult person.
Granted, the house could feel empty at times, but I am a pretty “big” personality and can manage to spread out to fill my space. Soon I had gotten the house pretty much how I wanted it. Granted, it was messy, but hey, no one was stopping over soon.
I was going to fight this loneliness and remain true to God. Even with all the information I had about the Bible and the problems of interpretation with the “clobber passages,” I was going to bury my emotions and play the happy hetero when the need be. Besides, my denomination was telling me that “We accept all people;” just don’t let its leaders be gay. Oh, I should say, our leaders can be gay, just make sure they lie about it or hide it.
So that is what I was going to do. I would hide it. I would look at gay porn when no one was around and I would keep the possibilities of finding a “good woman” open. I would go to the gym and get an occasional peek at a naked man and hope to remain sane.
But it wasn’t working. I was feeling like a shell. I was feeling like I was lying and that people were going to find out. I was feeling constantly exhausted because I had to work so hard to keep the façade up. For those of you who are straight, if you don’t think it is hard, try going for just a day paying attention to all things that might be a “give away.” You have to be aware of making sure you say “she” instead of “he.” You have to be aware of what you do, is it too “gay?” I tend to be an artsy person so am I being too “artsy?” And always, how to deal with the “girlfriend” questions? It just gets so tiring.
This hiding continued until the end of my second year at the church I was serving. It was then that a series of chance events occurred that would set my life shooting off on a trajectory that I had never anticipated. I say “chance events” because in retrospect I am still not really sure what happened.
I was at summer camp with a bunch of kids. The Supervisor was also there with a group of kids from his congregation. We planned on being there together so we could share the teaching duties. And also, we enjoyed each other’s company and it gave us a chance to catch up on “old times.”
Now there was nothing out of the ordinary about this week at camp. I cannot think of anything that I would have done that would have pointed a finger. I did not go searching for an opportunity to “see” the Supervisor nor did we spend an inordinate amount of time together. It was just an ordinary week at camp.
On the last day of camp, the adult leaders take some time to clean the house we have all been sharing over the past week. The usual things: clean and sweep. I was cleaning in the kitchen and the Supervisor came in and asked me where he could find a broom. I said “I think there is one in the closet.” And for the life of me, I could have sworn that the Supervisor said under his breath but still loud enough for me to hear, “That’s not the only thing in the closet.”
I was both shocked and pissed. I was shocked because a comment like that form the Supervisor was so out of character. In the eight years I had known him, he would never make a comment like that. If he had something to say, he would generally be right up front about it. And I was pissed because, “HOW DARE HE THINK THAT ABOUT ME!”
I had a good head of steam going. I was hurt and I was not going to put up with this. I decided I would just avoid the Supervisor until we had to leave and then I could regroup. Hopefully after I had time to regroup I could talk with him and set him straight. This was not something worth ruining a friendship over, but the air needed to be cleared.
So I was walking around camp feeling righteously indignant when it suddenly dawned on me, “Am I that transparent? Am I really fooling anyone? I am using all of this energy to keep up a façade that is not fooling anyone at all?” And it was in that moment that the house of cards that I had built for so long, it was at that moment that all delusions disappeared and I finally came to the realization: I was gay.
My feelings about realizing I was gay were many as you can expect, however, the feeling that I remember most clearly was relief. Finally, after 40 years, I was able to state truthfully what I was. I could finally look into the mirror and say, “I am gay.” I could let down all the pretense that I held in my life and just be who God made me to be.
Now I would love to be able to tell you that I was able to come out to my family, friends, and co-workers and everything was ok. But as I have told others, “Lying is a sin” and I would not want to lie. So, in coming to terms with my homosexuality I was not at the end of the journey, I was just starting a new leg of the journey.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Checking in
Having too much time on one's hands is not a good thing.
I will do fine for a while, then I get to thinking and I start getting more and more depressed. Maybe I should stop tinking.
Oh, and two of the cheapy fish died. Now, I know that every fish is special, but if two were going to die, I am glad they were the cheap ones.
I will do fine for a while, then I get to thinking and I start getting more and more depressed. Maybe I should stop tinking.
Oh, and two of the cheapy fish died. Now, I know that every fish is special, but if two were going to die, I am glad they were the cheap ones.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
The Hottie is Henry!
Christopher Gorham plays Henry on Ugly Betty! I would never guess the nerd could exist in that beautiful bod.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Who Is This Hottie?
I was surprised when I found out. Tell me who you think it is.
I will post the answer tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
America Made A Mistake!
Lakisha should have stayed! Blake should have been sent home. He was horrible last night!
"The Book: The Final Hope"
I received another call in Michigan and was very excited about it. It seemed like everything that I wanted in a congregation. They were energetic, active, and willing to try new things. I was really excited to be back in the congregation again.
But almost immediately, I was asked by the senior pastor, “What should we (meaning he and the secretary) say if people ask us about if I have a girlfriend and what to say if someone wants to set me up.
