Appealing the Ruling on DADT Enables Bullying

I've been increasingly disappointed with President Barack Obama lately, particularly because he appealed the federal court ruling that Don't Ask Don't Tell is unconstitutional. I was hopeful, like many, that his Presidency would be a catalyst for justice for LGBT americans. And at first I was patient with the delays and his ever constant excuse that he prefers that change happen via Congress.

But here's my thing. When a federal court judge determines that a policy is unconstitutional - aka unjust and contrary to the values document of our country, and then to make an appeal against such a ruling - to me, that's a very intentional decision to support the continuation of injustice and inequality.

Seriously, how many judges (who by the way, it's their JOB to be objective and impartial) across the country at various levels of government need to rule that something is wrong before people keep asserting that they'd prefer to have Congress (who by the way, are by nature partisan and partial) or even the general population make a vote saying that something is wrong. It's stupid. To me, it has nothing to do with legal process and how something becomes law and how it's better that there's broad public support for something becoming law. If it's wrong, it's wrong. If it's unjust, it's unjust. The very function of a judge is to determine that! And if the President 'claims' that he supports repealing the policy anyway, well then I think it's a total cop-out to pass the buck and say well if all of those people agree, then we'll repeal it. Nevermind a judge.

I'm disappointed because when I voted for him, I had hoped for a leader.

Every time a judge says that discriminating against gays and lesbians is wrong, and then someone else steps in to say, 'Wait a minute! Let's vote on that!' or 'Let's ask someone else about that!' or worse even 'If it's wrong, let's change the constitution so that we can keep doing it!', every time that happens, it further communicates to not only our youth but to everyone else that it's okay to discriminate and treat certain people differently. That's bullying.

So now, with the media attention around teen suicides and anti-gay bullying, and the popular It Gets Better campaign, now the President has the nerve to do an It Gets Better video saying that it's not your fault and that you should reach out to those who support you. I find this highly hypocritical because he fails to realize that Don't Ask Don't Tell and all kinds of other anti-gay discriminatory laws ARE ALL WAYS THAT ENABLE PEOPLE TO BULLY GAY PEOPLE.

Really. And so to intentionally make an appeal of the court's ruling that something is wrong, so that once again, openly gay American soldiers can be bullied into staying in the closet or getting kicked out of the military, well that's just disappointing and frustrating.

Here's what I think. If the Commander-in-Chief ORDERS the military to STOP doing something as simple as treating openly gay and lesbian soldiers/people differently, and instead to treat everyone equally and with respect, regardless of how they may personally feel about such an order, then I believe that our military is capable of following those orders, even in a time of war. It's a cop-out to say that we need to study the impact on military readiness from such a repeal. They'll be ready no matter what.

Since when did military commanders NOT give an order until first they took a poll to see if the troops would like the order or not? That's absurd.

It's not like I think, at the time of the last election, that the alternative would have been any better on this subject. But still, it's disappointing. And i'm not sure he'd have my vote again.

I'd rather have voted for Michelle Obama. Now her - I still love!

But as for President Obama - if it really does get better, then ARE YOU going to help make it better?

Disrespectful But With a Smile

I'm just gonna say this upfront - I reserve the right to vent on my own blog.

That said . . . . what the frickin' hell!?

I'm serious! I mean, really, how in the world can straight "professing Christians" smile with arrogance and then slap me in the face and think that they are doing the Lord's "good work"? I probably shouldn't say "Christians" because some of the people there were cool. It's more like this particular pastor of A Village Community here in Long Beach.

I literally wiped my feet on the mat, not before entering this "house of worship" but rather AS I LEFT this place.

"If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town." - Matthew 10:14

All through the service I kept mentally shaking my head at the things I was hearing . . . .

The whole service was about asking questions. People were asked to text message their questions. The pastor even started off with talking about "us having a conversation with each other." But instead of a discussion about the value of having questions or that we sometimes ask the wrong questions or what are the right kind of questions or at the very least having a discussion about the question - like I suppose I was expecting from this kind of a topic - instead, the pastor read off a question, answered it himself, then read off another question, then answered it himself, then read off another question, then answered it himself.....blah blah blah.

I mean seriously, who does he think he is that he's got all the answers according to his worldview?

And here's the kicker. After reading off a question that said, 'Does God love believers more than He does unbelievers?' he arrogantly and resolutely "ANSWERED" with an emphatic "YES".

Seriously. He said that there is scriptural evidence to suggest that God chooses some and does not choose others and that He loves some and does not love others. Seriously.

Now, yes, there's context to this whole thing. But that's still the bottom line of what he was saying. And I'm not saying that I don't believe in a distinction between "God's people". I understand that as well as the "setting apart" of them. But in this discussion about "questions" I was absolutely dumbfounded that it didn't even occur to this pastor or anyone else that perhaps that was the WRONG question to ask. I mean, really, do you really want to talk about how God loves some people but not other people? Was that the "message from God" for today?

It didn't even occur to him that perhaps the better question to ask instead of 'Does God love believers MORE than He does unbelivers?' but rather would have been better to ask 'How does God want me to love both believers AND unbelievers?' That would have been a question God would answer. I mean, how many times did Jesus NOT answer a stupid question? SO MANY times! Why? Because people asked the wrong question.

But no. Instead of reframing the question, he stayed on that direction to go on and on about God's sovereignty to love whomever He chooses and to NOT love whomever He chooses. Why, did this pastor say? So that the ones He chooses to love could FULLY APPRECIATE the love. So that the ones He chooses to love could see the contrast. Seriously. He spoke about an exclusive love. No empathy or compassion for those outside of God's love. Just that those whom God chooses to love should appreciate being chosen.

I also wondered why the pastor wasn't coming up to me to shake my hand or welcome me during the entire service - particularly since there was literally 12 people in the room and there was a 'say hello to your neighbor' time and also two times where everyone broke up into tiny groups to discuss stuff. There were times when he could have said hello. I wondered if he recognized me because we had met once or twice YEARS ago while I was with that faith-based non-profit that I co-founded. But maybe he didn't recognize me. Yet still he chose not to greet or welcome the obvious ONLY newcomer.

At the close of the service, he prayed a prayer of just accepting truth in faith. Um, the truth that HE just presented? Without question? Without doubt? The prayer was to accept it even when it was hard to accept. His answers. His truth. His interpretation. His worldview. I seriously thought this, but during the prayer it really felt like it was a brainwashing. But this wasn't a cult out in some remote ranch. This was a church just like most in the city.

So then after the service when everything was done and over with, he walked up to me saying my name, 'Eric, you remember we met before.' And I was completely friendly and saying that it was good to see him and he asked a couple probing questions about what I was doing now. I told him about Catalyst Community and I told him about the Green Long Beach! Festival and that some from his church were having a booth and selling T-shirts. I told him about some of the good things we're doing in the community. I didn't say anything gay-related.

