Ignite the Light

Whoever you are, there is beauty to you. Whether you recognize it or not, it is there. It is always there. And since that is true, why not let it shine? Why not be a firework, bursting forward for the whole world to see and to know and to marvel at?

Whether you are gay, straight, rich, poor, skinny, fat, tall, short, purple, green, or yellow, or whatever else, you have so much worth. Whether you believe it or not, there is good in you and in everyone, because we are all made of God and God is good. Don’t ever let anyone convince you you’re no good. Always look for the good in you and let it consume every aspect of your life.

Other Worlds

I really don’t know how else to say these things, so I’ll apologize up front if any of this comes across rather shocking or blunt, or even a bit “adult” compared to what I normally write about.

Here goes…

Back in August, I came across another blog while looking up porn. It was a gay themed blog focused on the Daddy/boy, or Dominant/submissive, types of gay relationships. I like that sort of thing—being submissive to other men. And I loved this particular blog. It wasn’t just a collection of images, it was interactive and welcoming. I liked the owner and many of the others who commented on there. And they liked me, too. I loved writing things to them that was sexy or erotic, knowing I could turn them on, loving their responses back to me. I felt like I belonged. For the first time in several years, I felt like I belonged. I felt special and wanted, and that made this little online world I’d stumbled into so special to me. It was, if nothing else, a place for me to escape into. I was allowed to communicate with others who feel like me and with those who like guys like me. That’s not something I’ve been allowed much experience with before. But I loved it. I felt very much at home in that world.

A couple of weeks ago, that blog was unexpectedly ended by the owner. One day he’s posting, commenting, and others are commenting, and the next day, nothing, the blog is gone, no heads up or nothing. I found out he had wanted to end the blog and just didn’t want to have to say any goodbyes to anyone. I’ll be honest, I’ve bawled my eyes out over this. I can understand him wanting to end his blog, but I wish so much he had given me some time to get used to the idea. I wasn’t ready to give up this world. I wasn’t ready for it to come crashing down, to be ripped away from me forever. Even if it was sinful, I don’t care, because I loved it. I loved being a part of it. I loved the people and I loved how right it felt for me to be a part of it. I know I’ll miss it forever.

Something this experience did was help me to realize what I want in a relationship. I like men who are stronger and more dominant than me. I like being submissive and loving and affectionate. I like someone else taking the lead. I like other men wanting me.

I know I am completely unsuitable for being with a woman. Eve knew this. I think that’s why she really broke up with me; she knew I could never really last or be happy in that relationship. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. It’s not that I didn’t love her even. Or that she didn’t love me. It’s that I couldn’t be what I needed to be for that sort of relationship to work. I wasn’t right for it at all.

I am right for being with another man though.

About a month and a half ago, I was contacted by a man through an online dating site I’d signed up on sometime back. I decided to respond back to him, and the night I did, we literally stayed up for hours talking to each other. It was on a Friday night, and I remember it was around five or six the next morning before we quit talking. To say we hit it off fast would be an understatement.

He’s two years younger than me, loves cars, playing video games, and watching movies. He has a little girl he takes care of all the time and absolutely adores. He is sweet beyond belief, calls me baby sometimes in such an affectionate way that just drives me crazy for him, and he is somewhat bashful at times, which I find incredibly cute. He’s a great guy, and I know I’m in love with him.

It’s been three weeks now since I was last able to talk with him though. There are reasons for this which I understand, but also some reasons which I don’t understand. I honestly don’t know if I still have a boyfriend or not. My hope is that we will eventually be able to be together again, but there are some nagging doubts that I have about this.

This relationship, too, has been something I wasn’t ready to give up. Unlike the blog, I don’t know where the relationship I was in stands though.

I feel so tired of caring. Every time I care about anyone or anything it just gets taken away from me. It seems to be a pattern I can’t escape. And I don’t know how to deal with such losses in very positive ways.

I’m so tired of being lured into a false sense of comfort, believing everything is great and grand, just for something, anything to always inevitably bring my world crashing down upon me.

I’ve felt really stressed the last few weeks. Not even the most recent holiday has helped.

This Thanksgiving didn’t… I don’t even know if I could say it was Thanksgiving. I had a meal with half of my family, but it seemed more like a reunion with distant relatives than anything else. And I didn’t even get to be around anyone from my mom’s side of the family.

When I was younger, it was, in all honesty, the time spent with those on my mom’s side that I enjoyed most about the holidays. With my grandma passing, and my aunt constantly sick these days, all that’s gone now. Mom doesn’t much want us doing anything for her side anyway (just her way of trying to avoid stress).

God, I miss my grandma so much I can’t stand it. Thursday night, my brother and I went and got pizza for us and my nephews. We didn’t have leftovers, we didn’t have games and fun with family… it didn’t even feel like a Thanksgiving. It just felt like some weird, awkward day that didn’t make sense to me at all.

I feel like I always lose everything. If it’s good, it never sticks. I feel so frustrated right now. I know what I’d like my life to be like, but I can’t have it. I’m so tired of feeling bad all the time. I’ll feel good and things will be going right and then, WHAM, I’m knocked right on my ass. I just wish for some period of time I could actually just be happy.

In another world, I was a confident, happy, sexual being who was well-liked and wanted by others. In another world, I was loved and wanted by someone who I loved and wanted. In another world, I was happy with family and innocence. In another world, I felt like I belonged and was wanted in church. In another world, my dreams are still alive. In another world, I still have all the things I’ve lost. In another world, I wouldn’t feel bad about being me. In another world, I wouldn’t have to feel as though I was living a lie with every breath of the day.

I don’t know how you all will look at me now for admitting these things. Am I lost? Am I sinful? Do I even still care? I honestly wonder about that at times. But then I doubt I’d feel so bad if I didn’t care...

I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. I’m tired, scared, in poor health. Nothing seems right anymore. And anytime I think things are improving or starting to look up, I just get my legs kicked out from under me and the wind sucker punched right out of me.

I feel like there’s no way for me to be who I want to be. And even if I got that, I don’t know if it’d be right.

Damaged Goods

I can’t sleep…

I’ve felt really down the last couple of days. I have these spells. I’ll feel on top of the world and the next thing I know I feel like everything in the world’s crashing down around me. I know I suffer from depression. This has been a problem for me for a long time now. Why in the world I haven’t gotten help for this already is beyond me. Maybe it’s too much pride to admit it face to face to anyone, or maybe… well, no, I’d say that’s exactly it: too much pride.

I always miss people…

I’ve missed my grandma terribly lately. She passed away about this time two years ago, right around Thanksgiving. That was such a horrible time. Maybe it’s just the fact that Thanksgiving is coming up, or maybe it’s just that my mind has been flooded of thoughts or reminders of her lately, but I’m missing her so much it hurts.

I miss several old friends as well: people I used to go to school with, people I used to work with, people I used to go to church with, and kids I used to teach.

I don’t feel good.

I have so many insecurities it isn’t even funny. My self-confidence is virtually nonexistent, and I’m so full of doubts it’s driving me crazy.

I wish I’d done so many things different in my life. I wish I’d told so many of those assholes who made fun of me in middle school and high school to go fuck themselves and had just done what I wanted, not caring about what they thought of me. I wish I’d flirted back to some of the guys who actually showed an interest in me. I wish I’d not let some of the people from church drive me away from it. I wish I’d tried harder to make friends earlier on…

Damn it!

I hate feeling this way…

I feel tired all the time. I feel weak. And I never seem to have enough time in the day. I have all these dreams and goals and wants, and they seem to never materialize. Or, if they do, it’s just so little by little that it’s frustrating to say the least. It leaves me feeling fairly hopeless at times…

I’ve felt pretty bad about being gay lately, too. This, like depression, seems to come and go at random and without any real cause that I can pinpoint… no, that’s not quite true either, at least not this time. I know what triggered it. I subbed for a few sixth grade classes lately and in a couple of those classes I had to listen to some students talking trash about homosexuals. “That’s gross! That’s weird! They’re going to hell! God hates gays! That person’s gay because of that, and this one because of this.” I hear this from students I like, and it cuts me to the quick. I tell them not to talk that way, but that’s about all I can do to stop them. Afterward, I always feel bad. I always wonder what they’d think of me if they knew I was gay. I always wonder if they’d turn from liking me to hating me. And then I fear that if anyone did know, I’d just wind up losing my job. After all, no one wants a fag teaching their kids.

