Eryk had no spouse, no children, no parents, and only a distant half-sister. Eryk became dangerously depressed, and no one was close enough to effectively do anything about it. I can certainly put myself in Eryk's place and understand how he could become depressed. But I didn't take the time and effort to notice and take action.
When we give our hearts to people we are changed, even if they never give us their hearts in return. These effects aren't scars — they don't begin as wounds — and I wouldn't call them baggage. They're like paint splashes on our canvas hearts or imprints on our soft, clay souls.
Our recently held inaugural YOBBERS retreat far exceeded my expectations and imagination. I experienced many meaningful moments at the retreat, including one that produced this profound -- perhaps obvious -- realization: I am an other brother too.
The slog of waking up to my drab mundane life takes a sharp turn for the better, and I am suddenly filled with hope and optimism. The world is not so scary anymore. How on earth did I live without this hope before? I attended this year's YOBBERS retreat, and my mind is spinning over what I just saw and experienced.
My biggest fear was that my best friend was going to force our friendship to end all because of this girl, pushing me away from his life. It was the fear that whatever friendship we'd built in the past he was willing to tear down, trample to the ground, and pretend that I never existed at all.
The LGBT community depended upon each other when they had no one else. And now they stick together closely, fighting alongside each other. The LGBT community isn't perfect. However, the LGBT community still finds a way to come together for a common purpose. And, honestly, this is attractive to me.
After the funeral, I felt almost paralyzed. I just couldn't force myself to lead at the house. James needed me to lead and be a help to him, so he confronted me on being too passive. I admitted he was right, but I felt unable to get beyond my emotions and lead others. Things degenerated until James and I barely talked.
His profile definitely made him seem like the modern, ideal, "manly man." He was a jock type with many photos of himself playing baseball. He also stated drawing as one of his hobbies, just like me. A straight masculine dude who plays sports, likes drawing, and calls himself a Christian? Perfect!
Why would I — someone who claims to believe in an omnipotent God who cares for me — wait to go to that God only until after I had tried everything else? When I began to sort out what my sexuality and gender identity meant to me as a follower of Christ, I didn't have to do it all by myself. I could take it all to God.
Most of my life, I've thought of faith mainly as a decision based on knowing some facts about God. Instead, faith is about coming to Jesus in such a way that the deepest hungers and thirsts of our souls are satisfied in him.