When Life Gets in the Way of Life

When I see pictures of myself at seven years old, still and quiet with a wide and peaceful grin, seeking eyes, a demeanor of trust, no furrowed brow that focuses on memories not yet filed for later rummaging and repeated run-through, I come closer to terms with the impact the world has on all of us. At seven . . . an innocent face devoid of uncertainty, wonders not why or why not, no ifs and maybes. An oval of hope. Anxious ears. There are no lines of regret, no signs of burden, no flinching from the truth of who I am, no worry about who I might become, just a comfort with it all.

Just a good little boy, not yet abused or used . . . and not so confused.

We change, or we are changed.

When I look back through the decades, I believe it is the gentleness of lies that does more harm to us than does the brutality of truth . . . the love you forevers and the leave you nevers and the no matter what you dos and no matter what you choose . . . that crumble in the face of reality, leaving creases of pain and regret and loss and loneliness and wants unfulfilled and dreams that fight for light before slowly being killed. Perhaps we are wounded more by the promises of love that fade and fall away in distress or disappointment than the starkness of judgement which turns its back, yet waits and watches. . . for change.

Both are blind, unkind in their inability to see the subtlety of change. In love and judgement both, people move on.

But the question of change, and why we change, remains. Remaining also are the questions others have: Can you? Will you? Have you? Are you sure? How can I know? Will it last? And the demands: prove it.

Is it too late? No. You've been changing all your life and God in heaven has observed each moment, each unfolding, each unsightly shift, every coming back, each advance, countless retreats, the timid and the raging days, the moments of cowing, the rages of rebellion. He heard the cries for grace, the pleas for forgiveness, the shouts of doubt, the praise of thanks and endured the silence of bewilderment with you. Do you think He ever stopped listening? Does He ever stop longing? Do our souls ever stop longing for Him?

We really need to stop wondering if change is possible and if it is measurable and if it is provable. We need to stop worrying about whether change is debatable. We need not stumble on whether change is desirable. We need to listen . . . and if God, in His Word and wisdom, tells us we need to change, then . . . we need to change. For Him.

And His word is clear about sin. We're to turn from it.

Then we open our eyes . . . we stand to our feet . . . and we turn  . . . and there it is, staring right back at us as it always has: life. The world, which takes good little boys and sweet little girls and shakes them hard and pulls and pushes and tempts and prods and surrounds us with fear and uncertainty until we find our feet anchored in a sea of doubt and our hands tied with ropes of regret and our hearts strangled by both the memories and the fears of rejection, and we become like statues in a forgotten garden. We don't . . . change. We are paralyzed in counterfeit peace, the storms raging deep inside. Please . . . peace.

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -- John 14:27

Change is so hard in the shadow of an earlier choice:  the world. We've chosen the glittering hope of the dangling peace over the real one.

Choose again.
Breathe deep . . .

Turn around . . .
Slow the mind . . .
Still the tongue . . .
Seek the eyes . . .
Extend the hand . . .
Feel the peace . . .
Take the love . . .
Breathe again.

It is not easy to walk through life balancing between the weight of judgment and the weight of want, pits on each side of the narrow path.  The weariness of willful sinning that comes out of will worn down by weakness pulls like quicksand, draining the energy needed to resist and stand on stable land.  When your hand goes out to the world around you and your cry is heard while your prayer is stifled, and you grasp the air and the response is silence, you are tempted to narrow your focus down to survival, just getting out of this pit and worrying about the others to come later. That's not change. That's repetitive pain.

Stop worrying about who thinks you can't and who knows you won't. Don't even worry about the  ones who pray you will -- God answers prayers; you don't -- and pray yourself and yield your will.

The devil would like little more than to keep the sexually-broken person in a round-robin of rejection, remorse and rebuilding. That's not repentance. That's not change. It's self-torture and it demeans the good of those who really are pulling for you. Not the finger-pointers, but the ones who stand with palm extended and ankles braced against the edge, urging you to move out of that pit, not dig down deeper.