He wasn't interested in what I was doing now though. He wanted to probe because he had thought I was a pastor. I told him that I encouraged some communities of gay Christians to feel supported because there are so many that want to worship but are being rejected out of their own congregations. But no I said I wasn't a pastor. And in that context of conversation, he began to say what he really wanted to say which was that he wanted to make it CLEAR that they were not an "affirming" congregation.

(And in my head, I'm thinking why is this relevant? I didn't bring up the gay thing, he did. And if he didn't know me before this, he wouldn't have even known that I was gay.)

Really? I'm here visiting your church and was actually looking for a place to start going to regularly and the welcome sales pitch is to make it CLEAR that they were not a place that thinks "gay" is okay. Really? And after me telling you that there are SO MANY CHRISTIANS who are gay that WANT TO WORSHIP JESUS but are being REJECTED out of their OWN CONGREGATIONS, you feel it necessary to talk about the gay pride parade and how there are churches in the parade that are affirming of "the lifestyle" and there are churches on the side that are holding picket signs and yelling "burn," and you want to tell me that your church represents "neither" but that you want to make it CLEAR that "we are not affirming"? Really? That's what you want to tell me?

And after saying these things to me, he started saying with a smile, "That's my main concern. I wanted to make that clear." After he said that a couple times, I thought it was odd. It seemed out of context. So I inquired, "wait, sooooo, what's your CONCERN?" I asked genuinely with a 'I don't get it' tone. I wasn't saying anything about anything gay regarding me and this congregation. And he said, "well the festival. If we're going to have a booth, I wanted to make it CLEAR that we're not affirming." So I was like, "but the festival is a GREEN festival. You know, GREEN as in, the environment? The festival is about encouraging people about sustainability and how to use energy efficiently and to talk about recycling." And he was like, "oh."

"Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." Ezekiel 16:49

Who's the Sodomite?

So now as I think back to the lack of welcome and the lack of eye contact and the messages that God loves the believer and NOT the unbeliever and the closing prayer to accept the truth and the intentional effort to make it CLEAR (his words) that they were not an affirming church . . . . I get the sense that it was all because he did recognize me right from the beginning. Remember, there were only 12 people present. I was clearly the newcomer.

After he realized that I was helping to organize logistics for a GREEN festival, he said his goodbyes to me, stepped back and away to assemble his post-church service meeting (which was actually a debrief of their 'outreach project').

I said my friendly goodbyes to the folks I met, started shaking my head and wiped my feet at the front door as I LEFT them.

What a freakin' arrogant hypocrite.

So I drove home just pissed and angry and mad at how disrespectful he was but with a smile. I'm SURE he has NO CLUE as to how offensive he was. And I'm SURE he has NO CLUE as to how he hurt me and his own witness.

By the time I got home, still mad, the first thing I saw when I turned on the television was the ending speech from Sigourney Weaver in "Prayers For Bobby" (see below) and by the time she hugged her son/that kid at the side of the parade I was literally balling my eyes out just crying like really really heavy tears.

I mean, seriously, why can't I just go to a church service with other people that love Jesus and not leave feeling worse than I did when I arrived? (And no, maybe I don't want to always go to a church where the congregation are mostly gay.)

As far as I've gone on this journey, I'm still surprised at how this still affects me the way it does. I still take it very personally, the Church's rejection of gay people, because my own story of suicide is very real and relevant to me. And I was the one who gave THEM a chance. I freakin' allowed myself, yet one more time, to go into a place knowing that these freakin' Christians might freakin' hurt me freakin' again. AGAIN! It still affects me profoundly and as strong as I think I am, they still freakin' make me cry every time.

Damn it.




Break the cycle of hurt. Go to www.TwoWorldCollision.com.

Suicide and The Porcelain Punisher

This is the first video segment of my four part Survivor series telling my story of growing up gay, becoming Christian, struggling with same sex attractions, and reconciling the conflict between my faith and my sexuality. Daniel Gonzales of Box Turtle Bulletin (and in partnership with Beyond Ex-Gay) recorded, created and edited the video (creative commons license).

To supplement this video, you can also read "Sankofa (Part 1)".

Here are the other segments of the video series:

Part 2: The Ex-Gay Program.
Part 3: Isolation and Exclusion.
Part 4: Side X Culture.

And now watch, Part 1: Suicide and The Porcelain Punisher:

Re-Living the First Day

[Scroll down for video and lyrics for "The First Single" by The Format and also "Big Casino" by Jimmy Eat World.]

Today marks the 6 year anniversary of the day I hit rock bottom. It was a day that I made the biggest mistake of my life. It was a day that shifted the direction of my life. It was a day I wished that I could end my life.

I had many choices - each had consequences and repercussions that would have affected everyone I loved. This was the first day of my journey. It was when my two worlds collided.

How do I move on from regret? How do I alleviate the hurt in others that I've inflicted? How do I stop the memories and the flashbacks and the nightmares? How do I survive the fallout of my own mistakes?

The past is an anchor for me. There are times when . . . .the weight is less of a burden. There are other times when it's overwhelming. The November/December season has always been difficult for me because of 2001. And while I don't know if I'll ever get to a point of sharing that part of my story with you, I can say that I am intimately familiar with God's grace and restoration. I've had God's forgiveness for six years but I'm not so sure how long I've had my own forgiveness.

The amazing thing for me now is being able to not live in that place any more. Redemption. When God restores, He goes all out in the feast and celebration and robe and ring. A part of me feels like I shouldn't be able to move on - that should be part of my consequences and it should be a lifetime imprisonment of regret. I almost feel guilty for having hope. I almost feel guilty for being free.

But I have been set free. I have to remind myself of that because I go through incredible depression during this season, emotionally re-enacting those events. Six years ago, the Lord and I had a four month conversation.

It was in November and December when it began in Psalm 38, some of which articulated what had been happening at the time:

"O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger or discipline me in Your wrath. For Your arrows have pierced me, and Your hand has come down upon me. Because of Your wrath there is no health in my body; my bones have no soundness because of my sin.

My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear. My wounds fester and are loathsome because of my sinful folly. I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning. My back is filled with searing pain; there is no health in my body. I am feeble and utterly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart. All my longings lie open before You, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from You. My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes.