I was prepared this time! I said that I really don’t believe in dating people in the congregation or people close to the congregation. If I become the love interest of someone in the congregation, it is difficult to be that person’s pastor. The same would go for close friends or family members. I would not want to count on breaking up, but if I were to date someone from the congregation and it went south, it could be a bad scene in the congregation. I thought it was a pretty good response.
It was great to be back in the congregation and what was kind of nice is there were several people in the congregation who were older and lived alone. So it was great that people didn’t consider it odd that I lived alone. I guess I thought I had dodged the bullet. No questions, no need to explain.
Everything was going fine until one of my parishioners asked me to come to her house on Christmas Eve. I was totally shocked because I didn’t know the woman was interested in me.
My whole view on life changed! Maybe God was giving me a sign. Maybe this was going to be the “good woman” who was going to turn my roving eyes from the guys around. Maybe she was going to be the one that God had planned for me. Since I have been faithful and didn’t give in to the temptation to be with men, God was going to bring just the right woman into my life.
Christmas eve was nice, a nice dinner and then I had to head off to church. Then we started to meet to take her dogs for a walk or to go to a local festival. We might get together to go to a movie or have Easter Dinner with friends. The problem was that this was a person from my congregation and I still didn’t feel what I would have called “in love.”
I didn’t know what to do. I was feeling that this may be my last chance to get married and I didn’t want to mess it up. I actually got to the point of asking my therapist how I go about moving things to a more physical level. I haven’t even kissed her yet and I was afraid things would go even farther. But for the life of me, I didn’t know what to do. I say that not to sound pathetic but to give you a feel for the simple things that most people take for granted in their lives but that I missed out on.
Remember, I didn’t have the “normal” adolescent explorations. I didn’t really have a girlfriend with I was a teen and I didn’t do the usual experimentation. And being around girls/women was more a friend thing to me not a lover type of thing. So I was at a loss for what to do.
I was mustering up my courage to try to kiss my parishioner the next time we were out when she had mentioned something about her “boyfriend.”
WHAT! She had a boyfriend?
I was devastated. Here was my last shot at finding a wife going down the drain. Here was the woman God had planned for me seeing someone else! Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know that she was God’s plan to bring love into my life? I went numb. I graciously said good-bye and drove home.
I sunk into a sever depression. My whole world was falling apart. Everything that I had staked my life on was now gone. I could not see beyond the fact that I had been rejected and my last chance for a “normal” life was going away. All of my dreams to be a happy hetero had just gotten shot down. Now it was certain, I was going to live the rest of my life alone. I thought this is was the one that God had chosen for me! How could she have a boyfriend? How could God have abandoned me?
And truly, that was the way I felt; I felt that God had abandoned me. Even though I am embarrassed to admit it, I still believed what the fundamentalists were saying. I believed that I could pray, plead, and act my way into heterosexuality. And I was praying, pleading, and the goody-goody was trying to act in a manner to make the parent happy. But, obviously, the parent was not pleased.
This is something that had always bothered me about the fundamentalists’ view of homosexuality. I was told to pray, to study the bible, to have faith. I did just that. But why is it that I would pray, I would study, I would have faith, and still I felt this homosexual attraction. Did God not love me? Was I not doing it right? If I were to believe that God had answered others’ prayers and made them straight, why wouldn’t God do this for me?
The fundamentalist view left me wondering: Did God not love me? Or was I destined to go through life denying my feelings never being able to truly find someone to love? Was it better to lie to the world and pretend to be straight, or better to be true to myself and be an abomination in the eyes of God? The fundamentalist point of view left me suicidal, lying, unacceptable to God, and still all alone.
The journey continues here.
But almost immediately, I was asked by the senior pastor, “What should we (meaning he and the secretary) say if people ask us about if I have a girlfriend and what to say if someone wants to set me up.
I was prepared this time! I said that I really don’t believe in dating people in the congregation or people close to the congregation. If I become the love interest of someone in the congregation, it is difficult to be that person’s pastor. The same would go for close friends or family members. I would not want to count on breaking up, but if I were to date someone from the congregation and it went south, it could be a bad scene in the congregation. I thought it was a pretty good response.
It was great to be back in the congregation and what was kind of nice is there were several people in the congregation who were older and lived alone. So it was great that people didn’t consider it odd that I lived alone. I guess I thought I had dodged the bullet. No questions, no need to explain.
Everything was going fine until one of my parishioners asked me to come to her house on Christmas Eve. I was totally shocked because I didn’t know the woman was interested in me.
My whole view on life changed! Maybe God was giving me a sign. Maybe this was going to be the “good woman” who was going to turn my roving eyes from the guys around. Maybe she was going to be the one that God had planned for me. Since I have been faithful and didn’t give in to the temptation to be with men, God was going to bring just the right woman into my life.
Christmas eve was nice, a nice dinner and then I had to head off to church. Then we started to meet to take her dogs for a walk or to go to a local festival. We might get together to go to a movie or have Easter Dinner with friends. The problem was that this was a person from my congregation and I still didn’t feel what I would have called “in love.”