Volumes have been written, focusing on every aspect of the broken's life and telling us to do this and that to change . . . and often we just end up placing our hopes in the plans of others instead of in the hands of the One who knows -- and always has known -- every aspect of us. And, He will know when you have changed. He won't have to ask you to prove it.

Don't try to change to seek the approval of anyone, even those you hurt and love and miss. I don't know how many times I have tried to demonstrate change only to be rebuffed by reminders of my overwhelming sinfulness. That darkness of the past, for some, will never penetrate the light they hold up in which to view me. I have learned now that if the darkness is to be penetrated, it will be by God, not me. Sometimes moving on -- changed -- is the only way to respond, holding hope they will one day catch up and know us again.

Don't let anyone convince you that in your wandering you forfeited the right to your inheritance and the path to restoration.  You have a right that cannot be stripped from you through any incrimination. In God's eyes, through the saving blood of Jesus Christ, you stand on equal footing with your accusers and judges.

Yet to all who did receive Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God -- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, 

but born of God. -- John 1:12-13

You are one of God's children, by . . . right. And, if you are not, because you have not believed, you will be if you do. Believe.

Don't let the sly one who whispers in your ear in the dead of night or in the grip of sin say you are ever unloved.  Sometimes it can be difficult to realize the great immensity of His love against the diminished love of those who have been deceived or damaged by our brokenness. That pesky question . . . "How can God love a sinner like me?"  . . . was answered long, long ago. He loves you. Don't doubt that. Use it for the power it bears in your life on the days you feel unlovely or unloved. It does not wane. I find it hard to accept love, and yet . . . God is love.

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. -- James 4:7-8

Don't flinch from the pain of change, even if the challenge of it seems unending; grow in it. Repetitive remorse can lead to flinching, a weariness that trying again is just a part of failing again. We walk as if we are bruised; don't touch. Don't talk to me. And yet, it is often a touch, a word that soothes and heals. And it is through the hands and hearts of those around us that God will have His work done within us.  Receive from those He has chosen to use in your life, the ones who will not walk away.

A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. -- Isaiah 42:3

Lastly, and importantly, resist the impulse to surrender to the world's feel-good, gift-wrapped acceptance: that "be-who-you-were-meant-to-be-as-we-see-it" mentality. The little boy above is closer to who I was meant to be than anything the world will ever offer. If anything, it is the head-long rush into "being," that has been my undoing.

Don't give up, even if you give in and cry out in disgust at yourself in desperate need of Him. This is how we change. This is how He changes us.

Breathe deep . . . 

Turn around . . . 

Slow the mind . . . 

Still the tongue . . . 

Seek the eyes . . . 

Extend the hand . . . 

Feel the peace . . . 

Take the love . . . 

Breathe again.

From the nursery to the grave, each breath is a step of change.


God Bless,


Thom


(For more encouragement, please consider "Who Told You You Were Naked?" and Surviving Sexual Brokenness, both available at a discount from Amazon.com.)

Dear Christian: You're Scaring Them to Death

Sometimes the distances between what people know of you . . . and what they think of you . . . and what you know of yourself . . . and what you think of yourself . . . and what is true of all of this knowledge and all of these thoughts when sifted out seems as vast as the entire universe. I wonder if God didn't just create all the stars and solar systems for a practice run, knowing that the humans-to-come would be much more difficult to put into motion and save from colliding. 

We don't orbit well.
We want to be the center of our own universe; we choose carefully who gets into our solar system . . . and we place them at distances as warm as Jupiter and as cold as Pluto. After a bit of exploration, we put a few far beyond the telescope, as if unseen means non-existent . . . and yet out there somewhere they maintain a wobbly orbit, passing by in the darkness, unseen, in solitude and isolation, unable to move into a different universe. They are a part of us . . . apart from us.