My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds; my neighbors stay far away. . . . . For I am about to fall, and my pain is ever with me. I confess my iniquity; I am troubled by my sin." (Psalm 38:1-11, 17-18)

I remember experiencing the full conviction of God. Then I asked the Lord to lift His hand from me:

"Remove Your scourge from me; I am overcome by the blow of Your hand. You rebuke and discipline men for their sin; You consume their wealth like a moth - each man is but a breath. Hear my prayer, O Lord, listen to my cry for help; be not deaf to my weeping. For I dwell with You as an alien, a stranger, as all my fathers were. Look away from me, that I may rejoice again before I depart and am no more." (Psalm 39: 10-13)

And that's what I did. I pleaded with Him that His discipline would utterly destroy me unless He lifted His hand. So He gave me a pardon. That didn't mean a release from the consequences. It meant that Dad's spanking was done and the restoration was to begin.

"I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord." (Psalm 40:1-3)

In hindsight I can see that God was telling me the future. Not only did He lift me out of that dark and unstable place but He cleaned me up and set me on solid ground with a new message. The cleaning up part took a process of several months and years. I'm still being cleaned up. The solid ground, I discovered, was not only Himself (of which would be the only real stable footing I could have), but it was also a new land - a new place where He was calling me to. Long Beach, California. And that new message, that new song in my mouth? It's the message of authenticity that has the Kingdom message deeply embedded in it.

"I've been waiting all this time to be something I can't define." - The Format in "The First Single"

As difficult as November and December is and can be - depression and flashbacks and all - I live out the fact that He's still not done with me yet. In fact, it's still just the beginning. I was thinking about a lyric by Jimmy Eat World for a song called "Big Casino" that says, "There's still some living left when your prime comes and goes." The thing is - even with everything that has happened (both amazing and tragic), I've still not reached my prime. God has given me vision for things that still have not yet been articulated or realized. The hope is that there is plenty of living left.

I still have hard times. Difficult depression. It's not easy to move on from the regrets that anchor me. But I have and I am moving on. I deserve to move on. I can't change the past. In fact, if I did it may alter the person I am now. I can only move forward with humility trusting that it's okay to do so.

In light of today and this Nov/Dec season, I wanted to share with you two songs that have resonated with me:

"The First Single" by The Format



I can't stand to think about
A heart so big it hurts like hell
Oh my God I gave my best
But for three whole years to end like this

Well do you want to fall apart
I can't stop if you cant start
Do you want to fall apart
I could if you can try to fix what I've undone
Cause I hate what I've become

You know me,
Oh you think you do, you just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be
Something I can't define so let's
Cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet or something
Yeah something
I've just got to get myself over me

I could stand to do without
All the people I have left behind
Whats the point in going around
When it's a straight line baby, a straight line down

So lets make a list of who we need
And its not much, if anything
Lets make a list of who we need
And we'll throw it away cause we don't need anyone
No we don't need anyone

You know me,
Oh you think you do, you just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be
Something I can't define so let's
Cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet or something
Yeah something
I've just got to get myself over me
And I hate what I've become...

You know the night life is just not for me
Cause all you really need are a few good friends
I don't want to go out and be on my own
You know they started something I can't stand

You leave for the city, well count me out
'Cause all this time is wasted on
Well, everything I've done

You know me,
Oh you think you do, you just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be
Something I can't define so let's
Cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet or something
Yeah something
I've just got to get myself over me
You know me,
Oh you think you do, you just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be something I can't define
So let's cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet or something
Yeah something
I've just got to get myself over me, yeh, over me, yeh, over me


"Big Casino" by Jimmy Eat World



Before this world starts up again
It's me and night
We wait for the sun
The kids and drunks head back inside

Well there's lots of smart ideas in books I've never read
When the girls come talk to me I wish to hell I had

(Get Up, Get Up) Turn on ignition
(Get Up, Get Up) Fire up the system
Play my little part in something big

I'll accept with poise, with grace
When they draw my name from the lottery
And they'll say 'All the salt in the world couldn't melt that ice'
I'm the one who gets away
I'm a New Jersey success-story
And they'll say 'Lord, give me a chance to shake that hand'
(They'll say)

Back when I was younger I was someone you'd've liked
Got an old guitar I'd had for years I'd let you buy
And I'll tell you something else that you ain't dying enough to know
There's still some living left when your prime comes and goes

(Get Up, Get Up) Dance on the ceiling
(Get Up, Get Up) Boy, you must be dreamin'
Rock on young saviour, don't give up your hopes

I'll accept with poise, with grace
When they draw my name from the lottery
And they'll say 'All the salt in the world couldn't melt that ice'
I'm the one who gets away
I'm a New Jersey success-story
And they'll say 'Lord, give me a chance to shake that hand'

I have one last wish
And it's from my heart
Just let me down
Just let me down
(easy)

I'll accept with poise, with grace
When they draw my name from the lottery
And they'll say 'All the salt in the world couldn't melt that ice'
I'm the one who gets away
I'm a New Jersey success-story
And they'll say 'Lord, give me a chance to shake his hand'
(They'll say)

My Ex-Gay Survivor Story

My name is Eric Leocadio. I am an Ex-Gay Survivor.

To say that I wanted to be straight is an understatement. I knew that I was gay since I was 9 years old. Even at that early age, I knew how socially unacceptable it was for me to like other boys my age. It was never anything I had to figure out. I simply knew that I was gay and no one could know.

By the time I reached my freshman year in high school, I tried to kill myself. I was a teenager and the message that I received for so many years by my friends, my family, my classmates and myself, was that I was not acceptable because I was gay. I looked in the mirror and I hated that guy. So I wanted to die . . . .

I was tired of feeling rejected. I was tired of feeling different. I was tired of feeling like no one really knew who I was because there was a part of me that had to stay a secret. The closet is a lonely place.

I was 14 years old when I cupped both my hands together, filled them with pills (asprin, Tylenol, and such), swallowed every one, and washed them down with water. Then I fell asleep. Three hours later I woke up in complete regret as I began the process of having my body involuntarily spew out the contents of my stomach. I vomited for several minutes, divinely timed, from 7:00 PM through 5:00 AM every hour on the hour on the dot. These were grueling sessions with what I refer to as my “porcelain punisher”. I experienced 10 hours of bile-filled hell. After living through this, I wanted to die!

I didn’t tell anyone at home what I had done. No one would have taken me to the hospital. So God, before I knew Him, pumped my stomach for me. I realized, then, that He wasn’t done with me yet.

I survived, in pain, my own suicide.

I eventually became a Christian when I was 16 years old. I grew in faith and in my knowledge of God and I embraced a Church family and Church culture that I desperately wanted to be a part of – to be accepted by. This was a culture that valued heterosexuality as prime and superior. To come out as anything but straight would have been social suicide. And I was a part of this culture. For over 12 years, I believed, taught, and advocated that it was a sin to be gay. My only outlets of expressing my sexuality were limited to those things done in secrecy. This further fractured my sense of self as I maintained a dualistic life – one lived in public light and the other lived in private darkness.

