March 1, 2002 - 12:00pm - Anonymous

EDITORIAL NOTE: From the AT Archive; Jul/Aug 1999

We are convinced that part of being the church is listening carefully to the stories of our brothers and sisters, especially when their stories reveal to us a world of hurt beyond our own experience.

 

I grew up in an Adventist home in the Midwest. From the time I was a teenager, I knew I was different. I always got along better with the girls than with the guys, so I had lots of girls who enjoyed my company. But I had no desire to know them sexually; they were just close friends. Because I was sensitive to others, I did spend a lot of time in elementary school with a classmate who had been crippled by polio. Not surprisingly I did not excel in sports.

By the time I reached college, I had explored sex with those of my gender, but not with the opposite sex. I knew I was different and that it wasn’t something I could talk to my friends about, but I still did not know that the church considered this to be sin or even that what I felt had a name—homosexual.

I was also pondering what God wanted me to do with my life. In the eighth grade I had decided to become a heart surgeon, but then during a week of prayer my senior year in academy I felt called to the ministry. Not yet fully persuaded, the next fall at college I registered for premed classes. By the middle of that first semester the conflict between my desire to be a surgeon and the persistent sense of call to the ministry came to a head. I was confused and asked God to give me unambiguous direction. I needed an A in chemistry to get into med school at Loma Linda. If I didn’t get it I would know I was called to the ministry. (This was one of two times in my life that I have asked God for a sign and his answers seemed to be clear both times). When the grades came out I had missed an A by 12 out of a total of 1000 points possible.

To be a minister I had to be married. For the next two years I dated a different girl every week or two. By the end of my junior year I was steadily dating the girl who would become my wife. But I was concerned about my same-sex feelings. When I sought answers I was told it was just a phase, and that when I met the right woman everything would fall into place.

I did marry a wonderful girl, but the orientation did not change. I went to seminary then into a pastorate. I was very successful and loved my work more than words can describe. But still, I had my orientation to deal with.

Over the next fifteen years, nearly every week I was in the office of a pastor or psychologist looking for help to change my orientation. I tried fasting and prayer. I tried behavior modification techniques in a highly touted change ministry. I even tried exorcism. But nothing worked. I often left a "help" session only to find the struggle more intense than ever.

Finally, my wife, seeing nothing was going to change, filed for divorce. It was the end of the world. My marriage, my close relationship with my son, who was the joy of my life, and my ministry were all finished. I attempted suicide.

Unsuccessful the first time, I made plans for a second attempt. However, when it came time to follow through, I couldn’t. Sitting there, I decided that my life would end in God’s time, not mine.

During the twelve years since leaving the pastorate, I have gone through tremendous struggles to know who I am while holding onto my faith in God and a relationship with the church. After twenty-five years in desperate pursuit of the miracle of "change," I eventually had to accept the fact that I am a homosexual. Whatever relationship I have with God and his church must of necessity include that inescapable fact. I have heard stories of "change," but I can only bear witness of what God has done for me. He has not changed me. I prayed and fasted, sought counseling and the help of the most highly recommended "change" ministry. Others prayed for me, supported me, anointed me, even performed an exorcism. But God did not change me. Instead he loved and accepted me

To be sure, there have been times when I wondered if God was really there and cared and whether the SDA church was really a place for me to find spiritual support. But I am grateful for where I am now—at peace with God and living a fulfilled life-balancing work, an active role in my local SDA church (something many gay Christians find imposssible) and service to my community.