I don’t even think I’ll post this. If I do, I guess it’ll just be to maybe get a few extra prayers, I don’t know. Maybe in some way it can help someone else who suffers this late night insomnia depression to know they aren’t alone.

Unattached

My mom recently told me she thought I was holding myself back. She thought I was adding too many restrictions to myself—that I won’t do this thing for this reason or that thing for that reason, etc—and not taking enough risks. I know the reason she said this was mostly because she wants me to be able to find a better job and to have more opportunities to do things. I have to admit that I felt somewhat bothered by what she said though.

I know it is true that in some ways I have actually held myself back. I think I’ve had some really good reasons in doing so, but I also know that holding myself back is not entirely the reason why I haven’t moved along in life as much I should have, or would have wanted or liked to, by now. I have taken many risks and stepped way beyond my comfort zone many a time. But I have also come up against personal politics, a lack of job openings, and in some circumstances, my own ignorance. My circumstances, to some extent, have just been largely out of my control. I haven’t liked this. I’ve hated it, I’ve prayed relentlessly about it, I’ve worried about it, I’ve asked for advice, I’ve taken advice, I’ve tried to learn from past mistakes, and I honestly feel like I’ve tried my best with all of it. It just hasn’t been good enough though.

When Mom said what she did, it just made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. With what she said, along with a few other things that has happened in the last few months, I feel like she blames me for not being further along. When it comes to holding myself back, yes, I will admit that in some ways I have. I don’t want to move a hundred miles away or to another state. I like where I live. Besides that, I absolutely hate the thought of being away from my family like that. I know I don’t have enough courage to be so completely on my own, so far away from family and friends. Keeping those things in mind, I have held myself back some.

I tried explaining some of this to Mom. She understands, but not fully. She’s never really liked living around here, so she just thinks I’m nuts for actually liking it. She told me she thought I was lucky (Me? Lucky? I couldn’t wait to hear her thoughts on this). She said I was lucky because I didn’t have any attachments. I don’t have a wife, I don’t have any kids, I don’t have family right now that just has to have me around, I’m not in school anymore, I’m not indebted in any way to anyone or anything that would keep me from moving… all in all, I’m free to go where I please and do as I wish.

I’ve thought about all of this a lot. I know my Mom is right. I do have that sort of freedom right now. But in knowing this, I can’t help feeling somewhat sad about it and in some ways not wanting it. I honestly thought I was needed more, and it kind of sucks to find out that apparently others don’t think so. And that just makes me feel so unappreciated for the things I have done for them. I know this isn’t what my Mom wanted me to feel, but it does make me question just how close we really are, and how close I might be to others.

I know what my goals are, what my dreams are, where I eventually want to wind up, and I do believe I am on course for getting where I want to be in life. But it is slow going. And it is easy to want to give up. The trick is to not give up though. I believe the worst thing I could do right now is to just run off any ole place just to get a quick fix. It wouldn’t be a fix. It would just be some short term solution, throwing me off course, and causing me more problems than not.

I know my Mom wants good things for me, and I know she is tired of seeing me try for something that is so slow achieving (and it has been tough), but in this one regard I do believe she is wrong about what I should do. I honestly do believe that if I just keep building up, keep working hard, and keep having faith and patience to get where I’d like to go, I will eventually get there. And that option will be so much better for me and for others around me than taking some short term quick fix.

Having said that, I do feel tired though. I know I’m not doing certain things right, and I’m not just talking about in trying to find a job. The thing is, I really haven’t wanted to care about a lot of things that I know I should care more about. I’m tired of caring. And I know how horrible that sounds, but it is the truth. I’m so tired I just don’t want to care. In this, I know I need God’s strength. But it goes much further than that. I just don’t feel right.

I keep trying not to think too far ahead, but to rather take one day at a time. In this, I know I need God’s hope. I know that’s something I’ve not felt much of lately: hopefulness.

And I know I’m having a hard time dealing with loss. In the last few years, I’ve lost a lot of things. Things I cherished in my childhood, things that shaped how I think and feel about myself, dreams and goals for my future… my grandma. I miss my grandma terribly. She was such an important part of my life. She lived across from me almost my entire life. I was so used to seeing her and being around her. Now that she’s gone, a part of my life just seems empty. I feel like a part of me was torn away. I feel that way really in all the things I’ve lost.

And I hate getting older. I’ve never liked the thought of it. I don’t want to lose people. I don’t want to see one dream after the next come crashing to an end. I don’t want to see and feel my body age.

I turned 30 this last spring. I think it shows on my face. I do look older, more worn, less energetic. My hair keeps getting grayer, my eyes tired, my joints more sore. It terrifies me, the thought of getting older. Even worse, however, is the thought that I will not live to be very old. I have always had a very strong feeling that I won’t live a long life. This, to some extent, is an even more terrifying thought, because it makes what time I do have seem all the more urgent. And I feel as though I’ve wasted, intentionally and unintentionally, a lot of that time. At this point, I had hoped to be so much further along than I am. All combined, however, either outcome makes me somewhat panicked feeling about my future.

“And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life's span?” – Luke 12:25

I think about this verse a lot. I know I’m worrying too much. In this, again, I know I need God’s strength and hope. I need faith, too, that everything, regardless of outcome, will be as it should in the end.

How much longer must I wait though? How much longer before I can begin living as I’d like to live? Will that day ever come? If not, then what? How do I accept my life being something I don’t like?  I find all of these questions beyond my answer, but ones that carry so much weight.

My mom may be right. Maybe I do hold myself back too much, and maybe I don’t have any attachments. But that’s not what I want, or how I wish it was. Regardless of any faults I might have, this is not where I’d hoped to be in life. This is not how I had hoped my life would be. And yet, even in that thought do I find conflict, realizing that maybe what I want really isn’t in some way what is best for me. Again, how do I come to accept this? When will God ever lay this upon my heart, if it is true?

Perhaps what I really need to do right now, more than anything, is to try to learn how to be better content with the present. God, I know I need your help though.

Not How I Want to Be

When I was in high school, I was becoming friends with another boy in one of my classes. We had been in the same grade all throughout high school, but we had just never really been around each other until the latter half of our senior year. We sat next to each other, talked during free time in class, worked together on group assignments, and even had lunch together. I really liked him.

About a week after graduation, I was in a local store and saw him coming near me. He smiled and waved at me. I looked away and turned down the nearest aisle I could. I still managed to see his smile fade away though, and a look of total confusion and disappointment come over him. I just kept on walking away, trying to get as far from him as I could.

I’ve never seen nor spoken to him since then.

I feel an incredible amount of guilt and shame for what I did. I didn’t mean to be unkind, or to turn away from him as I did; I was just so nervous and shy about being around people at that time in my life. But I know I hurt him, and I wish so much I could take that back.

A few years ago, I had some time off during the summer and I decided to read through the Harry Potter series. I was so entrenched; I literally spent hours every day reading those books. Much of that time was spent reading outside on the porch. That’s something I’ve always loved to do—reading outdoors.

There were a few different times when my grandma would cross the road to work in the garden her and my parents had planted beside the house. I noticed her, but I really don’t think she ever noticed me. And I didn’t call out to her or say anything to her, mostly because I just wanted to keep on reading and didn’t want to be interrupted or bothered by her.

Now that my grandma is dead, this is one of the biggest regrets of my life. I wish so much I could go back and talk to her during those times, and every other chance I could have but didn’t. I miss her so much now that every little event like that stings a thousand times more in my memory than virtually any other hurt I’ve ever faced.

I am so full of regrets like that. I can look back and see how horribly I mismanaged so many things in my life. I can see how much I’ve hurt other people or made decisions that hurt me.

I’m reminded of the fifth Star Trek movie. In that movie, a very charismatic Vulcan travels around offering to take away the pain in people’s lives. He removes the guilt or shame or regret they’ve accumulated, freeing them in a sense, and giving them some degree of peace. Captain Kirk, however, refuses to allow this Vulcan to take away his pain. He tells him he needs his pain; that it’s a part of what makes him who he is.

Even though I agree that one’s past can shape who they are, and I know my past, and the pains within it, has certainly shaped my life, I do wish a great many things had been different.

If I could go back, I’d have befriended everyone I could, and tried as hard as I could to get over my shyness earlier on. I’d have spent more time with my grandma. I would have stayed in school, rather than dropping out for many years. I would never have had sex with that other boy when I was 11 years old, and definitely wouldn’t have continued being sexually active with him in the way we were for so long. I’d have tried harder to trust and forgive others, too.

