The Road Ahead
So, I met a lady at a party the other night. I will just let that rest there as you predict the potential outcome of this post.
Some of you are praising God that your prayers have been answered, while others of you are immediately beginning to pray that this mystery woman has patience. A larger portion of you are waiting for the punch line.
So, I met a lady at a party the other night. Her name is Jenny. She introduced me to another woman named Jenny; her wife. When I hear a women talk about her wife or a man talk about his husband, it hits a part of my brain that is less shock and more intrigue. I have been introduced to plenty of same-sex wives and husbands. It is simply the sign of the age in which we reside.
Meeting the two Jennys led me down a path of retrospection. If things had been different, I would have married my longtime boyfriend in 1996. And 20 years later Iwould be introducing my husband, Joseph. That gave me pause for thought. To be honest, my first thought wasn't "thank God I didn't get married to a man." My first thought was more selfish in nature; "Thank God I didn't get married, because I wouldn't have enjoyed the freedom of a single life for the last 20 years." Whether I had married a man or a woman, is inconsequential when it comes to freedom. Life decisions are different when it's you alone at the head of the board room, rather than you, your spouse and a few kids all weighing in with their opinions.
While the world is celebrating marriage for one and all, I have to say that each time I see a gay couple together, my heart aches for them. Label me a hater, I don't care. It's isn't a judgment call. I have been where they are and beyond. I know that gay marriage is not in God's plan for His creation. I know the human desire to live a normal life intermingled with the complications of homosexual desires.
In case you were wondering, I didn't wake up one day and want to marry a man. By the time I got to the point, I had been through a myriad of conversations and decisions about my homosexual desires. Wanting to marry a man came after a thousands of compromises, daily shame and heartbreak and many acts of settling for less. I never thought I could leave homosexuality behind. I didn't want to live in the Christian worldwhere they seemed to hate me, so I made the best life I could in the mess of my broken sexuality. I look back now and know that it was only the prayers of my father that kept me from succumbing fully to the deception of homosexuality. If you are a praying parent, do not stop praying and fighting for your child. The bible says that the effectual, fervent prayers of a righteous person avails much.
I think that in today's culture, there is so much acceptance promoted and demanded for all things gay, that gay people get to the marriage decision a lot sooner than I did. I am thankful I had time to wrestle between the religions of homosexuality and Christianity. All these years later, I have a faith with Jesus and a walk out of homosexuality that were forged in the fires of trial and error; safe from angry, belligerent gays and angrier Christians who took "the bible is a sword" scripture way, too, seriously. The gay community goes after anyone with even an inkling of sexual struggle these days, expecting them to claim citizenship under one of the ever-growing collection of initials in the LGBTQ+ moniker.
This year I celebrate that 19 years ago on December 22, 1998, I said no longer will I run from God. No longer will I believe the lie that I was born gay or that gay is a reasonable compatriot of heterosexuality. No longer could I continue to believe something about myself that God didn't believe or orchestrate. I didn't leave homosexuality behind easily. I had to take action. There was a point where I had to stop waffling between the two great ideologies raging within me and freakin' PICK SOMETHING to believe in.
In the gospels, Jesus appears to his disciples after his crucifiction on the beach. After the death of Jesus, their friend and teacher, they had returned to their old lives as fishermen. I imagine that they were paralyzed with hopelessness and grief. What I find compelling and encouraging is Jesus's actions towards Peter. The weight of what Peter had done weighed heavily on him. He carried the weight of his sin into his interaction with Jesus. Jesus, in turn, brought something unexpected. Jesus reminded Peter of their bond and welcomed him to the next season of growth, despite his sinful past.
The Lord is doing the same for me. I am currently spending time some time on the shore with Jesus. He is calling me to a new season of growth. To lay down over 40 years of struggle and follow Him with a renewed spirit. He has called me to make decisions to free myself of the obstacles I have allowed to take root in my heart and to trust Him to do the necessary surgery on my soul. He is reminding me that before I was an earthly son, a minister, an ex-gay or an executive director, He is my savior and I am His chosen disciple. I feel the freest I have ever felt. Considering the Lord delivered me from the idea that I was gay for 27 years, that is saying a lot. As I divulge myself of the things that have kept me bound, I step into a new season, a new beginning and land where excuses stand between me and my ultimate purpose.
This new season is best described by an idea my pastor birthed a few weeks back. The life of a Christian is simply this.
Jesus. All day. Every day.
Heavy Breather
When I first visited Colorado, it was after living in the lowlands of Oklahoma for 14 years. On top of Pike’s Peak, I found myself gasping for air every few breaths. It was a simple problem that eventually passed. Yet, in the beginning each gasp for air brought on panic and anxiety. Breathing was something I had taken for granted. Something I never had to think about. Then one day, I decided to climb a mountain. After God formed Adam from the dust of the earth, the bible says in Genesis 2:7, “the LORD God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Adam’s first breath was on loan from God. It says that God breathed into Adam’s nostrils. I think about the CPR and first aid training I’ve had. Sure glad the Red Cross doesn’t perform CPR according to scripture. Can you imagine waking up to someone’s mouth firmly clasped over your nose? It would sure make movie drowning rescues a tad less romantic.
Our weekly life group lesson dealt with another kind of “breath of life”. I felt a little like Neo in the Matrix, wandering down the rabbit hole as God began to draw parallels between His breath of life for Adam and our breath of life for people. God began to unpack multiple life lessons in my head, with more twists and turns than a Game of Thrones Finale. When the dust settled, my knees were bent, my heart ached and I knew I had to consider each word carefully from here on out.
What did God teach me about the heavy consequences of my breath? He says that the tongue holds the power of life and death. Our words can lift people up or break them down. 1 Thessalonians 5:11 says “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up…”. Matthew 15:11 says that the stuff that comes out of our mouths defiles us.
God knows our infinite need for reminders along our journey on earth. That is why he consistently lays a trail of bread crumbs back to Genesis throughout the bible. He wants us to remember that first Divine breath that brought life to Adam. He challenges us to in turn to breathe life into those around us.
1 Peter 1:16 “because it is written, “Be holy, for I am holy.” Once again God uses scripture to say, if you wanna be like me you gotta act like me. He says I have good intentions, you should, too. I gave life with My breath. Give life with yours. Jesus tells us that if we believe in Him, we will do the works He was doing, and we will do even greater works than He did. We may not have God’s super powers, but we can be super powerful if we have God.
James 3:10 “Out of the same mouth comes praise and cursing…this should not be.” I am convicted by this scripture, every time I unleash a verbal barrage of anger and disdain on tourists inside my car in traffic. I reminded of my selfish nature when someone says something that hits the “I’m Offended Lobe” in my brain and I go off.
