Reparative Damage--Part Two

As promised, here is part 2. This is the part where the title "reparative damage" comes into play. I do not claim to know everything about "reparative therapy". Growing up a gay Christian always left me with the burning question: If being gay is so bad, why can't I change? Here's my story of trying to change. This is a long post and is only my experience.

When I consider the amount of prayer I've done asking God to change my sexual orientation, I figure I've prayed a minimum of several thousand hours hoping that God would change my sexuality. I've done at least 5 Daniel fasts and at least 15 traditional fasts. I've read the Bible cover to cover no less than 6 times. I've read the book of Romans at least 20 times. I have 67 undergraduate credits and 51 graduate credits in theology, the Bible, and Christianity for a total of 118 credits and nearly 2,000 hours of classroom learning and many more outside of the classroom. All of my efforts to change my sexuality never changed a thing. So, eventually, I pursued "reparative therapy". Before talking about "reparative therapy", let me back up a moment to what brought me to that point.

After doing my associate’s degree at a public college, I decided to pursue ministry hoping that would change me. If anything could do it, I was convinced that a deeper understanding of God and the Bible would. At my Christian college, there were multiple times I prayed for hours in the prayer room. I would spend hours in my room sprawled on my floor crying that God would remove being gay from me. I turned back to the rituals. Again, I started sleeping on my floor to punish myself for the gay thoughts. Again, I fasted days on end only drinking water or abstaining from both food and water, and did several “Daniel fasts”. After some time in my studies, I even went kosher for a few months thinking, perhaps I missed something in the Old Testament that would fix my sexuality. I studied the Bible and theology for thousands upon thousands of hours. My waking hours were spent reading theological books, going to theology classes, learning the Bible, learning biblical languages, and working. There wasn’t much time for anything else. I put in hours and hours of effort. I tried daily. I did everything I knew possible. I became inwardly focused on curing myself. It became all about survival. I prayed numerous times a day. Sometimes, numerous times in minutes. I was constantly afraid that I was going to hell. I never felt secure in my salvation. I always worried that, since my sexuality wasn’t changing, I was not saved. Even worse, I became convinced that God had given up on me. Yet, my sexuality never changed. I began to think, if all of these rituals aren't helping, surely further Christian education will.

After graduating from college, the next logical step in Christian education was seminary. I always wanted to help people. Seminary was meant to prepare me to help others and I was also convinced that further study in theology and the Bible would have the added benefit of curing me. I picked a very conservative seminary in the religious tradition I grew up in knowing that, if anything could help me, maybe it would be an even deeper understanding of God and the Bible. Soon, I began to realize that those efforts were also in vain. I had come into ministry wanting to help others, but I couldn’t even help myself get rid of this. If I couldn’t help myself, how could I help others? I remember breaking down in tears in class multiple times. I would always blame it on something else, but the underlying issue was that my sexuality still would not budge even an inch—no matter how much effort I put into things. I felt that I was unsaved. I was hopeless. God had given up on me. If God had given up on me, how could I lead others to God? I sank into a deep despair. I began to feel completely disenfranchised in my first year of seminary and, that summer, I made the decision not to return to that fall. Seminary wasn't helping. Perhaps something else would.

I became suicidal and sank into the deepest depression I could have imagined. That's when I began counseling. While counseling helped a little bit in coping with additional stressors, I never opened up to my counselor about my sexuality. This was a secret I would keep for a few more years. As I learned to cope a little better with stress and began taking anti-depressants, things improved slightly, but not much. After two hospitalizations and a year of counseling, I returned to seminary online and through intensive on campus courses. I became more determined to finish seminary and find a cure for my sexuality. At the same time, I began pursuing other fields to help myself and others. First, I applied to and was accepted into a Master of Arts in Family Studies program. I went to the first day of class, realized I would never be able to use the degree to counsel others, and began searching again. It was at this point that I applied to a Master of Arts in Counseling and a Master of Social Work--both at conservative Christian schools. If rituals, a conservative education, and prayer weren't helping, surely counseling would. I was accepted into both programs. Since over 50% of therapists in the United States are actually MSWs and that’s the most billable counseling/psychotherapy degree out there, I decided to pursue the MSW. I would have a degree that would be great for my goals of helping others and, since it's a degree to do therapy, I thought that would hold the secret cure.