And there have been other things that have caused me much pain over the years as well; something someone said, an unkind deed, a fear of the unknown, a worry that I’ve displeased God…

I know I am who I am, in part, because of all my life’s experiences—both the good and the bad. I am glad there is at least one person who never holds the bad against me though. I am glad to have a Savior who looks past that, brushes it aside, and sees me for what I wish to be, and what I could be.

My past still hurts me often though. I guess it’s just hard for me to forgive myself, or to accept the forgiveness of others, or to completely move on when so many of the consequences of my past actions still come back to haunt me. This is just one of the many consequences of sin.

I feel bad too much of the time. I know there are people who would say I’m just thinking too much about myself, or being selfish, or something along those lines. Maybe they’re right, at least to some degree. But even when I’m around others, focusing on others, trying to help others, I don’t feel good about me. I don’t like where I’m at in life. I don’t like the course I’m on, and I just feel as though I’m wasting so much time. I can’t figure out how to move forward though, and it just makes me feel so stuck. I know where I’d like to be, how I’d like to be, what I’d like to be, but all of it just seems light years away.

Change

Anyone who knows me well would probably say that I don’t handle change very well. I like getting into a routine and knowing what to expect. I feel a sort of comfort from this. That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t enjoy a little spontaneity every once in a while or that I can’t recognize when change must happen, or that I’m completely against anything ever changing. It just means that I don’t tend to like life changing surprises, especially if I’m ill prepared for them, in disagreement of their effects, if it means I have to completely readjust or rethink my plans in life, or if I have to give up some greater level of control over my life.

Having said all of this, I will now say something that will sound completely contradictory. For quite some time now I have been earnestly trying to allow God to lead me in my life. I think if one is truly going to call Jesus the Lord of their life, then this must happen. Naturally, though, this means that I am not going to be the one planning a good part of my life, but rather having it planned and directed for me by God, and interjected by many, many possible changes—and God has certainly thrown me some curveballs to have to deal with.

When change is introduced in one’s life, it is easy to worry. I try not to worry though, desperately recognizing the truths that it cannot add even a second to my life and is nothing more than a chasing after the wind, meaningless. Keeping this in mind has certainly helped me to accept and look for the good in any changes that have taken place in my life though, and to not be so completely against them.

Something I’ve thought a lot about the last few weeks, considering the closing of Exodus International, is exactly what sort of help and/or change Exodus actually brought about in me. I believe I was genuinely helped by them, and because of their help, certain things have definitely changed in me. It was not help through reparative therapy, though, but by the hope of it, and mostly by their simply reaching out to me in kindness and understanding at a time when I really needed someone to.

I didn’t want to be gay. This thought dominated me from the first moment I realized I was attracted to other men. I thought my parents and other family members would reject me, I thought friends would reject me, and I thought God would reject me. I didn’t want to be rejected by anyone for this reason. I was though. And I did have a certain level of self-hatred because of it. I was different and I didn’t want to be. I felt inferior, like I was broken in comparison to other guys. All of this was because I was gay, and I thought that if I could just not be gay, everything would be better.

I prayed for God to change me, to help me, more times than I can even remember.

When I sought out help from Exodus, I literally had no place else I felt like I could turn to. I don’t exaggerate when I say that. They were the only refuge I could find to help me in any way regarding my struggles (and believe me, I tried). I felt like they understood me. They welcomed me. They told me I could change, but to focus first and foremost on my relationship with God.

I should clarify something here. I said “they” told me, but what I should have said more specifically was that my counselor, Paul, was the one mostly telling me this. He was one of only about a handful of contacts I ever made through Exodus, but was my primary contact above all others. Paul helped me the most. He listened, comforted me, gave solid Christian advice, encouraged me, and prayed for me—he is one of the kindest and Godliest men I have ever known, and there is nearly nothing I can think of by looking back that I can say he was wrong about. He just wanted to help, and I think he knew how much I needed it.

Even though Paul did believe it was possible for me to change my sexual orientation, he never pushed that. He always tried far more to encourage me to build my relationships with others, to develop and work on some goals in life, and to grow stronger in my faith (he looked beyond my sexual orientation). If anyone ever pushed orientation change, it was me. After all, I was the one who wanted it, and wrongfully thought that a lot of my life’s problems would go away if I could just change.

After many years of trying, I realized the change I wanted wasn’t happening. I admit that I got far too tired of trying, but more importantly, it no longer made sense to me to try. I no longer believed I should try. This isn’t to suggest, however, that certain positive changes weren’t taking place during that time though. They were. It’s just that my sexual orientation wasn’t one of them. And in some ways, I realize that this may be for the best.

I believe the world needs gay Christians—people who can help build a bridge between the church and individuals who have all too often felt completely excluded or pushed away from her. Having a foot in both worlds, I can certainly help to build that bridge. Furthermore, I recognize that trying to change my sexuality just isn’t worth my time when I think about all the greater things I could be doing with it; not just for myself, but for God and others as well. I’ve realized that in some ways, it is definitely better to simply accept my sexuality for what it is, rather than to focus so much time worrying about it. That, in itself, has been a tremendous change for me.

Looking back, I can say I have changed or developed many beliefs over the years, either entirely or in part. For one, I don’t think I care nearly so much about what others think or believe as I used to. And this is good because it means I can just be myself and not be so hurt by the action or inaction of others. Secondly, I’m not so quick to act upon the advice or thoughts of others without first doing a whole heap of thinking on my own. Keeping an open mind and being willing to listen to the thoughts and ideas of others certainly can go a long way. Thirdly, I have decided that at least some people in this world really are worth knowing and I should try harder to get to know them. Fourthly, I’ve realized that worrying gets me nowhere, even if I still find this a hard habit to break at times. Fifthly, I know God doesn’t hold anything against me for being gay, which is a huge load of relief. Sixthly, hope is incredibly important, but no less than faith and reason. Seventhly, it is good to be humble and to admit my weaknesses. Eighthly, not everybody is going to like me, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still try to like and be nice to them. Ninthly, it’s good to have goals and dreams in life, just so long as I don’t forget to live a little in between the planning, working, and (hopeful) eventual achievement of said goals and dreams. Tenthly, it’s better to think positive and look for the good in every situation, and in every person, than to think the worst. And the most important is to hold onto God no matter what, trusting Him in all things. I say this because He’s the only person I’ve ever known to be with me completely through thick and thin. He has done so much for me. Without him, I’d be lost. I also say to trust Him in all things because only He can ever truly know what is best for us.

When I think of change, I recognize it as something that can be good or bad, expected or unexpected, wanted or unwanted, but something that does happen for each and every one of us. It is unavoidable. And we can either make the best of it, or the worst of it.

For many years, Exodus’ slogan was “change is possible”. I know many people never felt that they actually helped to change anything for them, but for me, they did. They may not have helped me to change my sexuality, but they were a part of many other changes, which have certainly done me and others a great deal of good. There is no doubt in my mind that God did in fact use them to help me as I’d pleaded so often for Him to do. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

With all of this in mind, I say to be hopeful, to trust God, to follow God, to look for the good in all things, and to try your best not to worry. And do not be troubled in whatever changes come your way.

This, at least, is what I am going to try my best to do.

Gabriel Tells It Like It Is

http://mudbloodcatholic.blogspot.com/2013/07/why-not-ex-gay-part-iii-if-its-broke.html

There’s “no bloody point”. That’s for sure. There is no reason in the world for anyone to feel bad about being gay. And there is absolutely no reason in the world to try changing your sexual orientation. Just let it be what it is, don’t worry about it, and don’t let it get you down.

Go back five or ten years ago and it would have been unthinkable for me to believe these things. But with many years under my belt, many years of trying to change my sexual orientation, and much knowledge gained throughout that time, I can say that this is absolutely true.

God may not have meant for anyone to be gay. I don’t know that. For all I know, maybe he did. But what I do know is that a person’s sexual orientation, or their sexual attractions, does not matter in the least little bit. It’s what you do with those attractions that can make a difference.

If you believe homosexual sexual experiences are sinful, in conjunction with traditional Christian thought and teaching, then you should abstain from them, lest you be in sin. If you do not believe they are sinful, contrary to traditional Christian thought and teaching, then let your conscience be your guide (that means that maybe you are sinning, but that depends on what is undeniable truth, something that none of us might ever know beyond any shadow of a doubt in this lifetime, and which could go either way according to our understanding of the truth and upon how we are judged).

