A Letter to My Younger Self

A quick intro…

Being gay, you don’t have a “gay dad.” Well… you have daddies, but that’s something totally different. What I mean is, there isn’t like some magic mentor you just automatically get after you come out. I wish gay fairy godparents were a thing. But this Cinderella is just sitting in a mushy pumpkin.

Here’s what I mean: as a guy, you have your dad who can help you figure out how to date women. But what about when you’re trying to date a dude? As a woman, you have a mom that can help you figure out how to put on makeup but teach you that you’re more than you appearance and stand up for yourself in patriarchal society. But what about trans men? As a person of color, you have Black parents or a Black parent that can tell you what it means to be Black in the United States and what you do when you get pulled over to make sure you’re gonna be okay.

But what about LGBTQ+ persons? Who do we “inherit” as parents to show us the way we should go (to quote a Bible verse)? Who shepherds us in the night and tells us how to date and transition and have sex and come out and how to navigate our faith when there are versus that look like they’re saying we’re going to hell?

The sheer lack of parental figures (whether by ignorance or complete absence) is pretty troubling. We’re left trying to figure out how to live with our sexual and gender identities alone in the dark, unsure of how to proceed. And that’s hard. Really hard, sometimes.

So I decided to write my younger self a letter, in an attempt to process some parenting I wish I had, and maybe, just maybe, allow it to be a signpost to younger LGBTQ+ persons who are trying to figure this out, stumbling through that dark forest called life.

With that in mind, this post will be very personal, direct, and sometimes explicit. It’s gonna talk about things I wish I knew about, like coming out and sex and my body, mind and spirit and who the heck pays when you go on a first date. Some of it may not be helpful for you, especially if you’re a straight person. But if you choose to keep reading, my hope is that it will empower you to be a little breadcrumb when you encounter a lost queer child on their journey.

And with that, we begin…

———————–

My dear Brandon,

I know you’re scared. I know you think no one understands. But I do. I see you. I see you scared and confused on what to do with all these feelings inside you. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re more than okay. You’re perfect and safe. Just where you are. But more than you being okay, you’re liked. I like you. A lot. I think you’re pretty great.

I want to take some time and tell you a few things that I wish other people had told me when I was your age. It would have meant the world, and I don’t want the same thing that happened to me to happen to you. Okay?

First and foremost. You are not broken. Your sexuality isn’t because of some trauma in your past or because you didn’t like sports or because you ate lettuce sandwiches as a kid and there wasn’t enough protein in your diet. It just is. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s really beautiful. It may be really hard to handle some days. I get that. And you are right, a lot of people you currently know are not going to respond well. But it DOES get better. With this in mind, I want to take some time to give you some practical help on how to navigate this whole thing. I know it’s not easy. Maybe, with these words, your journey won’t be as hard to navigate. With that said, I want you to do a few things:

  1. Learn to love and accept all of who you are, especially your sexual identity. It’s not a sin to do it. God sees and loves all of you. Be His hands and feet and love yourself. But I don’t want you to take my word for it.
  2. Go read some books on progressive theology. A great place to start is The Reformation Project. They have a ton of resources, and they exist to educate people on how your theology can be affirming of homosexuality. But regardless of resources, take some time (And don’t get impatient. I know how you are. I promise you it’s worth doing the work.) to REALLY think about how you feel theologically about your sexuality. It’s not enough for me to believe it for you. You have to believe it in the depths of your being. Because if you don’t, the opinions of people are going to wreck you. You don’t need to prove this to anyone else. Just you.
  3. Don’t fall in love or give your heart to anyone till you come out to yourself first. If you do, you’ll end up coming out for them. It’s not for them. It’s for you and God. Then, once you’re out to yourself, you can bring another person into the equation. Why? Because you may come out for the wrong reasons. You may come out for a boy. And if he doesn’t measure up to the pain you’re experiencing as a result of coming out, you’re going to resent him. You’ll want him to be perfect so that your relationship with him will compensate for all the loss in your life. On top of that if he’s not out, you’ll think it’s not fair. Come out for you and only you. It’s a beautiful act of love that you can bestow on yourself and a brilliant act of trust with God.
  4. Don’t come out all at once. Do it with a few people that you’re pretty sure are going to respond well. And I know what you’re thinking: “Who in my life will be okay with this?” They’re there. I promise. You’ll be surprised by who ends up being the ones that stick around, and they’re going to become some of your best friends. But more than that, they’re going to be the ones you turn to when everyone else responds poorly. Which brings me to my next point…
  5. Don’t waste your time where you’re tolerated; go where you’re celebrated. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. And if you feel like you have to, you’re in the wrong place. Christ has already approved of you. Don’t spit on his sacrifice by seeking the approval of others. Just be true to you and lean into all that you are. If you don’t, the world is missing out on something very beautiful and bright. As the good book says, “Don’t hide your light under a rock,” and don’t place yourself near hot bags of air that are just trying to blow you out. You’re worth more, and the world needs to see that light. With that in mind…
  6. Some of your friends may not theologically line up exactly where you want them to. That’s okay. As long as they can:
    1. Celebrate you and get excited with you when you’re dating someone
    2. Stand with you on your wedding day
    3. Fight for your marriage when it’s going down the tubes

