Is Marriage the Answer?

by Philip

My dad, a tall handsome man with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, thoroughly enjoyed outdoor life. Dressed in his old army great coat and slouch hat, he would often take his dogs and rifle and go hunting in the forest surrounding our home. Or he would drive to a nearby river, take the fishing rods out of the trunk and cast a few lines. Back then he was a wonderful dad, someone I looked up to. I enjoyed riding on his shoulder, and feeling his unshaven face rubbing against mine. I would scream with laughter and playfully push him away. But something happened which seemed to put a distance between us.

Dad adored my mother, who was a loving, devoted wife and mother. Due to circumstances unknown to me, we shared the house with my grandparents and I guess that was a strain for her since she is a fiercely independent woman. An excellent cook, she taught me how to cook. Often we would sit at the piano and I would try to imitate her playing. Later I taught myself to read music and play the piano. My dad tried to get me interested in boys’ toys, like match box cars, a tiny pedal car, ball games and even taking walks with him in the dark, green forest. I enjoyed the walks, but was very frightened when he raised his rifle and fired at some object or animal. I would hide in the shelter of his great army coat. In spite of my dad’s efforts, I was always more attracted to dolls, high-heel shoes and smearing my face with my aunt’s lipstick. Dad began to sense my indifference and on occasion mentioned to my mother that I was a sissy. This was something I couldn’t understand.

I remember one very traumatic experience that happened when I was around three years old. My 21-year-old cousin was very fond of fussing over me and taking me around with her to different places. One day she set me on the kitchen table and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came back out, her breasts were exposed and her nipples were smeared with jam. I felt choked with fear. I burst into tears and screamed. Waving my arms about, I distracted her from forcing herself onto me. Sheer bolts of fear flashed through my head as I sobbed, wanting to go home. This isolated experience affected me so much that whenever I saw a baby being breast fed, I would shake with fear and would run out of the room. I’ve only recently been able to recognize that this was an episode of sexual abuse. The bright happy smile that I presented to the world gradually began to fade.

As I grew older I learned that I was hearing-impaired and the distance between me and Dad increased. I was frequently told to say words properly without much help. Faced with a harsh world, I retreated into a world of books, dreams of a better life and wanting to be loved and accepted. So I sensed very early that I was different.

Like many others, I was reared in a Christian home where we had worship twice a day and attended church every Sabbath, often staying there until late in the afternoon. It was a very strict environment where the woman from Battle Creek and her books were constantly referred to. My early concept of God was clouded with fear and uncertainty. It seemed to me that He would pounce on me every time I did something wrong and punish me. I felt that I had to be good in order to earn his good will. I had to be extra good to get to heaven. This later became a constant source of discouragement. Everything else in the world was "worldly". And "worldly" things -- even people -- were looked down on. Sex was definitely taboo. On two occasions, I was thrashed by my irate mother when she caught me "playing" with my brother’s penis. She belted me and said the police put people in jail for things like that. That stuck in my head and I was riddled with guilt.

Part of my childhood was spent growing up on a dairy farm. Every now and then we would drive 50 miles to the nearest big city and spend the day shopping. Once, when I was almost 12, I wandered down to the beach to wait for my parents. A lady clad in a brief bikini was lying on the sand, but I scarcely looked at her. I was captivated by the sight of the lifeguard. He was handsome and well-built, and just looking at him thrilled me.

No one warned me of the changes that would occur with my body and as these changes became obvious it caused me to be alarmed and I wondered if God was indeed punishing me. A friend of mine from church told me what was happening, and it was indeed a relief to discover that he was going through the same changes. I became attracted to him and it was always a pleasure to be near him. When I was fourteen, I was sent to a boarding academy in a neighboring state where I spent the next six years. There I found myself attracted to several guys. Feeling guilty, I tried to date girls but there was nothing. Something wasn’t right. Even when a well- thumbed copy of Playboy was passed around, I couldn’t find anything there to arouse my curiosity. It disgusted me.

It was a very painful process to fully accept myself as a gay man. All through my life I just knew that I was different, and when I heard the word "homosexual," although it came as a shock, it fully fit the feelings that I had. I was afraid of sports and so excused myself from them. One of my friends, remarking on some behavior which I found amusing, said only queers liked that kind of thing. I silently told myself, I know I’m queer, but I can’t help it. I just felt so isolated. Lonely. My self-esteem plunged to rock bottom.