I have reasons to believe homosexual sexual experiences are sinful and reasons to believe that they are not. I’m not one-hundred percent sure what is the truth. Certain things, I believe, may not be entirely accurate or as well thought through as they should have been concerning traditional teachings. However, certain other things concerning traditional teachings do hold some weight for me. I can see how perhaps God did not intend for anyone to be gay (at least in the beginning) and how there is an element to heterosexual sexual experiences (through marriage) being of a greater design, at least in regards to being able to produce something totally new through the union of such a couple. However, I can also see how certain authors of the bible and others throughout Christian past might have based their beliefs against homosexuality on certain untruths—probably unintentionally, but perhaps also out of certain cultural biases or misunderstandings at the time in which they lived. I can also see how biblical teaching may have been misunderstood throughout the years through varying translations and the like of the original texts.

Something I’ve learned is that throughout Christianity, there are people (both gay and straight) who have believed differently on this matter. Some people believe traditional teaching is truth, therefore making homosexual experiences sinful, while others believe traditional teaching is wrong, making homosexual experiences okay. Perhaps anything anyone can ever really do to know which stance to take on this matter is to allow the Holy Spirit to influence them, and to dictate their beliefs and actions upon that influence.

But, again, I say there is no reason in the world to worry about what your sexual orientation might be. If you are gay, so what? You’re not sinning just by being gay, or by having sexual attractions or desires for those of the same sex. Depending on your beliefs, you’re only completely natural, or you’re just being tempted. That is all—so long as we’re only talking about attractions and desires, rather than actions taken upon them.

Please read Gabriel’s article about this (the link above). He is a very wise old friend of mine and he can write about these things so much better than I can.

I know what I’m saying may be very difficult for some people reading this to accept. I’ve been there and done that. As I said, go back just a few years ago and I’d have not believed this at all. I was so convinced that I was just some sort of freak that I couldn’t see the truth. I couldn’t see how much love God really has for me, or how little one’s sexual orientation really does matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m not asking you to trust me about this though. I’m just asking that you keep an open mind and try not to hold something that you may dislike about yourself over your head. Don’t let it ruin your self-esteem. Don’t let it destroy your value as a human being. And don’t ever allow anyone else to do those things to you either—whether concerning your sexuality or anything else about you.

China Doll

A few weeks ago, I went with my family to see Oz: the Great and Powerful. Overall, I really enjoyed this sort of prequel to 1939’s The Wizard of Oz. One thing I particularly found memorable was a scene with a little China Doll character.

At the beginning of the movie, Oz (the Wizard), while performing a “magic” act, unintentionally convinces a little girl in a wheelchair, and her family, that he has the ability to make her walk again. They plead with him to help her, but he knows he is unable to and quickly leaves off stage, telling them he cannot help. Later in the movie, while in the Land of Oz, Oz comes across a small China doll whose legs have been broken off after an attack by the wicked witch. She is saddened by the loss of her legs and thinks she’ll never be able to walk again—this is an obvious parallel to the little girl in the earlier scene. Hoping to help her, he uses some glue from his bag of tricks to reattach her legs. After some shaky first steps, she is once again able to use her legs and walk. She is overjoyed with happiness for what he has been able to do for her—something that he could not do for the little girl in real life.

It is such a sweet, innocent scene, and it warmed my heart. It got me to thinking about how much most of us wish we could do more good in this world than what we often have time or the ability to do, and yet, in the Land of Oz, all things are possible. It reminds me that with God all things are possible; and even if things are not always as we’d wish them to be, we should always have hope for better things.

Something else it got me to thinking about though is how we are sometimes better off in certain places, or under certain circumstances, than we are in others. I really do believe that there is a place for each of us, a purpose for each of us, and that, even though it may take us some time to find our places in life, they will eventually be revealed to us. Oz’s place was not amongst the people of real life, but amongst the people of Oz. Columbus’s place was not to stay and farm the rich land of Europe, but to explore and find a whole new world and other civilizations. Jesus’ place was not to stay amongst the people of Nazareth, but to venture out and save the world. We are all meant for something. And even if that something is small and appears to be of little significance in comparison to others, it is assuredly of more importance than most of us could ever possibly understand.

I think sometimes about what my place is—where am I best suited for and what am I best suited to do? Even though I think living in a rural, conservative place is annoying or frustrating at times, I know in my heart it is where I am meant to be. Even though I love building houses and furniture and designing things, being a teacher is what I am meant to do. Even though my family sometimes makes me want to scream, I know we are a perfect match for each other.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I have figured out my place and purposes in life. But with that said, I still wonder what God has in store for me. I wonder where He will lead me, or what he will have me doing, or who he will have me being around. I wonder what direction my life will take (so long as I continue allowing Him to guide me and have hope).

Where is your hope? Where is your place? What is your purpose in life?

A Fountain of Youth

For a little more than a year or so, something I’ve struggled with is the knowledge of my own mortality. They say the reason 18 to 24 year olds make such good soldiers is because they rarely recognize how fragile life is, and are therefore more willing to take risks that can be potentially life ending than people who are older. Like them, I don’t think I realized how fragile my life is until my grandma passed away. She was the first person I’d ever been that close to who died. She wasn’t expected to die when she did. Her death was a huge shock to me, and it woke me up to the reality that life is short, and so very fragile. I can, and at some point will, die.

I used to think I was prepared for death. In a lot of ways I know I am. I know I believe in God and I try my best to follow His son as my Lord and Savior. I know I fail Him so very much of the time, but I believe I am forgiven through His grace. I believe I will go to Heaven when I die.

None of that prevents me from fearing death though. That’s something I have been struggling with. I am terrified of dying. I know death is a natural part of life, but I fear it still. And I fear growing old. What’s worse is that I have never, in my entire life, ever believed that I would live to be very old. It has always been a sort of gut instinct. And so I wonder just how much time I really have left. I wonder if I’ll be able to see my nephews grow up. I wonder if I will ever be able to have my own classroom. I wonder if I’ll be able to ever write anything significant, lasting, or memorable for anyone. I wonder if I’ll ever have a love of my life. I wonder if I’ll live long enough to do so many things. It scares me that I won’t.

I look back at my twenties as they come nearer to a close and I see how much I’ve accomplished and how far I’ve come in life. I made it through college, I worked my way up to a manager position at my former job, I wrote a book that was actually published (and a second that’s been sitting on the shelf), I’ve helped raise my nephews, I’ve made and lost friends, I’ve grown in my faith, and I have made so many memories and done so much more. I know I could continue to make and achieve dreams and goals in life. But I find myself wanting desperately to cling to my youth. I find myself looking back and wishing I was about to turn twenty again rather than thirty. I miss that feeling I used to have that all of my life was ahead of me. I just don’t feel that way anymore. I feel like I’m on a countdown and the seconds on the clock are running out. And this scares me.

I know I am getting older. I know there is still so much I would like to do. There just never seems to be enough time though. And anymore I just feel like time is something I’m constantly fighting against, trying to slow it down, trying to beat the clock, and get as much done as I possibly can, but failing to more often than I’d like.

I need a fountain of youth. Unfortunately that doesn’t exist and I know that any attempts at finding one would be an even bigger waste of time. But all of this gets me to thinking about how many people have died without finishing so many of their goals in life. That’s probably most of us. And what sort of goals will we have in our next lives? Of course, that’s the great unknown. Maybe that’s sort of my struggle there, though—I don’t know what exactly waits ahead. I think maybe that’s what scares me more than anything. I could live a long life and accomplish most of the things I’ve wanted to, I could live a long life and accomplish next to nothing, or I could live a short life and get very little done. And I don’t know what to expect in the next life. Maybe I’m just thinking too much on the here and now, worrying on it, when I should be keeping in mind that Heaven, whatever it turns out to be, will assuredly be better than anything of this life here on Earth. Regardless, the thought of dying does bother me, and with each passing year, I see that final second growing closer and closer, and wishing it was still miles ahead.

Christmas, Margaritas, Movies, and the End of the World

Well, we’re still here. According to certain Mayan scholars and the like, the world was supposed to have ended sometime a couple of days ago, on December 21, 2012. I am glad to say they were wrong.

It always fascinates me how people can get so tore up about such predictions. I personally hold them as a curiosity, but always keep in mind the biblical teaching that no one will know when the end will come, except for Father God himself. There are far less worries with that in mind.