A year into the MSW, I realized that even using counseling skills, my sexuality wasn't changing. I needed additional help. That's when my journey to "reparative therapy" began. I did the only thing I could think to do. I called "Focus on the Family". They sent me all of the books on how to change your sexual orientation, how being gay is bad, and referred me to Exodus International. It seemed it was my last hope. I devoured the books. I read each of them cover to cover. Still, nothing. Most of them blamed my parents saying they had damaged me in some way. The problem was, my parents loved me. Sure they weren’t perfect, but no parents are perfect. They raised me well. They raised me to care for others, to put God first, to have good values. I read all the books and, even though I disagreed that my parents were to blame, I pursued "reparative therapy" anyway.

At the recommendation of Exodus International**, I began seeing a Dr. Sutton. He was the former president of NARTH (National Association for the Relief and Treatment of Homosexuality) and he came highly recommended. From the beginning, he would tell me how this was part of his ministry. He would tell me how his ministry and calling was to help sexual minorities. I began to see him toward the end of my first year in the MSW--about a year and a half before I would graduate with my both my MSW and MTS (Master of Theological Studies).

I would go to class on Mondays all day, get out of class, drive down to South Bend, and see Dr. Sutton for an hour every single week. From the start of treatment in “reparative therapy”, I realized things seemed a bit strange. Dr. Sutton told me from the beginning that I would most likely never stop having same sex attraction. He said some were born gay (attracted to the same sex), but that being gay was still a sin (acting in any way on those attractions). His theory was that some are born with same sex attraction, but bad parenting makes it worse. Furthermore, some people could be turned gay just by having bad parents. It seemed from sessions with Dr. Sutton that he believed the more gay you were, the worse parents you had. I know plenty of straight people who had terrible parents. I also know plenty of gay people who had good parents. Again, I rejected that my parents were fully to blame, but I bought into therapy hoping it would be the fix.

Therapy revolved around two things: 1) my parents messed me up so I needed to find healing from that and 2) accepting that I will always have same sex attraction thoughts, but working to make them less often and less intense. Every session, he would ask me about my childhood and find ways my parents damaged me. I hated the way he always looked to blame my parents. They weren't perfect, but they loved me.

Once he was done bashing my parents, we moved into ways to decrease same sex attraction. We used rubber bands which I used to snap myself every time I had a gay thought. I was also instructed that anytime I had a gay thought, I needed to find some physical need to fill; force myself to sleep, exercise, or eat. According to Dr. Sutton, sexual desire happened in gay people when they weren’t getting their other physical needs met. Of course, while it wasn’t recommended, this led me back to all of the rituals. Again, I became inwardly focused and focused on punishment. My gay thoughts still refused to budge.

Months and months went by seeing Dr. Sutton. Virtually all studies of reparative therapy have shown that it does psychological harm and does not change one's sexual attraction. True to the research, I was still gay and my mental health actually got much worse! I became intensely suicidal. Thoughts of suicide were especially bad every Monday after an appointment with him. Going to a therapist should help you feel better--not like you have nothing to live for. Actually, I considered crashing my car on the highway on the way home from his office after almost every single session. When I lost my dad's Blue Cross insurance after reaching the age 26 cut off, things changed. I got the student insurance through the university where I was getting my MSW and Dr. Sutton refused to accept it. If I wanted to continue with him, he was going to charge me $150 a session. Up to this point, he said "reparative therapy" was his ministry. When I asked if he had a sliding scale, he told me his credentials and implied he was worth more than a sliding scale. So much for it being a ministry. I never went back. My sexuality hadn't changed at all, I had become more suicidal in therapy, and now my "reparative therapist" had given up on me and refused to see me unless I paid him money I didn't have.

