Tag: LGBT

  • The F Word, Part 3

    Editorial note: This is part 3 (part 1, part 2) of a guest post series. I don’t normally do guest posts, but this friend had insight that needed to be shared. Today we’re wrapping it up by responding to some comments and answering questions asked. I have a feeling we will revisit this some day. While the point of this series wasn’t to promote something, if you’re looking for a resource on this topic, please visit The Marin Foundation.

     

    First off, the outpouring of grace has been pretty overwhelming. It’s very strange I have to admit, to know there are beacons of hope, these mercy-givers out there. A thousand thank yous.

    If you are wondering, how to find people like me in your sphere of influence, here’s how.

    First, be very open that you wouldn’t care if a person was gay, you’d love them. And love them because God loves them, not because they are gay, or think they are gay, or this or that. When we love for a reason that is not because God loves them, we tend to have these variations of acceptance and then it just gets complicated.

    Second, challenge the negative gay bashing talk. “Hey, that’s not cool. People I love are gay.” When people challenge me on this, I say, “OK, next time you pray, use the word you just used in talking to God.” That clears up the situation real quick.

    Third, if someone tells you that they are gay. You let them talk it out. And when they are done, look them in the eye and say, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not telling anyone. I’m your friend and I love you.” It’s what I hope to hear when I tell someone.

    Fourth, you’ll have a million questions. Maybe ask two. And when you get together, don’t make every time some kind of Oprah Q and A. We will tell you as it comes up.

    Five, just love us. Invite us over. In a marriage-based church culture, where couples get together, single people are left kind of on the margin. We like restaurants and movies; we like your kids. We will help with dishes. We go home to an empty apartment; we like the warmth of your place.

    Hug us often and don’t interrupt it as anything other than a hug. Celibacy is a hard road for the sake of the cross.  Human contact is a rare treat.

    Now, to respond to some comments.

    Some of you have called me courageous, but that’s because I have outstanding friendships in my life.

    Some of you have said you’ve cried and I say thank you. I cry too.

    HisOwn: Your story saddens me, makes me stumble like the earth is giving way. You have to tell someone. Tell your best friend. I pray you find some solace, my friend. And I pray that with clench fists, eyes shut, gathering all my will for that prayer.

    Jeffery Dick asked why I don’t join a church would be fine with me being openly gay. You see, I can’t come out publicly because my parents would lose it. Trust me. My dad majored in beating up gay men in the military. It was his thing. So I can’t really come out. I also have a job where it would create complications.

    The second reason is I need to be in a place where I can do the hard work of changing the minds of those around me. If we all ditch the churches who don’t really care for us, then the gulf between us becomes wider. I’m not called to comfort. Good question. Gold star.

    Because you have to understand, I can manage the same-sex attraction part. I’m older now, a bit older.  It’s easier.

    However, you can’t manage the isolation, the fear and dread of someone finding out and losing that relationship. You see, we, the Strugglers, the Forever Singles don’t get a family. The hardest part is not being someone’s first. You married people out there, your spouse picked you. You are their first priority.

    We Strugglers don’t have that luxury. We are an afterthought, the Eternal Third Wheel.  Our loneliness is our miry pit.

    I’m a member of a church that has a denominational leader who is actively offensive in this area. You’ve heard of this person.

    I have friends in the church who know, all the pastors, and they are fine with it. They have no problem me being a leader or preaching.

    I’m pretty good at preaching. I once scored a 9.2 when they held up the cards at the end. The Russian judge gave me a 7.6. (I figured we need a bit of levity.)

    Know this: Christ loves us. You. Me. And I long for the day when I look back at this life in His Kingdom and laugh a bit; I’ll laugh at the foolishness of it all and that it won’t be like that anymore. And all of us, we’ll gather for awhile. I’ll shake your hand. I’ll give you a hug. We will know each other deeply.

    And one day we get this white stone with a new name on it. A new name. A name only God knows. (Rev 2:17) And all the other names, even the one on my driver’s license melts away.

    So if anything, this thorn I have makes me a better friend, more loyal. And it makes me long for Jesus and for home.

    So share my story if you’d like. Not for my sake (I was nearly outed about 3 times in the past 12 hours due this series. No fault of anyone, just Facebook can be a bit tricky at times. Twitter too, that rascal.) People need to know that we are out there. We serve communion, and we pass the offering plate. We play on your basketball league (We crush you. Be aware of that.) We are your friends, or at least we want to be.

    And if you get the chance, meet Adam McLane face to face. The guy has this sporty exterior, but he exudes grace. He exudes grace like he just ate garlic fries. It comes out of his pores. He listens so well and he has given me a platform that has shaped me in ways I’m just starting to grasp.  I owe him a debt, a great debt.

