Revved Up

About five weeks after I first told my parents, I returned home to Wichita again to see some visiting extended family. Maybe it’s the Baby Boomer generation or maybe it’s just my parents, but there was not a hint of the sadness or grief that had been there five weeks before. No wallowing. No feeling sorry for themselves. No blowing things out of proportion. I was so relieved to see that they were fine. Things were NORMAL. We had a wonderful time. Lots of laughter and good food and good conversation.  

Then, three weeks later I was again back home in Kansas. More extended family. I’m not usually home that much but it was so so so good that I was home three times in a matter of two months. My parents and I needed the face-time to talk and be around one another. They needed to see that I was the same as I had always been and I needed to see that they were, indeed, okay, even doing well.

It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns though. 

You know how most children “break” from their parents at some point? They rebel as teenagers or in college or whatever…they want to forge their own path, right? Well, I had not done this. I’m a follower. An only child. And I liked my parents. Even as a teenager. They were cool and fun to me, always. I believed what they believed. I followed their advice. This was the first time I was going against the grain in a big way. Huge way. I wanted them with me, on the same page.

If they endorsed same-sex relationships, then I could too. If they approved of me, then I could too.  

For the first time, I was discovering what it felt like to live in tension, in open disagreement with my parents. On that third trip home, my mother and I had a difficult conversation after she picked me up from the airport. She was reading the books I had left for them about biblical arguments for same-sex relationships. She outright didn’t like some of them and hadn’t been convinced by the others. She said that we can go through anything with joy if we are walking with God intimately (meaning I can live a joyously single and celibate life). On this particular day, I felt like yelling “Nope! Not buying it. The whole damn world couples up. And you always say that two heads are better than one.” Instead, I said that while I can believe this in theory, that today, her words rang hollow.

The conversation pretty much ground to a halt. 

It didn’t take long to realize that when I tried to persuade my parents that the Bible may not condemn same-sex relationships, the discussion unraveled. I became defensive and insecure as they remained unmoved in their beliefs. In going out with Erica, I had begun to think about the possibility of having a relationship with a woman, and about the possibility that I could have intimacy and connection with a woman.

When I perceived even a hint of a whiff of disapproval from my parents or friends, I became very agitated and apprehensive, shaken in my own fragile beliefs, and filled with the old dread that my life would always be lived alone, would always be lonely.

To feel that a relationship with a woman might again be closed off to me was painful.  

It wasn’t just the tension with my parents, however, that made things difficult. Truth be told, my beliefs were not just fragile, they were ever-changing. When I read a book written by a Christian author that was affirming of same-sex relationships, I could see it. I could believe the affirming arguments. I began to think yes, I can fall in love with a woman. Then I would read a book written by a Christian author who believed marriage was only between a man and a woman, and I could see it. I could believe the non-affirming arguments. I began to think no, I can’t fall in love with a woman. I was that clichéd ship tossed to and fro by all the voices around me, too easily swayed by the opinions of others. I did NOT know my own mind. I was living in the tension between wanting to date women and waiting for the green light from God. Since I could not reconcile the Bible with my own experience, God had to tell me which way to go. I was that plane circling the airport waiting for air traffic control to give the go ahead to land. I felt desperate to know the way I should go. I needed the RIGHT answer. Can I date a woman, God? Please, tell me. It felt like everything. My future. My life. Why did he have me in a holding pattern? Why was God silent? I had read the Christian books on both sides of the issue, knew all the arguments for and against, prayed all the prayers, and still, nothing. 

I couldn’t shake the thought that God’s silence was his way of giving me time to adjust to the idea of living a single, celibate life, a gentler way of easing me into it than giving me an outright no…no, you cannot have a relationship with a woman. When I had thoughts about my indecision and God’s seeming silence, my chest always tightened up and my heart would start to pound. I was like my old truck, revved up in neutral, running fast in idle, fired up and agitated but going nowhere. How long would I have to wait for an answer? I did NOT want to live my life alone anymore.

I was threatening to jump neutral and screech into high gear, jump headlong into doing things my way. 

See, I was doubtful of God’s goodness. The Jen Hatmakers and Glennon Doyles of the world emphasized Jesus. All Jesus all the time; how he changed everything, how his death and resurrection brought redemption and grace to all. I loved this message but I still wasn’t totally on board. We have to take up our own crosses to follow him, right? Lose your life to find it and all that. My sexuality was the cross I was to not only endure but deny. It was the thorn in my flesh. When I had gone to Sarah for advice about what to do, she had asked me if I thought God wanted good things for me. Since then, she had repeatedly prayed for me that I would be reminded of God’s goodness, that I did not have to be fearful when my parents disagreed with me or when I read something non-affirming because God wanted good things for me. But I was still doubtful, still not convinced that God did indeed want good things for me.