I didn’t know what to do. I was feeling that this may be my last chance to get married and I didn’t want to mess it up. I actually got to the point of asking my therapist how I go about moving things to a more physical level. I haven’t even kissed her yet and I was afraid things would go even farther. But for the life of me, I didn’t know what to do. I say that not to sound pathetic but to give you a feel for the simple things that most people take for granted in their lives but that I missed out on.
Remember, I didn’t have the “normal” adolescent explorations. I didn’t really have a girlfriend with I was a teen and I didn’t do the usual experimentation. And being around girls/women was more a friend thing to me not a lover type of thing. So I was at a loss for what to do.
I was mustering up my courage to try to kiss my parishioner the next time we were out when she had mentioned something about her “boyfriend.”
WHAT! She had a boyfriend?
I was devastated. Here was my last shot at finding a wife going down the drain. Here was the woman God had planned for me seeing someone else! Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know that she was God’s plan to bring love into my life? I went numb. I graciously said good-bye and drove home.
I sunk into a sever depression. My whole world was falling apart. Everything that I had staked my life on was now gone. I could not see beyond the fact that I had been rejected and my last chance for a “normal” life was going away. All of my dreams to be a happy hetero had just gotten shot down. Now it was certain, I was going to live the rest of my life alone. I thought this is was the one that God had chosen for me! How could she have a boyfriend? How could God have abandoned me?
And truly, that was the way I felt; I felt that God had abandoned me. Even though I am embarrassed to admit it, I still believed what the fundamentalists were saying. I believed that I could pray, plead, and act my way into heterosexuality. And I was praying, pleading, and the goody-goody was trying to act in a manner to make the parent happy. But, obviously, the parent was not pleased.
This is something that had always bothered me about the fundamentalists’ view of homosexuality. I was told to pray, to study the bible, to have faith. I did just that. But why is it that I would pray, I would study, I would have faith, and still I felt this homosexual attraction. Did God not love me? Was I not doing it right? If I were to believe that God had answered others’ prayers and made them straight, why wouldn’t God do this for me?
The fundamentalist view left me wondering: Did God not love me? Or was I destined to go through life denying my feelings never being able to truly find someone to love? Was it better to lie to the world and pretend to be straight, or better to be true to myself and be an abomination in the eyes of God? The fundamentalist point of view left me suicidal, lying, unacceptable to God, and still all alone.
The journey continues here.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
"The Book: Up Until About Four Years Ago"
Previously
I had been working in a small town in Illinois for about four or five years when things started to change again in my life. As I said before, I had finally admitted to someone that I could possibly be bisexual. But also, there was a social worker who just started at the place where I worked and I developed a huge crush on her. She was about as close to an ideal as anyone could come and still be a woman. She had a quirky sense of humor and an off-the-wall way of looking at life. And although I wouldn’t admit it then, she was safe. She had a fiancée. So, I could be close to her without having to worry about things moving toword the possibility of sex. It was great!
Even though I had a new beard, I still felt alone. I needed to do something so I started to look at going back to school.
I thought about going into pastoral counseling, ostensibly because I felt psychology worked better with a “higher power” that 12-Step programs make such good use of. In actuality, pastoral counseling was, in my opinion, as close as you could come to being a “man of the cloth” without actually having to go through the whole ordination process. Of course, I found that to go into pastoral counseling, one had to be a pastor first.
Actually, the whole priest/pastor thing had been a part of my entire life. Being raised Roman Catholic; my mother wanted one of her sons to become a priest. I am not sure how I got selected for that honor, but I was. So I grew up knowing that nothing would make my mother more proud than to have me become a priest. So while being a spiritual type of person, I avoided becoming a member of the clergy because I was afraid that it was just my mother’s prodding and not actually something I wanted to do. Now I was being told that if I wanted to go into pastoral counseling, I would have to become a pastor also.
So I started to go through the discernment process to become a pastor. I wasn’t going to go to a Roman Catholic seminary, no, I was going through the Lutherans so I could get married! (I still believed God would take the “Evil Gay” away from me.) And if God didn’t find the right girl for me, then maybe being a pastor would be enough for God to give me the strength to be celibate.
I struggled the whole time I was in seminary. What even made things harder was that I had gotten the Internet while I was in seminary. Now I could access gay porn in my apartment and no one would have to know. I could now look at with ease that which was previously forbidden and difficult to obtain. With just a click of the mouse I could be viewing men doing all kinds of abominations. And although I tried to stop myself from going there, I would click and start looking. And although I tried to force my feelings down, I would usually end up having an orgasm while looking at the pictures. Then after the orgasm, I would kneel at the side of my bed and literally cry for forgiveness. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I would plead and bargain with God to take these feeling from me, but in a few days I was back at the computer.