I thought we Christians -- the church -- would be better at this by now. For me it's not so much a matter anymore. People know me; they know of my struggle; they've tallied my losses; those who choose have seen my restoration; they know of my love for others who struggle; they have reconciled themselves to an awkward admission that God does indeed do what God says He will: comfort the afflicted and restore the hearts of the wounded and love His own.

What did I think we would be better at by now?  Not culture-trained tolerance, which is only an  effort to forge a fragile peace. Not grudging acceptance, which is just a way to avoid truth. Not ignorant blindness to sin, which is just one more message to the world that even believers are unsure of what we believe and why it matters. What I thought would be better by now is our ability to live in fearless love, which overpowers fear, enables change, wipes away tears and lifts tired and anxious souls, who, unencumbered by the overwhelming weight of shame and judgment, are freed from spending energy hiding and ducking, and can truly pursue freedom.

I thought we would do better by now . . . those of us who claim a desire to be Christlike, that we would not look so personally at the sins of others, as if they bear them only to plague us. Yet, here we are, decades down a road He laid out for us and we're still ignoring the bodies by the roadside. We're so focused on those who proclaim their pride in their gayness that we miss those who want to forego all pride and proclaim freedom. Dear Christian:  "You're scaring them to death . . . or ignoring them to tears."

I know . . . it's not your fault they fell into sin and "choose" to stay there.

But you know . . . it may not be their fault either. And if they're looking for help, they're not choosing to stay there. They're choosing to choose.

And you know what else? if we only focus on the fault of sin, we forgo the hope of forgiveness and we withhold the great sigh of grace. We see so well we blind ourselves.
It's a double-edged blindness. We're not only shutting out the broken, we're sending shudders down the spines of the broken's loved ones, those who have know him or her since the days when brokenness was just a spill from a swing on the playground . . . not a headlong toss into finding themselves in the land of the lost.
We need to quit scaring; we need to start caring.

Whether we embrace it as an official ministry or not, members of our churches are ministering to Christians who struggle with homosexuality, pornography addiction and other forms of sexual brokenness.  Like the struggle itself, their ministry to those who suffer may be hidden, but it goes on, born out of undeniable love.  They are parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, cousins, and friends of your church members – men and women -- who are drowning in the residue of the sin of unwanted homosexuality. They may not understand it; they may cringe at the thought; they may hurt and hold themselves responsible; they may scratch their heads, but they do not close their hearts or turn their backs. 

They love.

Those who walk with them share the solitude and isolation that afflicts Christians who struggle with unwanted same-sex attraction. Secrecy fuels this sin into a raging fire, right in the shadow of the church, the very place where the light of cleansing is harbored. Is there truly protection in rejection? Our fears and limitations quench the power of the Holy Spirit to remove the deception and division and put the family back together.  And the truth is, there is no reason to fear; no reason to limit God’s love to these sinners any more than to all the others who worship in our midst.  And we have the resources we need: “the greatest of these is love.”

Make it Clear

There is no need to compromise. Churches need to know and hold a biblical worldview on homosexuality and sexuality in general and present it to their members, particularly in light of recent confusing messages from some denominations which have shown their weakness, substituting their confusion and a desire for worldly peace for God's clarity and His peace for the world .

What is that biblical worldview?

Homosexual behavior, by definition, is a sin. Homosexual orientation is not sinful. Being tempted is not a sin. Giving in to temptation is a sin. Christ died to pay for our sins. When we confess and repent, we are forgiven. During this process -- which can be lengthy for some -- we need to keep them close to us, working alongside us in the fields, bowing beside us in the sanctuary, sitting with us at the table, confessing alongside us, repenting with us, crying out in unison to the same God who understands our sins as well as theirs . . . and forgives us all the same, giving no greater weight.

Truth does not come at the expense of compassion; compassion does not require the abandonment of truth.

Despite my own difficulties within the church as a struggler, I believe because of what I read in the Bible, that the church still holds the key of hope for those who seek freedom from homosexuality.  Countless testimonies of those who walk more freely from sexual temptation today say that is is because their church accepted them as a child of God, despite what they saw as sinful actions.  When churches see the potential of what God could do in a person's life and then hang in there with the patience and kindness of love as those changes unfold, they are the best of enablers.