So, the other day my brother and I went Christmas shopping—believing the end of the world would probably not come as predicted and we’d still see another Christmas. It was a nice outing, though I was a little frustrated by the fact that EVERYWHERE we went to that usually has Candleberry Candles was either sold out or no longer carries them; I always get my Mom one of those candles for Christmas—she keeps one burning at all times (I’ve asked other members of the family to help me find one, so hopefully that’ll happen before Christmas). I also had some trouble finding something for my grandpa. In his case, I just had no idea what to get him.

Outside of shopping, we also went to see the movie, Lincoln. That turned out to be a really good movie. Daniel Day Lewis was perfect as Lincoln. He did a fantastic job. And it was very interesting just seeing how the Thirteenth Amendment got passed—seems like they had just as much trouble passing anything decent back then as we do nowadays.

And then I have to mention that we ate out at one of our favorite restaurants: Sonny's. I got my usual, but decided to add something I hadn’t before. I ordered a margarita. It was a bit salty, but extremely tasty nonetheless. I have to admit, I absolutely love margaritas. If I were ever to become a full blown lush, I’m sure it would be because of them. On that point, I will affirm that I have never been drunk, and never plan on being drunk. I’ve seen enough drunks in my lifetime to know that that doesn’t appeal to me in the least. But I am not opposed to a drink every once in a while and freely admit that my favorite of all drinks is in fact the margarita. Seeing that Christmas is coming up, I felt the need to celebrate and let loose a little though. I also bought a few bottles of it for later consumption. Keep in mind it is only for moderate, celebratory purposes (please don’t anyone else decide to drink and get stupid this Christmas).  :)

On Saturday, the whole family went to see the Hobbit. It, too, was a really good movie. It was a bit long though. Even though I was enjoying every minute of it, my backside was screaming to get out of its seat before it was all over.

Tomorrow, my Mom’s side of the family will be getting together for Christmas. The day after that, on Christmas Day, my Dad’s side will be getting together. I’m looking forward to both events. I think we all are. It’s been kind of a hard year in a lot of ways, so the comfort of being around family, with gifts and food and games and the like is all very welcomed.

In a very real way, I wish there could be at least a couple of more weeks until Christmas. It seems like it’s come about way too soon this year. I haven’t really had as much of a chance to watch certain Christmas movies I always try to watch, or listened to as many of the Christmas songs I’d like to have. And then I’ve just been so busy with so many things that it’s been hard just to clear my mind and actually absorb in that we are in the Christmas season. And I know I’m going to miss seeing all the Christmas lights and decorations once it’s over—there have been some beautiful ones this year. I suppose this is just a part of getting older though. I’ve always heard older people say similar things. I’d just never really felt so much like that before though. To be honest, the whole last year, time seems to have become a very huge commodity to me. I wish I had so much more of it.

Anyway, I am excited that it is Christmas. I’m glad to have family and friends to have been spending time with lately. I’m glad for the plans we’ve made, and will hopefully be able to keep. I’m glad the world hasn’t come to an end just yet. I’m glad to have a savior so that we can have such a holiday as this. I’m just glad for all of it.

And to all of you, I wish a very Merry Christmas.

Beginnings (Reflecting on the Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting)

There are a lot of beginnings in life. We are born, to begin with. We learn to walk and talk, to feed ourselves, and to play. We go to school and learn new things. We make friends. We learn to drive a car. We get our first job. We graduate. We get girlfriends or boyfriends. We have our first drink. We get our first career focused job. We get married. We make love for the first time. We have kids. We move to a new place. We build our first home. We have grandkids. The list of beginnings can be long and varied, to say the least.

Last Friday, 27 people were killed in Newtown, Connecticut by a single gunman. 27 people saw not what could have been another beginning in life, but the sudden and very tragic end of their lives instead. Most of them were children as young as five and six years old.  As someone who works with kids, I can’t even begin to imagine anyone being capable of walking into a classroom full of kids that age and killing them one by one. It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

When I wrote my last post, I had no idea how relevant it would be. I talked about all the things teachers have to go through, including the violence that sometimes occurs. I didn’t get as descriptive as I could have though. I didn’t say that we prepare ourselves for the possibility of some lunatic coming into the school with the intent of causing harm. I didn’t mention that when a person does enter a school with such intent, that we teachers are usually the first line of defense for students at threat. It is our job to protect students at any cost. The educators at Sandy Hook Elementary bravely did just that, some of them to the point of giving their own lives in order to protect their students.

I know many people are already talking about us needing stronger gun control laws in this country. Maybe we do. But I think there is a better solution. Any lunatic wanting to cause people harm will find a way to accomplish that goal—gun or no gun. How many traffic accidents have to occur at the intersection before lights are put up? How many school shootings (and those at other locations) do we have to endure before people get serious about fixing this problem?

As an educator, there are a few simple things I can think of that would improve school safety.

1) Every school should have lock down procedures.

2) Every school principal should be licensed to carry a gun, which should be kept locked in his or her office until needed. They should be trained in how to use the gun and should undergo a psychological examination every month or two to determine whether or not they are still fit to have the gun.

3) Every teacher should be allowed a can of mace, or pepper spray, to use on anyone trying to enter their classroom with intent to cause harm to students.

4) Every school should be equipped with bullet proof glass foyers consisting of two sets of doors to pass through. Metal detecting devices should be placed around the first set of doors. If a person passes through them, setting off the devices, both sets of doors should automatically lock, preventing the person from either entering or leaving the school until security can be called.

5) Local law enforcement should patrol every school at least three times a day, and at random times.

6) No unauthorized persons should be allowed on school grounds during school hours.

7) Schools should be fully funded at all times to prevent lapses in security, such as limited personnel and a lack of security devices/monitoring.

8) Students should complete psychological evaluations at least once a month, where they are asked questions such as whether or not they like school; if not, then why not; what is their favorite subject in school, and why; what is their least favorite subject, and why; is there anyone at school bullying or bothering them; do they think people like them or not; do they consider themselves happy or unhappy, and why; did they eat breakfast this morning; did they eat supper last night; do they like their mom and/or dad; if not, then why not; if they could change anything about themselves, what would they change; and if they could change anything about school, what would they change. Answers to these sorts of questions could tell teachers so much about their students, from abuses that may be going on, to the mindset of the students, to even helping determine students at risk academically and the possible reasons behind that.

From a societal standpoint, I would argue that we have in a lot of ways not only lost our morals, but ran from them completely. As a nation, we have to return to Christ. And those of us already belonging to him must do a better job of introducing him to others. If we keep drifting further and further away, more and more events like the one that happened at Sandy Hook will continue to happen. And they’ll happen much more frequently as well. We should allow prayer in schools again. We should put the Ten Commandments back in the classrooms and in the public sphere. We should always and forever teach students the greatest of all rules: to do unto others as they would want others to do unto them. We should restrict the level of sex and violence portrayed on TV. We should do more to promote sustainable families as well. I can’t imagine what it does to some of these kids nowadays growing up with parents divorced, parents remarrying (and sometimes more than once), having to live here or there, getting and then sometimes losing step brothers and sisters—I mean, what sort of home life is that? We must also figure out better ways of handling mental health issues. I don’t only feel sorrow for the victims of what happened in Newtown. I feel sorrow for Adam Lanza, the shooter, too. According to many reports, he had Asperger’s Syndrome, which may have led him to have feelings that would allow him to do what he did. We need to do more as a society to help those struggling—with whatever problem/s they face.

And then there is the question of weapons. Personally, I don’t have a problem with banning some assault weapons. I know some gun enthusiasts would disagree with me, but I simply fail to see any logical reason for needing those sorts of guns, outside of just wanting a thrill. I’m sure a person could get a thrill from setting off a nuclear device as well, but that doesn’t mean people should be allowed to purchase and have them. I think the same applies to assault weapons. The only exception I would agree to would be if we were in a time of war, in which a foreign enemy was likely to invade our country. I know some people resist assault weapons bans out of paranoia or precaution against a possible takeover by our own government, but I would argue that the possibility of that happening is slim to none, and even if it did, we’d have plenty of other means of fighting back. But the greatest argument is that in allowing these weapons to be on the streets, we’re causing much more harm in the present than what has to be. That being the case, we should do our best to get rid of them. I don’t believe, however, that we should go to an extreme and begin banning just any and all weapons. I do believe we should preserve our right to bear arms as much as possible. I just don’t believe we should allow weapons that enable more violence in our society than that which is necessary; or to put it more simply, that cause more harm than good.