I had pleaded with God to change me. I had pleaded with God to forgive me. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made some mistakes. I have done things that I regret. But you cannot develop a healthy sexuality in the secret places. I explored my sexuality in unhealthy ways, without the input of my spiritual community because talking about it would have meant revealing the secret that I was gay. And the Church isn’t so good at talking about its own taboo secrets.

I decided that I needed help so I participated in ex-gay programs of Desert Stream Ministries. For roughly two years from 2002-2004, I was a part of their informal support groups called Cross Current. In 2004, I completed their six month program called Living Waters designed to assist people with their “sexual and relational brokenness”. At the time, I believed along with them that homosexuality was a form of brokenness. I thought that I was broken. They told me that embracing a heterosexual value system was needed in order for my restoration and wholeness.

After spending several hundred dollars and countless hours in the ex-gay program, I graduated still believing that being gay was a sin and that being straight was the ideal. Unlike so many others who have survived traumatic experiences from programs like these, I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t exit the program terrorized. Perhaps, it was because I bought into their notion that I may have to live with being gay for the rest of my life but that there were tools that I could implement to suppress my homosexuality so that I could outwardly present myself as straight – as ex-gay.

Over the years, I used to participate and sometimes lead prayer groups against the gay community. But while praying these things to God, at the same time He spoke back to me over a period of months asking me two things: Why are you praying against a people that you don’t even know? Why are you praying against them when you are one of them?

God led me to realize that I really didn’t know gay people because out of my own shame I avoided them. He also challenged my hypocrisy. I realized that I couldn’t own my beliefs that it was wrong to be gay. I believed such things because that’s the only thing I was taught. So in 2005, I began my own personal journey of allowing my two dualistic worlds to collide, to enter what I call the “hot zone” – that place of conversation where the issue of faith and sexuality and God are no longer the taboo subject.

I invested countless hours in prayer – but this time it wasn’t for God to make me straight but rather it was for God to show me His heart for gay people. I spent time in the Scriptures and studied, for myself, the passages that referenced homosexuality and also looked at the Bible as a whole and in context with this newer lens. I began to meet gay people absent of any conversion agenda. I wasn’t going to convert anyone to be either straight or Christian. My intention was simply to get to know people and to build genuine relationship. What I found changed my paradigm.

I discovered that God was present in the gay community. I previously assumed in error that it was full of darkness but I discovered that God was among them. I met friendly gay people who loved God and/or wanted to learn more about Him. I met gay Christians with a genuine faith. I met gay people who were actually having spiritual conversations in coffee shops, bookstores, clubs, bars, and in restaurants. I met gay people who affirmed a lifestyle of commitment and monogamy and faith.

Being a witness to these things opened a can of worms for me. I saw God among the very people that the Church interpreted to be unclean. Great! Now what? What does this mean for all of my previously held faulty assumptions about gay people and their place in the Church? I was wrong. I had to change my paradigm based on what God was revealing to me. I realize how hard this is for people (like me) who had been so confident about such assumptions about gay people. It requires humility. The truth is that since God is present and working and moving and touching, there is light within the gay community and I discovered that it was indeed possible to live a lifestyle of genuine faith in God within the context of being a gay person. So I reconciled my faith and my sexuality.

I acknowledged that I am a gay Christian.

I chronicled my journey on this blog at Two World Collision. It served as an outlet for me to process my raw thoughts. I received incredible feedback, including countless emails from people around the world who were relating with what I was journaling. As I shared my story and as we discovered each other, suddenly, we weren’t alone anymore. There was someone else somewhere out there that understood. Over the past two years, I’ve received a global readership with over 61,000 hits to the blog. There’s been a kind of community that has developed, as I’ve been increasingly willing to be vulnerable with my story.

I have since realized that ex-gay programs and the mainstream Church presents a mixed message to people like me. They tell us that God loves us unconditionally but that the Church will conditionally accept us as long as we conformed to their interpretation of “wholeness”. It is this mixed message that leaves people with a difficult choice: to renounce their sexuality or to renounce their faith.

These are the casualties of ex-gay programs.

The truth is that we are a part of God’s Church. Regardless of whether or not the Church would accept us as part of itself, God has accepted us through our faith in Christ.

It’s okay to come back.

As an ex-gay survivor, I know what it’s like to be in a spiritual climate hostile to my sexuality. I survived suicide. I survived my own attempts to manipulate my identity. Now I’ve found peace and healing through authenticity.

I may not be perfect but I am whole.

I’ve made difficult decisions in my life. I’ve done things that I regret. However, my character is not defined by the mistakes I’ve made but instead by the lessons I’ve learned.

There is a difference between being gay and expressing one’s sexuality in unhealthy ways. Both gay and straight people are fully capable of making poor decisions. The issue is not about whom we should love but rather it is about how we should love.

As a community of people who value God, faith, and each other, whether gay or straight, let’s explore what it looks like to love better.

Watch my YouTube video story on my time with the Ex-Gay Program here.

News Feature on Advocate.Com

So last week, I went to a press conference in LA held by BeyondExGay.Com and Soulforce where three former Exodus leaders issued a formal apology for the roles they played in ex-gay programs. They also promoted the Ex-Gay Survivors Conference which was held this past weekend. I'll be posting soon about my experiences at the conference, along with some pics. But until then, I thought I'd share with you the article that was written that includes the interview I did for The Advocate.

It was posted on their web site at Advocate.Com as a News Feature. Not sure how long it'll stay there but it's featured on the home page of the site too. Check it out!

Reading my own name and some of my story in other media outside of TWC is kinda weird. But I learned a ton of valuable stuff about sharing one's story with others (as well as the Press) at this weekend's conference. In the Advocate article, a few of the things I said were paraphrased or slightly misquoted but the jist of my point was communicated for the most part. In my last post, I talked about the interview and so that post articulates more clearly what I meant by certain things I said in the interview. Read that post again here.

Oh, LOL, the other thing that I thought was funny was that the article kinda sounds like I was in an ex-gay program to heal me for being a gay masturbator. ROFL! Okay, it doesn't say that EXACTLY (now i'm the one misquoting the interviewer), but it does kinda sound like that. Haha, whatever.....

I think i just outed myself.

I'm Sorry I Hurt You So Much

So my friends Peterson and Christine have been working like crazy over the past year (or more?) on putting together beyondexgay.com and planning the Ex-Gay Survivor Conference that is happening this weekend.

Today, there was a Press Conference at the Gay and Lesbian Center in Los Angeles, CA and I had the honor of being invited to be a part of it.