As I contemplated this week’s lesson: think before you speak and distribute grace, not judgment with your mouth, I caught a glimpse of creation in my mind. God’s hands were still dusty from forming Adam from the ground. He was bent low over Adam, perhaps admiring His work. Then I imagine God taking in a deep breath, knowing full well the great good and bad of which Adam was capable. Knowing full well that Adam could choose to love Him or not, He never paused, He never stopped to reconsider.
He just breathed.
God chose to give life regardless of what Adam might choose or deserve. God challenged me in that moment to make the same choice. To love freely. To give life with every breath. God may have breathed life into Adam’s nostrils, but He is calling us to breathe life into the ears of the rest of creation.
"My Chosen Family"
When I was in my twenties Banana Republic came out with an ad campaign that, even for back then, pushed the envelope of societal norms. The tagline of their three page photo spread was “My Chosen Family”. Those words highlighted pictures of chiseled, male models holding hands with perky, yet elegant female models. As one turned the page there were guys holding hands with guys and girls following in their same sex steps. Those pages were life to my dead, lonely, closeted soul. It was veritable buffet of emotional porn that the enemy used to entice and ensnare simultaneously. They led me to believe I belonged somewhere. I don’t know if you are tired of hearing me pine on and on about what life was like back then, but frankly, I don’t care. Today, in a world where modern technology prevents us from being alone on a toilet for more than two seconds, people are still love starved and desperate for meaningful connection. People are still dying of interminable loneliness. I was that kid. I was that teenager. And somedays I am still that adult. A statement came to me last week that reverberated through the last 45 years of my life.
"I've never had a moment where I was alone, yet I've spent most of my life lonely."
As I hit the send button on each one of these blogs I feel like a scientist sending messages into outer space, waiting and wondering if I will get a response. There are times I know that I am sending out a literary cure for loneliness. Other times I know that I am letting someone know that Jesus has not forgotten them. That God will never leave them, forget about them or leave them alone. Then there are times that I feel this blog goes up like the Bat Signal performing multiple purposes using just one source of light.
I have been experiencing an awakening my friends. Like the feeling generated when you feel the first gust of a fall breeze or see one tiny, unexpected snowflake delivered by the wind. It has nothing to do with the physical seasons and everything to do with the spiritual season of my heart, my calling, God’s timing.
You may or may not know this, but I was born with a super sensitive heart; a blessing from God; a perceived weakness by some. I have suffered great damage to my heart and that sensitivity at the hands of family and those close to me. I couldn't choose my real family. So when the idea that I could actually belong to a loving family, a family of my choosing came along, it tripped every sensor in the “YES, PLEASE” portion of my brain.
I have long since forgiven those closest to me for the atrocities, real and perceived, that were perpetrated on me. Moving beyond the hurt feelings and the need for revenge prevented those who hurt me, from damaging me further. On the other side of forgiveness though, I emerged a different man with responses and reactions that had nothing to do with who God created me to be and more to do with the broken man shaped by the world. I spent the biggest part of my life wanting people to see me as smart, attractive, fun and accomplished. And an even bigger part investing so much time in trying to look like I had finally ARRIVED that I quickly lost sight of the journey and the ever changing destinations.
This past week as hurricane Irma devastated island after island and eventually my home state, I was safely tucked away in Oklahoma visiting my father. I was also blessed to connect with one of my oldest college friends. We hadn’t seen each other in 13 years. Our only knowledge of one another were the snippets of info and blurry pictures scattered across social media and the occasional search engine. Sitting down with my oldest friend, I was confronted with just how much life has passed me by. The passage of time revealed to me that neither one of us are the boisterous, boy crazy fools we were at Oklahoma State. I realized that out of every other person in my life, Scotty knows me better than any human on the face of the planet. That is partially because he has known me so long, but mostly because I decided long ago, he could be trusted and I let him in.
There are Sundays that I am feel like I am being more truthful than every other person in church. I can spot BS from a mile away and smell it from 5. I don’t make friends easily. I don't trust easily either. I feel like someone always has ulterior motives. I imagine that most people as characters in a bad English spy movie. I look for inconsistencies in their stories. Every once in a while the Lord leads me to good people. The Holy Spirit gives me the go ahead and I start a long and meaningful relationship. satan is always stirring up the microscopic seeds of my past to spawn a fresh batch of sh...shtuff. New people who remind us of people in our past, can often trigger old thought patterns, habits and responses. I fight daily to maintain these new relationships with the newly elected members of “my chosen family”.
Different than the people in those Banana Republic ads, the chosen family of my life nowadays are 3 dimensional. They have encountered sickness, heartache, divorce, rape and other atrocities. Some of them have been crushed under the weight of it. Their hearts may never love the same again. But the God we serve is the same yesterday, today and forever. The God we serve will always be by our side, and hold our hand even as He sees fit to allow us to walk through the fires of our everyday Hell.
I do my best to honor my father and mother as the scripture commands, but I will be damned if I will stay silent, keeping a lid on my pain and anguish, because those who have hurt me are now embarrassed by the truths that I share in the open. It is often the victims who suffers fresh, daily death, even after the perpetrators have long since forgotten their crimes.
I wrote a piece of poetry once that dripped with crimson rivers of vengeance. I would never physically harm anyone in real life, but I could murder my foes a thousand times over in my literary ramblings. When I laid down my right to vengeance and asked God for forgiveness and to cleanse my heart from the harm I had wished on my enemies, my chains fell away. For the first time, I could look long and hard into the lives of my tormentors and feel a compassion and an understanding for a life of familiar despair.
God is not my co-pilot as an 80’s bumpersticker once decreed. God is my life support system. Jesus tells me this, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." I sit here in the 2am dark of my Florida living room, praising God not that I found Him or He found me, but instead praising Him because I was never misplaced. Each and every step, each disappointment, each oopsy poopsy was known by my Father in heaven. He saw fit to allow each member of my family and my chosen family to shape, mold, chisel and sculpt the man you see before you today.
I am reminded of a song I used to sing when I was a little boy. “He’s still working on me. To make me what I ought to be. It took Him just a week to make the moon and the stars, the sun and the earth and Jupiter and Mars. How loving and patient He must be. He’s still working on ME.” I most definitely have not arrived my friends. Some days, I hand out more apologies than accolades. Yet, as I sit here, in the wonderful space of Big Fish Ministry that my Father God provided to me as a refuge, I hear him whisper nightly to “You are My son. You are loved more than you know. You are cared for. You are my precious child. You have not been forgotten. And you will always be MY CHOSEN FAMILY. Love, Dad"
My Heart. Pulse Shooting.