    And to those of you who know my name, thanks for being my friend.

    “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so tha they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

    Go be a light my good friends. Love those around you. Bring your light into our darkness.

    And if you ever see a man wearing a sharp patchwork driving cap, who is very handsome and built, standing next to Adam McLane, give him a fist bump. Ask him his favorite comic book hero, buy him a beer and he will tell you a tale.

    Adam: OK, that last bit made me literally laugh out loud. Thanks for the kind words. I’m glad you aren’t anonymous in my life. I need more friends like you. Because left alone I’m a moron. 

  • The F Word, Part 2

    The F Word, Part 2

    Editorial note: This is part 2 of a guest post from a local San Diego friend. (Part 1) I don’t normally offer guest posts, but this point-of-view is important. Church and youth leaders need to hear from men in their congregations like him. While this post is anonymous, I invite you to dialog with him through me.

     

    I grew up reading comic books; it was an escape from the horrible living environment I was stuck in. I had a brother, 9 years older than me, who made me his punching bag; an ex-alcoholic father who switched his addiction to rage, and my mom who had to take a lot of abuse from my dad.

    I was attracted to comic books because it clearly spelled out who was good and evil; the good guys won most of the time and what I liked at the end of the day was that they could conceal their identity. Superman became Clark Kent. Batman deftly changed into the billionaire, Bruce Wayne. Green Lantern willed himself back to being Hal Jordan. And poor Spiderman usually stumbled back into his apartment, collapsing onto the bed as Peter Parker.

    Their secret identity brought them peace; they protected their loved ones by having it. They managed two distinct and separate lives. It’s something that sounded so great.

    But when you have a secret identity, it is more painful than a bruise on your chest or cigarette burn on your arm.

    When I was about 14 I realized something; I was attracted to the guys in my high school, not the girls. The realization is a lot to take in, especially around the time that AIDS had surfaced; people were scared; protests were hitting the streets. The words “faggot” and “homo” were en vogue.

    I knew I was in trouble.

    I managed to keep in secret until about 18 when I told my high school counselor. He sympathized and explain that there were other people out there like me. Once I got to college, my life would change.

    It did. My first week at college I became a Christian.

    And I was still gay.

    In the college Christian group I was a part of, there were great people, but a large majority of them used the words homo, queer, and faggot. I was in some deep trouble.

    I had to hide the fact that I was gay. I mean, who could I tell? And the pressure to date was nearly insurmountable.

    I managed coming out to some friends, but the loneliness, the isolation was great. No one got it.

    That was about 20 years ago.

    Since then I’ve tried counseling for 7 years; it was helpful to unpack a lot of the abuse I took, but I still wasn’t attracted to women.

    I had a girlfriend in seminary for a year and a half. I thought I could change and make it work.

    I didn’t. I broke her heart.

    I have mastered the ability to blend in with straight people; they rarely suspect I’m gay. In the Christian world, being gay is right up there with child molester.

    You have to understand; I have had friends I’ve never been able to tell. They make the occasional gay joke or if they see two men who are clearly together, they have some kind of snide remark. And I’m sitting across from them.

    Now, just so we’re clear: I’m celibate. I’m not planning on having a relationship. You might be thinking, “Oh, good. You’re one of us.” Afraid not. And so we don’t get into a political quagmire that this blog isn’t designed to function for, I won’t get into the reasons why.

    The purpose of me spilling this story, the most painful one I have, is to say this.

    We sit amongst you.

    We are people struggling with being gay, afraid of what their closest family and friends would say. We laugh at your homo jokes and then we go in the bathroom and look in the mirror and hate what we see. We take a deep breath and we go back inside.

    We tolerate churches designed around married couples, married conferences, and marriage sermons.

    Most of use can’t come out. We risk losing the friendships we have so we’d rather dine on surface relationships, instead of having none.

    We long for someone to understand, to get it. And one reason I don’t play the lottery (besides Dave Ramsey’s advice) is that I’ve already won it. I have friends that I’d take a bullet for, who know my true story and love me. It’s not that they don’t love me regardless because I’m not doing anything. I’m not at gay bars or trolling the internet looking for someone. I’m not sinning in my sexual behavior.

    I came out to a friend of mine and he looked down at the table, sullen and said, “Everything must be really difficult for you.” We sat there in silence for awhile and I thought, he gets it.

    The church will hug the man that just cheated his wife for a year and shun the struggling gay guy who hasn’t had sex in 10 years. Guaranteed. Easy money.

