a word to my friends about phil robertson...

Dear Friends,

I'm writing to you, my brothers, my sisters, my tribe. I'm writing to conservative, evangelical Christians. I've grown up in your churches, your schools, and your camps. I've worked for your ministries, and I attend one of your seminaries. I sit next to you in the pew on Sunday, and we take the bread and wine together in the Lord's Supper. Like you, I believe the Bible is the inspired, infallible Word of God, and I believe it is our only rule for faith and life. Like most of you, I believe that the covenant of marriage was instituted by God for relationships of one man and one woman. Like many of you, I was distressed to see A&E bow to pressure and suspend Phil Robertson from "Duck Dynasty" because of his expressed views on homosexuality.

However, my brothers and sisters, I must say this. I've been even more distressed and deeply hurt by many of your responses to Robertson's comments and his suspension.

First, although Phil's comments themselves aren't my biggest concern, I'll address why they still hurt, even as someone who ultimately agrees with him on the biblical view of sexuality. I've seen the response, "Why should they hurt? He was just quoting the Bible." Fair question. Yes, Phil's comments contained biblical references (1 Corinthians 6, for instance), and he correctly stated that homosexual practice is indeed sinful. However, I can't say that his comments were actually biblical. Why not? Because they were neither loving nor gracious. They lacked wisdom. They promoted false stereotypes. Phil's crude anatomical references were not just an inappropriate indiscretion, they painted God's beautiful gift of sex as something else entirely. We're left to assume from his words that Phil sees the main role of sex to be personal gratification. Can we commend a view of sex that reduces women to the usefulness of their body parts in gratifying the urges of their husbands? I reject that. I reject that completely. I reject that because the Bible has such a higher view of the sexual union between a husband and wife. It's a total union, body and soul. It's vulnerability and sacrifice and safety. Yes, it's pleasure, but it's much much more. Phil's comments insinuate that the only thing gay people are looking for is sexual gratification, not the intimacy and self-sacrificial relationship that I hope Phil enjoys with his wife. True, I never plan to pursue such a relationship with another man. I do not believe that is God's will or his design for marriage or sex. However, as Phil went on to describe his views of sin, he essentially equated the longings I have for intimacy and companionship with the sexual desires some people have for animals. It's clear that Phil rightly believes homosexual practice is a sin, but it's also clear that he doesn't understand the experience of same-sex attracted people in the slightest. He may claim to love and respect everyone (and I believe he is genuine in his desire to do so), but I would never feel safe or comfortable sharing my story or struggles with him after reading his comments. Why would I open up to someone who apparently finds my struggles so reprehensible and unfathomable, comparable to both bestiality and terrorism? Phil's comments did contain truth, yes, but they were incredibly insensitive and dehumanizing to anyone who experiences desires for their same gender. This is not how Jesus would have spoken...not even close. You can say a lot of true things, but if you're not speaking in love (the language of our Savior), you're not speaking the Truth. 

Secondly, while I found Phil's comments troubling, I do disagree with A&E's decision to suspend him. We can't have healthy dialogue if our first resort is always to silence and remove our opponents. I agree that A&E's move is a troubling sign for the future ability of Christians to speak publicly about our beliefs. However, as a Christian, I am far more concerned with the responses I have seen on social media from fellow Christians attacking A&E and rushing to defend Phil Robertson. I understand the concern, but I believe this is misplaced fervor. And you know what? I'll be honest...it hurts.

The Church would have far more credibility in her defense of free speech if she were actually seeking to create a safe place for vulnerability and dialogue in her own midst. Friends, there is a reason that this blog is anonymous! Maybe I would feel more sympathy for Phil Robertson if I hadn't always felt pressure to remain silent about my story within the very community where I should have felt the most freedom. We can rush to defend people like Phil as the victims in situations like this, but what about the hundreds and thousands of kids and young people and even adults who deal with their various struggles in silence out of fear of what other Christians will say? If we're looking at this from a biblical perspective, are they not the real victims here? The silent victims?

There is a swell of righteous anger when a reality star is suspended for his crude, insensitive defense of biblical sexuality in GQ, but where was this outrage when my friend was fired from his job at a Christian school because a parent found out he was same-sex attracted? Where was the outrage when another friend of mine was thrown out of his house in high school and shunned by his church because he came out as gay? Where is the outrage over the countless teenagers who are bullied (often by Christian teenagers) because of their sexuality? Where are the tears of remorse and contrition over those who ultimately find no hope and end their lives, convinced that no one could ever really love them? Where is our swell of righteous anger, Church?