I believe it is unlikely any sexually-broken person will ever find freedom without the help and support and encouragement and love of Christians who walk with him or her in the pursuit of freedom and healing and an end to homosexual sin in their lives.This is not a contagious sin. We need to carry contagious grace.

Mike Goeke, a pastor who helps lead a ministry to homosexual strugglers at Stonegate Fellowship, a Southern Baptist Church church in Midland, Texas, has great hopes for the church.

“It is important to remember that homosexual desires and feelings do not mean someone is a ‘homosexual,’” said Goeke in Homosexuality: Your Questions Answered, published by the SBC Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission in 2005.  “Homosexual desires may lead one to accept a homosexual identity, but every Christian is first and foremost a child of God.  Someone who struggles with unwanted homosexual desires is not a homosexual.  Someone who practiced homosexuality in the past is not a homosexual simply because of their past struggles.  Temptation is not sin and should not be treated as such.  If the church takes each person as it finds them and holds every Christian to the same standard, then the church should have no problem finding a place for anyone in the local church.”

It is likely there is at least one struggler in every Southern Baptist Church -- and I focus on the SBC here because I myself am a Southern Baptist and there are just so many of us -- yet only a handful of the more than 42,000 SBC churches in America and not one of the 1,700 SBC churches in Oklahoma is a part of the Exodus Church Association, which equips churches to help same-sex strugglers.

The SBC has been clear, but some denominations and individual churches have compromised biblical truth, sending a confusing message.  Acknowledging the sin and offering the truth of Christ’s redemption need to work hand-in-hand.

“The Christian worldview has been undermined by pervasive curricula that teach moral relativism, reduce moral commandments to personal values, and promote homosexuality as a legitimate and attractive lifestyle option,” said Southern Seminary President Al Mohler in A Challenge of Courage & Compassion: The Church’s Response to Homosexuality.

The church can offer clarity to counteract the confusion of our culture.

Keep them near

The same-sex struggler has no shortage of places to go when temptation strikes.  For most, the church does not rank high on the list because of a history of rejection and condemnation . . . and the fear that “a little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough.”  While some Christians struggle with same-sex attraction, it is not contagious.  Most Christian men and women who struggle with unwanted same-sex attraction, in fact, raise their children with the correct biblical view that homosexual behavior is a sin.

God used an experience I had s few years ago to make something more clear in my mind. In the hospital recovering from surgery, I noticed an odd attachment to my lower abdomen.  A small container was collecting the poison and fluid that accumulates after surgery to remove it from my body.  Several times a day, a nurse would empty this container.  This same nurse rushed to my side when I stood and lost my first lunch at bedside.  She cleaned it up, humming as she did so, not one bit concerned that she would be damaged by her proximity.  She saw me at my worst and it presented her at her best.

The church should nurse the wounded back to health.

The confusion of complacency

“Outside the walls of the church, homosexuals are waiting to see if the Christian church has anything more to say after we declare that homosexuality is a sin,” said Mohler.

Sexual sin leads to isolation, which leads to a need to reach out somewhere for someone to listen.  Unfortunately, it’s easy to find a sympathetic ear ungrounded in God’s Word.  Strugglers in big cities and small towns can find easy and anonymous hook-ups via Craig’s List or personals websites.  They can dangerously cruise certain areas of larger cities and then return home, usually mired in the quicksand of self-hatred and weakness, but with hope no one will ever find out.  Young men who struggle are lured by false theology to embrace sexual attraction for men as normal through such groups as GOYS, which flaunt “a new masculine sexual identity,” which allows for men to have sex with each other within certain limits . . . because these men are not “gay,” but “goy.”  One GOY group recently advised its members to cease contributions to churches and support the GOY movement instead.