My heart goes out to all those involved in the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary. I can’t imagine the amount of grief and sadness the community there is experiencing. I can’t imagine what the family and friends of those who were murdered are going through. This was an unspeakably evil act, and I can only hope one that will never be repeated. If we can actually begin taking these sorts of threats seriously and finally take some sort of meaningful action against them, then we may see a real decrease in the number of these sorts of horrific acts taking place. Otherwise we may as well get used to the norm, because that is quickly what this is becoming.

In our sadness as a nation, let me leave you with this: a nation is only as great as the degree to which it takes care of its sick, its weak, its dying, its elderly, its young, and all those others who are unable to take care of themselves. We clearly have much more work to be done.

Teachers

 

Those who can, do. Those who can’t…

I think most teachers wonder about how their students will turn out later in life. Some students struggle and always will. Some students struggle, but only for a while. Some students never struggle, but will as they grow up. Some students are wild and stay wild. Some students are wild, but learn to calm down. Some students are calm, but become wild. Some are quiet and shy and stay that way. Some are quiet and shy and grow out of it, finding their voice and self-confidence as they mature. Some are loud and outspoken, but somehow learn to shy away. Some students are mean and uncaring, and won’t ever change. Some students are mean and uncaring, but eventually learn kindness and concern for others. Some students are kind and caring, but with time, they lose those traits. Some students are thin and stay thin. Some students are thin and become fat. Some students are fat, stay fat, or become thin. Some students will become liberal as they grow up, while some become conservative. Some will be Christians, and some won’t. Some will turn out to be straight, and some will be gay, bisexual, or transgendered. Some will be short, and some will be tall. Some will keep their hair, while others become bald or gray-haired.  Some will live long lives, and some will live short ones. Some of these things you can have a pretty good idea about, too, but you can often be surprised—for the best and the worst. It amazes me to know how accurate some teacher’s predictions have been—you don’t have to work as a teacher for very long to see how certain things in a child’s life can impact their futures.

I often wonder about the students I teach; not just what will happen to them in the future, but in the present as well. I wonder if the smart girl in class who always raises her hand to answer the questions will always be so smart. I wonder if the shy kid who can barely speak above a whisper will always be so shy. I wonder if the effeminate boy will grow up to be gay or bullied because of it. I wonder if the little boy or the little girl who always complains about being hungry will find any food to eat at night. I wonder if any of my students are being abused. I wonder if any of them have done things already in their young lives they’ll always regret. I wonder about all of them, and try my best to help them in whatever way I can.

Most teachers I know do worry and care about their students. In a lot of cases we’re the only ones who do. It frustrates me to no end when I hear people talk about teachers as though we’re the scum of the earth. I hear people talk about how stupid teachers are, how selfish they are, how uncaring they are, and it just makes me want to pull my hair out. To anyone who thinks those things, I say to them: you come to school day after day, spend as much time with these kids as we do, go through all the things we teachers have to go through, and tell me then that we don’t know anything, are selfish, and don’t care. The overwhelming majority of us do care. We care a great deal! I’m only a substitute teacher and I’ve spent a great deal of my own money and outside time to help students one way or another. I see teachers spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars every year out of their own pockets to help their students. I see teachers stay after school to help students with their homework, set up activities for the next day, attend meetings to learn new content or meet with parents, putting in days as long as ten to twelve full hours long just to help make a positive difference in the lives of their students. I see teachers put up with pay cuts, loss of benefits, uncooperative parents, media that just wants to run them down no matter what they do, cussing and physical violence from students, and administrators and politicians who in most cases don’t know their own asses from their elbows about education, who always want to change everything on every little whim, and without any input from the teachers who have to implement their ideas and know above all others what actually works and doesn’t work in the classroom.

We teachers put up with a lot. But there’s a reason we do that. We do it because we love teaching and because we care about our students. We do it because we want to impact our students in a positive way, to help them learn and improve their lives as much as we can. We wonder what will be in the future for them, and we try to make that future the best possible outcome we can help make.

I enjoy teaching immensely. I love my students and care a great deal about them. I worry about many of them. I want them to have the best education in all regards, but I know that is too often not what they’re getting. When supplies run out in the Spring; or when assistants who do so much to help the students have to be let go; or when classrooms designed for twenty to twenty-five students at most become crammed with thirty or more; or when parents refuse to help their child/children with homework, feed them adequately, provide them with decent clothing, supplies, or any sort of stable home life; or when a child is being, or has been, abused; or when the standards have been changed, dumbing down the content and leaving so much out; or when good teachers decide to give up under all the pressure; or when a student gives up on himself/herself, which breaks my heart to see happen, I know the students aren’t getting what they need under any of those very common circumstances. Every day, in so many ways, is a reminder of how lucky I was growing up. I would never proclaim to be the smartest person in the world, or to have always had the best. When I was very young, I actually struggled a great deal in school and often had limited resources. As I got older, I caught up though, despite any limitations. I thank my parents and many of my teachers for doing so much to help me catch up. They worked with me and inspired me to be something better.

Those who can, do. Those who can’t… certainly do not teach, and have no place in education. To teach, you must do so very much. You must know the content, know how to use multiple teaching strategies, manage classroom behavior, plan your lessons, communicate well with your students, parents, and coworkers, give of your own time and money on many occasions, be responsible at all times, and challenge your students to go above and beyond. You are often not just a teacher, but a parent as well. You are a role model and an example for which your students can look up to. But above all the things you do, you must first and foremost always care. Most all teachers I know do care—that’s why they became teachers in the first place. I just wish so many more people would recognize this.

Waiting for Someday...

 

“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” Psalm 27:14

Have you ever known someone who constantly says one day they’ll do this or that, or have this or that, or be this or that? You know the sort that’s always looking ahead at how they’d like their lives to be, rather than enjoying or accepting what they have and what they are in the here and now? Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m one of those people.

I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately. I’ve been looking at my life and thinking about goals and dreams and looking back to see how far or how little I’ve traveled toward achieving those things. I have to say I haven’t traveled nearly as far as I’d have liked to, and I’m beginning to feel rather impatient about it. I’m tired of waiting.

When I went back to school, I only had two years to finish up. I kept telling myself it was such a short amount of time, and that once it was over I’d be able to find a better job. Four years later I’m out of school, graduated, but still no better job. I will probably not get a better job until the end of this school year, so I can really add another year to that four, which just equals more waiting. I’m getting very impatient about this (and this isn’t the only example I could give).

I know when I get that better job I might have enough money to get my own place, travel a bit, have summers off to write, and do quite a few other things as well. I keep thinking about these things and hoping for the day when I’ll be able to have them. I keep waiting for someday.

I know we don't always get what we want in life, and God’s timing isn’t always our own. I also know I can be happy without achieving all my wants. But it does get rather frustrating at times when it seems like progress in life is so slow that the snails are passing you by. And that’s how I feel anymore. My efforts aren’t enough, things aren’t progressing, and I’m just waiting…

The Harms and Benefits of Reparative Therapy: You Decide

People have differences of opinions. We hear those differences each day in our conversations with family, friends, coworkers, fellow churchgoers, strangers, and see it and hear it on television in the shows that we watch, in the news, and in speeches from our elected politicians. We each get it into our minds that one thing or another is more right than something else. We each look at certain thoughts or opinions of others to be more wrong than our own. We each like to believe that what holds us together in our thoughts and actions are right. This is true most of the time whether we actually are in the right or not. Most people don’t like to be wrong. This can inevitably cause a lot of heated exchanges between people. We get frustrated in our lack of understanding, or angry at the opposing views that just don’t make sense to us. But, do we have to have such heated exchanges in order to present our ideas or beliefs to others? No. If we get into such conversations, we can do so with a sense of civility. If we are willing to keep our hearts and minds open to the concerns of others, to actually listen and attempt to understand their views, and be respectful to them in this process, then such heated exchanges should not take place. And if they do take place, forgiveness can always be offered and asked for.

I like to understand. I don’t like being wrong about something. It is the very reason why I have changed my mind on so many things throughout my lifetime. And there have been a lot of things I have been wrong about (and will probably continue to be wrong about). I can admit that.

Having such a mindset, it doesn’t bother me to engage in debates or arguments with others (I do try to keep them as civil as possible though, because those sorts of exchanges are the best to learn from). When I do that, I’m not doing it in order to prove anyone wrong, or to set myself up as being right. I just want to know if I’m wrong so that I can stop promoting stupidity on my part. The reason I don’t like to be wrong about something, is because I know if I am wrong, that could have some influence on someone else and cause them to be wrong or hurt somehow. I’ve never liked the thought of leading someone astray. And so, at times, I test my thoughts by trying to better understand those who oppose me.