I’m currently in Anchorage, Alaska, 4 hours behind my home city of Orlando. Orlando, a city whose every heartbeat centers around theme parks and attractions. The world vacations here. As the world looks on, tragedy breached our walls. I woke this morning to texts of “Are you okay?” and “Have you heard the news?”. I was transported back to the morning of the Oklahoma City Bombing. I was awakened by a friend to tragic news from my home state. This type of evil is not something you get used to. It is a loss that steals your breath away and freezes your soul to the core. I have been in ministry to the gay and ex-gay community, since I walked away from homosexuality in 1998. After spending 1999 in Oklahoma I moved to Orlando in January of 2000. I fell in love with Orlando. Nothing closes for long. There is something to do every moment of the day. A year after I moved, American lives would change forever as terrorists stole away our national security and momentarily, our confidence to travel by air. I worked for Sea World at the time and on 9/12 there were 400 people in the park. It appeared that evil had won. Orlando was quiet for a few months, as if holding our breath in anticipation of what was next.
Fast forward to these past few days. As I texted one friend after another and found them safe, my heart quieted a bit. The ominous weight of death plagued my heart for days. This senseless, barbaric tragedy happened in my city, to my community. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in Orlando. There are young men and women in their 20’s and 30’s who entered eternity last night. There are family’s deprived of brothers, sisters, uncles, fathers and daughters. Someone’s little girl will never come home again. Unspoken words will never be voiced. That should cause each of us a moment of pause for prayer. Now is the time to mourn for those who lost their lives, minister to the wounded and step alongside families experiencing loss. If we can be the church to the LGBTQ+ community in Orlando, then evil will not triumph and we will be true servants of Jesus.
I have had the privilege of doing life together with a few gay men in Orlando. I have witnessed their God-given gifts at work. I have experienced their talents at theme parks and church services alike. Like it or not, I have given guidance to young men about abusive boyfriends, breakups, divorce and suicidal thoughts. I have hugged and held them when they were hurting and supplied them with furniture, food, time and tears. In short, I have given them my heart. One doesn’t have to agree with another's sexual orientation to share Jesus with a world in pain. My years as a gay man, serve as a reference library as I minister Jesus to the LGBTQ+ community.
How much longer can we be Christians who worship God openly on Sunday, yet hide Him away for the rest of our week? If we can meet a human need and we choose not to do so, the bible calls that sin. You might find yourself asking, "Do I have a ministry?" The answer is yes. If you have a heart and a voice, you are equipped to minister to the victims of this heinous crime. God tells us to go into all the world and preach the gospel. Satan has brought the fight to our city. He has taken loved ones and souls from us, who are dear to God.
20 years ago I could have easily been one of those young people in that club. I grew up in a Christian home. I knew all the right things to say and do. I had also been hurt and wounded by the church and most, every man I encountered. I didn't set out, looking to be sinful. I was looking for a safe place to belong and be valued; to quiet the source of my raging pain. I was running from demons inside my head. The clubs were my safe places. They still are to many men and women in the gay community today.
Christian friends and family. It’s not time to picket and criticize. It is time to pray that Jesus would reach your gay friend or loved one them with the message of eternal life. Find out the name of every club in your city, gay or straight, and commit to pray over them. Google the club addresses, get in your car and commit an act of drive by praying. Some people go clubbing for a night of partying, but for some in the gay community the bar is their church, social club, home away from home and a refuge from the world. Lest we forget how many safe places we retreated to before Jesus finally led us home. Respond with grace. Listen well. Share the truth of the gospel. Pray relentlessly for the lost souls. They may not know what's at stake. We do.
To my gay friends and their families. I am deeply, sorry for your loss. I may have physically left the gay community, but my heart remains for those who are alienated, rejected and wounded. May God bless you and keep you safe. I pray that you will experience the love of Christians around you and that each of you would experience the love of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ loves you. God loves you. If you have been marginalized by the Christian community, I pray that the Holy Spirit would not only comfort you, but draw you to a loving church community. I pray you would experience the true nature of God. I pray against any enemy that would steal, kill and destroy further. That each and every one of the remaining survivors would experience full recovery. I praise God that so many people were able to escape the club safely. May God guide the hand of the doctors working to save lives. May you feel the comfort of the Holy Spirit as we begin to heal as a city. I pray all this in the name of Jesus.
Let me be; that Man
Each morning, many members of the family of illuminate church read the same devotional from wherever they find themselves on the planet. The devotion is the brainchild of Pastor Wayne Cordero and can be found here: www.lifejournal.cc. We are currently reading selections from the book of Numbers, which, I know sounds about as riveting as having a root canal with no anesthetic. BUT...I found this awesome nugget from God today.
So his guy named Balaam, yes the same Balaam with the talking Donkey, was being paid to put a curse Israel. However, each time Balaam opened his mouth, God led him to bless Israel, which really angered the guy paying him to curse Israel. On the third try, the Spirit of God came over Balaam and he began a third and final blessing with these words.
Numbers 24:3b-4 "The utterance of the man whose eyes are opened, the utterance of him who hears the words of God, who sees the vision of the Almighty, who falls down , with eyes wide open."
Here was my prayer to God after reading this scripture. "I pray that I am that man. That my eyes be opened and no longer shrouded in fear. That my ears would be open to everything God is speaking and not just the things that I want to hear God say. That I have a taste and a desire for God's ultimate plan. That I remain humble in HIs presence and obedient to His call on my life, His vision for man and reverent to His name and vast resumé." I pray that for each of you right now. Each of you as the man or woman that God created you to be. God still has a plan for you.
Remember these people: 1) the woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8, 2) the man crippled since birth in Acts 14, 3) the 10 lepers of Luke 17, 4) a beggar named Blind Bartimaeus in Mark 10, 5) the paralytic man of Mark 2 whose friends lowered him through the roof .
And finally this guy 6) The man in John 5 at the pool of Bethesda was sick for thirty-eight years.
Jesus saw this guy lying there. Jesus knew that he had been in that condition a long time. Jesus says to him, “Do you want to be made well?” The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”
How many times have you said, “I can’t", "I don’t know how", "There’s no way”.
Jesus has come to say to us: "I know what you struggle with", "I know how long you have struggled with it", and "I’m not interested in your excuses and your explanations".
I just want to know one thing, “Do you want to be made well?”
Father God, I ask that you encourage every Christian who desires a closer walk with You today. Give them ears to hear what You are speaking to them and over them. Give them a vision for Your perfect will. Lead them into a deeper relationship with You. Amen.