I have been blessed with a loving family and incredibly supportive friends. More and more people know my story, and I attend a beautiful, grace-centered seminary that reminds me everyday that God is good and Jesus loves me. I have enjoyed blessings far beyond what most people with my struggle enjoy. But when you, my friends, seem far more concerned with protecting the rights of Mr. Robertson to express his beliefs than you are with making sure your brothers who struggle with homosexuality know they are loved, that they have dignity and worth...that hurts. It does. 

I'm not asking you to change your beliefs on the sinfulness of homosexual practice. I share those beliefs, and I'm certainly not changing mine! My convictions here are firm. However, I do ask you to think about the message you are sending when you rush to defend the comments of Phil Robertson.

Jesus didn't die to give us freedom of speech...or even freedom of religion. He died to give us freedom from the bondage of sin and the law. "For you were called to freedom, brothers," Paul wrote to the Galatians, "Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Gal. 5:13-14) We were not set free primarily so that we could express our opinions and live a happy life; we were set free so that we could love our neighbors--sacrificially--as we love ourselves. Is Phil Robertson free to make these statements about homosexuality? Yes. Are you free to defend him and post #IStandWithPhilRobertson on your twitter? Absolutely. But friends, I would ask you to consider if that is the best use of your freedom. 

Let us follow the example of Jesus. Jesus always moved toward the poor, the broken, and the outcast. He defended those who could not defend themselves, those who had no voice. He broke the social and religious customs of his day to show broken, hurting people that he loved them. The religious leaders said terrible things about Jesus because of the people he spent time with, the people he stood up for. In the eyes of the religious, Jesus was always defending the wrong people. 

If you think Jesus would be shaking his fist at A&E right now for their treatment of Phil Robertson, I'm not sure if you have an accurate picture of Jesus' life and ministry. Wouldn't it be better to imagine Jesus seeking out and comforting the young teenager whose family watches "Duck Dynasty" religiously...the kid who doesn't understand the feelings and desires that he's experiencing for other guys...the child who hears Phil Robertson's comments and only hears further confirmation that nobody could ever love someone like him, least of all Jesus? I believe this is where Jesus would be if he was walking the earth today, and I believe that's where we as his followers are called to go as well.

We will face injustice in this world. Our rights may be infringed upon or taken away. That's been the majority experience of the Church throughout history. Jesus himself was the victim of the ultimate injustice ever perpetrated: a perfect, sinless man crucified for the sins of the world. Jesus wasn't interested in securing his rights. His mission was love and healing and grace and restoration. He was interested to speaking the words of hope and life to a world in despair. 

As your brother in Christ, your fellow sojourner in the faith and one who happens to experience attractions to other guys, please hear these words. Please consider your response to the Phil Robertson situation and other situations like it. Please know that you have many other friends, friends like me, who see your responses and feel deep pain and betrayal. You may not mean it that way, but that's how it is received. Trust me. 

May we all seek to follow our Savior humbly to the all the broken places and people of our world...and may God have mercy on us all.

Grace to you, brothers and sisters, and the peace of Christ,

Love, Your Brother Behind the Mask

Break.

I'm on fall break, ya'll, which means a much-needed week back home in the mountains. This part of the country was created specifically for this time of year. Thursday promises a mess of fried chicken, fried vegetables, biscuits, and apple butter. Friday will feature a hike to the most perfect and beautiful spot in southern Appalachia (just ask me...I'll share), and Saturday will be spent watching college football in one of the biggest and loudest stadiums in the country.

Right now? I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop...my old haunt and former "office"...sipping the best pumpkin-spice latte I've ever tasted. (Confession: I've tasted a lot.) It's one of those cozy gems that's hidden behind a crumbling brick exterior, in one of those tragically beautiful neighborhoods where there are as many couples taking engagement photos as there are people asking you for money. As I sink back into my chair in the corner (and I do mean my chair), I remember sitting in this very spot less than a year ago when I started this blog. Many of my favorite posts have been written right here in this spot.

This is appropriate...because I think it's time to take a break.

I'm running out of things to write as "the Mask." I'm certainly not running out of things to say, but I named this blog after the mask I'd worn my whole life--the mask that hides the fact I'm mainly attracted to members of my own sex. When I started writing in January, that mask was still firmly attached. Now...it's largely a formality. I guess I'm still wearing it (loosely), but too many people know it's me to actually call it a disguise. My story now is less about my mask and more about learning to live without it. 