I guess you might say that I have a porn addiction, but I would question that. Or, maybe that I would even question it just points to the fact that I do have an addiction. I don’t know. All that I do know is that in a world that would deny your very being, porn became a type of community. Porn, for me, at least acknowledged that other also felt the way I was feeling. Some have referred to gay porn as “Instructional Videos;” maybe, in fact, they are just that. I am not advocating for porn, but until there is something else that is provided to those who are learning about their sexuality in the way of role models, I think porn will be present and, to an extent, useful.
Eventually, in my seminary career, I went on internship. I went off to internship with the usual expectations and trepidations. The thought of spending a year with a group of people I didn’t know was scary. What if I didn’t like my supervisor? What if I find that I don’t like being in the church? What if I fail miserably? All of these things kept running through my head. But scared or not, I was off.
I drove into town and met my supervisor. He was a swimmer, runner, and cyclist and had that triathlete body. He was tall, thin, streamline, with a touch of red in his hair and in his moustache. Just like the swimmer from high school, I felt special just to be in his presence.
Leaving my internship site was very difficult though. Looking back, I now recognize that I had definitely had a crush on my supervisor and was crushed to have to leave. As alive as I had felt while on internship, I now felt as dead. I think it was feeling of loss that pushed me to again try to find a “nice girl.” Again I would pray and plead to find the right person. Again I would beg God to take my homosexual feelings away. Again I would cry for forgiveness after clicking on the Internet.
It was also during this time that the church started to have its struggle with gay clergy. Well, the struggle had been going for a while but in a more quiet form. But it was in my senior year of seminary that the big battle was to begin.
It was during this year that I really began to study the, so-called, “clobber passages.” We studied the meaning of words in Greek and Hebrew. We studied various interpretations for passages that were really quite ambiguous. And we had panel discussions.
I watched all of this with some detachment. I was thinking that this may impact my friends, but it really didn’t impact me because God was going to change me. I really wasn’t gay; I just needed to wait for the miracle. I could not let my faith waiver.
I also tried to convince myself that I was in pursuit of a girl friend but that classes and homework were getting in the way. I couldn’t be expected to start a new relationship with hundreds of pages to read. And besides, school was going to be over and we would all be going our separate. There really wasn’t enough time to start a relationship. (Or so I told myself.)
I received my first call to a congregation that was located in the northern part of Michigan. It was a small congregation in a small town, the kind of place where everyone knew each other and even after being there for 20 years, you were still considered a “new comer.” This really wasn’t my idea of an ideal first call, but I was willing to give it a shot. I figured God must have something in the works for me.
Also by this time my defenses were starting to crumble. I remember thinking, “How can a gay pastor survive in a town of 1500 people?” That kind of scared me and of course, I immediately repressed the thought because it was still too difficult to face the truth. But what I didn’t expect to find in such a small town and in such a small congregation was an older, very well balanced, lesbian.
Although I had a living example of a mature homosexual, I still fought.
There was a former seminary classmate who lived in a city nearby. We started to hang out together and I fell into the comfortable pattern of hinting that there might be something more, but never quite following through. We would go out to movies together and often have lunch together. But I always had to head home so it never went any farther.
We continued this way until we tried to move things along to the “next level.” We had a really torturous two-day “date.” (No, nothing happened.) And as is my style, I found something petty to get into an argument about. Therefore, we effectively stopped “seeing” each other. I had my illusion of my heterosexuality intact. I could lament my status of not having a girlfriend. I could question why God has not brought love into my life. And most importantly, I could still hide my homosexuality.
Even when I was part of the pattern, I didn’t notice the pattern: I would find some woman who was not going to make a demand on me. These women were very kind people, but they were not going to ask something more of me than companionship. And although I mae have led the woman to believe that there was going to be romance in the future, I would hide behind the banner of protecting the woman’s virtue. This way, I could convince myself, oops, I mean the world, that I was indeed heterosexual. And for how transparent it appears in writing, this is the pattern I had used for over twenty years. And for those twenty years, it provided me with a place where I didn’t need to be truthful with myself or the world.
It was also during this time that I was up north that I started to see a therapist. I was beginning to go deeper and deeper into depression. Although it did not affect the face I showed to the congregation, I would often pray that God would take me away in the middle of the night. Once I went so far as to clean the house so when people found me dead in a couple of days, the house would have some semblance of neatness. Although the congregation didn’t know, I was depressed to the point of just packing up the car and driving away.
While seeing this therapist, I again toyed with the idea of telling someone that I thought I might be gay. I explained to the therapist that I have this attraction to men but I don’t think it is a healthy thing. I told him that I wanted to have a man protect me and care for me. I said that I thought this would only lead to an unhealthy situation where I would allow someone to take advantage of me just so I could feel safe.
My therapist was complicit with my charade and never much pursued this topic any farther. I am not saying that my therapist was a bad person or a bad therapist, for he was neither, but I do think the topic may have been a bit too uncomfortable for him to handle. Hey, he’s human too! So even though I again broached the subject, it really didn’t go anywhere.