    And I’d burn every earthly possession I have, empty my bank accounts, quit my job, and terminate every relationship I have for a pill to change over—in a heartbeat—I’d walk away from that pyre buck-naked, unemployed, broke, but straight.

    But unlike my heroes of my youth, my secret identity clings to me and I am forced to hide from what is called to be most loving, compassionate place on the planet—the church.

    So here’s what I ask: be kind to us. We are looking for friends that listen and have compassion on us. We are not looking for you to understand us completely, we just want to go through our day not feeling like monsters. We run the risk of losing the people we value by coming out, but we must weigh that against being fake and pretending we are straight.

    I also ask that we cut out the gay-bashing talk; I get that it’s funny with your friends and it cuts to the quick, but I guarantee you’ve said it in front of us and we twist inside and mourn inside.

    Be kind to us; we are broken and we need no more reminders.

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  • The F Word, Part 1

    Editorial note: I don’t normally do guest posts. But in this case I am making an exception. The following post is from a friend of mine, a local San Diegan with an advanced ministry degree from a well-known conservative university, whose perspective on life I’ve learned lots from in during our new found friendship.

     

    Adam has been blogging a lot about fear lately—how fear robs us of the best God has for us, how God does not intend for his faithful to walk in fear afraid. God is our Father; He is our protector and provider; He is present; He is here. Be not afraid.

    So what are Christian men afraid of?

    I’ve watched men especially be afraid of one thing—being friends with other men. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen guys go watch sports or hunt together; they bump fists at church (and then put their arm around their wives) and then, juuuuust to push the envelope, a good ol’ men’s breakfast.

    But authentic friendship? Real brotherhood? Well, the days of Promise Keepers are over. You can bag on that movement all you want but it at least it challenged the traditional status quo in our churches on men’s friendship: Keep it simple and shallow and no one gets hurt.

    What are men really afraid of?

    What’s at the core of this socially awkward mix? I mean, women do friendship well. They talk and share and get together. And don’t get me wrong, I understand that men usually bond over activities, but it just seems like men now are going through the motions of friendship but the bonding isn’t happening.

    Christian men are afraid of being perceived as gay or remotely gay or a tad gay or even a little glitter pixel of gay. I can’t tell you how many men I’ve seen hug and another man nearby says, “That was so gay.”

    I’ve heard men share about what is really going on in their lives and right before we get to the root of the issue they pull back and say, “Wow, I’m sounding like a big faggot right now.”

    Ah, because gay men are continually wrestling with the emotional needs of a pregnant wife. It’s an epidemic.

    Christian men hide behind the façade of not wanting to be thought of as gay as an excuse of not wanting to be perceived as weak or vulnerable. But in doing so, caving into this Christian manly homophobia. Consequently men come across as insensitive jerks by missusing the word gay.

    My Two-Year Rule

    I have this “two-year” rule.

    Here’s the rule. Usually men tell me they have no real friends around them and that they are fine with just the family. Sure, they justify, they have some long distance friends. But they get along just fine.

    When I hear them say, “I have no friends” I start a mental countdown of 730 days. At the end of those two years, something will be ruined because of their lack of friendship with other men: A marriage, finances, a father-child relationship, a career, or something else.

    Why men need friends

    God designed men to have community for the simple fact, left alone, we are morons. And when we hide behind a big pink triangle of an excuse for not having intimate male friends, afraid of the slighted perceived notion of being gay, we are destroying what our soul  needs—Someone to tell us blunt truth about our lives, to walk with us, to challenge how we are treating our wives, our children and our career.

    We need friends who know us deeply and intimately. (Wait, did you say intimately? Yes, yes I did. Are you uncomfortable with that? Intimacy.)

    And it puzzles me that two men, especially if they are married and have children, are so paranoid about being perceived as gay? What are you worried about to begin with? I don’t get it.

    And yes, I get it. Being perceived as gay may cause some damage there—some very real damage.

    The Flipside of Your Labels

    You need to know the cost of misusing those words, “faggot” and “gay” to describe your fear of friendship with other men, is just an an excuse for what you really need. It is destroying the potential authentic relationship that could very well save the other relationships around you.

    And it will also cost you the friendships of those who struggle with being gay. Like me.

    But that’s for another post.

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  • Andrew Marin on CBN

    [video link]

    Still proud to call Andy a friend. I love his missiological heart and I love how he’s making a deep impact in a place where most Christians are totally afraid. Kristen and I are not just fans of The Marin Foundation, we lend our practical support wherever we can.

    What do you think about this video? Am I the only one that wanted to know what Pat Robertson had to say off camera?