As reported by BeyondExGay.Com, "Three former ex-gay leaders issued public apologies for the roles they played in ex-gay ministries affiliated with Exodus International. They also shared portions of their personal stories. The event was covered by members of local and national news media including CNN and Azteca America."

I was honored to be among the ex-gay survivors who went up to receive and accept the apology letter. I was quite moved by the experience . . . .

After the Press Conference, we were all available for interviews. I was interviewed by the Advocate. I talked about my own experiences going through an ex-gay program. One of the things I shared with her (as well as with the reporter from the OC Weekly yesterday) was that I realized the mixed message that these ex-gay programs (and the Church) were giving me. The mixed message was that of God's unconditional love and the Church's conditional acceptance that was dependent on conforming to their interpretation or version of "wholeness".

God loves you. But we will ONLY IF you embrace heterosexuality. Even if you don't actually become straight, we want you to look straight (to us).

That's the kind of thing that fractures our identities. I mean, goodness, I attempted suicide before the ex-gay program because I hated being what I was. How much more damaging can it be after an ex-gay program affirms that self-hatred?

Oh but don't worry, at least God loves you.

They tell us when we enter the ex-gay program that we're broken because we're gay. I realized that instead, they were the ones who broke me further when they encouraged me to manipulate my personal and sexual identity.

Be straight. Or at least let me think you're straight.

Sorry! I can tell i'm getting bitter about all this! But that's why this Ex-Gay Survivor Conference is so important! People need to know how these programs can cause such trauma.

My journey now is about exploring authenticity. Discovering the real me. Loving and accepting the real me. Presenting the real me.

The experience at the press conference and accepting this apology from these ex-ex-gay leaders was surreal. I found that many emotions resurfaced from when I was desperate enough to try to be straight. I found myself close to crying when I shook hands and hugged them! If I can find the time to sit down and process things, i'll try to write up a blog to revisit some of those emotions.

In the mean time, please keep praying for me, the conference, and especially for Peterson and Christine as God continues to position them as a voice for "ex-gay survivors" like me.

Here's the text of the formal apology, as reported by Peterson:

Statement of Apology from Former Exodus Leaders
Issued by Darlene Bogle, Michael Bussee, and Jeremy Marks
June 27, 2007

As former leaders of ex-gay ministries, we apologize to those individuals and families who believed our message that there is something inherently wrong withvbeing gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender. Some who heard our message were compelled to try to change an integral part of themselves, bringing harm to themselves and their families. Although we acted in good faith, we have since witnessed the isolation, shame, fear, and loss of faith that this message creates. We apologize for our part in the message of broken truth we spoke on behalf of Exodus and other organizations.

We call on other former ex-gay leaders to join the healing and reconciliation process by adding their names to this apology.

We encourage current leaders of ex-gay programs to have the courage to evaluate the fruit of their programs. We ask them to consider the long-term effects of their ministry.

A Community Familiar With Rejection

Bea's last two posts over at Sh-out called "Pick ME! Pick ME!" and "Brutal Honesty" got me processing more about my parents. Last week, in "My Parents Before The Divorce", I was imagining what it must have been like for my parents during their marriage. My mom knew (or at least had her suspicions) about my dad being gay and so now that I know that he's gay it allows me the ability to empathize or sympathize with their experience so that I can sort out for myself how the divorce had affected me as I grew up.

Her post about wanting to be "picked" really resonated with me because it gave me insight into how my mom must have desperately wanted her husband to actually desire her. I can imagine that, as a woman, she wanted to feel sexy, appreciated, wanted - picked. As a man, that's what I want! But it helps me to understand more of the dynamic that was going on between them. Beneath the surface, under the arguing and fighting with each other that I hated seeing and under the bitterness that I felt against them, there was this frustration between us all because we were all feeling rejected by each other . . . .

Last night, I was with some friends and we were talking about why some gay men are afraid of being alone. I'm not necessarily "afraid" of being alone. It's just that I don't want to be alone because it's been such a lonely experience for me in the closet. For so many years, I intentionally denied myself the opportunity to be genuinely and authentically known and touched because I was afraid of being rejected if certain people knew. Going back further, it was a lonely experience for me after the divorce. Deep down, I felt rejected by my parents when they got divorced. I realize now that they both also felt rejected.

I can imagine the helpless feeling that my mom must have experienced during their marriage. My dad being gay was out of my mom's control. There was nothing she could do to change him. She must have felt so angry at my dad for not changing himself. What must have been going through my mom's mind for all those years? Why does he have to be gay? Why won't he just choose to be "normal"? Am I not a good enough woman for him to make him want to be straight? I wonder what kind of insecurities manifested out of the chaos that was going on in my mom's head. Honestly, I hate to admit this, but I used to look down on my mom everytime I saw her with a "guy friend". But how can I judge her when I know how desperate she must have been to want to be "picked"? My mom just wanted to be desired. Loved. How can I blame her for doing the best she could to maintain some kind of sanity, some kind of control - some kind of self-preservation? I love my mom and it breaks my heart to think that there were times that she wanted to be loved and didn't receive it.

I can imagine the confusion that my dad must have been experiencing during their marriage. He must have been so torn. I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he wanted to be a good husband, a good father - but didn't know how. Isn't loving your wife supposed to be just natural? I'm sure he loved her but he probably recognized that he didn't desire her. So how do you force yourself to desire someone that you don't? He loved her. He wanted to be able to desire her but he couldn't. He must have imagined what my mom was feeling and hated himself for not being able to please her. If I were with a woman, I wouldn't know how to fully please her either. So what was he supposed to do? It's not like he could just choose not to be gay. It's not like he could just choose to desire her. My dad must have felt so out-of-control too. He probably knew that my mom knew that he was gay and felt that she rejected him for not being a "real" man. He probably rejected himself for not being a "real" man. I personally understand the tension of being in the closet. I love my dad and it breaks my heart knowing what he was going through in a marriage with a woman he cared for and four children that he loved. And so he must have felt rejected by me when I chose not to live with him after the divorce.

It was traumatic for me. I remember the day I found out. It was morning and my dad was driving me to elementary school in our family van. I was in 6th grade. He said, "Son, you mama and I are getting a divorce." I knew. We all knew that it was coming. My brother and sisters and I all knew that it was going to happen sooner or later. The truth is that I was actually relieved. I was glad to hear it. I hated seeing them argue. I hated it when they took it out on us.

