Extraordinary.

"Your life is meant for something bigger."

The words jump off the page of my Christian-twentysomething magazine. Jagged mountain peaks soar above the clouds in this full-page advertisement for a new book. A climber perilously perches atop one of the peaks, surveying the scene laid out before him. "Become bold and courageous," the description promises. "Live undaunted." 

I flip a few more pages and find another advertisement, this one for a "seven-month overseas experience." Beneath the words "Live Your Dreams" and a faded picture of a mustached, outdoorsy-looking guy sporting a toboggan and backpack, I read, "Most of our lives we are told to, 'Grow up. Quit dreaming. Pull your head out of the clouds and get a grip." But, what if you truly could live your dreams? Imagine if you could discover your passion, learn how to walk it out, and use it to touch the world." 

Well...wouldn't that be nice?

Please don't hear me questioning the value or helpfulness of these things. I know absolutely nothing about either. However, I can't help but poke a little fun at these advertisements, because they're targeted directly at the fears, insecurities, and vanities of our generation. 

I mean, who wants to be ordinary? Most days I feel like I've had my fill of ordinary. I scroll through my Facebook feed and my Instagram, and it looks like all my friends are living much more exciting and adventurous and meaningful lives than I am. Where am I? Probably sitting in a nondescript coffee shop trying to focus on the stack of books I have to read for class. Or maybe I'm eating another Trader Joe's frozen meal over the kitchen sink. I might be sitting in traffic on the interstate...wondering if I'm just wasting my life.

Everyone else seems to be hitchhiking across Europe...or changing the world...or having babies. I'm not entirely sure what it means to "live authentically," but I'm pretty sure that everyone else is doing that...and I'm not.

Isn't my life meant for something bigger? What have I done this week that's even close to bold or courageous? I didn't even get out of bed until 10:30 this morning. I'm not living my dreams...I'm not even sure what my dreams are. In fact, I feel a little guilty, because it seems like everyone else in my generation has dreams and I'm just trying to hold myself together until Fall Break. 

Here's the crazy/funny/sad part. There are probably people who look at my Facebook and my Instagram and wish their life was as interesting or exciting as mine. Why? Because I'm so desperately insecure about how ordinary my life seems that I put significant effort into convincing everyone (including myself) that my life is indeed interesting and exciting.

whew.

[Enter Same-sex Attraction, stage left.] 

Hold the phone! Same-sex attraction, you say? Well, this changes things! Not only is that interesting, but in our current cultural climate, it's incredibly important. Maybe this is how God will make me extraordinary. Maybe this is why people will read my blog posts. Maybe this is why people will tell me my life is meaningful. 

On the record: I don't want all that. I don't want fame. I just want to tell my story.

Off the record: Bullcrap. Hand me that microphone...

This shouldn't come as any great surprise. Trust me, I wouldn't be pulling out this kind of vulnerability on the internet if I didn't believe that you probably know exactly what I mean.

Our generation has tended to spiritualize the extraordinary. Our everyday lives are well and good, but if we've truly been transformed by the gospel, we will do extraordinary things. Well, wait a minute...I actually agree with that. If we've been transformed by the gospel, we will do extraordinary things. I just think our definition of extraordinary is a little out of whack. 

The gospel is extraordinary, ya'll. 

There have been a lot of stories in history about various gods and deities and how mankind can gain their favor. However, in the gospel, we find the only story of the Divine entering our world, our time and space...eating our food, walking our soil, and breathing our air. It's the only story of a God who is willing to suffer humiliation, pain, and death for his people...people in open rebellion against him. It's the only story of a God who loves to rebuild, renew, and restore instead of replace; a God who promises to make everything sad come untrue. 

This is the story of Scripture...and it's extraordinary. There's nothing else like it. When we enter into this story and live it out, extraordinary things happen. Whether we're living it out in the jungles of South America or a suburban office park in South Carolina, we can't live out the radical story of sacrificially loving our enemies without seeing extraordinary results.

In that same magazine I mentioned above, I read a fascinating quote, "When Jesus called His disciples, He didn't tell them, 'Lead others.' He told them, 'Follow Me.'" We're not called to chart our own course. With all due respect to the seven-month overseas experience, Jesus never told us to "live our dreams." He told us to follow Him. Sometimes, following Jesus takes us where we've always dreamed of going. Sometimes, following Jesus takes where we never imagined we'd ever go...only to realize there's nowhere else we'd rather be. Sometimes, following Jesus takes us where we definitely don't want to go.

We're promised that following Jesus will involve struggles, trials, and pain. It certainly won't be easy. We might follow him to the Middle East. We might follow him to inner-city Chicago. We might follow him to the Nashville suburbs. We don't get to say, "God, you've given me too much!" Nor do we get to say, "God, you haven't given me enough!" He's told us to follow him, wherever he leads us...and he promises never to leave us or forsake us. Whether we're in Texas or Tehran, our Savior goes before us, beside us, and behind us, and He has won the victory.

"I may not know the way I go, but oh! I know my Guide."

I don't have to figure out all the plans God has for me. All I can do is trust Him and follow Him day by day. I don't have to order my life in such as way as to allow God to use me. He's got that under control. I'm just called to trust and obey. Trusting and obeying might lead me into a life of epic, non-stop adventures...stuff that everyone will want to read about. Trusting and obeying might lead me to a life of faithful, long-term obscurity...only visible to those who know me. 

Either way, I know this. Trusting and obeying will lead all of us into a life that is truly extraordinary. There's no way around it. Whether you're rescuing slaves in Eastern Europe or making your home a warm, safe, and hospitable place where your children can bring their friends after school...following Jesus is extraordinary, and it will have an impact on the Kingdom. 

And when you stand before the Throne on that glorious day, you will hear those beautiful words: "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Grace & peace,

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