The other fun thing I got to deal with in the congregation were all the well wishers who tried to set me up. I don’t know why people feel the need to do the matchmaker thing, but they are out there. Somebody knows someone who has a friend… What I have often (but have never) wanted to say to people is: “I am in my 40’s and don’t have a wife or girlfriend. The whole time you have known me I have not had a wife or girlfriend. Let’s think about this; either I am a social fuck up or I am gay. Either way, do you really want to know?”
But trying to dodge the bullet of the well-meaning congregant is difficult. I had one member of the congregation go so far as to say, “What gives? I have suggested some very nice ladies from my office and you never seem to respond?” What was I going to say? I still couldn’t even say it to myself.
I eventually left that call and took some time off before I got another call. During this time I lived at my parents house and did some temporary work. I had the basement as a makeshift apartment and things were pretty good.
I also had the Internet while at my parents’ home. I wasn’t too worried about my parents finding anything on the computer; both of them are computer illiterate. What I didn’t count on is my nephews going back into history and finding the various links I had visited. But then again, maybe I wanted someone to find the links. I don’t know. I may have been getting sloppy just in the hopes that someone would call me on it.
And someone did call me on it. My sister asked about the “g-porn” that her kids found on my computer. I did a song and dance about being intrigued by gay porn but that I wasn’t gay. I also told her that I was just never in one place long enough to really get to meet any women and when you work in the church, most people you know are members of the congregation and it wouldn’t be good to date a congregant now would it? She gave me a “yeah, sure” look and let the situation drop. Later she did apologize to me about bringing it up. She said that it was none of her business what I looked at and that she didn’t care, she still loved me.
My house of cards was starting to fall apart. I knew I was not “happily heterosexual” but I was not yet ready to admit that I was gay. Now I moved to the idea that “Dad really couldn’t handle it if I were gay.” Or, “Mom would be wrecked.” Or the all time zinger, “What would the rest of the family say?” I knew I wasn’t ever going to marry a woman, but how could I be with a man?
Another thing that factors into this whole mix is what is lovingly referred to in the seminary community as “Page 13.” Page 13 is from a book that lists what expectations held for ELCA clergy. On page 13, it states that clergy that feel themselves to be gay are to refrain from participating in homosexual activity. Pretty much, the rational is that only people who are married should be having sex and you are not married so no sex for you. A person can be as gay as they want and remain a member of the clergy, they just cannot do anything about it. Once they do something about it, then they can be brought up for disciplinary action.
When I was ordained, I said that I would uphold these expectations, including page 13. I may have known that I wasn’t going to be with a woman, but I couldn’t remain a pastor and be with a man. It was a no win situation. I either had to find a “good woman” who didn’t mind that her husband was turned on by guys or I had to spend my life alone. At this point, I figured I was going to spend my life alone.
I had been working in a small town in Illinois for about four or five years when things started to change again in my life. As I said before, I had finally admitted to someone that I could possibly be bisexual. But also, there was a social worker who just started at the place where I worked and I developed a huge crush on her. She was about as close to an ideal as anyone could come and still be a woman. She had a quirky sense of humor and an off-the-wall way of looking at life. And although I wouldn’t admit it then, she was safe. She had a fiancée. So, I could be close to her without having to worry about things moving toword the possibility of sex. It was great!
Even though I had a new beard, I still felt alone. I needed to do something so I started to look at going back to school.
I thought about going into pastoral counseling, ostensibly because I felt psychology worked better with a “higher power” that 12-Step programs make such good use of. In actuality, pastoral counseling was, in my opinion, as close as you could come to being a “man of the cloth” without actually having to go through the whole ordination process. Of course, I found that to go into pastoral counseling, one had to be a pastor first.
Actually, the whole priest/pastor thing had been a part of my entire life. Being raised Roman Catholic; my mother wanted one of her sons to become a priest. I am not sure how I got selected for that honor, but I was. So I grew up knowing that nothing would make my mother more proud than to have me become a priest. So while being a spiritual type of person, I avoided becoming a member of the clergy because I was afraid that it was just my mother’s prodding and not actually something I wanted to do. Now I was being told that if I wanted to go into pastoral counseling, I would have to become a pastor also.
So I started to go through the discernment process to become a pastor. I wasn’t going to go to a Roman Catholic seminary, no, I was going through the Lutherans so I could get married! (I still believed God would take the “Evil Gay” away from me.) And if God didn’t find the right girl for me, then maybe being a pastor would be enough for God to give me the strength to be celibate.
I struggled the whole time I was in seminary. What even made things harder was that I had gotten the Internet while I was in seminary. Now I could access gay porn in my apartment and no one would have to know. I could now look at with ease that which was previously forbidden and difficult to obtain. With just a click of the mouse I could be viewing men doing all kinds of abominations. And although I tried to stop myself from going there, I would click and start looking. And although I tried to force my feelings down, I would usually end up having an orgasm while looking at the pictures. Then after the orgasm, I would kneel at the side of my bed and literally cry for forgiveness. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I would plead and bargain with God to take these feeling from me, but in a few days I was back at the computer.
