Hello, everyone. I just finished skimming over this entire chat, because it has most definitely piqued my interest. Perhaps it is a little late to join, but… here I am.
In regards to the most recent conversation between @The-Althalosian-The_EccentrLc_VampLre and @Caustic_Fraust, as a Christian (by choice, mind you— not one who is only a Christian due to my environment or external influences, but because of personal experiences and decisions in my own life) who has struggled with feelings of homosexuality in the past, I would like to throw my worthless two-cents into the conversation.
I was raised in a very anti-gay environment. I was always taught that it was unnatural and outside of God's will. My mother, being a Christian, always taught me that homosexuality was definitely wrong, but that a Christian should love all gays regardless. My dad, who has been an on-again, off-again Christian with some odd beliefs, has really no tolerance for them. He still thinks that, in America, they should have the right to do as they please, but he doesn't like them.
Despite this, I had a major struggle in my life that involved homosexuality. I've grown past that now, for the record, and I am not a homosexual now, but for a long time I really struggled with it. I had already been saved for several years, already seen too many things to doubt God's existence, His faithfulness, or His love (and no, I don't mean little dopy things like Oh, this coincidence happened, so I shall attribute it to some distant deity! I mean things that literally rock your world to the point that denial is impossible)— and, yet, I still had this struggle. As someone who believes heavily in the spiritual (and for good reason, honestly), I knew that it was a sin, and that the feelings I had were not of God, or even truly of myself, but rather of some external force trying to drag me down. For all of my life, I have struggled with crippling feelings of loneliness, self-loathing, and fear of never being loved, and I honestly think that the enemy (i.e., Satan) was playing on my weakness.
Satan can't make anyone do things, but he can place thoughts in your head, lie to you, make you think you are someone or something you are not. He can make you feel desperate, alone, and worthless. This is what he did to me. He made me feel desperate, alone, needy, and then like a worthless piece of trash for sinning against God.
This went on for a very long time in my life, honestly. I didn't tell anyone what was happening to me, because I was honestly terrified. Terrified of being rejected or judged or hated. Terrified of people never being able to see past that part of me, even if I got past it and fixed it. I went to church every Sunday, tried to pretend like I was okay. Among my peers, I have always been (and still am) seen as the more "spiritual" one, the one that prays often, the one that reads the Bible and studies the Word with fervor— and, honestly, I was afraid of losing that.
I still loved God the whole time. I loved Him so much. I never blamed Him once. I asked for Him to help me, but at the time, I knew, in my heart of hearts, I didn't want to change. I'd found a new security. People in LGBT community rarely rejected each other, so here, I would not have to fear rejection. Even if the love was temporary, and some of it fake, I would not be rejected. Not to mention, I was in a relationship with someone— and I feared that, if I broke up with them, not only would I no longer be dating them, but they would leave me altogether, and I would lose the only friend I had at the time.
I learned that gay people aren't what I'd always been led to believe. Some of them are horrible people, but there are a lot of horrible straight people, too. I began to realize that some of these homosexuals really are in love with each other, and it's their only security, something they cling to. If I didn't have prior, proven knowledge of the spiritual realm and how such operates (to an extent), I wouldn't have understood where my thoughts, feelings, and desires were coming from. And, for the record, going to church in itself does not usually where get you this knowledge. I've barely heard any preachers ever touch on this kind of stuff. Being a Christian is not about going to church, in my opinion. That's necessary, yea, but that's not Christianity. Christianity is knowing God. And that's what saved me.
As aforementioned, I never blamed God. During this really tender period of my life, He was the only one I could trust. I knew He did not approve of my actions, and angering Him terrified me. Because I knew I was in the wrong, and He was not. "I want to stop. I want to change," I promised Him over and over and over. But it was sort of a lie at the time. I didn't want to change; I just didn't want judgement. Regardless, I never pointed my finger at Him and said "You did this to me," or "Why would you make me this way?" or anything else along those lines. I did ask Him why this happening. It's okay to ask questions, but you have to be willing to hear the answer. I started praying things like, "God, if you want me to change, give me an obvious sign." I shouldn't have been surprised when it happened, time after time. Yet I ignored the signs. Or tried, anyways.