I remember sitting in the front seat of the van looking out of the window watching the houses and trees whiz by while I listened to my father speak. He continued, "She's going to move to Long Beach with your aunt. I'm going to stay here in Hawaii. Who do you want to go with?" It was a no-brainer. I already knew that I would much rather live with my mom than with him. He was rigid and distant. I hated doing yard work, which is something he had my brother and I do all the time, and so I saw this as an opportunity for a prison break. I don't remember the actual words that I used. I chose my mom. I don't even remember if he said anything back to me. But I do remember how I felt. I didn't feel guilty for choosing to leave. But I felt like he was giving me a guilt trip for not choosing him. And so I guess I felt like I "should" be feeling guilty but as I grew up I ended up hating him for making me feel guilty. (Does that make sense?) So I was bitter with him for pretty much all my teenage and young adult years because I felt like he shouldn't have made me feel that way. I was 10 or 11 years old, I shouldn't have to choose between my parents - much less feel guilty for the choice that I ended up making. I felt rejected by him - which is weird because he was most likely feeling rejected by me.

This kind of craziness shaped my teenage years. I was confused after the divorce because I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Am I supposed to feel guilty for choosing my mom? Does choosing my mom automatically mean that I was rejecting my dad? Is it okay that I wanted them to get a divorce? Should I feel guilty about that? I just wanted peace for a change. And by the way, on top of all this madness, why the hell was I gay?

No wonder I was all screwed up and tried to kill myself.

Rejection sucks. My mom felt it. My dad felt. I felt. We were all screwed up because we didn't know what to do with rejection and the feelings that come with it. But in hindsight, I suppose I can understand the person that I am now by the way the divorce - and even the closet experience - shaped me as I grew up.

In my last post about this theme, I had a minor side note (soapbox) about the whole gay marriage thing and I'm feeling another one coming now: I think the opponents of gay marriage don't realize why many people in "my" community" feel so outraged by their opposition. Aside from the justice issue or even the God issue, I think that every time that we hear people oppose gay marriage in conversation or in debate or in public speech or even in a wedding ceremony where someone talks about the "threatened institution", it's yet another example of how we experience society rejecting us. We are a community familiar with rejection and when people say that we shouldn't have the right to marry because it would threaten the "institution of marriage", it becomes not only insulting but personal. The debate will not die, for this reason.

Anyway, where was I?

I love my parents. I can understand their experience when they were married and it helps me to move on. It helps me to understand what I don't want in a marriage. It helps me to understand how important it is for us to want to be "picked". I am a gay man. It wouldn't be fair to anyone for me to marry someone I didn't completely desire. One day, I will marry a person that I love, appreciate and even desire. And it will be mutual. He will know that I pick him and I will know that he picks me.

Sankofa (Part One)

"Sankofa" is a Swahili word that means "looking backward to move forward."

Today marks the first day of a new year! The past several years have been a roller coaster of emotions - with highs and mostly lows - trudging along this journey of finding peace in the midst of colliding worlds. This past year in particular, 2005, has been a milestone year for me because it's been marked with freedom, clarity, and cohesion that has released me to live an active lifestyle of faith in the context of being gay.

How did I get to this point? How is it possible that I can live, with good conscience, both a Christian and gay life? Now that I'm here, where do I go now?

Sankofa. In a series of four posts, I shall attempt to reflect backward so that I may move forward in the direction that God has called me . . . .

Being filipino, I grew up with a Catholic background. I remember going to mass but for the most part we were pretty much non-practicing. I was born in the Philippines and left at about the age of 3 years old. I haven't been back since so I don't remember anything about it. My family moved to Illinois for a couple of years (the last time I remember falling snow) then moved to Hawaii. I spent my elementary years on the island of Oahu - no, i never did learn how to surf!

It was here when I remember my first gay inclinations. In 3rd grade, I started to have crushes on fellow boy classmates. I also knew that it was considered wrong. Even at that young age, I sensed the stigma attached to what I was feeling. I knew that I couldn't tell anyone or else people would make fun of me. I "tried" to have crushes on girls. I remember trying to draw my attention to Cherie (in 4th grade) and Allison (in 5th grade) but it was never as natural as I felt towards Scott and David. Yeah, I knew I was gay.

My parents decided to divorce after I was in 6th grade. I chose to live with my mom and so we moved to Southern California - to Long Beach. Junior high school years are cruel and unforgiving. 7th grade was marked by physical awkwardness, social insecurities, and gym class. It didn't help much that I was new and didn't have any friends, that I got the chicken pox and missed several weeks of school and had difficulty catching up, and that I was a gay pre-teen experiencing puberty in a school where no one wanted to be called a 'fag'! Ouch. Those were tough times.

The only redeeming thing that happened to me by 8th grade was learning how to dance. My cousin and her neighbor friend had the heart to invest some time with me in teaching me some 'moves' for the dance. Here's a flashback for those who remember the great American urban 80's: i learned the 'running man', the 'roger rabbit', the 'troop', the 'kid-n-play', the 'robocop', the 'electric slide', and the standard step side to side and move your arms about casually to look like you're having a good time. Dancing. The day of the 8th grade dance (where I had a girl date) was the day I rose up the social ladder - one rung.

By 9th grade, high school, I had a bit more confidence. I had friends. I joined JROTC where my brother had been a successful predecessor before me so my last name was well known. He had just graduated so I wasn't in his shadow. I had the opportunity to prove myself on my own merit. JROTC is a military structured high school program (this was public school) that teaches leadership and discipline. I was a cadet. I was already feeling detached from my family after the divorce - I suppose, in a way, I emotionally divorced them and gradually became independent - and so JROTC was the perfect context to find community in esprit de corps. I was a part of the armed rifle exhibition drill team. We had a strong camaraderie because we were city champions and were very competitive across the region. I found a place where I could be acknowledged when I performed well. By the end of my freshman year, I had a large amount of ribbons and medals (awards and recognitions) to wear on my uniform, competition trophies, and a school athletic letter to sport on a jacket (should I have ever chosen to get one).

It was also in 9th grade when I had my first big crush. I was a freshman who had a senior for a best friend. It wasn't just my fantasy or imagination. He called me his best friend too. He was a senior cadet in JROTC also and so we spent alot of time together. One day, I felt the crazy notion to tell him I was gay. Actually, I chickened out and watered it down by saying, "I think I'm bi." He responded with an, "oh." We didn't talk about it since. I don't remember much after that except that I think he told a few people.

In the Spring of the same year, the night of the senior's prom, I felt like my best friend had rejected me. At the time, my head was spinning from the confusion and self-hatred of being gay. I had also started surfacing the bitterness, anger, and sadness about the divorce - feelings that I had repressed and was just now allowing myself to experience. I felt rejected by my parents as if they were divorcing me. I felt rejected by my best friend as if he were divorcing me. I felt rejected by my friends (who either knowingly or unknowingly made fag jokes often) as if they were divorcing me. I felt rejected by the world that held this stigma of being gay against me even though it wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. Or was it?