Honestly, if they can do all those things, then it doesn’t really matter where they land theologically. They’re loving you well, and they’re worth keeping around. But if they think you’re going to hell, you’ll see that nasty weed pop up everywhere. It’s an undercurrent that bleeds into every interaction, and you’ll smell it.

Now for some nitty gritty things that may seem like TMI. But one, you’ll thank me for it, and two, you and I both know that there’s never too much information. You love it all. Especially the weird stuff. Quit pretending.

  1. After you’ve figured out your theology around sexuality, figure out your sexual ethic. News flash, guys are horny. And now, you’ve got a group of guys all dating each other. So things go from “Sup?” to sex real quick. Crazy, right? But the Christians are just as crazy because they don’t believe in dating. And I know you also don’t think dating should be a thing, but it’s because you’re gay. Relationships don’t actually work that way. But not dating is convenient for you because you’re closeted, and to everyone else you look like a good Christian boy. Well you ain’t fooling me. And if you don’t believe me that you need to date, remember that “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” guy? Yeah. He’s divorced, an atheist, and apologizing to the millions of people who are now in therapy because they can’t experience pleasure in bed even after they’re married. Figure out what makes sense to you — something that honors yourself, the other person, and your faith in Jesus.
  2. Date a lot. Do not fall for the first guy that gives you attention. And this won’t be a problem if you are doing the hard work of loving and accepting yourself. I’m trying right now, but we’ve got a lot of baggage to take to the dump in the future. We didn’t make the best choices and we’ve got some trauma to unpack. In the meantime, set up lots of dates with lots of different guys so that you can decide what you like in a partner. You only get this time once. Enjoy it and figure out who you are before you jump into a long-term relationship with someone.
  3. Find a progressive church… STAT! You may have to move. You may have to travel. But it is worth it, and they are some of the kindest, warmest, honest humans you will ever meet. And I know what you’re thinking: “But if they don’t go to my mega church, they probably aren’t even Christian.” Wrong! They’re actually wrestling with the oddity that is the Bible. And yes, it is odd. There’s a God who is love at the back of the book that commands genocide at the beginning of the book… that includes women and children. It’s complicated. Own that and just TRY going to a progressive church. You’ll thank me for it later and your faith and mental health will thank you in return.
  4. DO NOT GO HAVING SEX WITH SOME RANDO ON CRAIGSLIST OR GRINDR!!! In fact, never go on that site or download that app. EVER. Because sex is like Pringles — once you pop, you just can’t stop, and you will not stop. Listen. Sex is GREAT. But you want to do it with someone that you love. If you don’t, you’re going to interpret sex as something that is NOT love. You’ll view it as something cheap, as something that’s more of a commodity to trade than an expression of intimacy. How do I know? Because I’m your future self and that’s me now. Save us both some money on therapy and STI tests and trust me on this one. It is NOT worth it. Plus, your first time is not that great anyway. Might as well share that awkward, humiliating moment with someone you actually trust. Speaking of awkward moments… we’re about to have one…
  5. Have penetrative sex with yourself first. Yup. I went there. Listen, being the receiving participant in sex is tricky. And if you don’t trust the person you’re with or if you’re scared, it shows up in your body. In other words, your booty hole gets tight and sex does not feel good. Do some research. Get some toys. Get a douche. Find out what you like. Yes, all the Christians say that masturbation is from Satan. We know. We’ve spent many a youth group talking about it and coming up with code words for it. But there’s actually not a single verse on masturbation. Just lust. So think of bridges or something while you’re doing it, and you’re in the clear.
  6. Find LGBTQ+ Christian friends and JUST be friends. You’ll need them and a cocktail every so often because there will be times that no one understands you, but those people will. You’ll go from not being able to articulate yourself well with anyone to simply saying, “guuurl,” and they’ll know exactly what you’re going through. On that note, I have another one that you’ll have to do…
  7. Kill the homophobia inside you. You have been taught to look manly (whatever that means) and perform gender roles that aren’t event Biblical. It’s as if you act feminine, you’re less than. Newsflash: women are strong as hell, giving life to the world while fighting to have a place of significance in this misogynistic world that continually stacks the cards against them. They’re powerful. Who cares if you have some feminine qualities. The world could use a bit more femininity. After all, 96% of all murders are perpetrated by men… just saying. And regarding the gays. LGBTQ+ people are some of the most resilient humans you will ever meet. Yes, some of them are mad as hell and bitchy. But you would be too (and will be for a bit) because of the pain they’ve had to endure. You try not being pissy after seeing all your friends die during a pandemic that sweeps throughout the nation while everyone ignores you or jeers at you with signs that say, “God hates fags.” It’s not easy. Which brings me to my next point…
  8. Learn your history. You don’t have a dad or a mom that was gay, and the United States likes to think that gay people don’t exist, so it’s tricky to find your history. But it’s there, and it’s important to understand where you come from. It doesn’t mean it defines you, but you’re inheriting that history, whether you want to or not. So do some research. There’s actually a ton out there, but a great place to start is The Deviant’s War. Speaking of books…
  9. Read The Velvet Rage. It helps you understand shame and how that plays out in an LGBTQ+ person’s life, not to mention this terrible thing called second adolescence. In short, people call it the gay Bible. No, that’s not blasphemous. Calm down.