Don’t let homosexuality be someone else’s problem, or think it is not in your church.  Why would you be so fortunate as to have been spared this sin among your members? Small town . . . small church?  Big battle.  This is not an urban phenomenon.  In my struggles, and now in my ministry, I met many Christian men from small towns who lived in absolute fear of discovery and expulsion.

The compassion of confession

Perhaps the biggest reason the church needs to be involved on the same-sex battlefield is because the church is the Body of Christ and the best place for confessional healing.  Hidden sins inhibit reconciliation and redemption.

Andrew Comiskey, director of Desert Streams Ministries, addresses this in his book, Strength in Weakness.

“Confession requires community – the witness of trusted brothers and sisters.  I firmly believe that without that witness our efforts to live honestly and wholeheartedly will not work.  We as the church must be reminded of the biblical call to gather as sinners in order to be cleansed.”

Too often confession in church is the end-result of being caught doing something wrong outside the church and having to ‘fess up.  It is painful and feared.  Just seeing someone else go through it often causes the sinner to bury his secret more deeply.

Imagine if the church truly were a place where a person struggling with a sin of any kind had trusted brothers or sisters in a small group situation and could confess, receive prayer and know that he is not walking alone.

“Without confession, we can remain alone, skimming the surface of God’s grace in less revealing aspects of fellowship,” said Comiskey.  The “powerful, repetitive responses of mercy” and a connection with others “rescues us from the domination of sin.”

If churches function properly, they are places of compassion, correction and confession.

“Within the church, one in five members is affected in some way.  They, a loved one or someone they know is gay.  In the past, the church has seen its role primarily as condemning,” said Stephen Black, director of First Stone Ministries.  “Now we are under cultural assault. Churches are going to have to be clear.”

Dealing with the same-sex issue, he believes, takes training and understanding, but churches can be equipped.  He sees three levels of the homosexual struggler:  the person wholeheartedly seeking the truth, the struggler who has become hardened and no longer seeks the truth, and the struggler deceived into thinking he or she can act out within a Christian gay identity.  In addition, you have the person who knows it is wrong, but is close to just giving up.  All must be approached with a clear-cut biblical response to the sin in their lives.

The compassion of commonality

Some approach homosexuality as today’s leprosy or, perhaps as tax collectors in Jesus time.  If so, shouldn't we approach it as Jesus did the lepers and tax collectors?   He associated with them.  As Scripture tells us, "God does not show favoritism" (Acts 10:34). Jesus treated the tax collector and the leper in exactly the same way as he did others, with grace.

“If we don’t approach the issue of homosexuality with long-suffering and patience to help people through their sin, we set ourselves up for self-righteousness, which is also a sin,” said Black.  “We need to bear each other’s burdens.  As Christians, we should be very careful of placing limits on that.”

While willful and repetitive sin can rightfully lead to church discipline and removal, Black thinks churches should be slow to act.

“Homosexuals can walk out a process of healing,” said Black.  “When you excommunicate them, you turn them over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh.  We should err on the side of mercy rather than judgment, giving weight to grace, wisdom and discernment.”

Black noted churches often deal with homosexuality in haste, whereas other sinners – divorcees, adulterers, fornicators, pornographers, gossips – rarely find themselves so quickly going through the discipline process.

“Where is the restoration committee?” asks Black.  “Discipline should lead to a restoration process . . . but it is rarely put in place.  And these are our brothers and sisters.”

And, according to Bob Stith, National Strategist for Gender Issues for the Southern Baptist Convention, our "brothers and sisters" are part of a large circle of Christians impacted by homosexuality.

"I developed a graphic several years ago that I use a lot," said Stith. "If you factor in a mom and dad, two siblings, two or three close relatives, two or three close friends, you're looking at between 30 to 50% of the population. That is one of the reasons we're losing the culture war. We don't minister to those people and many of them turn to gay groups for support."  

The compassion of action

Being transparent about my years of struggling with homosexual temptation and acting out on them allows me now to speak openly about the consequences of this sin on me, my family and my church family.  I should have sought more help from Christian brothers; I might have emerged from the darkened path less bloodied and bruised.  My desire -- like most Christians who struggle with sexual brokenness --  was to put a permanent blockade on the path I took.