There are a lot of reasons to believe that reparative therapy is wrong. I can fully understand why so many people would say that it’s a very terrible thing and should never be used or promoted. If you read my last post carefully, you will see that it is not something I would ultimately promote as a best course of action for anyone struggling with their sexuality. There are alternatives that can help so much more in the grand scheme of things.

I know a lot of people have been hurt in some very drastic emotional and physical ways because of certain reparative therapy techniques. People have undergone electric shock treatments, hypnosis, been given drugs, and even experienced religious exorcizing to remove the demons that cause homosexuality. Some people have even been beaten or whipped, food deprived, and sleep deprived in attempts to rid them of their “wicked thoughts/ways”. There have been a lot of such abuses. And I would call all of these things abuses, because they really cannot do any good whatsoever for a person experiencing any sort of struggle with their sexuality. These only cause harm to a person’s emotional and physical well-being. That being the case, I would wholeheartedly agree that any of these forms of reparative therapy should be banned and never promoted in any fashion whatsoever. I would find it hard to believe anyone wishing to free themselves of homosexuality would ever consider or give much thought to these techniques anyway. Even if they did, they should be discouraged.

But, these are not the only forms of reparative therapy.

Some techniques simply involve helping homosexual men who feel different or cut off from straight men to realize that they are not that different. This can include teaching a sport to homosexual men who may never have engaged in sports before because they felt pushed away or not good enough to participate in any of them. And I can tell you, when a homosexual adult man or teen learns to play and realizes they can play just as good as any straight guy, maybe even better than some of those straight guys who called them weak or pussies, that can make all the difference in the world to them. It builds self-confidence, a sense of belonging, and that sense of acceptance for themselves as a valid person/man. And it can teach that man is not necessarily their “other”.

Another technique may be to help a very effeminate man to realize that his effeminacy does not make him less of a man. A lot of straight guys are effeminate. And so, to teach this, gender roles and how society looks at such roles (including the changing mindsets of such things over time) fairly or unfairly may be discussed. That effeminate gay teen may realize he is no less a man and not gay simply because he is effeminate. He may become more comfortable just being himself.

Some techniques simply involve helping a person to trust God, and to fully accept His will over their own. Sometimes it can be incredibly difficult to abstain from something you physically and/or emotionally want. So, learning to pray for strength, for a way out of certain situations, and learning to ask for forgiveness if you do fall, can help a person a whole lot.

And then there are personal pains. Everyone has them, but not everyone handles their pain in the same way. I personally believe I became gay not just by genetics, but also because of certain environmental influences. Reparative therapy can be focused on dealing with those environmental influences. If you believe you became gay, in part, because you were, in a sense, rejected by those of your own gender, or because you reacted wrongfully in certain ways to being physically or emotionally abused, or because you rejected your own gender or the roles defined to your gender for certain reasons, then there is probably going to be a great deal of pain associated with that. Certain reparative therapies simply work at helping a person to deal with that pain in better ways than maybe he or she did in the past.

Teaching in itself is a form of therapy. Teaching people to love themselves as God loves them. Teaching people better ways to resist sinning. Teaching people better, more healthier ways of relating to others. Teaching people to forgive. Teaching people that their past doesn’t have to define them. All of these things can be very good for a struggling person.

People have differences of opinions. And that is okay. Some people believe all reparative therapies should be banned. I do not. I think if allowing a person the opportunity to do something that they believe will help them to grow in their faith in God and be a better person, then that should be allowed (so long as they aren’t hurting others). Some people who have undergone reparative therapy has hated it and wished that they’d have never participated with it. Other people have undergone it and believed it was the best thing they ever could have done. Who is right and who is wrong? Can they both be right?

I said in my last post that I am stubborn at times. I know this is true about me. And it was very true concerning one issue a few years back. I believed it was a sin to be gay. I didn’t trust anyone who said otherwise. I didn’t change my beliefs until I sought out and underwent reparative therapy. I don’t say that because the therapy didn’t help me. I say that because a lot of the therapy did help me. It allowed me to see that I’m not as different as I thought I was. It allowed me to feel more comfortable in my own skin. It allowed me to deal with a lot of pain I’d kept bottled up for many years. It allowed me to grow in my Christian faith. And it allowed me to eventually come to a conclusion that God isn’t as concerned about my sexuality as He is having a relationship with me. It helped me to better understand.

I thank God for all those people who helped me. First and foremost, I thank my Exodus counselor, Paul. He was a friend, first and foremost. He was always willing just to listen and to let me make up my own mind. And when he did push me, he pushed me to worry more about healing from past pains, relating better to others, and building my faith than on trying to change my sexuality. He was honest enough up front to tell me up front that even though it was possible for my sexuality to change, there was no guarantee that it would.

This was my experience with reparative therapy. And this is why I think it would be very bad not to allow people an opportunity to change. We allow people to try to change nearly whatever else they dislike about themselves, from hair and eye color, to the shape of their teeth and facial features, to weight, and so forth. And on some of those things, people realize, over time, that what they had to begin with really was best. The brunette trying to be a blond may decide after a few years that being a brunette really is what’s best for them. But how would that person know if they’d never tried being something else? If they’d never tried, they may have at the very least always had it in the back of their mind what could have been. I think it is the same for people who wish to change their sexuality. And what is worse, to allow people an opportunity to change something they dislike about themselves, something that may be very emotionally devastating to them for one reason or another, or to try to force them to accept something about themselves that they may just never be able to fully accept? I think it is better to let them make up their own minds. Let them try if that’s what they think is best for them. If it turns out to be something they like, then that should be looked at as great for them. If it turns out to be something they don’t like, then they can then work to accept how they are and realize their lives can still be good.

Looking back, I know I wouldn’t have been able to accept my homosexuality had I not first sought out help to no longer be homosexual. I really don’t think anyone could have helped me to accept that fact in any other way. I had to go through what I did to reach that conclusion on my own. And I know it is the same for many others. I also know that a lot of others have undergone reparative therapies and have liked whatever changes they have experienced (even if it means they only live as a heterosexual and do not actually become one). These are the reasons why I believe reparative therapies should continue to be allowed. Can they produce harm? Yes. I think in the wrong hands, just about anything can produce harm though. But can they produce something good? Yes.

People have differences of opinions. If a person wants to attempt to undergo reparative therapy, then I think they should be allowed to. This doesn’t mean that we should promote or encourage those techniques that have been used in the past and that have been proven very dangerous though. Nor does it mean we shouldn’t continue to try to show them there is a better way, and that it really is okay if they are attracted to members of the same sex. But if a person thinks changing his or her sexuality will improve their life somehow, then I think it really should be their decision to make. In time, their decision to attempt sexual orientation change will either be proven right, or they will prove themselves wrong. Either way, they should learn what is best for them.

This is for Eric (200th Post)

One thing I’ve always hoped my blog would be is a source of help, hope, and learning for others. I’ve always thought that if people could see the journey I’ve been on and how I’ve responded (both positively and negatively) to the issues I’ve faced in life, then they might find some sense of comfort, understanding, compassion, or hope in their own journeys, and in dealing with others facing similar situations.

With that in mind, I thought it fitting to share Eric’s video (above) with all of you. Here is a man, just 28 years old, dying from leukemia. For the last few years he has been chronicling his battle with that disease online. He has brought much awareness to what all a person with leukemia goes through, and has even raised money to help others who are going through it as well.

I can’t imagine the sort of emotions he is facing right now. Stress, worry, fear, panic, anger, frustration… what else? Hopelessness? Maybe a growing sense of peace?

When I think of dying, fear is usually one of the first things I think about. I fear death. I fear it because I don’t know what will happen. As a Christian, I believe I’ll go to Heaven and be with God and family and friends. But even in believing these things, death is something that frightens me. There are things I want to be able to experience in this world before I die. There are people I don’t want to feel sad or to be burdened by me no longer living. I wonder if it will hurt, or if I’ll know what is happening when it happens. Or if I’ll even be able to be brave about it. And then I have to admit that I also worry about being wrong. What if there really is no God and no Heaven, and once this life is gone, that’s it? That in the end, all that we are is lost in a single moment.