Conviction ate away at me for a long time. That was God's mercy. Condemnation came next. That was not God; that was my adversary (i.e., Satan), once again putting thoughts in my head. I thought I wasn't really worthy to go back to God after all that. I could only hide my sin for so long, after all. People would eventually find out, and everyone would know. I would be hated. I would have nothing.And the person I'd been dating? The one I'd been so afraid to lose? They left me. I guess I was too clingy.
You know who didn't leave me? God. Some people, when they say they feel the "presence of God," they mean they felt a little chill run down their spine while they were praying, or maybe they just got this warm feeling in their heart while they were reading their Bible or something. That's not what I mean when I say I felt the presence of God. It's something that cannot be explained or describe. And throughout the entire time I was dealing with my homo problems, God would still allow me to feel His presence. He did not leave me. He did not judge me with a fiery wrath and destroy me on the spot like I had been taught to believe He might. He was patient with me; He showed me a level and depth of mercy and love I still cannot comprehend.
I was raised to be as anti-gay as anyone I have ever seen. I have been taught that God is a Just Judge, and that you should be careful when you play with fire, because He will meter out justice when it is necessary. Although this is true, this event in my life, this dark time that gave me a lot of emotional scars, when I did things I can't undo, taught me that He is also love. Real love. Not temporary, false love that might leave you the second you mess up. I betrayed His commands, willingly, over and over, for a long time. And even so, He constantly reassured me that He still loved me.
So I repented, and I tried to change. I got to point where I finally did truly want out, because I knew I would never survive if I didn't. I was in bad shape. I had deteriorated, mentally and emotionally, to a point I had never been before. And I guess I'd finally had enough, because this time I kept my promise, and this time I did want out. God got me out, too. That's not to say there was no work on my part; the person I had loved came back, wanted our relationship to continue. I told them I couldn't, but that maybe we could be friends again. I decided to pray about it first, because I still loved them, even if it wasn't in the gay way I had before, and immediately after praying I opened my Bible and read the passage where Jonathan and David are talking about their love for one another (in platonic terms) and decided to take that as a suggestion that it was okay for me to love them. I just could no longer be in a relationship with them, or love them in a romantic sense. Our friendship managed to get fairly strong again before we eventually cut ties, though that loss seems like nothing now compared to what I almost lost— which was everything else. Namely, my God.
There's more to the story after this, but I should probably stop my rambling here. My point to all of this is simply— I learned a lot from this ordeal. God taught me some very valuable lessons.
It's not an easy thing to let go of. People, Christians, might tell you to just change, but it's not that easy to do instantly. Not by yourself. It takes God. Especially if you're self-depreciating and fearful of losing people, as I was. It's even harder if you don't understand the spiritual realm and you don't know what's causing this. You think it's yourself. I promise you, dear friends, it is not yourself. It seems like it is. For awhile I thought it was me, and I'm someone who knows differently. It's a very convincing lie. Without the Lord's mercy, I'd be gay right now. Actually, I probably would've committed suicide.
I have viewed every LGBTQ person differently since then. I have a newfound compassion for them, because I know what it feels like. This was a long period of my life. There are more details than I provided here or will be providing. But I was a homosexual. I know. The only thing I don't understand is that I've seen a lot of LGBTQ people who full-blown hate God, and their core motivation usually seems to be that they think He's a jerk. They don't know the God I know, clearly, so I can't relate to that. The ones who don't understand, I can also fully understand why they don't think it's wrong. I know it's wrong. I wish it wasn't at times, but I know it is, and I understand why.
I also learned that God is not what most people think He is. He wasn't even what I thought He was, and I thought for sure I knew exactly what He was. Boy, did He prove me wrong.
If you read this, and you feel like you wasted your time, I am so sorry. But this is a true story, and it has really reshaped my life. It wasn't meant to be so… detailed or personal when I started. But, here we are. My jabbering never really goes as planned. Apologies. Whether you agree or disagree with anything I said, I'd like to stress that I'm not trying to start an argument or force my religion and beliefs on any one with opposing views. I'm just telling you my story and some of my beliefs.
Me, on my profile, literally: Don't ask me about my personal life.
Me, on this chat: Hello everyone. I don't know you, but have some of my deepest struggles.
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