After academy, I attended college for one year. It was very difficult for me to mingle in the communal showers they had there, so I got up very early to shower in order to avoid the company of others. I dated girls, but it was more like having a friend to talk to. If I was turned down, hot tears burned my eyes, because I felt they could sense that I was different. I left college and went to work for the church-owned health food industry. Back then it was still taboo to even mention homosexuality. Doing so would have led to rejection, perhaps even the loss of my employment and bring shame on my family. Being insecure and sensitive, I just couldn’t talk about it—not to anyone in my family, not to my friends and especially not to my pastor. It was something I could never look anyone in the eye and talk about; it was too shameful to mention.

I honestly believed that I was the only Adventist in the whole world who had homosexual feelings. Putting on a mask, I buried the secret deep down inside me. But I admired the courage of some people in the gay rights movements who appeared on TV. To cope with my internal stress, and perhaps to help me feel more manly, I took up smoking. This eventually caused me to be fired from my job.

Life was a struggle. I mingled with straight guys, did the same things that they did, tried to play football with them. I joked about gays, too, inwardly hating myself for doing so. My mother wrote to me, saying it was unnatural for me to be spending so much of my time with my friends. Not knowing what to do, I began to think that maybe if I got married I would no longer have this gay orientation and be attracted to men. I came to firmly believe that this would solve my problem. While working for the health food industry, I had met a lovely young lady and decided that the answer to my dilemma was to marry her. Besides, I badly wanted to please my parents and feel good in front of my peers.

We married, and our wedding night was spent in a classy hotel sleeping on our own sides of the bed. Although there were various evidences that I was different and I once accidentally left a gay newspaper in the house, I didn’t talk to my wife about my struggles, because I honestly believed they would go away. Instead, my gay orientation grew stronger. A year after we married my wife was pregnant, and I stumbled into a gay bathhouse, an activity which I continued from time to time. The gay rights movement became prominent, and I eventually left the church because there was no way I could reconcile my orientation with what the church taught. From time to time, I would earnestly plead with God. I just couldn’t understand it all. I felt condemned and knew that the Bible said it was a sin. But I couldn’t help it. It was natural for me to feel that way.

Finally, after eight years, and with two children in our family, I decided I had to tell my wife that I was gay. Inwardly, I was terrified about how she would react. So, I wrote out what I was going to say. Fear tingled up and down my spine as I watched her read my note. She responded by saying, "No matter what, I still love you." But not knowing how to handle this situation thrust into her hands, she made things difficult for me by spilling the beans to my parents, her family members, some church members and several friends. This only caused me much heartache. Being afraid to approach the church and with no one offering me much-needed help and support, I plunged deeper into the gay scene. Often after leaving a gay encounter, I would sit in the corner of the sofa, bunch up my fists and groan from deep inside me, God, please help me!

I still firmly believed that I was the only Adventist to feel this way. But one day while browsing through a gay bookstore I discovered a news item about a group of gay Adventists who had met together at a Kampmeeting in the US. A ray of hope dawned in my mind, but then I dismissed it, since it was far away from these shores.

The mid 80’s brought the dread news about AIDS and its impact on the gay community. It was a scary and stressful time. One night I had a dream which was instrumental in bringing me back to church and giving my heart to the Lord. I was able to overcome smoking -- just Him and me, working together. I still had the wrong concept of God, thinking I had to be perfect in order to be saved. This was changing, but ever so slowly. Prior to being re-baptized the pastor came to visit me at my home and I revealed to him my struggle not only with smoking but also with homosexuality. As he uncrossed his legs, I could sense that he was uncomfortable. He quickly told me he would never say a word about it to anyone. This only reinforced my belief that I had to overcome being gay.

I still wanted help. It had to come from somewhere. Earlier that year, my mother had sent a letter with a clipping attached to it and I had kept it. It was a list of books and materials for marriages and relationships, but it was the last item, about changing from homosexuality to heterosexuality, that caught my attention. At the time, I found that highly amusing, but I decided to keep the paper. Now, I searched the phone book for the name at the bottom of the list and dialed the number and asked about this list of books and where could I find the tapes listed at the end. I was told to contact the conference office and ask for the marriage counselor there. This was my introduction to Colin Cook’s tapes and the Quest Learning Centre. I began counseling with a pastor, based on these tapes and other materials, and then with another pastor. For a while this offered me hope that I could really change and be "normal" as a heterosexual man. I also discovered that there was an alternative group called Kinship and began to receive their publications. My hope of change was dashed, as time went on and I found that my attractions were still as strong as ever. But the small ray of hope that I wasn’t alone in this began to grow in my mind and helped me to fully accept myself as a person who happened to be gay. I was still disheartened and discouraged over not being able to change. But my concept of God was changing and that kept me hanging on because this became "news" to me.