Basically...I'm ready to write as me. This blog has been a great outlet for me, and I've enjoyed writing it. Writing is very therapeutic for me, and often, I'm in a much better place when I finish a post than when I started. It's also been a great avenue for meeting many of you...many of you who I probably would have never met otherwise. It's also how I met one of my new "real-life" best friends. (Here's lookin' at you, @EleisonBlog).

But this puppy's run its course.

I'll certainly leave this blog online, but over the next couple months, I'll start transitioning to a new blog...my blog. There are still just a few loose ends I need to tie up, a few more conversations and a whole lot more prayer, before I start blogging as me. If you want to know when that transition happens, follow me on twitter at @themaskblog1. You can also get in touch with me on the "contact" page above, and I'd be more than happy to let you know.

Until then, thanks so much to those of you who have read, and especially to those of you who have faithfully encouraged and prayed for me...even though you don't even know my name. I deeply appreciate it, and I look forward to hopefully connecting with many of you in the future...as real people...and soon.

God is good, friends. He's not just good when I'm hiking in the mountains on a beautiful fall day with a group of friends. He's also good when I'm sitting on my couch in the dark...lonely, depressed, and discouraged. You and me? We change with the slightest breeze. Our love and affections often come and go depending on how much love we're feeling ourselves, but His love never changes. It never fails. It pursues us, embraces us, kisses us, and ultimately...it transforms us. Radically.

God will be good if I marry a woman and start a family. God will be good if I remain single. God is good...and He will not, can not cease to be good. Because He is good, I know He will provide, no matter the circumstances.

May your hearts be gripped by the magnificent grace of our Savior, and may you experience His peace that passes all understanding.

Signing off, for now...

Your Brother Behind the Mask.

Struggle.

"I struggle with same-sex attraction."

These words have rolled off my tongue quite a few times over the past year. As I share my story with a growing number of friends and family, the hardest part has actually been figuring out what words to use to describe...well...this part of my story. There is a lot of bulky language and creative verbal tap-dancing to avoid labeling...well...the issue? Ordeal? Condition?

The label I finally settled on was "same-sex attraction." This is a very clean, scientific sounding term. It sticks to the basics and makes no assumptions. I am a person who is attracted predominantly to persons of my own sex. That about covers it, right?

Lest anyone get the idea that I'm okay with this arrangement, I've usually added the words, "I struggle with" to my description. See, I'm not just same-sex attracted...I'm fighting it. I'm dealing with it. Don't worry, I hate this part of myself just as much as you do.

That's what I'm trying to tell you when I say I struggle with same-sex attraction.

But is that right? Is it really a struggle? What does that even mean?

[Okay guys, I'm about to do something all of my college professors hated, but at least it's not in my introduction. Get ready...]

Merriam-Webster (ah there it is) gives the following definition of the word struggle: "to make strenuous or violent efforts in the face of difficulties or opposition." Also: "to proceed with difficulty or with great effort." Both of these definitions describe different parts of my life...but do they actually describe how I relate to my same-sex attraction?

Let's take the first definition...strenuous or violent efforts in the face of difficulty or opposition. I do see this kind of struggle in my life. I struggle with idolatry. I struggle with arrogance and pride. I struggle with lethargy and gluttony. I struggle with lust.

How about the second definition? Proceeding with great difficulty or effort? I have plenty of this kind of struggle to go around too. I struggle with insecurity. I struggle with my appearance. I struggle with loneliness. I struggle with the messiness of community. I struggle with fear and anxiety.

But none of this answers my question. Do I actually struggle with that fact that I'm attracted to other guys?

I don't think so.

It's not something I ever chose for myself...nor would I if given the opportunity. But it's there, whether I like it or not. It's been there--for as long as I can remember--and if the studies are right, it's probably not going anywhere.

You could call this my sexual orientation. In fact, it'd probably be helpful to call it that...because I'm pretty sure that's what it is.

I don't struggle with my height. I don't struggle with my skin color or my ethnicity. I don't struggle with the color of my eyes, the sound of my voice, or the size of my feet. I don't struggle with my family of origin. I don't struggle with the fact that I'm an INFJ. I don't struggle with the fact that I'm a man.

I didn't choose or decide any of these things, but they all impact my life--to various degrees. The part I sing in choir, the shoes I buy, the position I play in basketball, the high blood pressure that runs in my family, the privilege I have in modern American society...all of these things are impacted by forces outside my control, for better or for worse.

You could say these things are part of my identity. None of them encompass who I am, but all together, they start painting a vivid picture of what it means to be me.