Jesus: Expletive, Weapon or Freedom
About a month ago, I celebrated the 17th anniversary of the day I walked away from homosexuality. There were no cakes, no banners or brightly colored, celebratory paraphenalia; only the amazing recollection of the day that Jesus became something more to me than a crass expression used by irreverently or the weaponized tool of manipulation used by religious zealots. Jesus Christ. What a powerful name! Jesus' life and ministry was the fulfillment of many prophecies in the Old Testament. During those cold moments at the close of 1998 and the cessation of my sexual escapades, Jesus fulfilled one scripture for me above all else. Proverbs 18:24- "One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." A friend that sticks closer than a brother. I had lived a life virtually spitting in the face of Jesus, but at the end of my rebellion He was standing there saying "Welcome Back". Back to reality. Back to His will. Back to life. The Walking Dead, though science fiction, was my reality for 2 decades. I spent my life focused on getting beyond the difficult junk in order to get to the good stuff on the other side. Good stuff was forever elusive. Life had become a vast swamp and I wandered endlessly, pursuing an ever changing destination. Conversely, the Old Testament account of Joseph speaks of thriving in difficulty. Joseph was sold into slavery, stolen from his father and imprisoned on false charges. Yet he consistently gave glory and praise to God, rather than moping about. He thrived, because he was surrendered to God. It was said of Joseph in Genesis 41:38 "Can we find such a one as this, a man in whom is the Spirit of God?" As I wandered through the desert of my dysfunction, I repeatedly said 'No Thanks God', blaming my misfortune on Him. Joseph's peace in time of trouble was always something of an illusion to me.
As a young, gay man I wielded words like weapons. I made sport of being angry, bitter and offensively witty. In restrospect, it's clear those aren't Christlike attributes. But to my young, gay mind, tainted by the deceptive beliefs of: "abandoned by God" and "hated by Christians", words were a source of survival. So much of the scripture lately lends support to choosing Jesus over sin of any kind. There are benefits to serving the One Master, Jesus, over the other master, our broken sexuality.
My father's effective and powerful prayers and growing up in a church bathed in scripture, are the two main reasons I was able to leave homosexuality and stay away. In my own ministry, I have realized that I don't pray for people nearly as much as my father did for me. God is not bringing young men to me so I can tell them to behave. God is bringing men into my life who struggle so that I can reiterate the fact that Jesus is the answer to what ails them. The Holy Spirit revisited that idea a few weeks ago in the wee hours of the morning. "Just tell them about Jesus," he said. It's always been about Jesus and will always be about Jesus. There is no other name under heaven by which a man can be saved. I pondered these thoughts yesterday, as I sat across the table from a young man who had just told me he was on the verge of making a huge decision. He was deciding between living a life for God or going headlong into the gay life. This was no easy decision for him. And no easy confession. I have been in this young man's life for a little over a year. I've seen him victorious over sin one day and giving into it entirely the next. Keep in mind. He never came right out and said, I plan on screwing up my life forever by leaving my wife and family behind in order to live as who I truly am. He is tormented by the decision, but he sees no other way.
As a Christian who struggles with homosexual desires I understand his pain. What struck my heart the most was one of the reasons he said he was giving up and going into the gay life. He said it would just make things easier. To which I replied, "For whom?". I read in scripture today about serving two masters. While it is primarily used as a sermon on serving God or money, it speaks volumes to a principle I alluded to earlier; choosing one master to serve. The bible says that no servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon. -Luke 16:13. As I chatted with my friend, I could indeed see the fork in the road where he was standing. The road on the left was an easy, short journey through life followed by a tormented, infinite journey into hell. The path on the right was narrow and winding, filled with hardship for a time filled with an eternity with a loving God. My friend had spent the bulk of his life stuck between gay and God, taking on the feel good parts of Christianity and the exciting parts of his gay life, while never fully committing to either. It was the proverbial life of living on the fence. One which the New Testament describes God as saying, and I am paraphrasing, be hot or cold, because you will never amount to any good as a lukewarm, fence dweller; spiritual limbo if you will.
Conversations like this are frequent in "ex-gay" ministry. After the death of Exodus International and the onslaught of government, approved gay marriage, many have lost sight of the truth of scripture. Many have lost the will to fight. While perusing Facebook last week I read a post that hit like a gut punch. No it wasn't "Hillary 2016". The post said simply, "Here is a picture of my beautiful wife." Those words were uttered by a friend I used to attend church with and minister alongside. That friend's name is Lisa. Daily, I see the casualties of homosexual sin and desire. I don't hate homosexual sin for all the preconceived Christian reasons. I hate the idea that the people I know and love are surrendering themselves to a life where they will be chewed up, spit out and disrespected. A world where Jesus is neither honored nor exalted. At the end of the day though, they are subject to the laws of the land we chose to live in. They may be submitting themselves willingly, but I know the realistic pull of sexual sin. It sets in at an early age and steals away a person's youth and life experience.
I see now why my father spent so many nights on his knees in prayer before God. His heart ached for the lost, as mine does now. If you find yourself at the same crossroads as my friend, please reach out before you make a life altering decision. If you have someone in your life who is about to succumb to the pressures of sexual desire and temptation, please don't stop praying for that person. Though I have traveled to Alaska, Australia and beyond to share Jesus with whomever would listen, I found myself defeated in my own backyard. For a moment I gave up on my friend. The thought crossed my mind that I was so tired of losing friends to homosexuality. Later that night I repented for giving up so easily and prayed earnestly for the life of my friend and other sons and daughters. I asked God to remind satan that he's been defeated. I went to battle for lives that truly matter and souls with whom I want to spend an eternity in heaven.
Jesus was fully a man. Jesus is fully God. And where I get it wrong and build expectations and hurdles for people, He builds a bridge. You can know Jesus today, too. He doen't ask you to clean yourself up before you come to Him. He simply invites you to come. If you are struggling today at the crossroads, there is freedom from homosexuality, but most importantly, there is life in Jesus Christ. I am living proof.
1 Corinthians 6:9-11 - 9 Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men 10 nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. 11 And that is what some of you were. But you were washed,you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.
My Church, My Friend and Your Heart
So my friend James is a real God Save the Queen Brit. I worked with him at Sea World for 15 years. We were hired the same year. Over the years we had our share of knockdown, drag out, screaming matches. With his accent his arguing points always sound a bit more enlightened. Then in a few days, we’d both get our knickers unstuck and be on about the business of training animals. Though we had more than our fair share of misunderstandings, we also shared a great deal of laughter. I consider him one of the great takeaways of my Sea World career. He frequently calls and shares a chat with me on his drive home. I always know James is about home, because Facetime shuts off and Siri quietly displays the words “poor connection”. On the odd occasion when I get to see James again, it’s always with a big hug and grateful heart. He’s one of the most amazing animal trainers you’d ever hope to meet. James also happens to be a carpenter, a barber, a dancer, a pilot, a doting father, and a loving husband to Marie. In the emotional makeup of my life, James is a lifer. But we’ve experienced a few other “poor connections” over the years.