I guess you might say that I have a porn addiction, but I would question that. Or, maybe that I would even question it just points to the fact that I do have an addiction. I don’t know. All that I do know is that in a world that would deny your very being, porn became a type of community. Porn, for me, at least acknowledged that other also felt the way I was feeling. Some have referred to gay porn as “Instructional Videos;” maybe, in fact, they are just that. I am not advocating for porn, but until there is something else that is provided to those who are learning about their sexuality in the way of role models, I think porn will be present and, to an extent, useful.
Eventually, in my seminary career, I went on internship. I went off to internship with the usual expectations and trepidations. The thought of spending a year with a group of people I didn’t know was scary. What if I didn’t like my supervisor? What if I find that I don’t like being in the church? What if I fail miserably? All of these things kept running through my head. But scared or not, I was off.
I drove into town and met my supervisor. He was a swimmer, runner, and cyclist and had that triathlete body. He was tall, thin, streamline, with a touch of red in his hair and in his moustache. Just like the swimmer from high school, I felt special just to be in his presence.
Leaving my internship site was very difficult though. Looking back, I now recognize that I had definitely had a crush on my supervisor and was crushed to have to leave. As alive as I had felt while on internship, I now felt as dead. I think it was feeling of loss that pushed me to again try to find a “nice girl.” Again I would pray and plead to find the right person. Again I would beg God to take my homosexual feelings away. Again I would cry for forgiveness after clicking on the Internet.
It was also during this time that the church started to have its struggle with gay clergy. Well, the struggle had been going for a while but in a more quiet form. But it was in my senior year of seminary that the big battle was to begin.
It was during this year that I really began to study the, so-called, “clobber passages.” We studied the meaning of words in Greek and Hebrew. We studied various interpretations for passages that were really quite ambiguous. And we had panel discussions.
I watched all of this with some detachment. I was thinking that this may impact my friends, but it really didn’t impact me because God was going to change me. I really wasn’t gay; I just needed to wait for the miracle. I could not let my faith waiver.
I also tried to convince myself that I was in pursuit of a girl friend but that classes and homework were getting in the way. I couldn’t be expected to start a new relationship with hundreds of pages to read. And besides, school was going to be over and we would all be going our separate. There really wasn’t enough time to start a relationship. (Or so I told myself.)
I received my first call to a congregation that was located in the northern part of Michigan. It was a small congregation in a small town, the kind of place where everyone knew each other and even after being there for 20 years, you were still considered a “new comer.” This really wasn’t my idea of an ideal first call, but I was willing to give it a shot. I figured God must have something in the works for me.
Also by this time my defenses were starting to crumble. I remember thinking, “How can a gay pastor survive in a town of 1500 people?” That kind of scared me and of course, I immediately repressed the thought because it was still too difficult to face the truth. But what I didn’t expect to find in such a small town and in such a small congregation was an older, very well balanced, lesbian.
Although I had a living example of a mature homosexual, I still fought.
There was a former seminary classmate who lived in a city nearby. We started to hang out together and I fell into the comfortable pattern of hinting that there might be something more, but never quite following through. We would go out to movies together and often have lunch together. But I always had to head home so it never went any farther.
We continued this way until we tried to move things along to the “next level.” We had a really torturous two-day “date.” (No, nothing happened.) And as is my style, I found something petty to get into an argument about. Therefore, we effectively stopped “seeing” each other. I had my illusion of my heterosexuality intact. I could lament my status of not having a girlfriend. I could question why God has not brought love into my life. And most importantly, I could still hide my homosexuality.
Even when I was part of the pattern, I didn’t notice the pattern: I would find some woman who was not going to make a demand on me. These women were very kind people, but they were not going to ask something more of me than companionship. And although I mae have led the woman to believe that there was going to be romance in the future, I would hide behind the banner of protecting the woman’s virtue. This way, I could convince myself, oops, I mean the world, that I was indeed heterosexual. And for how transparent it appears in writing, this is the pattern I had used for over twenty years. And for those twenty years, it provided me with a place where I didn’t need to be truthful with myself or the world.
It was also during this time that I was up north that I started to see a therapist. I was beginning to go deeper and deeper into depression. Although it did not affect the face I showed to the congregation, I would often pray that God would take me away in the middle of the night. Once I went so far as to clean the house so when people found me dead in a couple of days, the house would have some semblance of neatness. Although the congregation didn’t know, I was depressed to the point of just packing up the car and driving away.
While seeing this therapist, I again toyed with the idea of telling someone that I thought I might be gay. I explained to the therapist that I have this attraction to men but I don’t think it is a healthy thing. I told him that I wanted to have a man protect me and care for me. I said that I thought this would only lead to an unhealthy situation where I would allow someone to take advantage of me just so I could feel safe.
My therapist was complicit with my charade and never much pursued this topic any farther. I am not saying that my therapist was a bad person or a bad therapist, for he was neither, but I do think the topic may have been a bit too uncomfortable for him to handle. Hey, he’s human too! So even though I again broached the subject, it really didn’t go anywhere.