At the end of the day, our sexual orientation--who we are naturally attracted to--is one of these integral parts of who we are. It doesn't define us, but it has a dramatic impact on our lives and relationships. If you're straight, the fact that you're attracted to the opposite gender plays a pretty important role in your life...am I right?

So why do I insist on referring to my sexual orientation in the same way I refer to my unhealthy diet or a sinus infection? Is it a bad habit...an illness...an enemy to be conquered? Like every other part of who I am, my sexuality has been bruised and broken by the Fall, but also, like every other part of who I am, it has beauty, it has purpose, and it is being redeemed. 

I wrote a post back in February (check it out here...it's one of my favorites) about coming to grips with my sexual orientation, about the first time I was able to write the words "I'm gay" in my prayer journal, and about the freedom and relief it brought me to pray those words.









But here's the thing...those words have stayed in my prayer journal. They haven't escaped the leather bound cover [except in the picture above...but you get my point] You see, I'm still torn about the word "gay." It's taken on all kinds of meaning and connotations in our society. It's packed with mental images and assumptions. Many of these assumptions are unfair and based in stereotype, yet there they are. People hear me say, "I'm gay," and they assume I want to date, marry, and have sex with a man. Some will hear me say, "I'm gay," and no matter how well they know me or for how long, they'll see me as part of an agenda...aligning with the enemy.

There will be churches that will not hire me, simply because of those two little words.

That makes me anxious...and it hurts.

Because honestly, saying "I'm gay" says no more about my lifestyle than someone saying, "I'm straight." Your grandmother and Kim Kardashian might both be heterosexual, but that's likely where the similarities end.

My "gay lifestyle" probably doesn't look too different than that of many single, straight, Christian guys in their mid-20's. I watch football. I hike. I shop at Goodwill. I eat frozen pizza and lots of peanut butter sandwiches. Grabbing a beer with a few friends is my idea of "night life." My room's a mess. I'm not a good dancer. I listen to Mumford & Sons. I've never had sex. I go to church every week, but I don't read my Bible nearly as much as I should. I'm not saying any of this makes me better than anyone else...it's just who I am. I'm gay, but I might not fit your stereotype.

I don't struggle with being "gay."

I do struggle with the implications of being gay, especially since I believe the Bible says that to act on my attractions would be contrary to God's will.

I do struggle with the loneliness that comes with singleness. I do struggle with the fear of what a life of singleness could look like. I do struggle with the shame of believing my brokenness is somehow worse than everyone else's. I do struggle with the insecurity that comes from living life behind a mask. I do struggle with anxiety in my friendships with other guys, always afraid of getting too close. I do struggle with anger when I hear fellow Christians make hurtful, ignorant statements about gay people. I do struggle to keep my heart pure...just like every follower of Jesus.

My identity is not found in my sexual orientation. I am not defined by the fact that I'm attracted to guys. My identity is found in Jesus Christ, and I am defined by His record. He is the foundation, the rock that the rest of my identity is built on. 

There are many different parts of my identity, many different facets that make up who I am. My sexual orientation is one of those parts...and it's an important one! But my identity is centered and built on Jesus. Each and every aspect of our identity is subject to His authority. My sexuality must be subject to Jesus, just like yours must. As I seek to take up my cross and follow Him, I believe that means laying down my sexuality at His feet...giving up my desires, ever for a committed, monogamous same-sex relationship, and trusting that He is sufficient.

That is not easy. It's quite difficult, actually*, and it's rather controversial too. It's a struggle. 

So no, friends, I don't struggle with my same-sex attraction. I struggle with living faithfully as a child of the King. 

And that's what we all struggle with.

Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask

Belonging.

My heart pounded as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I stood before the director and his assistant in the otherwise empty room, waiting nervously for the accompaniment to start and trying to avoid eye contact. I had been convinced to audition for a role in a local high school production, but I was starting to think I'd made a big mistake. 

It wasn't the singing or acting that had me so worried, though. I was entirely outside my comfort zone. I only knew a few of the other people auditioning. This wasn't my crowd. My school didn't have a drama club. I wasn't a "drama kid." Sure, I had always been a fan of musicals, but I was a basketball player. I didn't know the theater lingo or etiquette. I didn't understand the inside jokes. I had never heard of "Wicked." I was an outsider. 

A piece of me dies every time I remember this scene.

It was my own High School Musical story...except I wasn't particularly stellar at basketball, I wasn't all that great at singing or dancing, my hair looked nothing like Zac Efron's, and thankfully, none of our basketball practices ever involved choreography.