I like being planned and knowing, or at least being able to anticipate, what is going to happen. Death doesn’t exactly cooperate with me in that. I don’t know when I will die. And I don’t know how it will happen. I don’t even know what exactly will happen when it happens. It is all just an unknown. And even though it is certainly a part of life—to someday die—it is still something which I think most of us would agree we do not look forward to. Most of us would rather live. But when you know you are about to die, that must be incredibly difficult; especially when you are young, knowing there is so much more to life that you could experience, but won’t.

My heart aches for Eric. I know sometimes I get really down because of some of the things I’ve gone through/go through, but none of that is comparable to what Eric has faced. He has battled his illness for years, and now it is finally claiming his life. I wish he could get better. I’m going to be praying for him to get better, somehow. But if he doesn’t, I know the matter is in God’s hands. I believe firmly that everything happens for a reason. We may not always know what that reason is, but I believe God is at work in all things that we do and in all that happens to us. He can use anything bad of this world and transform it into something so good that it is beyond anything we could ever imagine. I just hope He will grant Eric some level of peace, hope, and understanding, and that he will know how his living has made a positive impact on others.

Please all of you pray for Eric and his family. I’d say they could really use our prayers right now.

A Good Life

Do I have a good life?

Let me think on that for a moment…

I have a roof over my head.  I have more clothes than I really need.  I daily have something to eat and drink.  I have friends and family who love and care about me.  I get to work with children who each day do something joyful and uplifting.  I have two nephews that I absolutely love spending time with.  I usually can find some time during the day for my talents and interests.  I’ve been able to travel many different places.  I have good memories that often flood my mind.

Overall, yes, I would say that I have a good life.

So why have I felt down so much of the time lately?

To begin with, I get tired of being patient.  I have dreams and goals that I am constantly working on and, after awhile, I can get tired of what seems to be a lack of progress toward achieving those things.  Especially on those which have taken years at this point.  For instance, four years ago I decided to go back to school to become a teacher.  I only needed two and half years to graduate, so the last year and a half I’ve been looking for someplace to hire me.  It is a wait that was far from expected when I went back to school.  In the meantime, I have been substitute teaching, worrying that every little move I make will be looked at badly somehow by the very people who could potentially hire me.  Little to say, this has been stressful.

I have also been coping with the loss of my grandma.  Everything in the last few months has been a first without her—the first Christmas, New Years, falling snow, Easter, spring, summer.  It is hard experiencing so many things without her when she was such a huge part of those things before.  She lived right across the road from us, and so every time I look out front of the house it has been difficult.  We’ve been to her house many times as well to take out her belongings.  I keep expecting her to show up any minute to look out the door and wave hello or goodbye to us.  I keep expecting to see her go to the mailbox, or walk her dog in the yard, or come across the road to do a little gardening.  When we’re in her house, I keep expecting to see her come around each corner or to say something from the next room.  And I’m reminded of all those many times I saw and heard her do those things.  I miss my grandma terribly.  And I keep wondering if she knew what was happening at the end.  How much pain was she in?  Did she know it was going to be the end of her life?  Did she have hope?  What was going through her mind?  Was there anything she still needed or wanted to tell us before she went?  Is she in Heaven?  What if Heaven really doesn’t exist and everything she was is now gone forever?

I’d give everything and then some to have her back.

And then I’ve struggled with some of my religious beliefs lately.  I really don’t think I believe it’s wrong for people to be in homosexual relationships anymore.  My mind isn’t completely made up on the matter, but the more I look at it, the more I’m convinced that the arguments against homosexuality are severely loosely based.  When you put everything together, it all just comes across so much more like a series of misunderstandings and prejudice than anything else.  Why would God mind if I fell in love with another man, chose to live with him the rest of my life, to share everything of my life with him, including my sexuality?  What is so wrong with that?

You know, I hear people so much of the time try to devalue homosexual relationships.  I think that’s wrong.  If they’re sinful, then they’re sinful.  That’s all, and that’s all that should be said if that’s true.  But to say that no two men can love each other like that, that no two men could have a healthy life together, that no two men could actually produce something together through sexual means (to achieve a stronger bond, level of affection, love, and commitment for each other), I think it’s all just shameful.  Do we say that all heterosexual relationships are wrong because of prostitution, drug use, open marriages, premarital sex, or divorce?  No.  We say that each of those things individually is bad, but we never use those things as reasons to devalue and demoralize all of a particular type of relationship.  So, why do so many do that when it concerns homosexual relationships?  Not all homosexuals are just out for sex alone.  Believe it or not, some of us actually do want A RELATIONSHIP.  Sex would only be a part of such a thing, but not the entirety of it.

I’m just tired of feeling different all the time.  I want to be able to do what everyone else does.  I don’t want to hide who I am, or be afraid of people knowing me.  I want to go on dates and be romantic every once in a while.  It’d be nice to have a steady boyfriend even.  I’m just so sick of the course I’ve been on.  I don’t want to do it anymore.  I’m so physically, emotionally, and even spiritually exhausted from it.

I’m gay.  I didn’t ask to be, I’ve never wanted to be, but I just am.  It is something that encompasses a large part of my personality and how I interpret and view the world.  It’s not something I can just turn off, like the flick of a switch, or hide, as if I’m some sort of freak.  I’ve tried doing that and it just doesn’t work.  I can’t make it work.  And, frankly, I don’t want it to work because if it did I’d no longer be me.

Isn’t this what Jesus’ mission was all about though?  We can try and try and try, and fail and fail and fail on our own, and never make things right.  But with Jesus, He makes it right even when we can’t.  We’re not given an open license to sin, but when we just can’t make a go of it on our own, God understands.  That’s the whole reason Jesus’ death was so important, so that we could be offered a means of forgiveness that isn’t dependent upon ourselves, or what actions we’re able to do, but dependent upon God and what He is able and willing to do for us.  God knew we just couldn’t do it on our own.  Right now, I don’t think I can do what I’ve been doing anymore.  I can’t keep hiding who I am, pretending I don’t like what I like, and killing myself little by little in the process.  If God’s going to accept me, He’s just going to have to accept also that I’m gay.  If He wants me to be something different then He’s going to have to send down some sort of lightning bolt or something, because nothing I’ve done has worked.

I’m so angry all the time.  Really, if I had to describe how I’ve felt lately, these are the words I’d use: angry, lonely, worried, sad, afraid, bitter, confused.  To be honest, this is one of the worst bouts of depression I’ve ever felt, and it’s lasted about the longest.  I feel very confused.  I’m angry and frustrated that certain things are the way they are.  I’m sad at the loss of certain things.  I’m worried, scared, and hopeless seeing what options seem to be presented for my future.  And I’m just so tired.

A few days ago I asked a friend if he’d want to be my boyfriend.  It was the first time in my life I ever asked someone out like that.  Anytime I was ever with anyone before, it either just happened or they asked me first.  This time I did the asking.  I wasn’t surprised when he turned me down.  Nor was I surprised by how gentle and nice he was in doing so.  But I was and am a little disheartened by the rejection.  I’m okay though because I know we’ll still be good friends, and I value our friendship too much to let something like this ruin it.  The possibility of us being together, and the drive to want to love him in such a way, though, just consumed me to the point that I had to ask him.  I was drawn to him because of how great his friendship has been to me.  I think he is such a great person in my life, and I honestly can’t think of anyone better to be with.  If I were to ever be in a relationship, I would hope it would be with someone like him, built on such a great level of friendship, love, and common interests.

And in all of this and more I’ve just felt so withdrawn from everyone.  Some of this has been unwanted, but some of it, too, has been forced.  I just haven’t felt the strength to be around anyone much. 

A friend wrote to me on my facebook page a few days ago that it really was time for me to update it.  I took his advice and decided to do so.  This began a conversation between the two of us, and also began two other conversations with friends I hadn’t talked to for awhile now.  The new status also got a few likes.  What my friend did was humble me out of a state of isolationism, which I’ll thank him for.  It was a blessing.

I’ve been told by people before that I need to break out of my shell more.  I know I guard my privacy more than I should.  And when I’m feeling down I tend to converge within myself and just totally keep myself in a state of seclusion.  Then I whine around thinking I don’t have friends or people who want to be around me, when in reality I do.

I know, overall, I do have a good life.  A lot of things are really good.  And I do have a lot of things to look forward to.  But I know I just really want and need for certain things to be different.  I want to work to make things different.  And when it comes to relationships, I really don’t want to care anymore if it happens to be with another man.  In all the vastness of everything, I really just don’t think that it matters.  If it does, then I trust God will lead me to a better understanding of it all.  And in whatever I do, I will continue to seek out His wisdom and guidance.