Turns out, Dr. Sutton refusing to see me anymore was one of the best things that could have happened.

It was at this point that I realized my same sex attraction thoughts would never stop. When I look back on my experience, I realize that "reparative therapy" was one of the most damaging things that has ever happened to me. I wanted to kill myself after nearly every session. To add insult to injury, he always looked for reasons to blame my family. He was the former president of the organization that claimed to cure people and he acknowledged that I was born gay. He was this expert and, in extensive therapy with him, my sexuality never changed even the slightest.

"You shall know them by their fruits" (Matthew 1:7a). What kind of “fruit” causes suicidal thinking, leads some people to actually take their lives, causes worsening depression, and results in no change in sexual attraction?

When I graduated with both my Master of Social Work and my Master of Theological Studies a few short months later, I began investigating the issue even further. With time, I came to recognize that, from what I could tell, this was biological. Holding onto my secret only further intensified things. If suicide didn't take my life, the depression and anxiety would. I began developing multiple medical disorders from the intensity of the fear and despair. My body began to break down. If I wanted to live much longer, I needed to find out another option. If my body didn't give out, my mind would.

I began a very long process of looking into the Greek New Testament,examining both sides of the issue from a theological and biblical standpoint, reading books upon books that argued both for and against being gay, as well as reading all of the scientific and sociological research I could find. After an intense period of study, I decided my only option was to accept myself the way I was biologically created and come out as a gay Christian. As stated in my previous post, this was the best decision I’ve ever made.

I lost some things:

I lost some friends and relationships. I also gained many more.

I lost some support. I gained a lot more than I lost.

I lost my faith community I grew up in. I also gained an affirming church who helps me grow in faith, has let me teach a class as an openly gay Christian, and is always asking me to help or lead in other ways. 

I also lost something else. I lost the suicide thoughts. They were gone. I haven’t had one since.

Everything I lost made me into a stronger person.

I still have bad days (who doesn’t?), but now I say “It’s a bad day, but if I can get through suicide thoughts almost every single day, I can get through one bad day. It will get better”. It’s amazing what a difference 24-hours can make when you’re having a bad day. I realize that’s not the case for everyone. Some people continue to battle suicide. I still battle depression and anxiety at times, but I no longer have thoughts of suicide. While this may not be the case for everything, that’s my story. Nothing could have been more therapeutic than my coming out journey. It saved my life. As I’ve said before, it was the best “life choice” I could have ever made.

"This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live" (Deuteronomy 30:19).

I chose life. Each day, I choose life. And, I am learning to love it.



**As a side note: At the time I started “reparative therapy”, Exodus International was an organization that referred individuals to "ex-gay ministries" (ministries designed to change your sexual orientation). They were who I called and they were the ones to refer me to Dr. Sutton. Since then, Exodus has closed, apologized for all of the damage they did, the suicides they were responsible for, and recognized that therapy to change one's sexual orientation does not work.

Reparative Damage--Part One

Growing up gay in an anti-gay world is not an easy task. I can’t pretend to know what all gay people experienced in the 1980’s, 1990’s, and 2000’s. It’s no secret that the world is becoming more and more accepting today, but things were not always that way. It is also no secret that we still have a long ways to go. I can only share my experiences growing up gay. I also know that, while I always knew I liked other boys (I didn’t know what it was called until later), I also realize that this is not the experience of all LGBT (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender—and all others) people. I can only share my experiences. I will warn you now, this is going to be post one of two. I’ll be telling of my story up until college in this post and will tell of my experiences after that later. As a therapist, I know it can do good to tell one’s story. This is simply my story and my experiences that brought me to where I am today. At the same time, it is a bit intimidating to put your story out there for the world to see. I am only speaking for myself and no one else.