There was another component to my discomfort too. While many of my fellow cast members were also believers...many were not. Up until that point in my life, my social circles pretty much consisted of church friends and classmates at my small Christian school. It was my first time in a social environment that wasn't specifically religious, and that kind of freaked me out.

I'm not entirely sure why it freaked me out. I don't know what I was scared of. Maybe it was because I knew how the kids in my Christian school tended to treat people who were different. Maybe it was because I knew how I treated outsiders--no open hostility, of course, but polite indifference. And if we were the Christians, how would they treat me now that the tables were turned?

I had bought in to the narrative that the real intolerant people were the unbelievers, the liberals, the secularists. They preached tolerance for everyone except for us, the oppressed moral majority.

Imagine my surprise when I ventured outside my Christian bubble and found a greater sense of welcome and belonging than I ever had back inside.

I'm not even talking about my sexual orientation here. I was still in deep denial about that, and not another soul knew about the battle raging in the deep, dark corners of my heart. No...I just mean welcome. Plain, old-fashioned welcome. I mean coming in as an outsider and almost immediately feeling like an insider, without having to prove anything first.

What a concept, huh?

For the first time in my life, I had friends who weren't religious. I had friends who didn't go to church on Sunday, didn't know who John Piper was...friends who didn't know all the words to "Here I am to Worship" or the Veggie Tales theme song. Some of these new friends were believers but had grown up with unbelieving friends; they were used to the tension.

These friends didn't make me earn my place among them. They were themselves around me, and thus, I felt free to be myself around them. They invited me to parties...and no, not wild, drunken parties with Top-40 hits and cigarettes, but pool parties and movie parties. We watched musicals, and for the first time, I could sing along without shame because everyone else was singing along too. We didn't "hit any clubs," but they took me to Applebee's for my birthday and we stayed until after midnight, laughing, talking, and eating enormous brownie sundaes. They liked me. They appreciated me, and they went out of their way to let me know that.

This is not a story about poor-little-outcast-me, because for all the lack of acceptance or affirmation I felt in my Christian bubble, I was just as guilty. I can't tell you how many "do-overs" I wish I could have, for people I hurt with my words, my anger, my arrogance, my judgment. I thought that I was a welcoming person, but my welcome was limited to those who got with the program and conformed to our system. If they wanted to play our game with our rules, then sure, they could join our team. Otherwise, it was live-and-let-live.

Of course, for the sake of illustration, I'm painting a rather black-and-white picture (please see note at the bottom**). I'm leaving out some important nuances. I had some very loving and accepting Christian friends, and I knew many non-Christians who were anything but loving and accepting.

But nuance aside, this is how I felt:

In my Christian school and church circles, I felt like I had to perform, to fit a mold, to play a part in order to be accepted. In my eagerness to be accepted, to have others seek my acceptance, I only continued the vicious cycle. 

In my non-religious theater circle, I didn't feel like I had to perform (well, except on stage). I felt like I could be myself, that my self was welcomed and valued, and that I could be honest. I didn't have to earn my way in. I was already in. 

Which circle do you think I was most drawn to?

What if the Church was seen as a place of such welcome? What if people knew that they didn't have earn their way into our fellowship and community? What if, simply by showing up, they knew they were already in?

I'm not talking about church membership. I'm not talking about changing our beliefs our softening our doctrinal standards. I'm certainly not talking about watering down the gospel, because I believe this kind of welcome is the fruit of a gospel-rooted heart.

We have to be able to say, "You are welcome here" and "We love you" as complete, stand-alone sentences. Not "you are welcome here, if..." or "We love you, but..." There is a time and a place for so-called "tough love," but it is not at the beginning. When we open with our list of must's and must-not's, we're communicating that people have to clean themselves up before they can come join us, and that lie of the devil then gets attributed, by association, to Jesus.

Jesus, who didn't require a public apology from the prostitute before he let her wash his feet with her tears.

Jesus, who told the woman caught in adultery to go and sin no more, but who did so after publicly defending her against the judgment of the religious leaders.

Jesus, who called the selfish, swindling Zacchaeus down from the tree and invited himself over to his house for supper, bewildering and infuriating the religious elites.

Jesus, who called you and me out of our own slavery before we could do anything to earn it ourselves. 

from the "Jesus Storybook Bible"

We must stop excusing our arrogant, Pharisaical behavior, and we must stop excusing our kids. Maybe our church's teenagers are faithfully attending youth group and Bible studies. Maybe they've all signed True Love Waits pledge cards and listen to Christian music. Maybe they don't drink, smoke, chew, or go with girls/boys that do, but this is not mission accomplished. 

