Be forewarned, this may be a controversial topic. I don't mean any offense by what I say. I simply want to share my story.
About
a year ago, I made the final step in coming out. It was a long journey
of accepting myself, learning to love myself, and finding safety in
those I told. I had started the journey a short time before I came out
on Facebook and began by telling the people in my life that I knew were
"safe". It took some courage, but one by one, I told them. Then, the day
came when I finally came out to everyone and received an outpouring of
support. For that, I'm eternally grateful.
But, my
story starts many years before this. Literally, from the moment I knew I
was a human, I have known I liked the other boys in the class. I didn't
know what it was called, but I remember my many crushes throughout the
years. It was when I realized it was called "homosexuality" and began to
hear how it was wrong that the thoughts started. I dealt with thoughts
of suicide on and off for years. It felt as if the world was saying "who
you are is disgusting" and, since I tried over and over to change with
no hope, I came to believe the world would be better off without me.
My battle intensified.
I felt powerless.
I dealt with the pain for years, after years, after years.
I
would have some good days, but many bad days. All along, I tried to
show kindness to others while still hearing messages that made me hate
myself. Eventually, in my last year of Seminary and last year of my MSW,
I sought out a "reparitive therapist". He claimed to be able to cure me
of being gay. He was the former president of NARTH (National
Association for the Relief and Treatment of Homosexuality). If anyone
could be cured, it should be me. I was seeing the best of the best, had
an amazing family, and grew up in a conservative home.
I tried.
I tried so hard.
Every
session went the same--"Your childhood is the issue. You had bad
parents and until you come to grips with that, you'll be gay" was the
message. The problem was, while my parents weren't perfect, they
certainly weren't bad. They loved me. They did their best for me.
I became even more suicidal.
I contemplated crashing my car and ending my life time after time on the way home from that therapist.
It didn't help. In fact, it made things worse.
Finally,
I began to search the Scriptures myself. Guided by my limited two
semesters of Greek, my Greek New Testament, and my Lexicon, I began to
seek answers. I prayed, read as many books as I could, and came to a
different conclusion (if you're interested about my conclusion, feel
free to message me, but I won't go into details right now).
I began to love life.
I began to see the beauty God had to offer in giving life-not in taking it.
I began to love God more fully.
And
guess what? The suicidal thoughts stopped almost completely and almost
immediately. Radically accepting myself for who God created was the
cure. Not changing the unchangeable. So, when people use the phrase
"Life Choice" to describe being gay, I politely agree. Yes. It was LIFE
choice. A choice to live. A choice to love. A choice to open my heart
more fully. A choice to heal. That, my friends, was my "Lifestyle Choice". And, it's the best choice I've made.
