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While I often complain about a lack of community, I also keep people at a distance. Only during this socially distant time of coronavirus have I realized something: maybe my community felt lacking because I wanted it to solve all my problems. And finding a community that felt authentic, one where I could be vulnerable, couldn't exist because I wasn't connected with Jesus.
I don't feel like having peace. Peace won't give my family income. Peace won't solve the financial burdens of two massive ministries. Peace won't cure the coronavirus or bring back canceled jobs or put food on the table or anything. Peace won't do anything I want it to do right now. So, what good is it?
I yearn to be held by a bigger, stronger man, to rest in his powerful arms, to lay my head on his chest. I ache for this; I dwell on this desire a lot. I suppose, given the nature of this website, my admission surprises approximately nobody. But it's hard to admit.
With most of the U.S. and much of the world in quarantine or shelter-in-place due to COVID-19, we gathered our featured authors for a conversation on the challenges and calls to growth through these strange times. We hope you feel a little less alone in joining our conversation.
The Covid-19 pandemic has become something of an "isolation equalizer." People everywhere are living in tension and isolation with businesses closed, services restricted, and life as we've known it ground to a halt. We are, all of us, isolated. And yet there is tremendous opportunity to unite in our shared isolation.
Before all the lockdowns started as the coronavirus pandemic spread around the world, I started writing this reflection about how my experience in the "Side B" bubble could play a bigger part in the Church and, in turn, the wider world around me. When this whole pandemic broke out I thought, What better time to play our part but now?
I've heard it said that joy is a contentment or cheeriness not based on circumstances. Wouldn't a foundation of Christ motivate me to love and edify others? And wouldn't this same foundation also keep me from both self-hate and egotism? Ultimately, how can I express joy in my queerness that doesn't glorify sin yet also expresses humility?
To many Christians, I am a burden. I have strong faith convictions, and I try to live according to those convictions. I love studying the Bible and find joy in my faith. I also give up a lot. Living the celibate life is not easy at times. But all too often the burden of this celibate gay/SSA life is only increased by the church.
In the year of our Lord two thousand and nineteen, a fun idea came to mind. Instead of coming up with a new year's resolution that would require me to exert some striving effort or discipline, I thought of a fun goal for the year instead. I wrote something in my prayer journal; it's a prayer that became my goal for the year. But what did "To love more affectionately and not robotically" actually mean?