I remember that there were times James would ask me religious questions. There were times when he stated his opinion about the church. One particular occasion I was eating lunch. I had microwaved my food, sat down at the table and prayed over my meal. When I finished, James looked across the table and said, “Doesn’t He know that your food is getting cold?” I think he then gestured toward the sky. I explained that a 30 second prayer wouldn’t be long enough for my food to go cold. We both had a good laugh over that one.
On another occasion, James begin asking me about my church and what we did for the homeless, the community, etc.. He voiced his opinion that it should be the churches role to help everyone in need. Although I was in complete agreement, I think I went on the defensive for the whole of Christianity. I felt like the church can’t solely be expected to provide everything to everyone. I felt it leaves a wide margin of error for the church to “disappoint” and “disillusion” one more person regarding God.
I am reminded of this conversation with James, because Illuminate Church, my church, is the kind of giving church that James spoke about. Heck, our church even gives out bibles on Sunday if people don’t have one and need one. Our church serves the community and the schools in the community where we are located. We attend homeless food and clothing drives. My church donates a monthly stipend to the ministry that I direct as well. The men and women of Illuminate Church are the hands and feet of God that my friend James was speaking of that day. Once a year, the women of the church gather together with their friends to collect a bazillion gift cards for a benevolence fund for the following year. One of the ladies at church heads up a coat and shoe drive for impoverished kids up North. When it comes to serving people, we have people chomping at the bit to help.
I have attended this church for the better part of 10 years. What I love the most about the church is that we have a pastor and a pastoral staff that preach the word of God straight from the bible. You might think, “Don’t all churches do that?” The honest answer would be no. Some are more like bars and restaurants where they cater to what the patrons want. Our church is more like a hospital where the sick come to meet Jesus and those who have been healed or helped are rolling up their sleeves and pitching in to imitate Jesus and be about their Father’s business.
I found hope, healing and community among good Christian men as I was continuing my walk towards Jesus and away from homosexuality. If you have an opinion about church that has kept you away from church, like my friend James, set that aside this week and join us at Illuminate Church. The decision to attend a little church in Celebration, Florida long ago, eventually became a church I have called home for 10 years.
My church is more than just a building. It’s a family of people who make sure that new people don’t feel new very long. My church is a hug and fun fact from my friends Linda and Doug. It’s a word of advice and encouragement from Judy. A worship experience led by people who worship even when they aren’t on stage. We give, so that we can give back. It’s pastors who write their sermons from the bible not from the headlines. It’s a place where Jesus is mentioned frequently and the Holy Spirit is welcome. If God has been speaking to about church, find ours or start your search for the one nearest to you. Don’t let your emotions cheat you out of what your heart really needs.
Remembering My Mom
My relationship with my mom was a hard fought battle. Nothing about it was easy. Over the years we shed more tears than a Miss Universe crowning. I was a shy, sensitive kid. She was born to an emotionally distant, angry alcoholic who believed that “girls can’t work so they are a waste of food.” My mom was gifted with a sensitive caring heart, but it was repeatedly crushed in the harsh reality of her world. She grew up simultaneously fearing men, but falling in love with my dad. They were married 38 years. When my relationship with her was good, we shared an emotional synergy capable of changing the world. When it was bad, we inflicted heart damage on each other that we’d never recover from until her death. Around Christmas of 2011, God called me home to check on mom and dad. I knew He was calling me home, but I didn’t know why. Christmas day unceremoniously came and went. Mom had spent the last two years living in her recliner in the living room. She had simply checked out of life and honestly seemed to be waiting on God to take her home. My mom had always struggled with Bi-polar disorder, but tried hard to hide it from my brother and I. She wasn’t always successful. I grew up afraid of her.
Christmas 2011 was difficult at best. Conversations were sparse and strained, if at all. I spent many days occupying the couch opposite my mother’s makeshift fortress from which she watched the life stories and adventures of the people in her chosen community play out on TV. I still had no idea what God was up to. Most days I felt like a rescue diver desperately scanning for signs of life in the “murky waters” of what remained of my relationship with my mother. Then hope surfaced.
During one of our marathon TV stints, mom asked me to pray for her. This was completely unexpected. As I knelt at her feet, I was immediately nervousness. What should I pray? I finished my prayer and we settled back in until the next day. Once again she asked for prayer. I was freaking out. What was this about God?
The following day I prayed over my mother again; a few minutes she would be gone. The events of that day were burned into my head with a white, hot laser. The prayer that day was straight up spiritual warfare. I believe my mother was tormented by demons her whole life. The Holy Spirit and I seemed to be alone in that belief. I prayed in tongues. I prayed in the name of Jesus taking no notice of the people in the room. During the prayer she stopped fighting me and slumped into her chair, a look of peace on her face.
My mom was plagued with anger, sadness, bitterness and unforgiveness. It would eventually choke the life out of her sensitive heart. I believe she lost the will to live. She had resigned herself to that recliner after resigning from life. She was addicted to prescription drugs. Her counselor was worthless and instead of getting my mom off the few drugs she was on, only succeeded in putting her on many additional medications. At the end of the day, my mom’s heart simply gave out.
Growing up, my family hid every aspect of their lives; not just the private stuff. I grew up watching relatives stuff every tear, trial and emotion so deep that even satan himself had trouble finding it. When I left home, I refused to live a life of quiet desperation, beyond the borders of true community. My mother died quietly; sequestered in silence, because someone somewhere painted emotions as a weakness. I now know that emotions are a gift from God that give life perspective. I wish to honor my mother’s memory, learn from her mistakes and the mistakes of others that sent her down the wrong path.
My mother was a culinary seamstress, weaving the tastiest tapestries of sugar, butter and Crisco and wielded bleach with reckless abandon against every strain of bacteria known to man. She would occasionally sneak a piece of Colby Jack Cheese into her bedroom late at night and subsequently fall asleep before eating it, leaving it to harden and get lost under her pillow, only to be found later. She screamed, cried and laughed in equal amounts and taught me that every hurt could be mended with cookies, bacon or a whole mess of fried potatoes. Above all else, I know she loved me.
There are days I wish I could have done more to show her how much she impacted my life. Days I miss her beyond belief. I know at the end of her life I served and honored her well. As I stood by her hospital bed 4 years ago in a cold, dimly lit room, I thanked her for giving me the life she never had. I thanked her for naming me Aaron and challenging me to be a voice in the world. I tried my hardest to remember the good she did and forget the bad she never meant to do. Ultimately I thanked her for her sacrificial life and said goodbye one last time.