For those of you who don’t know, growing up knowing that I was gay was a huge challenge. I grew up in a very conservative Christian home. I knew I was gay before I knew what it was called. I knew I liked other boys before I knew it was that “homosexuality” that we heard so much about in church. I don’t remember exactly when I made the connection that “homosexuality”—which was an abomination and disgusting according to the sermons I heard—was what I was experiencing. I know it was around late elementary or early middle school. I knew I was different before that, but I didn’t realize that I was one of those abominations until later. I spent the next 20 years trying to not be one of those reprobates that I heard so much about in church.

My earliest memories include an awareness of which boys I had crushes on in my class. While the other kids were playing house as a mommy and daddy, I felt a little different. At that point, I still hadn’t made the connection that this was that “homosexuality” that was preached against and declared an abomination in church. I was blissfully unaware. Church used a lot of words I didn't understand as a child. I just remember that “uncircumcised” Philistines and “homosexuality” were bad things. I had no clue what they meant. I don’t remember exactly when I finally made the connection. I do remember always having a sense about me that I was different. I remember that sense of being different intensified when I realized that I was one of those "homosexuals" condemned and held up as the worst example of sin.

The worst of things hit around the beginning of middle school. I became intensely more aware that I was different. At the same time, other students also became more and more aware that I was different. They all started having relationships with the opposite sex and I didn’t. All of that contributed to a lot of intense bullying. I was even told to kill myself at one point. Yes, another student actually told me that I was worth so little that I should kill myself. I was told the world would be better off without me. Kids can be quite cruel at that age—if only they realized. In addition, around this time, I became aware that the “homosexuality” they talked about in church and condemned as the worst kind of sin imaginable is what I was experiencing. It was also at this point that my hormones kicked in. It was one of the most confusing and upsetting times in my life.

I began to hate myself for having gay thoughts. I couldn’t control who I was and who I liked. I tried so hard! If I could have changed, I would have. It was during this time that I started having thoughts of suicide. I began to think that I was an abomination and, since I couldn't change, that was a sign that God had given up on me. To use the King James Version language of the Bible “God had given me over to a reprobate mind”. The problem was—I have been this way forever. I began to believe, since I had been given over to a reprobate mind from my earliest memories, I must surely be destined for hell. There was something wrong with me at my very core. God had chosen since birth to give me over to a reprobate mind. The only logical conclusion for me was that God hated me. It was not much of a leap to go from “God has hated me from birth and gave me over to this since birth… so, I’d be better off dead.”

I began to gain awareness that this wasn’t just a phase. My sexuality was not changing. In fact, it was becoming more intense as my hormones kicked in. I began to withdraw. I knew I wasn’t safe at school with bullies. I wasn’t safe at church if someone found out. I had no safe space. It became so intense, my family and doctors even threw around the idea that I had Asperger’s Disorder (a more mild form of Autism) since I appeared to be so shy and withdrawn. If only they knew that my social worries had everything to do with bullying, hiding my sexuality, and feeling like I could never fit in with anyone.

I remember night after night after night during middle and high school that I would come home, hide under my desk, and cry for hours. It was about this time that my rituals began. They became so intense, that I was later diagnosed with OCD. But, I had to be perfect, had to do things just right, had to punish myself for gay thoughts, had to think just right and be just right or I was going to hell. There was no in between. There was no other option. Countless nights, I cried and prayed for hours on end that God would remove this evil from me. I remember lying on my floor in tears and crying until there were no tears left. There were times I literally cried and prayed until my eyes were bloodshot and my face was speckled with red blood spots because of the intensity.

There were times I slept on my floor to punish myself for having gay thoughts. There were times I fasted for days on end only drinking water. I did multiple “Daniel fasts”. I prayed multiple times daily that I would be cured. You know that feeling when you lose something valuable? That panic? The heart racing, adrenaline pumping, muscle tension, intense sense of dread, unrelenting anxiety? That’s how I felt every single day. I was always in survival mode. I was always worried someone would find out. I constantly feared school, home, church—to the point that adults and medical providers noticed how withdrawn and shy I was and considered diagnosing me with Asperger's Disorder. Really, I was living in a constant panic mode afraid to let anyone in lest they find out my big secret.