Alright, I need to wrap this up fast since I know you hate reading (even though you love writing… what the hell???).

Above all, Brandon, know that there is no height, no length, no depth; there’s no angel or demon or demented pastor that can separate you from the love of God. Believe that. If you can’t trust a single thing I say, trust this: you’re God is big enough. If you’re in the wrong, He’s big enough to speak up, to intervene, to rescue you. If He can’t, why are we worshiping Him? But the truth is He is that big. And even if you are horribly wrong, He’s faithful to save. So trust and start this journey. It’s worth it. Even when it’s really hard and painful, it’s worth it.

I love you. So much. I’m so sorry for the times I haven’t. I’m so sorry that I joined in the voices of everyone else when I should have been your biggest cheerleader. You’re fantastic, and I am so proud of you. Knock ‘em dead tiger. You’ve got this. Because we both know you’re one stubborn SOB.

With sincerity,

Your 30-year old self (yeah… we made it to 30… I know, I’m surprised too)

How Can I be Gay and Christian — A Look into My Methodology

In recent news, there’s been a convergence of two major groups: Christians and the LGBTQ+ population, two groups that are normally at odds with one another. These animosities are beginning to reach a boiling point as more and more entities are choosing to create space for both identities, challenging the conception that they are incongruent.

An openly gay Christian man is hoping to become the Democratic party’s presidential candidate for 2020; a gay Christian dating app is hitting the market this year; and some Methodist churches are fighting against a recent vote within their denomination, a vote which labels homosexuality as a sin.

As I share these stories, I know there are individuals and communities alike who are angry. The reason I know this is because I’ve experienced it. As I came out as a gay Christian, friends threatened hell, parents left the room, and strangers blasted me about how I’m not actually a Christian. Even with the launch of this post, comments have soared on social media with people arguing vehemently their point and how they’re right.

When Mayor Pete Buttigieg, an openly gay Christian man, announced his intention to run for president, crowds screamed “Sodom and Gomorrah,” and major Christian figures like Franklin Graham demanded his repentance. Side note: why hasn’t Graham demanded repentance from other presidential candidates for fraud, embezzlement, infidelity, lying, or pride? I digress.

It’s as if the words “queer” and “Christian” are combustible, but instead of a chemical reaction, there’s an explosion of emotion and opinion.

But why? Why the knee-jerk anger, especially from a people whom Jesus said are supposed to be known by their love? Why is it that I’ve seen multiple YouTube videos of Christian parents throwing out their gay children, while I’ve never seen a Christian parent throw a coming out party for their child? Why is it that, according to San Francisco State University’s Family Acceptance Project, highly religious homes are far more likely to kick their kid out for being gay than non-religious parents?

One reason: the Bible, more specifically, how Christians relate to the Bible.

I was defined by being an Evangelical Christian. That identity permeated every moment of my life. At a very young age, I remember coloring in the pews as my dad played the drums and my mom led the Children’s Ministry.  As I grew up, I started volunteering with children and youth at a very early age. I was at church at least three times a week. But I was just getting warmed up. Following my high school graduation, I attended a Christian leadership academy, became a youth pastor, served as a missionary in Europe, and led worship at multiple churches. All of my immediate friends and family were and are Christian. But when those closest to me were confronted with my existence as a gay, Christian man, the majority felt torn, torn between obeying a book or loving me.

