exodus youth

I know what it’s like to believe that God loves everyone except you. I know what it’s like to feel alone. I know what it’s like to feel ashamed of a struggle with sin and be afraid that you’ll be found out and rejected by your friends. I’ve been thinking about all those feelings and the person I was many years ago as I, along with my co-workers, gear up for the annual Day of Truth.

For those who may not know about this event, the Alliance Defense Fund launched it several years ago as a way to present an alternative viewpoint about homosexuality from a Christian perspective.  Exodus International now hosts this event and we want to help Christian students build relationships with gay-identified friends that reflects both the truth and compassion of Jesus Christ.

But back to my old self for a moment. When I was pre-teen student secretly battling homosexual feelings, I felt so ashamed and fearful to admit a reality I lived with daily.  I kept my battle to myself, hoping no one would ever find out.  Of course, other peers made fun of me and I was constantly reminded of my struggle and inadequacies as I endured the name-calling and derogatory banter in jr. high. Despite this, I was actively committed to my Christian walk.  In fact, it was one of the first times I went deeply into the Scriptures and my relationship with Jesus really took off. He was the only one I felt I could run to.  Ironically, my homosexual attractions, at least at that point in my life, were never a part of my conversations with Him. I kept that hidden away and compartmentalized out of either fear or maybe just a desire to ignore it in hopes that it would go away.

The Southern Baptist church I went to wasn’t uberconservative, but some of the ideology certainly emphasized judgment over grace. I vividly remember my pastor’s one sermon on homosexuality. He quoted from Leviticus and as he did he raised his hand and with a blistering tone said, “Homosexuals are an abomination and they all go to hell.” I knew then and there that to tell anyone of my struggle with homosexual feelings would result in instant rejection. They would tell me my feelings were sick, disgusting, unnatural and an abomination to God.  So I kept my struggle a secret all the while seething with anger and struggling with wounds until one day in high school I released it with a simple phrase, “I’m gay.” I felt instant relief.

As I think back to that time in my life, I’ve wondered what would have happened if the Day of Truth was around back then. I wonder what my life would look like if I had been able to confide in a fellow Christian who didn’t reject me for my struggle, but encouraged me with hope and truth.  For me, the isolation was palpable and the conversations I had with myself only solidified the nagging thought I was gay and I needed to embrace and celebrate it.  But would I have done so if I had heard a redemptive message from compassionate Christians, instead of the condemnatory one I’d heard at church?

I can’t really say what I would have done, but I think things may have been different. I didn’t know people were walking free from homosexuality until later in life. I didn’t hear a message of hope and grace until after I had embraced the gay-identity — a time when I really didn’t want to hear it.  Had I had friends that I could trust with my secrets with who could pour out God’s grace over the coals of judgment I had been walking on, I think my choices would have been different.

The truth is I don’t think there is a student out there dealing with homosexual feelings that actually rejoices in and embraces it instantly.  It takes time for that to happen, if it does at all. I was just a teen desperate for love, unconditional love, one in which I could bare all my trash and not be rejected.  I was a teen desperate to hear of a loving Father who knew my brokenness whether I admitted it to Him or not.

Today, I think of all the students struggling with same-sex attraction on campuses across America. I think about the guy who is in the same place I was more than ten years ago who is secretly struggling.  He’s thinking that if his friends reject him it will be too much for him to bear. He’s thinking that maybe the answer is just to stay silent.  I want him to know that God loves him and that He hasn’t abandoned him and never will. I want him to know that God longs to be with him even in his struggle with same-sex attraction.  I want his friends to show him Christ-like compassion and allow him to be safely transparent, struggles and all.  I want him to hear a message of hope — maybe even on the Day of Truth. Maybe then he won’t go down the same road I have traveled.