The other fun thing I got to deal with in the congregation were all the well wishers who tried to set me up. I don’t know why people feel the need to do the matchmaker thing, but they are out there. Somebody knows someone who has a friend… What I have often (but have never) wanted to say to people is: “I am in my 40’s and don’t have a wife or girlfriend. The whole time you have known me I have not had a wife or girlfriend. Let’s think about this; either I am a social fuck up or I am gay. Either way, do you really want to know?”
But trying to dodge the bullet of the well-meaning congregant is difficult. I had one member of the congregation go so far as to say, “What gives? I have suggested some very nice ladies from my office and you never seem to respond?” What was I going to say? I still couldn’t even say it to myself.
I eventually left that call and took some time off before I got another call. During this time I lived at my parents house and did some temporary work. I had the basement as a makeshift apartment and things were pretty good.
I also had the Internet while at my parents’ home. I wasn’t too worried about my parents finding anything on the computer; both of them are computer illiterate. What I didn’t count on is my nephews going back into history and finding the various links I had visited. But then again, maybe I wanted someone to find the links. I don’t know. I may have been getting sloppy just in the hopes that someone would call me on it.
And someone did call me on it. My sister asked about the “g-porn” that her kids found on my computer. I did a song and dance about being intrigued by gay porn but that I wasn’t gay. I also told her that I was just never in one place long enough to really get to meet any women and when you work in the church, most people you know are members of the congregation and it wouldn’t be good to date a congregant now would it? She gave me a “yeah, sure” look and let the situation drop. Later she did apologize to me about bringing it up. She said that it was none of her business what I looked at and that she didn’t care, she still loved me.
My house of cards was starting to fall apart. I knew I was not “happily heterosexual” but I was not yet ready to admit that I was gay. Now I moved to the idea that “Dad really couldn’t handle it if I were gay.” Or, “Mom would be wrecked.” Or the all time zinger, “What would the rest of the family say?” I knew I wasn’t ever going to marry a woman, but how could I be with a man?
Another thing that factors into this whole mix is what is lovingly referred to in the seminary community as “Page 13.” Page 13 is from a book that lists what expectations held for ELCA clergy. On page 13, it states that clergy that feel themselves to be gay are to refrain from participating in homosexual activity. Pretty much, the rational is that only people who are married should be having sex and you are not married so no sex for you. A person can be as gay as they want and remain a member of the clergy, they just cannot do anything about it. Once they do something about it, then they can be brought up for disciplinary action.
When I was ordained, I said that I would uphold these expectations, including page 13. I may have known that I wasn’t going to be with a woman, but I couldn’t remain a pastor and be with a man. It was a no win situation. I either had to find a “good woman” who didn’t mind that her husband was turned on by guys or I had to spend my life alone. At this point, I figured I was going to spend my life alone.
Monday, May 07, 2007
"The Book: Even More"
The Odyssey continues. The previous "chapter" can be found here.
I have always been a person of faith. I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church and went to Catholic school. I had a falling out with the church in my high school and college days. When I did come back to the church, it was to the ELCA Lutheran church. I chose this church because it felt like the Catholic church but without all the guilt.
Christianity has always been a major force in my life. I have always felt that my life was in the hands of God. Now believing my life was in the hands of God was not in some Purpose Driven Life kind of way, but more as a loving parent would look after a child. God was there, not necessarily to prevent me from doing wrong, but to help me to pick myself up after something wrong had occurred.
And following this parent/child metaphor, I, as the dutiful child, wanted to keep the parent happy. I tried to do what I had been told was pleasing to God. I tried to avoid those things that I was told were bad and tried to do what was good. I guess you could probably have called me a “Goody-goody.”
So, how does the goody-goody deal with thoughts and feelings that he knows would be unacceptable for the parent, God? The goody-goody repressed it all. The goody-goody tries extra hard to be good. The goody-goody tries so hard to follow all the rules so that parent will love him. The goody-goody doesn’t, the goody-goody tries but then feels all the guilt.
Maybe it was, in part, this guilt that got me into the ministry. I think I may have been trying to REALLY appease God. If I gave my life to God, then either God would “cure” me of being gay or give me the strength to live a celibate life. OR maybe God would bring a “good woman” into my life and I would fall in love and have kids and be all kinds of happy. I believed (and still do believe) that God could do anything, so if I just kept the faith and prayed really, really hard, God would find some way to get me through this whole thing.
What became a problem is when I would really, really pray and nothing seemed to happen. Sometimes it seemed as if it actually got harder to ignore the men I would see. I would be talking to some man and a fleeting image of me kissing him would go through my mind. I didn’t even feel attracted to him but suddenly, in my minds eye, I would be in a lip lock with this person. When these images would flash through my head, I would try to do the old, “get thee behind me Satan” and ask Jesus to come into my life.