If you want to love and help those who struggle in your church, even if you don’t know who they are, set aside fear and condemnation and take on honesty and compassion.  Here are some ways to get started.

·        Have a speaker come to your church to share and begin the openness process. I am willing to speak anywhere. Just go to my website: BridgeBackministries.com and contact me.  You can e-mail me directly at thom@bridgebackministries.com or even call me at 405-401-9693.

·        Explore the development of a ministry within your church.  CrossPower Ministries at Stonegate Fellowship has an excellent video you can view on line at http://www.crosspowerministries.com/.  Or, explore and consider obtaining for your church the DVD series entitled Hope for Wholeness. It will do wonders in helping you understand and encourage.
Let the same-sex strugglers in your church family know they don’t have to do it alone and in secret anymore.  Let them know you will help.
And, if you're not ready to take that step, then, for heaven's sake, at least stop scaring them to death.


God Bless,
Thom
BridgeBack Ministries

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What Do the Gay People in Your Church Look Like?

What do the gay people in your church look like?  Do you spot them by their flamboyant clothing . . . their mannerisms . . . their declarations? 

When a brother or sister in your church came to you to ask you for your help and support in their personal struggle against homosexuality . . . what did you do to walk with them?  How did you respond the last time this happened to you?

“Oh . . . we don’t have that problem in our church,” you say?

If you are a typical church, you do.

Statistics show that one out of every five church members has a family member or close friend who struggles with homosexuality.  We all know someone who is “gay.”  If not at church, then at work.  If not at work, then where we shop or bank or eat.

So, again . . . what do the same-sex attracted people in your church look like?  Could they sit there looking like you, dressed like you, acting like you, worshipping in the pew with their spouses and children, or moms and dads, Bibles open, faces forward, smiles on, handshakes offered, singing alongside you in quiet despair?  Are they hiding their pain and confusion behind their Sunday smiles?

            Like me.

I’ve been a Christian for nearly 45 years and a Southern Baptist.  I was the little boy in the pew whose mother dented his arms with her brightly colored fingernails when he refused to sit still . . . I met David and Goliath in VBS . . . was the middle-schooler who bounded off the church bus and came home from the revival with a new life . . . the teenager in training union quizzing the teacher over parfaits at the Dairy Queen . . . the emerging young man finding his voice on youth choir trips. . . the determined BSU summer missionary to Bangladesh.  And then, as an adult, I was the Sunday school teacher . . . the chairman of the deacons and the elder, all in Southern Baptist churches in Oklahoma.

I am a husband and a father of five grown children who are:  a business owner, a graduate student, two police officer, an administrative assistant.  I have four daughters-in-law and eight grandchildren.

And yet I struggled for decades with unwanted same-sex attraction, have engaged in homosexual behavior in the past and learned that I must be on constant guard against the temptation.  I have wanted to die . . . but more often I just wanted to live . . . without this pull towards sin.  I am your brother in Christ.

Hidden as I was, I knew others in church battled wrongful desires for satisfaction and fulfillment through homosexual relationships, pornography or other forms of sexual brokenness.  Single and married, with or without children, they were maintaining the secret, living in fear, praying for a way out. We did not know each other, but struggled in isolation, praying no one would ever find out and that we would overcome in private.  I’m sure they feared as much as I did the prospect of being condemned, ridiculed and ostracized.

I sculpted the double-mind, fenced in the soul, projected the persona, erected the image, avoided the reality, and fed the brokenness of the past.  It bled into the present and projected into the future. Still, God knew me in my destructiveness and deception, just as he knew me when I was productive in service to Him.

Deception Leads to Discipline

Had I been ushered to a supply closet, I would not have selected addictive sexual brokenness as my identifying sin.  Though temptation is not a sin, engaging in homosexual behavior is, not because the Southern Baptist Convention or any other denomination voted to recognize it as such, but because the Bible makes it clear.  It separates one from God, and, in cases like mine, can separate the person from his church family.

