I didn't want to lose my best friend to this soon-to-be relationship. I already knew what it felt like to be left alone, tossed away like an old rag doll by a straight relationship, forgotten. I don't know how many times this had happened to me, and I wasn't ready to go through it again. Especially by someone I thought would be my best friend for a long time.
I knew I needed a miracle even to get out there, and now this triggering text message was stuck in my brain as I got ready. I packed my clothes for the weekend but needed to get some food in my stomach before the semi-long trip.
Deep in my financial drought, I thought about the idea of prostitution again. I'd done prostitution before, and my options for finding a job were running thin. I did love sex and hooking up with other guys; why not dive back into that dangerous field again and make some extra cash? I was in desperate need of help.
Why is it whenever we get so comfortable with our good lives, there's always something that shakes things up?
I went to the clinic by myself to get myself checked. I entered the clinic and had this fear that if I had contracted an STD, it would stay with me forever.
"We want you to help us reach LGBT people," my pastor said. "It's our belief that this is your true calling. And we want to help you."
Growing up as a pastor's kid, I hid my homosexuality because I didn't want my father or my family to know that I was a "mistake."
I know what it's like to hurt, to have nowhere to go. This is why I keep ministering to people who need to hear that Jesus loves them.
I know I'm a hypocrite, yet I embrace that term and the things it entails because it shows that God can use me despite my flaws.
After going through all the crap my church threw at me, however, my love of the Lord lessened and my love of sex grew again. I crashed and burned.