Simply. Beautifully. Jesus.
The smoke from the SCOTUS is clearing, our Women’s soccer team has World Cup status and the White House is white again. Will life here ever be the same? I wrote my blog about the SCOTUS verdict and went back to doing ministry. I run a pretty non-political ministry to men who desire to walk away from their gay lives. We don’t picket with Westboro or hang out at gay pride parades apologizing for every misspoken, misinterpreted word the church has uttered since the dawn of man. We answer phones and emails and pray for people in the gay community to have a personal encounter with Jesus. At Big Fish Ministry, we’ve decided to serve the gay community by storming the coffee shops not the courthouses.
I attend Illuminate Church. This past Sunday, Pastor Ed preached on Peace. It wasn’t a feel good message, but it was freakin’ awesome. I found myself under the same, moral microscope many Christians use on the rest of the world. Lately, God has been leading me to change my approach to the conversation of homosexuality. He is challenging me to enter the discussion at a different level than the world expects from Christians; promoting a dialogue of redemption, rather than accusation. Pastor Ed’s message confirmed God’s leading. “If you can’t bring peace to a situation,” he said, “then maybe you should take yourself out of the situation.” Thumper, of Disney’s Bambi has this to say: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.” A paraphrase of author and speaker Bob Hamp says ‘we need to be thoughtful before adding our voice to the noise.’ As Christians what we say about homosexual sin may be 100% scripturally true, but sharing the message like 100% Jerks, allows our bad attitude, not the love of Jesus, to be what people remember.
Growing up, I was “the good son”; the rule follower. I often did “the right thing” to avoid punishment and gain praise, rather than to simply be obedient. I was doing the right thing for the wrong reason. This skewed obedience gave rise to a “holier than thou” attitude. I secretly resented the rules, but I was afraid to break them. I developed a jealousy and resentment for the “rule breaker” closest to me, my brother. My desire to partake in adventure with the rule breakers was far outweighed by the expectation to “follow the rules”. Later in life, my allegiance to “rightness” would cause me to erect impenetrable walls of scriptural TRUTH between those lost in sin and God’s GRACE. I see now that my “good” intentions served to keep people from Jesus rather than lead them to Him. God often reminds of this: God’s grace was the lens through which I first glimpsed the truth of Jesus love for me.
Someone once said that Truth and Grace are like the wings of a bird. Acting in tandem they take the bird to the highest heights. Take one away and the bird will never leave the ground.
A friend who wasn’t particularly pleased with my calm response to the legalization of gay marriage frantically posed the question, “What if the government tries to shutdown your ministry and tells you that you can’t say that homosexuality is a sin.” My answer was simple.
“I guess I’ll just tell people about Jesus then. And when that is deemed illegal, I’ll start a prison ministry.” My answer, tinged with sarcasm and truth, is devoid of panic and steeped in reality. If you stick your hand in a piranha’s mouth and are surprised when they bite you, that isn’t the piranha’s fault pumpkin. God is not surprised that “the lost” are acting…well…lost. We shouldn’t be either. What we should be doing is preparing for the day when everything our unsaved friends have turned to for answers, denies them the rapture they seek. If we have loved them well, they’ll be more apt to listen to the truth about Jesus, than if we had tried to force feed them “God” when their appetite was for something a little more devilish.
I could let every bad political decision turn me into that red-faced, angry guy with the veiny forehead, and bad attitude. Will that ever communicate the heart of Jesus? Jesus washed the disciple’s feet. Peter cut off a man’s ear with his sword. What is a better way to further God’s kingdom: humbly serving or wielding a sword?
One of my neighbor’s yards was looking a little Oscar the Grouch-ish: green, disheveled and angry. She was going through “SOME STUFF”. I texted, to see if we could mow her lawn. She said “Yes”. When she answered her door, gratitude and exhaustion were equally palpable. “These other neighbors should be ashamed of themselves. You’re the first one who has even bothered to call in six months.” Some people had called the HOA and Code Enforcement to report her unkempt yard. Not one neighbor had called to check on her. Instead of choosing to serve, they chose to wield their swords to insure her compliance, rather than their lawnmowers to restore her dignity.
A few days later she texted that our one simple act of service had caused a ripple effect. Her self-esteem had returned. She wasn’t embarrassed to play in the yard with her kids. Her desire to connect with God returned. A family member showed up to help, after feeling so convicted because someone outside the family helped and they had not. In the end, Christopher and I, simply stepped up to kneel down and extend a hand beyond the mess to the person buried beneath the rubble.
My mom was always fond of combatting my poopy attitudes with “you get more flies with honey than you do with buttermilk”. She also said, “make sure the words you say today are soft. You might be eating them tomorrow”. My dad was the chief engineer of the rescue operation that traversed the borders of Hell in order to bring me back to the land of the living. My dad prayed daily for me, even when I didn’t want it. He reached out to me in love, even when I was a hot, vitriolic mess. My father served as a missionary to the gay community by simply loving me unconditionally. He started a fire in me for the gay community that God later confirmed with Isaiah 61:1 “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners…”.
The Holy Spirit is leading me to approach the conversation on homosexuality from a redemptive perspective. Like my father, I am choosing to humbly engage the lost, the broken and wounded men and women of the gay community. Always remembering that my past bears a striking resemblance to their daily existence.
The only hope for either of us is Jesus. Simply. Beautifully. Jesus.
Decade of Growth
On the Sunday after the SCOTUS ruling, my pastor at Illuminate Church in Celebration, Florida started off his message with a response. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, but I knew that it would be well thought out, grace filled and built for the future. My pastor is Tim Ingram: Husband, Father, Hero. He isn't the first pastor my church has had. In fact, illuminate church is not even the first name our church has had. Two men have come before Tim. Two church names preceded that. I have attended my current church for 10+ years. Let's just say that my first "set down get to know you" meeting with Tim Ingram wasn't pretty. I was a bitter, angry little man, looking for someone to blame for the hurt I had experienced at the hand of men in the church. Tim agreed to meet me at Cracker Barrel. If it didn't go well, at least I had comfort food to soothe my soul. He listened to my story, fielded my complaints and answered my questions. I left that meeting with my explosive emotions defused, because of his compassion, patience and kind heart. My language that day was not becoming of a Christian man. I might have even caused a few sailors to blush. I wasn't concerned about how he received what I had to say that day. But in all honesty, isn't that what hurt does. It sears our conscience and leads us down a path of destruction.
The truth was that I just needed to be heard by a man in the church. I needed to know that someone, anyone still cared that I was in pain. I didn't need him to fix anything for me, I just needed to be acknowledged. Tim showed me the grace and peace of Jesus that day. I left our meeting knowing that illuminate church would be my church home and that I would follow Tim as my leader.