So I decided to die.

The medicine cabinet had lots of options. I had heard once that taking a bottle of asprin could stop a person's heart. Good idea. I began to empty out the bottles in the medicine cabinet. I held the bottom of my shirt out like a pouch and collected all the pills. Then I managed to scoop all the pills into both my hands cupped together. Two full handfulls of pills and I poured them into my mouth trying my best to swallow them as they went down. Once my hands were free, I cupped my hands with water and washed down the rest of the pills.

That was it. It was finished. I did the deed and I was ready. I put on one of those Catholic rosary necklaces around my neck and went to bed. Now I could finally sleep. No one knew what I had done. No one knew that I would have needed to go to the hospital.

I had a digital clock in my room, so it was easy for me to see the time. It was 4:00 PM. My head was tired from the whirlwind of craziness going on inside so I fell asleep pretty quickly. And I slept for three hours.

I opened my eyes. It was 7:00 PM. My head felt hazy and I looked around a dark and spinning room. I didn't feel sick to my stomach. But all of a sudden I felt as if I was carried up out of my bed and over to the bathroom toilet. As I knelt over it, it happened. The stirring began from deep down and the eruption traveled up my throat and out into the toilet. Oh F*ck! That feeling completely sucked! I tasted the bile and the medication in my mouth and the room was spinning and my palms were cold but sweaty. I felt a chill and I dragged myself to bed. Oh God that sucked! I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I opened my eyes. It was 8:00 PM. Haziness - darkness - spinning. It was weird. I felt carried up again out of my bed and over to the toilet. No. Not again. Stirring. Eruption. Throat. Up and out. Oh F*ck! That feeling completely sucked! Didn't I just go through this? I crawled back to bed with my mouth still flavored with the taste of bile and medicine. Vomitting sucks. I fell asleep again, thank God.

I opened my eyes. It was 9:00PM. No. Not again. I felt carried up out of my bed to face my porcelain punishment. I stood there, looking into the water, knowing what was inevitably going to happen. I felt the churn from deep within. My throat was already sore. The floodgates were unleashed and my insides gushed up and out and down into the toilet. Oh F*ck! That feeling completely sucked! Alright already. Let me be done with this! Flush. Crawl. Bed. Bile. This poor schmuck fell asleep.

I opened my eyes. It was 10:00PM. Same thing. 11:00PM. Same thing. 12:00AM. Same thing. Every hour, on the hour - like clock work - every time feeling carried up out of my bed and over to the toilet as if some unseen Being were pumping my stomach of its contents. No one else was going to do it. Every hour, on the hour, from 7:00PM until 5:00AM. Divinely timed.

I never wanted to die so badly in my life! If I ever had a reason to end it all, it was this night. I would rather die than vomit one . . . . more . . . . time.

Surviving suicide completely sucks.

In hindsight, I can see the intervention of a God who knew my name before I acknowledged His. This was the year 1990 and He wasn't quite done with me yet . . . .

*Read on to Sankofa (Part Two) to read about how Jesus entered the scene and the realization of colliding worlds!

525,600 Minutes

[Note: Scroll down within this post to see the music video for Rent's "Seasons of Love" on YouTube followed by the lyrics.]

One year. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes - so goes the song from Rent about how we measure a year (see lyrics to the song below). The hit Broadway musical and now newly released movie (which I just saw this evening with some friends) paints a picture of poverty, disease, and drugs in the every day lives of friends simply trying to survive and reach their aspirations.

The cast, as is common in musicals, live out their lives through song and music. While we hardly live the life of a musical where we break out in chorus every time a drama occurs in our lives, I wonder how much of our lives is infused with the kind of passion that invigorates those we come in contact with - enough for them to get up out of their seat and join us in a musical number - our lives. How do you measure a year in the life?

Almost seems like I can cast my own show...

...one with friends just out of college struggling to land the job that the career services department promised would be there; friends in a church struggling to figure out how to "do" church outside-the-box yet frustrated at why it's not as organic as they would have hoped; friends in another church struggling to glorify God in their community in the midst of persecuting Christians who condemn their gay lifestyles; new friends that spend their lives praising God while keeping HIV at bay by religiously taking their meds; friends doing whatever they can to help the homeless but frustrated at the seemingly hopeless task; friends online trying to explore what this whole gay Christian thing looks like; and me, just trying to live out my faith in every context.

So much has happened in a year. And the year before that. And the year before that. And the year before that....

Last year this month, I began my last semester at university and was about to see the fruit of three years worth of sacrifice - the honor of class Valedictorian and graduation speaker. It was a busy time - focussed and determined. Two years ago, I invested time in healing from past wounds and past regrets. I spent six months in an ex-gay ministry and found value in the small group fellowship, prayer, and discussion. It felt good to be able to say out loud that I was attracted to other guys and to have the group (some gay, some straight) still affirm me as a man of God. Three years ago, I began taking steps of faith - the Lord had inspired us with fresh vision and my ministry partner and I began to live out our faith in a way that would eventually lead to the establishment of our non-profit organization. Four years ago, I wanted to die. My life was at a metaphorical "rock-bottom". Having already tried to kill myself in high school yet surviving in misery, I knew better than to do it again. So I asked the Lord to take my last breath as I slept, fully believing that He would do it, and I had my first dream that I can attribute as being from the Lord (which in a nutshell, told me that He wasn't done with me yet). I woke up taking a full, deep gasp of air - in contrast to my request when I lay my head the evening before.

This past year, in present time, I have been living out faith - living out grace - living out redemption. I have forsaken the religious routines of a spectator faith and I've exchanged them for an exciting journey of exploration and uncertainty, following Jesus into the unimaginable places He was already at - the gay community. I have the privilege of participating in my faith - this walk with Christ where I am no longer paralyzed by my own self. Moment by moment, minute by minute I have been learning what it looks like to measure my year with relationships. I have grown closer to my family. I have grown closer to new friends. I have grown closer to some existing friends.

The months of November and December have historically been incredibly depressing times for me. This is the season when I am normally overwhelmed with loneliness and anchored by the memories of the biggest mistakes of my life. My birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all emphasized a holiday season that was plastic - an insincere celebration on the outside of me, but a dark and silent prison on the inside of me. This year seems different. It's brighter somehow. Lighter even. Perhaps hopeful.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. It's been a year's worth of sacrifice and success, excitement and depression, acceptance and rejection, confusion and exploration. Worlds of people and worlds of emotions all colliding during every minute - every moment. Yet, in every explosion, I am met by God who's presence has always been evident. Thank God for this minute, right here - right now. As another year passes, I pray that I can continue to measure it with "Seasons of Love".