Have their hearts been transformed by the grace of Christ? Are they welcoming to other students who aren't like them? When they're at school, are they standing up for the bullied and ostracized? Maybe they memorize Bible verses, but is there evidence of heart change? Maybe they don't cuss or tell dirty jokes, but are they telling jokes that are hurtful or demeaning to people who are different? Are their lives moving toward the outsiders or the insiders?

Which teenager is closer to the Kingdom of God? The one who has kissed dating goodbye and is outspoken about his Christian values (that was me)...or the one who sits down and eats lunch with the openly gay kid who came to school that morning with his eyes red from crying? (that was not me)

Now I understand that these two scenarios aren't mutually exclusive, but we continue to celebrate and promote this "outspoken" Christian witness to our youth over and above the sometimes unspoken witness of a life rooted in the radical grace of God. We beam with pride when our young people follow in our footsteps of culture war, rather than the footsteps of Christ...footsteps that lead to love, to sacrifice, to the Cross.

Yes, we must continue to preach a message of holiness and obedience to our youth, but that message must include the call to love the outcast, to welcome the outsider, to defend the defenseless. Imagine if hurting young people, especially hurting young people who carry the shame of same-sex attraction (like me), found in our churches the same kind of warmth and welcome and belonging that I found in that drama club.

We don't have to choose between truth and love. We don't have to emphasize either justice or mercy. All of these are united in the person and work of Jesus Christ. We don't have to choose between "fixing" same-sex orientations (like Exodus International) or "celebrating" them (like Glee). The gospel calls our churches to be even more open and welcoming than the Glee club, and even more committed to the truth of Scripture than Exodus International. 

For this, we pray.

Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask


**Re: the missing nuance from this piece. I'm writing this note in 2016, and I want to reiterate the point that I was purposefully painting a black-and-white picture for this piece. I want to make it perfectly clear that I had wonderful friends in my church and Christian school who loved me well, loved me unconditionally, celebrated me, enjoyed me, etc. I could not have survived high school without these friends, and I know, without a doubt, that had I decided to come out to them in high school, they would not have rejected me. They probably would have been even better friends to me had I let them that far inside my world. I love them fiercely, and I am so thankful for them. 

---------------------------------

(Update 8/18/16): Below are some pictures from my summer with the theater kids...Summer Stock Theater's 2005 production of "Beauty and the Beast."

Me & Belle

Me, Charlana, & Mimi (a.k.a. the Wardrobe and Silly Girl #2)

Practicing "Be Our Guest"

The Whole Gang

Complexity.

I was talking to my counselor the other day about the trickiness of deciding who to tell about my same-sex attraction...and when. He smiled warmly and leaned back in his chair. He wisely didn't offer advice or direction, but rather mused, "There are so many complexities at work here, aren't there?"

Yes.

I've already discussed the inner-turmoil that can come from being a same-sex attracted Christian and the need for space to struggle. Forget other people trying to fit me into their categories, I've been spending my whole life trying to fit myself into a box...a box that I can understand.

The inward wrestling match is difficult enough, but I'm starting to get a taste of the bumps and twists and turns waiting for me on this road ahead called the "Christian life." Sometimes it feels like I'm speaking from two different angles. I'm trying to convince these people over here that yes, I believe the Bible says homosexual practice is a sin and that my homosexual orientation is a result of a fallen world. But then I'm also trying to tell these other people that I don't hate gay people and, maybe even more, that I don't hate myself.

On one hand, I stand in solidarity with the LGBT community. I stand against hatred and ignorance and discrimination...especially in the Church. I stand for the dignity and inherent worth of all people, regardless of belief or practice.

On the other hand, I stand with those who believe God intended covenant marriage to be between one man and one woman, that sexual intimacy is reserved for covenant marriage, and thus, that any sexual intimacy outside of that is off-limits for followers of Christ.

But on the third hand, I don't think it's the government's place to regulate or administer covenant marriage. That's the Church's job. So why does it really matter how the government defines marriage? If we disagree with the definition...okay. We also don't agree with sex outside of marriage, but it's still legal, so...what are you going to do?

"Mr. Mask, is that your official endorsement of gay marriage?"

Yes...well...no. I have no idea.

If you put a ballot in front of me right now, I have no idea how I'd vote on marriage equality. To be honest, at this point, I probably wouldn't feel comfortable voting either way. And you know what, that's going to frustrate a lot of people--a lot of people that normally wouldn't get frustrated about the same things.