So many names come to mind when I think of the men at illuminate Church who have shaped my life as a Christian and as a man. Joe Saragusa, my first pastor in Celebration. He told me that if I had a dream for ministry to the gay community, his dream was 5000 times bigger. Garret Balcitis, a youth pastor who taught me how to lead kids to Jesus. He believed in me when I couldn't do that for myself. Bronson Moore, who loved me through all my many phases and faces. And though he was younger than me, God used his wisdom to mold and shape my leadership. Ed Arnold, our Executive pastor who has stood the test of time, loved me when I was unlovable, and who shares his porch, his life, his family and his house with me every time I have a need. Andre Anderson. Nelson Deskins. Bill Nance. Tears are welling up in my eyes, because the list is endless. God has used these men to restore to me the meaning of father, brother, companion, comrade and friend. There was a point where I looked for men in the gay community to complete me or give my life meaning and purpose. I was always left wanting. With Illuminate Church, God has answered the cry of my heart for a place to belong, to be heard, to matter and a place to heal. The men that God has brought through my little church in the past 10 years have time and time again, been the face of Jesus.
I am taking this opportunity to share the message Tim preached on Sunday through the podcast. At Illuminate church we welcome all types. Men like me who have left homosexuality. Men like me who use colorful language a little more than I should. And men and women, who like me who don't always get it right, but try once agiain each morning with the sunrise. If you live in the Orlando area please join us at 10 a.m. on Sundays in Celebration, Florida at Celebration High School in the auditorium.
If you don't live around here and just need a little encouragement, feel free to listen to the podcasts at www.illuminateChurchFL.com
One Yes at a Time
As a young man struggling with gay attractions, there were days I prayed for God to take them away. There were days I felt hopeless for a life apart from them. I gave up on God. He never gave up on me. For that, I am grateful. God helped me walk away from the sin of my gay life and gave me a new life. He was only able to do that when I acknowledged my sinful decisions and surrendered to Him. I want the same kind of freedom for anyone stuck between the opinion of the world and the truth of God, regarding homosexuality. With God all things are possible. Here is a small portion of my story.
Picture it. Halloween 1998, I was roaming New Orleans dressed as one of the drag queens from Priscilla Queen of the Desert. God wasn't even a blip on my radar. Many a night prior to this I had wandered around New Orleans drunk and searching. Little did I know, but this evening’s jaunt was to be my swan song in the gay community. Over the next two months, I would make life changing decisions, as my heart grew heavy and my wallet thin.
My father and I were talking more. My mom was growing ill. I promised her I would return home, if she needed me. I had devolved into a completely self serving person and used my mom’s health as an excuse to leave my crazy life behind. During those two months I had been date raped by a guy, broke up with him and began dating his best friend, Scott. Scott was the last guy I dated. It lasted a mere two weeks, serving as a last ditch effort to make the gay life work for me. I was starved for love and affection. I chased off all Scott’s friends in an attempt to have him all to myself. Eventually, Scott broke up with me. I accepted my dad's fervent invitation to return home and "regroup". Why would I return home? Returning home to my hometown was the best and worst thing I could do; it wreaked of failure. God had initiated a chain of events that I couldn’t derail. I was desperate for change of any kind; lost and utterly hopeless.
1998 was drawing to a close. So was my 10 year run as a gay man. My flesh was not happy. I packed up everything I owned and drove from Mississippi to Oklahoma. I had one last hoorah with an ex-boyfriend in Texas before finishing the journey home. A long, lonely chapter was ending. I was abandoning everything to do the right thing. The right thing? I didn't have a fat clue what the right thing was.
My family was the same as I had left them 10 years prior. My mom was still suffering from the ravages of bipolar disorder. My dad was still an absent workaholic. God was silent. Still. For two months I was addicted to the most depraved forms of internet porn, while simultaneously attending church and working 50 hours a week as a truck driver. When God spoke again, it was to the point. He asked me if I was finished with porn and ready to start the business of living out my calling. Life had become exhausting. I gave God one more yes and prayed, "I have tried to make my life work for ten years God. I have tried to be gay no matter what You threw at me. I can't make this gay life work. I don't know how You are going to make it work, but I am giving you the reins of my life Lord. You have complete control. Let's see what You can do."
That was all the invitation God needed. My life changed, when I gave God full access. As you read this, please know that I stand before you as a man of much experience. Translation, a man who has done many wrong things on the way to the right thing. A man whose God never gives up, even when the man does. Jesus Christ is the only reason that any of my words have any influence. I know that many of you stand on the verge of something great. 20 years ago I stood in the very same spot. May I whisper to you a simple encouragement:
"There is Hope. Do not give up. The struggle out of bondage and into the arms of Jesus is worth it."
That journey out of gay life began simply enough. I never made a specific plan not to be gay or not to have sex with guys ever again. I concentrated on serving Jesus one day, then another. Working to rebuild trust that had been shattered by so many men. After a few short months away from bars and guys, God had worked a miracle. He had slowly becoming my one and only. My faith was growing. God was loosening my dependence on all things gay.
What is it that God is asking you to do? What is he saying to "Get rid of"? Is He asking you to stop talking to an old boyfriend? Is He encouraging you to close certain doors to your past? Change your phone number? Delete your Facebook "romances"? Is He asking you to clear space for Him in your busy, mixed up life?
More importantly, are you listening?
I said "Yes" to God once and continually find ways to say "Yes" daily. The time to act is now. God constructs miracles, one "Yes" at a time.
A Fawn. A Random Butterfly. New path.
The young man, Joshua, about whom this post was written, has read it and signed off on it's content. As my old pastor and friend, Joe Saragusa, used to say, the most important thing is "doing life together." I couldn't agree more. This post is a little longer than my other blogs, but I believe you'll find it well worth the read. As always, please keep me, Joshua and our other guys in prayer. We are constantly under attack from satan and those who would sequester the truth of the gospel. Enjoy! Last night around 4 am, I covertly sneaked out the back door of the house. There was no plan to secretly wreak havoc on the neighborhood. I just didn’t want to wake the roomies with a clackety clack garage door a squeaky front door. By the way, it was the Holy Spirit’s idea. For an hour, I walked the neighborhood and prayed. I returned around 5 am, finally ready for bed. This must have been what it was like for Adam to walk in the garden with God. Recklessly abandoned in God’s presence. It was cool, quiet and peaceful. Precious times these are to me. I need them more often. One of my forever friends, Kathy, exhorted me that I am a missionary now. It is absolutely my job to pray consistently and get alone with God.