Church discipline is one of the most difficult things a man or woman will ever endure.  It can lead to being declared unrepentant and removed from the fellowship of the church. So strong was the pull of same-sex attraction on my life that I experienced this twice. Evidence presented; recommendation made; vote cast.

Church discipline should always seek the repentance and restoration of the offender.  If a church member is expelled, church members regard him as a nonbeliever.  If enacted in error, this judgment leaves a Christian on the outside struggling against his sin without the support of a church family.  For men and women overcoming homosexuality, a pivotal part of healing and restoration is the need to be included . . . to be a part of the body of Christ.

After being confronted with my sin by church leaders, I stood in my church confessing my sexual brokenness and looking out into the congregation knowing there were others like me sitting there and listening to what I truly believed at the time would be my final confession as I walked into freedom. Some of them knew I knew about them; others did not, but it must have been a terrifying time for them to see me in that position. And it must have been truly demoralizing for them when they heard later of other falls.

Repentance is not easily measured; the fruit may grow slower than we would hope. With the help of a ministry in Oklahoma City that is focused on helping Christians find freedom from sexual brokenness, I learned that overcoming homosexual temptation is a journey, replete with stumbling in most cases. You pick yourself up and move forward. Such "falling" may resemble non-repentance, despite the personal pain and remorse that tears away at you inside. Often, when the struggler falls, the patience of those who are watching finds its limit.

"Is this man willfully sinning and covering it up?" or "Is this man struggling and falling, but continuing to seek repentance and restoration?" In my case, the two Southern Baptist churches which removed me from membership did what they thought was best, acting on the information they had at hand, declaring me non-repentant.

What is Man? 

“What is man that You are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” – Psalm 8:4.

We are who we are in part because of where we've been and the experiences that may have triggered the development of same-sex attraction. For me, childhood sexual abuse and father abandonment were certainly factors that had to be dealt with and have been.  Still, I struggled, and put myself in places I should never have been, as others have done.  In all those places, God was "mindful" of us. We hid; we paused; we ran; we rejected grace; we fell again in sin. Sometimes we ran to Him; sometimes we fell on our faces before Him; sometimes we cried out to Him; sometimes we pled with Him. In all ways, He was always mindful. He never leaves.

I accept responsibility and the consequences for the harm I caused, but my regrets cannot become a barrier to my repentance, even if those I drove away choose never to return.

Why Not Just Give Up?

Giving up and giving in is not an option for a Christian. It denies the reality of God's transforming power and negates the promise that He can create in me a new heart and a new mind. My problem is my very stubborn soul.

I can't imagine it was the Lord's will for me to spend the years in the dark.  I can believe it was the Lord's will for me to find my way into the light.  If I was so stubborn that public revelation and embarrassment was the only way to get there, then that was the path He had to establish for me. But, I don't believe it's a dead-end, so, even in this there is joy about what God can do with a repentant soul.

Why Not Walk Away?

A "struggler" does not choose his sin. None of us wrote an essay in the fourth grade saying that what we want to be when we grow up is a same-sex struggler who lives a lifestyle that guarantees anger, frustration, isolation, loss and detachment. Some see the struggler as using the life he shows -- church, family and career -- to enable the life he hides.  This is not true

We can put the past in perspective and see what is gone. What is difficult is to see what the future holds. I had it laid out so neatly in my prideful days when I thought I could juggle the struggle – develop a double life -- with everything else. Pride not only goes before the fall, it lingers to bury you in the debris.  Digging out and dropping the double life for one of transparency has been painful, but has opened the door to help others who struggle.

Can You Really Be Healed?

Romans 10:15 says "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news." The good news of salvation, yes. But the good news for the Christian who struggles with an addictive sin is that you can be free. Free of domination at least. Free to choose not to act out. Free to overcome the temptation, even when it begs you to take that turn at the next corner and walk just a little out of the way.