Click here to see the Rent Blog that has film clips of the new movie (with songs).



"Seasons of Love"

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
How do we measure a year?

In daylights—in sunsets,
In midnights—in cups of coffee,
In inches—in miles,
In laughter—in strife.

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes.
How do we measure
A year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.

Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes.
How do we measure the life
Of a Woman or a Man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried,
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died.

It’s time now—to sing out
Tho’ the story never ends.
Let’s celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Measure the love.

Measure, measure your life in love.
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.

Children of Divorce

I never really talked much specifically about my parents divorce. I sort of mentioned it in an early post back in July called "Thinking About My Dad". I've probably referenced here or there in other posts about my attempted suicide which I've intended on posting more details about but never got around to it. (I will though, it's an interesting God-event in my life.) My parents divorced when I was about 11 years old and it was a huge contributor to my state of mind when I tried to kill myself a few years later.

Anyway, the reason I mention it is because I saw an interview on The Today Show yesterday with Matt Lauer (he's crazy cute, me thinks - sorry, i didn't mean to gross you out) speaking with Elizabeth Marquardt, author of "Between Two Worlds: The Inner Lives of Children of Divorce." Thanks to my trusty TiVo Series 2, I was able to rewind the interview and jot down a few notes that I found interesting:

**For those interviewed in the nationwide study answering the question, "I felt like a different person with each of my parents," 43% were from divorced families; 21% were from intact families.

**Matt Lauer said in response to that statistic, "These children were forced to take on two different personalities almost to fit in to each household that they had to go to..."

**Elizabeth Marquardt responded, "Right, and when they grow up it really becomes difficult for them to know how to be their whole true self with another person."

I found this interesting because I can affirm this in my experience. I chose to move from Hawaii away from my dad to live with my mom here in Southern California. It was difficult relating with my dad after that and it really was like I was a different person when on the phone with him. Granted, much of that had to do with me trying to cope with the divorce itself, but in terms of my personality I was definitely different. How much of this did I carry with me into adulthood? (Her book actually infers that children of divorced parents take alot into adulthood.) This is the first time that I've heard the suggestion that I learned to adopt a dual-personality at that young of an age - when they got divorced. I easily applied this to my secret sexuality as well. In both contexts, both the divorce and me being gay, I can see how they were both coping mechanisms for me and at the same time contributed to me being confused about my identity.

Another interesting quote from the interview was:

**Matt asked her about what other people say that, "Children are resilient. They will bounce back from a divorce. The effect perhaps is short term but not long term."

**Elizabeth responded with, "Simply not true. Divorce shapes children in their inner lives in lasting ways that turn up in young adulthood."

I can affirm this as well in my life. After I tried to commit suicide and survived during my freshman year in high school, I kind of blocked out the whole divorce thing until late senior year. After that, I thought about it alot. Even through my early college years, I found myself bitter with both my parents. These feelings, combined with my same sex attractions and also my developing faith life, had me feeling pretty torn - between three worlds even.

I'm sure there are some out there that would presuppose my same sex attractions are connected to the way I was raised and my parents' divorce.

Being Used Through The Process

There is nothing in Scripture or in my experience to indicate to me that I have to be fully ready and fully equipped to be used by the Lord. I may be on this journey, and it will take a long while to process through and sort things out, but I don't believe that God would have me sit idle. There's too much work to be done.

For 13 years of being a Christian and struggling with same sex attractions, there were times when it was paralyzing. The guilt and shame and secrets kept me in darkness - unknown - immobilized to serve. But as I grew in my knowledge of the Lord and of His Word, experiencing His simple but powerful grace, He enabled me to take a step out of my own self-imposed prison and opened my eyes to other people around me that were in dire need of being free from their self-imposed prisons. There are so many people around me that are like me - either with the same, similar, or even different struggles - but we all have guilt and shame from whatever binds us. So i saw God use me to help people along even though i myself had one foot in the darkness of shame and one foot in the light of grace. The irony is that in my shame, I thought i was alone . . . .

There are times when I feel so unqualified to serve Him. I'm not righteous - in my flesh that is. I try to be loving but I do find myself looking at the outward appearance rather than a person's heart sometimes. I try to be generous with friends but I do find myself unwilling to give of my heart (or money) to a homeless person sometimes with an assumption of what he'll 'probably' do with it. I try to resist lust but I do find myself entertaining it in my mind. I try to grow in my knowledge of the Word but I do find myself neglecting it sometimes. There are things that I've done in my life that I am truly ashamed of.

There are times when I wonder how God could ever use a person like me. Then i realize, God is looking to use a person exactly like me.

God has been showing me that I am not righteous but He is. In Christ, He makes me righteous. He makes me qualified. This makes me useful for His purposes. This frees me from my shame because it was my shame that told me that I'm useless, unlovable, and untouchable. Now that I'm useful, loved and lovable, and very much worthy to be touched - since Christ did these very things, then perhaps I can go out. Perhaps I'm ready enough. Perhaps I can serve Him as I am while He continues that refining process in me.

As I look back in hindsight, He did this for me all throughout the past 13 years. It's always been a tug of war between feeling like a can't serve Him and then being used by Him. I started this blog a little over a month ago thinking that I was entering a process of exploring all the different sides of being gay and Christian. I'm now realizing, that I entered that process 13 years ago.

God has worked in me and through me, teaching me about His love and His grace, and He's given me purpose and importance. He's shown me that He needs me and that there is nothing I've done or will do that can disqualify me from serving the Lord in worship and from serving His Body in fellowship. He needs me in the sense that He's given me an assignment (many over the years) and He wants me to respond. There's work to be done.

There's a reason why He preserved my life and made me survive my suicide attempt in 9th grade (before I was a Christian). There's a reason why He preserved my life when I totalled the car and stepped out only to see a metal bubble around where my head was but the rest of the roof smashed. There's a reason why He preserved my life when I wanted to die three years ago and told Him to take my last breath as I slept one last time (honestly believing that He would), but then to receive my very first dream from God (which was of me walking through a house full of people, telling a boy in a cage that Jesus will be his friend, then walking up a staircase passing out flyers), then to wake up in the morning taking a gasp of air (in contrast to my request for Him to take my last breath).

In all of these moments where He could have taken my life but didn't, He always had the same message for me. He's not done with me yet. He's not done with the process. He's not done with using me. I gave Him my life 13 years ago this month. My life is and has been in His hands. There may be times when I still want to die - to be released from the internal conflict. But I know that even in the midst of that internal conflict, I am still valuable and I am still known - and I am still qualified enough to be used by Him for whatever assignment He would give me. There's work to be done. There's work for me to do.

Christ died and completed things - for me, for His Church, for this world. It is finished, but it's not over.