Yesterday, I was led to pray after seeing a friend’s Facebook post. Now it wasn’t horrible, but satan has a way of spinning things out of control, kind of like the Kardashians or a Democratically controlled senate. What matters most is that my friend, Joshua, undeniably loves Jesus, but he’s still kind of dabbling in worldly things. A wave of palpable sadness and confusion washed over me as I read his post. I prayed, surrendering that feeling to God. Prayer opened my heart to a desire to get alone with God ASAP. Thus my 4 am stroll, 12 hours later. Yes, my day was that busy. As I walked, I prayed over many guys; three specifically. I don’t know about you, but I fight trusting that God knows what He is doing in other people’s lives, especially when I see them headed down destructive paths. I gotta remember; Faith in the Father, not Faith in the Faltering.
A few months ago, I realized that God was orchestrating a shift. The delicate bubble I had strategically constructed around my ministry was dying a slow and painful, perhaps necessary death. It was my first text from Joshua that alerted me to God’s shenanigans. In our first correspondence, He informed me that he loved Jesus, but he wasn’t interested in walking out of homosexuality just yet. In the past I would have bristled a bit in my mind, listened graciously and began the strategic process of furthering my well-meaning agenda in his life. My initial ‘crisis response’ was averted by a whisper from the Holy Spirit.
At our first meeting, I sat and listened to Joshua’s amazing story. On our walk from the restaurant where we’d had lunch, to a coffee shop, the Holy Spirit told me to be open to learning from him. Holy Ghost say what? I was stricken with acute and immediate mental paralysis. Learn from him? What could I possibly learn from him? He was lost, right? He wasn’t interested in following the same chaste path as me. Talk about a train wreck in the brainwork. What on earth would I have to learn from him?
5 hours later, I was overwhelmed by the presence of the Holy Spirit at that meeting. It was like God installed a fiber optic cable between my brain and His heart. I was also overwhelmed at the presence of the Holy Spirit in Joshua’s life and the level of communication he had with our Father. As the minutes ticked by, it was increasingly evident, that God was writing an amazing love letter to Joshua.
My emotional, roller coaster ride with Joshua continues. It’s a new level of interaction for me. We have some very honest dialogue. I feel challenged by him. I have apologized a million times and look forward to a million more. I am indeed, learning from him as the Holy Spirit said I would. My core beliefs haven’t changed, but I am learning, through Joshua, how to better love the men and women of the gay community.
The foundations of my relationship with Joshua were shaky in the beginning. There were times I’d think he was finished talking with me for good. There were times I felt I was through talking with him for good. God always encouraged me to maintain the connection. Eventually, Joshua needed a new place to live; a place of refuge. I always refer to my house as “a place of refuge”, but there was no way I could let someone stay there who was actively gay. We live according to a strict set of rules. He didn’t want to live under those rules. I found myself being ‘that Christian’. I said something to the effect of,
“That’s a tough situation. I will pray that you. You can’t come live with me, but I’ll help you find another place., I will pray for you.”
It took a few days for me to realize just how self-preserving and pompous those words were. My words were completely blocking a move of God and putting Him in the box of my intellect, prejudice and fear. As the words dripped from my lips, my stomach soured a little. I had pledged my life in service to Jesus first and in service to others second, to love them as myself, but…
“Was there anything more that I could do?”
The question danced about on the surface of my brain, like a random butterfly amongst the flowers, defying capture, inspiring wonder. It was all that God needed for a new journey began.
A few days later, Joshua began texting a slew of angry and sad texts tinged with frustration and angst. He said that he felt like God was saying the answer to his problems was to come and live at my house. As I read his texts from the “ivory tower” of my heart, I knew that he wasn’t truly surrendering to God, but instead succumbing to the pressures of life. I read them and began a quiet celebration broke out in my head. God had finally brought Him to the end of himself, but something wasn’t right. I didn’t feel 100% okay with the circumstances. The Holy Spirit led me to question my attitude. Honest dialogue broke out again between Joshua and I. In his honesty, he carefully laid a few more tender pieces of his heart on the table. Even though I had no idea what to do, I knew the Holy Spirit was calling me to listen and be present. No longer could I blindly say, ‘I’d love to help’, to the safe people my choosing. God was calling me to put actions to my words. I was scared to death.
I met Joshua for lunch. I shared my “house rules” with him. As I shared the rules and cost of rent with him, I saw his countenance fill with more anger and frustration. I wasn’t helping him. I was doing more damage; subjecting him to emotion and spiritual castration. It was almost as if I was saying, “Ha, Ha! I have a house and you don’t. Jump through these flaming hoops and recite this pledge and we’ll see what we can do.” Don’t get me wrong. Rules have a place, but when we put a price on what God freely offers, we commercialize the gospel and drain it of its power. Our actions keep those who desperately need God distanced from His true heart for them. It’s like telling a critically wounded patient to wait outside the emergency room until their wounds have healed.
The sermon at church the next day was all about forgiveness and coming to the Father freely. The Holy Spirit asked me that day,
“How many hoops did I ask you to jump through before you came to live “in my house”? ((Insert Serial Gut Punching Sequence…HERE!))
He was right. I wasn’t helping Joshua draw closer to Jesus. I was piling obstacles in his path and doubling the weight of his burden. With tears flowing down my cheeks I repented of what I had done to this young man. I stayed in a spirit of prayer that entire day. That afternoon, I began the process of tweaking the rules to keep the guys already in the house safe, while providing a place of refuge for another one of God’s broken sons.
Later that night, my roommate and I humbled ourselves before Joshua, who was hurting and broken. We washed his feet and hands. We anointed him with oil. We granted him forgiveness and repented on behalf of Christians who have hurt him. Ultimately, we prayed over him and welcomed him in as our brother. A week later, he moved in and the bubble of self-protection that I, not God had tried to sustain ceremoniously burst. To say the least, I am like a newborn deer in this new place with God; wobbly, uncertain but staying close.
It hasn’t been an easy walk. Not because Joshua is bad, but because it’s a new journey for me. Joshua has actually made the transition fairly easy. God speaks pretty clearly to me regarding Joshua. One morning, I awoke to God saying, “He’s not yours. He’s mine.” I would find out later that this young man’s parents had prayed those same words over him when He was younger, “He’s not ours God, He’s Yours.” Wha What? I told you, FIBER OPTIC connection.
I am both encouraged and challenged by my relationship with Joshua and his knowledge and love for the Lord. When I opened Big Fish ministry 5 years ago, I thought I was simply going to minister to men with unwanted same sex attractions. God knew it was going to be so much more than that. I just missed that memo. What it boils down to is simply this: trusting God, being obedient and having a heart for people. God can be trusted to lead the way and fill in the blanks.