All in all, I spent thousands upon thousands of hours praying, fasting, doing everything I could hoping I would find the right combination of spirituality that would cure me. That would make God love me again. Nothing worked. Salvation became totally dependent on my works. There was no faith left. It was all about doing the right things. Yet, with all of my efforts, the thoughts never diminished. My sexuality never changed. No matter how much I tried and how much I depended on God, this was something that was not changing. I tried all I could. Yet, this wasn't changing.

I began to become more and more disenfranchised. I began to seek relief in rituals. I then decided to study Biblical Studies, go to seminary, and hope that would change me. If my rituals couldn't do it, surely a deeper understanding of the Bible would... and that's where my story continues in my next post.

Adam and Eve versus Adam and Steve

I’m often asked how I resolve my faith and sexuality. When I get these questions, some of the time, I’m also met with the common phrase “The Bible says ‘Adam and Eve’ not ‘Adam and Steve’”. So, let’s look to the passage ourselves. I'll summarize briefly between verses.

 Genesis 2 (NRSV—verses indented, my words in between verses)

15 The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. 16 And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; 17 but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

God creates the first human and gives him the earth to care for and tend. All of the Garden is good for Adam except for one tree.

18 Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” 

God sees that Adam is not meant to be alone. So, God begins a search for a suitable companion.

19 So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. 20 The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every animal of the field;

According to this story, God created all the animals to try and find a suitable partner for Adam and to help in Adam's loneliness. The whole purpose in this story is to find someone to help Adam in his loneliness—God did not want Adam to be alone.

20 but for the man[c] there was not found a helper as his partner. 21 So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then he took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. 22 And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. 23 Then the man said,“This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh;

Adam says "Finally, another human. This is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh." The fact is: the only reason Eve worked as a helpmate for Adam is she was just like him-a human.

23 this one shall be called Woman, for out of Man this one was taken.” ²⁴ Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh. ²⁵ And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed.

Eve was a woman, yes. But, the point is she was a human. If this were a story about sex, then you are advocating for beastiality. After all, God created animals first as helpmates for Adam. This is about a lonely human who God creates animals for as company and when that doesn't work, God creates another human for him. It's about companionship, not about sex. Otherwise, you're saying God wanted Adam having sex with animals.

If we are to literally read this, this is a story about the first human, Adam. Adam is very lonely as the only being on earth. You see, God saw that Adam was lonely and God tried to find a good companion. (This is often where I insert a witty comment about how the dog was the closest to being man’s companion). In the end, while animals were able to offer some companionship, God saw that Adam wanted the company of another human. This is a story where God understands “It is not good for man to be alone”. It is a story about finding a suitable companion for Adam. God creates animals in God’s efforts to find a suitable companion. 

This isn’t about sex. God isn’t creating animals to fulfill Adam’s sexual needs. God creates them as companions because Adam is alone. That doesn’t work. So, God creates another human being which is finally compatible—not because of sex, but because it is “flesh of my flesh”. It is another human. Being “flesh of my flesh” says nothing about the gender of Eve. It says everything about the fact that Eve is another human. Again, Adam says that he has finally found someone who helps with the loneliness—not because it is a female human, but simply because it was another human. This is a story about human companionship. Humans are not meant to be alone. They are not meant to be forced into isolation. In fact, if we are to read the Genesis story literally, God actually says “It is not good for man to be alone”. 

Humans are not meant to be alone. In God’s efforts to relieve Adam’s discomfort, God creates many animal friends including my friend, the Beaver (who we will affectionately call “the Beave”). They aren’t complete matches since they’re not human. Finally, God creates another human who Adam declares to be suitable because it’s another human. My friends, this passage has just as much to say about “Adam and Beave” as it does about “Adam and Eve”. If you can accept that, you’ll also recognize, it has a lot to say about “Adam and Steve”.