I've said before that unless God allows me to marry a woman, I am committed to a life of singleness and celibacy. But I'm not actively seeking orientation-change through therapy or any other methods. I believe this cross will be something I carry for my whole life. I don't think I'll ever not be attracted to men at all, or that I'll ever be sexually attracted to women (in general). But I do think it's possible for partial change to take place. I think it's possible for me to be sexually attracted to one woman in particular. Yes, I do continue to pray that God allows me to get married...to have a wife and kids.

And then it begins:

"Okay, well that's great that you've made that commitment. But certainly you're not implying that everyone should reach the same conclusion..."

"What do you mean you'll always be attracted to men? This is not God's will for your life! Why wouldn't you try everything possible to change?"

"So you're at peace with being celibate. Cool, fine, but won't others just use your story to bully those who aren't at peace with that?"

"You should be more public with your story! God could really use you to show how you can live faithfully as a same-sex attracted Christian!"

"You should be more public with your story! God could really use you to show people how bigoted and ignorant their views of homosexuality are."

"Are you sure you're being called to ministry? Isn't that just a recipe for trouble?"

"This is how you've been created. Holding out any hope of change will just leave you depressed and angry at God!"

"Why are you so afraid to call yourself gay? It doesn't speak to your behaviors or choices...only your orientation."

"No! Don't say you're gay! People might get the wrong idea!"

"You would get married even if you're still have a same-sex attraction? Is that really wise?"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Why are you doing this to us?"

"You need to love other people more."

"You need to deny yourself."

"You need to love yourself."

"What would Jesus do?"

"What would Jesus do?"

There's a lot of people who love Jesus who wind up believing different things about what exactly Jesus would do. That can make this business of following Jesus pretty messy. I realize my story may upset people all along the spectrum of belief on this issue, but at the end of the day, all I can do is tell my story.

And as you read my story, wherever you're coming from or whatever your beliefs, I pray you will see more of Christ and less of me. Where we agree, I pray you will see encouragement. Where we disagree, I pray you will see humility and grace. In all things, I pray we find unity in our diversity, a unity that can only exist when centered on Christ. It's our job as the Church, the Body of Christ, to show a broken world how the gospel can unite people who would only be enemies apart from Jesus.

My story is complex. Your story is complex. Let us continue to love each other in the midst of complexity and look forward to the day of redemption. That day, all of our stories will finally make sense as we see their threads coming together to form one story...the Story. Praise Jesus.

Grace, peace, & even more grace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask

Jesus Picture.

"Excuse me, young man, I'd like to give you something..."

I looked up from my computer to see an older gentleman standing there...awkwardly. I was in a different coffee shop than usual...where I go when I need to mix things up. I was trying to get some writing done and decided a change of scenery would get the creative juices flowing.

I smiled politely as I pulled out my earphones. He continued with his spiel, which I'll admit I don't really remember. He spoke fast. He and his wife were traveling, they were involved in a ministry, they had gone to some college, he had been asked to draw a picture of Jesus for the college's yearbook, here was a copy of the picture, it conveniently had the plan of salvation printed on the back, I could use it as a bookmark...or something.

Without waiting for a response, he handed me the homemade tract and returned to his seat. Another young guy had just entered the coffee shop, wearing skinny jeans, a beanie, and a sweet handlebar mustache. He took the seat right next to the older gentleman...but strangely enough, he didn't get offered a Jesus picture. Maybe my T-shirt, jeans, and clean-shaven lip looked more ripe for the harvest.

I don't really mind getting evangelized in public places. I could definitely use more boldness for Christ myself, and I respect those with the courage to engage strangers. However, I do like when people start off with a question. Something relevant like, I don't know...do you know Jesus? First of all, it saves them some breath. But also, it shows that they care enough to get some basic info before telling me how to change my life.

So there I sat, holding Jesus. He had been thrust upon me. I didn't really know what to do with him. The older gentleman was still sitting right there. I couldn't just put Jesus in my pocket. I couldn't stuff Jesus in my backpack. The gentleman had suggested I use Jesus as a bookmark, but I didn't have any books with me (although I wish I could have pulled out my ostentatiously large ESV Study Bible to put Jesus in for safe keeping.)

I finally set Jesus down on the arm of my chair. At least we weren't making eye contact. It actually felt like Jesus was avoiding eye contact...come to think of it, he actually looked a little pissed.

