BLOG ARCHIVE
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In my years before finding Your Other Brothers, coming to terms with my sexuality was extremely difficult as it seemed there were only two options for my future. These two options reflected the polarized extremes embodying the culture war.
Faithfulness is being beaten to a bloody, messy pulp and still saying, "God, I trust you." Faithfulness is f–ing hard s–. And it has hurt me deeply this year – deeper than I ever imagined possible.
If you were to ask me if I regret coming out in 2013, I'd answer a thousand times no. But for every thousand times no, I might also answer with one or two yesses. I don't miss the perpetual shadows of the closet. The secrecy. The shame. The constant playing along. But I do kinda miss the privacy. Like, whose business is it who I am or am not attracted to?
Twice within the span of a year, my passion and my future was taken from me. The future I strove for changed without my permission. The ways I influenced and encouraged others – stolen.
I am fallen. Identity in Christ aside, I am still in a body of sin and death, as Paul said. I fight a fallen flesh every single day. How can I be good? How can goodness be a fruit of mine?
The latest song to get me spiritually musing is "Dear Younger Me" by the band, MercyMe. The premise of the song is thinking through what one would tell his younger self if he ever got the chance. Would it be some cheesy speech about enjoying every moment to its fullest? Would he warn himself of all the mistakes to come, even though those mistakes are now inseparable from the man he became? What would he say? What would I say to a younger me?
Anyone else feeling super tempted during this pandemic? Especially the longer this thing drags on? Because I'll be the first to raise my hand. I'm feeling super tempted. I'm feeling super restless. I'm actually feeling super-duper tempted and restless.
Don't get me wrong, I am completely and utterly attracted to men. I've never been attracted to a woman in my life. And yet my attraction to the same sex doesn't go quite as far as many others' do. Ultimately, I just have no desire for sex with other men even though I'm attracted to them.
What if kindness as a fruit of the Spirit simply meant your unconscious approach to others – and even to yourself – was to help instead of judge? What if kindness manifested itself in the simple idea that when you see someone in need or hurting or broken, you desire to care for them before you desire to know how it happened?