I still had dark valleys to go through. Other times the mountains loomed high and threatening above me. There were cliffs that were impossible to climb on my own. Sometimes there was nothing to hang on to, the nearest edge way above me or too far below. One pastor who counseled with me said that because of the fall of humankind, we are broken in all areas, including sexually. God sees us as very broken people who need healing . Because of that he suggested that maybe God is not too rigid when it comes to having monogamous relationships with another man. Healing and acceptance came to me slowly. Gradually I accepted myself as a gay man who is loved by God.

I tried, in some small way, to explain how wonderful God’s love was to me as a gay man. When someone wrote negative comments about homosexuals in the Record (South Pacific Division church paper), I wrote back that God’s love was for all, including gay people. Since I had signed my name, there were some nail-biting moments as I waited for negative comments. There were none, but about six months later my mother wrote and said I had brought shame on the whole family by writing that letter. Although this lack of acceptance was shattering to my self-esteem and I became very discouraged, I continued to accept myself as I am, a gay man. This was very liberating, and for the first time in my life I began to feel like a normal human being.

I still had some hard lessons to learn, but I believe God was patiently drawing me closer to Him with each experience. During this time I had no one to turn to but Kinship, where I found acceptance and love that I couldn’t find anywhere else. Although still living with my wife and children I experienced love with another man, but because it was an open relationship, it fell through. I ended up going back to my addictive lifestyle, while maintaining my connections with the church. But each experience left me increasingly uncomfortable.

Then several experiences caused me to change my thinking and focus on the Lord. First was a work-related accident. I injured my neck and later needed major surgery. Then there were long months of rehabilitation and efforts to get back into the work force. Finally, there was termination of my employment by an Adventist Hospital, where I had so much loved working. In my despair, I did go to the bathhouse to escape my problems, but that only caused me to realize that there was more to life than this. So I turned to the Lord because, even though I knew that He accepted me as I was, I just wasn’t comfortable being addicted to strange men. I turned it over to Him and said that it was His job to change my behaviour because I couldn’t do anything about it. Although I still believe that a monogamous relationship with another man may possibly be acceptable to the Lord, I determined to remain married, be committed to my wife and, if necessary, live a celibate life.

To the Lord’s glory I have been freed from the addictive behavior for nearly two years now. Mind you, I still have hassles. It's easy to feel the pull of places to cruise for men, and at times I just felt like going back to the beats. But the Lord has started a good work in me and has not given me up yet. My salvation doesn’t come from not going to the bars or bath houses or being intimate with a close male friend. It doesn’t come from being gay or straight. Nor does it come from falling on my knees and telling God all my needs and what pleases me, or going to church and reading the Bible. My salvation comes from just accepting Jesus as my Savior and believing that His death and resurrection was for me. That’s all we need to do to be saved.

Over the past couple of years, I have found little support in my church or among its members to meet the needs of gay men like myself. However, once I connected to the internet, I found wonderful support from two forums, Kinnnet and GLOW. They have become like family to me and I have made some wonderful friends. Of the two forums, I have found GLOW to be truly wonderful, and I believe that every single one of us on that forum have been bonded together by sharing our love for God and each other. All of us have been richly blessed.

My marriage has been hurt and it has been very painful. Even though I decided to become committed to my wife, the pain is still there. The scars remain. One of the fallen monuments that has to be rebuilt is one of trust. Never for a moment suggest that in order to change one’s orientation a gay person should marry. I myself firmly believed that I could change, but it was like telling a leopard to change his spots. Even during a painful marriage, the rainbow of hope still shines and it reminds me that healing does come from the Creator of us all. At times when everything appears to be impossible, God turns a hopeless situation into something beautiful for him. My concept of God has changed. I view Him now as I first did with my own dad when I was a small child. He became someone who is willing to greet me with a warm hug and I could hide in the fold of his robe when I feel a little threatened. A God of love, someone willing to bend down from His throne and to listen to my whispered cry for help.

My life as a gay man, even though married, has brought me closer to a loving God. And if He can accept me by being my friend and loving me, cannot the church do the same?