But the older gentleman was not finished "engaging" his fellow coffee shop patrons. He pulled out his cell phone and started making calls to friends and family--all just to catch up. Roughly half of these calls were on speaker phone. (I never figured out how he decided which ones were on speaker and which weren't.)

It became clear that we were all supposed to hear these conversations. He was passive-aggressively evangelizing us. He was telling us his story by making us eavesdrop. He was sharing the gospel to a captive audience who couldn't respond, who couldn't say "no." I put my earphones back in and turned up the volume.

"Whaddaya think about the pope?" I heard him ask one woman, identified as "Viv." Viv was not on speaker phone, so I couldn't hear her take on the papacy. "The pope!" he said again, "The new pope! You know, the Catholic church? In Rome? Rome! Yes, there's a new pope! The old pope retired. No, I don't know why..."

Apparently, Viv wasn't Catholic...or even paying attention in the slightest.

"Yeah, well, you know the Catholics all wanted someone more liberal. Someone who'd make women priests, say abortion is okay, and then all that homosexual stuff. But it sounds like that's not who they got!"

The hair on my neck stood up. I was not listening in on some private conversation. He was speaking to be heard. The dude with the mustache looked uncomfortable. Heck, I was uncomfortable. I looked down at Jesus for some affirmation, but he still wouldn't look at me.

I finally had enough. I was just getting mad. I couldn't focus on my writing anyhow. I packed up my things (perhaps a little more demonstratively than necessary) and left the shop. Jesus came along too. I couldn't just leave Jesus behind, even if he wouldn't look at me. He might get thrown away.

Even now, as I sit here typing this, Jesus is sitting on the bed next to me. I can't throw him away, but I want to. Something about this picture really bothers me. Why won't he look at me? Why is he looking up and away like that, with his arms crossed? Is he waiting for me to get my act together? To say I'm sorry? Is he waiting for me to "pray the prayer printed below"? Haven't I already prayed that prayer? Yes. Many, many times.

Maybe it bothers me because this image was just forced upon me. I didn't have the opportunity to reject it. I didn't ask for it. He just handed it to me and left. What am I supposed to do now?

I can't help but project the older gentleman's characteristics on this Jesus. He didn't really care about me. He never asked me any questions. He didn't ask if he could talk to me. He didn't even ask my name. He knew nothing about me. I was just an easy target...and apparently an easier target than the guy sitting next to him.

No, he didn't want to listen to me. He didn't even want to talk TO me. He wanted to talk AT me. He wanted me to get his message without having to engage with me. Who knows? I could be messy. I might ask questions. My response might not fit into the clear-cut 7-step plan of salvation printed on the back of Jesus. There might be parts of my story that didn't fit his categories. 

In his conversations, I heard intolerance and disdain. I heard ignorance and misunderstanding. I heard plenty of all that, but still I didn't hear a monster. I also heard a lot of faith. I heard a lot of prayer. I was moved as I heard him discuss his wife's battle with cancer. I wanted to put this guy in a box and dismiss him, but I couldn't. He was more complex than that. I just wished he could see my complexity. I wished the Jesus he gave me could see my complexity, but the Jesus he gave me wouldn't even look.

The reason I haven't thrown this picture away probably goes back to a silly Sunday-school superstition...but I need to do it. I need to throw it away. This Jesus is aloof and distant. I imagine him tapping his foot, waiting for me to finally get it through my thick skull how ridiculous I've been. The corners of his mouth betray the slightest of smiles...as if he's almost even enjoying the distress he's causing me.

This is not Jesus of Nazareth. This is not Jesus the Christ, the Messiah. This is a jesus we've created after our own image. This is a jesus on whom we can project all our insecurities and self-absorption. This is a jesus who affirms nothing but our deepest fears.

This jesus is going in the trash. 

I will instead turn my eyes to Jesus, my friend and my Savior. Jesus, full of life. Jesus, who didn't wait for me to come to him, but who ran to meet me, embracing me, wiping away my tears.

'Tis that look that melted Peter | 'Tis that face that Stephen saw | 'Tis that heart that wept with Mary | Can alone from idols draw.

Captivated by His beauty | Worthy tribute haste to bring | Let His peerless worth constrain thee | Crown Him now Unrivaled King.

This is the picture of Jesus we need to see. This is the picture that changes hearts and changes lives. When I see Jesus not just looking at me, but looking into my very soul, and still loving me...that leads to transformation. That leads me to love Jesus even more, and it leads me to reflect his love to those around me.

I don't want to hand people a jesus picture that looks like me. I want them to see the real thing.


Grace & peace,

Your Brother Behind the Mask