I don’t think it would be too far from the truth to say that my homosexuality dictated the career choices I made. I know that I prove the old adage that people go into psychology to figure themselves out. I wanted to know why I was different and how I could become “normal.” So I followed the path of psychology because it was easier, coming from my blue-collar background, to become a psychologist than to go to a psychologist. And I am pretty sure that I went into ministry to get on God’s good side. (Gosh, if I gave my life to God, God would have to make me acceptable, right?) Maybe I just needed to learn how to pray right or something and then the great miracle would happen and I would be happily hetero.
I think this is one of the more hurtful things about the fundamentalist point of view: no matter how you look at it, it all comes down to the person being bad. Either the gay person did something bad to make him gay. Or his parents did something bad. Or he didn’t pray right. Or he didn’t really want to leave the gay “lifestyle.” Or he really didn’t… Whatever you can come up with, when the miracle doesn’t come, the only person you can blame is yourself.
It was this point of view that helped to move me to the brink of suicide. I don’t say suicide lightly. It is a very serious thing and not something that should ever be joked about. But suicide began to look like the only way out: I was unacceptable to society. I was unacceptable to my church. Even God didn’t think I was trying hard enough. I was tired from repressing my emotions. I was feeling like a shell of a person and a two-faced liar. I was feeling like my life was a sham and if anyone really knew me, they would reject me just as God appeared to be rejecting me. When you feel your friends are not really your friends because they don’t really know you; your family would reject you because you are not the perfect child; and even God has abandoned you; there is not a whole lot to live for.
What I was to find out later was that although I felt as if my faith had failed me, it was my faith that pulled me through.
It continues here.
I have always been a person of faith. I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church and went to Catholic school. I had a falling out with the church in my high school and college days. When I did come back to the church, it was to the ELCA Lutheran church. I chose this church because it felt like the Catholic church but without all the guilt.
Christianity has always been a major force in my life. I have always felt that my life was in the hands of God. Now believing my life was in the hands of God was not in some Purpose Driven Life kind of way, but more as a loving parent would look after a child. God was there, not necessarily to prevent me from doing wrong, but to help me to pick myself up after something wrong had occurred.
And following this parent/child metaphor, I, as the dutiful child, wanted to keep the parent happy. I tried to do what I had been told was pleasing to God. I tried to avoid those things that I was told were bad and tried to do what was good. I guess you could probably have called me a “Goody-goody.”
So, how does the goody-goody deal with thoughts and feelings that he knows would be unacceptable for the parent, God? The goody-goody repressed it all. The goody-goody tries extra hard to be good. The goody-goody tries so hard to follow all the rules so that parent will love him. The goody-goody doesn’t, the goody-goody tries but then feels all the guilt.
Maybe it was, in part, this guilt that got me into the ministry. I think I may have been trying to REALLY appease God. If I gave my life to God, then either God would “cure” me of being gay or give me the strength to live a celibate life. OR maybe God would bring a “good woman” into my life and I would fall in love and have kids and be all kinds of happy. I believed (and still do believe) that God could do anything, so if I just kept the faith and prayed really, really hard, God would find some way to get me through this whole thing.
What became a problem is when I would really, really pray and nothing seemed to happen. Sometimes it seemed as if it actually got harder to ignore the men I would see. I would be talking to some man and a fleeting image of me kissing him would go through my mind. I didn’t even feel attracted to him but suddenly, in my minds eye, I would be in a lip lock with this person. When these images would flash through my head, I would try to do the old, “get thee behind me Satan” and ask Jesus to come into my life.
I don’t think it would be too far from the truth to say that my homosexuality dictated the career choices I made. I know that I prove the old adage that people go into psychology to figure themselves out. I wanted to know why I was different and how I could become “normal.” So I followed the path of psychology because it was easier, coming from my blue-collar background, to become a psychologist than to go to a psychologist. And I am pretty sure that I went into ministry to get on God’s good side. (Gosh, if I gave my life to God, God would have to make me acceptable, right?) Maybe I just needed to learn how to pray right or something and then the great miracle would happen and I would be happily hetero.
I think this is one of the more hurtful things about the fundamentalist point of view: no matter how you look at it, it all comes down to the person being bad. Either the gay person did something bad to make him gay. Or his parents did something bad. Or he didn’t pray right. Or he didn’t really want to leave the gay “lifestyle.” Or he really didn’t… Whatever you can come up with, when the miracle doesn’t come, the only person you can blame is yourself.
It was this point of view that helped to move me to the brink of suicide. I don’t say suicide lightly. It is a very serious thing and not something that should ever be joked about. But suicide began to look like the only way out: I was unacceptable to society. I was unacceptable to my church. Even God didn’t think I was trying hard enough. I was tired from repressing my emotions. I was feeling like a shell of a person and a two-faced liar. I was feeling like my life was a sham and if anyone really knew me, they would reject me just as God appeared to be rejecting me. When you feel your friends are not really your friends because they don’t really know you; your family would reject you because you are not the perfect child; and even God has abandoned you; there is not a whole lot to live for.
What I was to find out later was that although I felt as if my faith had failed me, it was my faith that pulled me through.
It continues here.
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