“Brandon, I’m trying to love you and your brother,” my mother said through tears, months after my younger brother came out, “but I’m caught between obeying the Bible or loving my son. It’s so hard!”

Without this book, my mom would have no problem loving her sons. Without this book, my friends would not be apprehensive about standing with me on my wedding day. Without this book, people wouldn’t feel pulled in two directions, unable to decide, and scared to form an opinion.

What does this mean? Is the Bible a bunch of garbage written by European men to manipulate and control the populace? Some would argue this opinion. But that is not what I am arguing.

As I said above, I’m a gay Christian man, and many would challenge my existence, claiming those two identities cannot cohabitate one body. But my argument is that they can. My argument is that Christians have been relating to the Bible poorly and that there is a relationship we can have to scripture that allows mothers to love their kids and sanctions peers to stand by their gay friend’s side as they declare their vows. And just as many of my opponents would start with scripture, asking me, “But what about Sodom and Gomorrah? What about the two verses in Leviticus? What about Romans one?” (As if they are the first person to introduce me to these scriptures, which I’ve been aware of for the majority of my life because they directly affect me.) That’s where I would like to start — scripture.

There are six verses in the Bible concerning homosexuality. Six. For comparison, according to Blue Letter Bible, there are 16 passages on divorce, 62 verses about pride, and 111 verses concerning money.

For those of us who are gay and Christian, we call these six passages, the “clobber” passages because most Christians use these verses to clobber us. Regarding these verses, many publications and organizations, such as The Reformation Project, QCF, Unclobbered, God and the Gay Christian, Torn, Bible Gender Sexuality, Changing Our Minds (to list a few), all talk about how these verses are contextual and are actually not talking about homosexuality how we think of it today. They are either talking about idol worship that included using boys for prostitution, pedophilia, or a lack of hospitality to the foreigner. They were not talking about loving, committed gay relationships.

But people would argue, “You can’t read into this. You have to take the Bible for face value. It says what it says.” If that is the case, women should be silent in church (I Corinthians 14:34). If that is the case, we should not allow divorce on any grounds but infidelity (Matthew 19:9). If that is the case, we shouldn’t have tattoos (Leviticus 19:28), we shouldn’t eat meat with blood in it (Acts 15:20), we should yield to corrupt government (Romans 13:1-7), and we should cut off body parts when they cause us to sin (Matthew 5:29).

My list could continue for far more than a paragraph, but I think you get it. What’s my point? My point is that we contextualize all the time.

How is it fair to contextualize certain parts of the Bible and then not others? We have to look at what was applicable for ancient Israel or the early church and translate it for those of us who live in a modern world. Scripture cannot stay locked in a cultural vacuum, and I’m not just saying this because it benefits me. I’m saying it because it’s exactly what the early church did in Acts.

In Acts 15, there’s massive dissension concerning Gentiles (non-Jews) who are being baptized. Many are saying that they should be circumcised and follow the Jewish law in its entirety, a list of over 600 commandments, including two of our “clobber” verses about homosexuality.

In the end, it is determined by the 12 apostles that the Gentiles shouldn’t be forced to obey the law. They scrap it altogether. Instead, they gave them four rules: don’t eat meat offered to idols, don’t consume blood, abstain from sexual immorality, and don’t eat meat that was strangled.

In one meeting, the whole law is ruled inappropriate to a different culture and new instructions are given to non-Jews. Why? Who gave the apostles the right to change the rules?

Jesus.

“Whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in Heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven,” Matthew 16:19.

So where’s the law? Should we just scrap all forms of morality under the grace of Jesus Christ?

No. Instead, Jesus gave us a new law. Well, two, actually.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments,” John 13:34.

Not some of the law. All of it.

The apostles gave instructions that would help the Gentile believers serve God, to help them obey the first law. They did this from a place of love, obeying the second law. They were obeying the teachings of Christ.

In spite of the six verses in the Bible about homosexuality, Jesus doesn’t mention homosexuality once during his time on Earth. Instead, he talks about love — about loving your God, about loving your neighbor, and about people knowing you’re one of his disciples because of your love.

Can we say that this is true? Do people call Christians “the most loving people”? Are we known by this today? No, instead we’re known as judgmental and ignorant and hypocritical, picketing queer political candidates and abortion clinics.

Is this love? Or have we done what early enemies of the church did — reimplementing the law out of fear?

As a gay Christian, I know I can exist and hold to my faith because, one, there are contexts to the verses we use to batter LGBTQ+ people that need to be considered, and two, Jesus’s commandment to me was not to be straight. His commandment to me was to love my God and to love people, that’s exactly what I intend to do.