God’s grace keeps the struggler grounded in his or her darkest hours.  A friend shared some simple reminders that have helped me and may be useful to you in sharing with someone who is burdened with homosexuality.

-- God made them male and female. (I am a man and intrinsically capable of being drawn to, reaching out for, and experiencing loving feelings and attractions for a woman rather than constantly fixating on my own sex.) Gen 5:2

-- His commandments are not grievous. Christ’s yoke is easy and his burden light. (a Godly, heterosexual mindset is in the long run easier to bear, less painful, and more rewarding than homosexuality.) 1 John 5:3 and Matt. 11:30

-- Love seeks not its own way. (Homosexuality is never a genuine expression of love toward another human being.) 1 Cor. 13:5

-- God rewards those who diligently seek Him, and patience has its perfect work. (God will not forget my labors.) Heb. 11:6 and James 1:4

Forgiveness plays a big part in the overcoming: forgiving those who may have set you on the path . . . forgiving yourself for having lengthened the journey . . . even forgiving others you are angry at for not forgiving you.  Unforgiveness is an open door for Satan.

It's tragic what we do in life in hope of love and acceptance.  We stumble around, yet Someone loved us and accepted us from the moment we were conceived to the moment we no longer breathe and then beyond. In sorrow we yearn for someone to really know us and yet Someone has always known the very number of hairs on our head. To avoid solitude, we search the wrong and very dark places; yet we have Someone who said He would never leave us.

I am healing, rejecting society's claims of inevitability, shaking off the weight of judgment, refusing to surrender to others' genetic wishful thinking, accepting the reality of choice and embracing the simplicity of surrender . . . to the God who always knew me. Who was always there.

When I was knit in my mother's womb . . . God was there.
When my dad drove away forever . . . God was there.
When the sex abuser crawled into my tent . . . God was there.
When I married my best friend . . . God was there.
When my children were delivered . . . God was there.
When they turned away from me . . . God was there.
When I was hurt . . . God was there.
When I hurt others . . . God was there.
When I was redeemed . . . God was there.
When I fell . . . God was there.
When I was restored . . . God was there.
When I fell again . . . God was there.
When I got up this morning . . . God was there.
When I lay down this evening . . . God was there.

He always IS.

So, I ask one more time.  What do the gay people in your church look like?

(Look for the second part of this post early next week.)

(Learn more by reading "Who Told You You Were Naked?" The Counterfeit Compassion of Culture.)

Mighty Warriors of Weakness

So . . . are you free to be ye yet?

Despite all the awe-inspiring technological advances in life, the countless avenues for gathering information, unlimited research on everything imaginable and the openness of modern life that allows pretty much anyone to share deep insight on absolutely anything that briefly piques their interest due to unlimited access to avenues of expression . . . we're not much closer to resolving the issues that lead us into rebellion and separation and solitude, it seems, or to the truth on the issues that blind us, bind us or define us.

We bow our heads in deep belief; shake our heads in disbelief; rejoice in times of great relief; and slink away and say "good grief." We're up, then down. We soar and roar and then we pull out our hair in deep despair. We know; then wonder. We're sure; then insecure. We seek; we retreat. We ask; we close our hearts. We cry out; we pull the pillows round our heads. We want this; we demand that. We silently surrender; we rage in full rebellion. We know the truth that sets us free; we're free to set the truth we want to see.

When it comes to the issues of homosexuality and broken sexuality in general, we've learned more; we've shared more; we've been told more and we've argued more and evermore, but we're no more closer to standing on a victory peak and pounding on our chests proclaiming victory in a mighty roar of freedom than we were when we first discovered that life was more than just scripted Hallmark moments and that the paths so carefully laid-out for us require some stamina on our part to comprehend and follow . . . and well . . . we're just so danged worn out from trying to figure it all out. The scenic rout gets a little tiresome when the desired destination remains so remote. It's fine to struggle, and you're told you'll be blessed through it, but hope becomes a bit tattered if flailing is a way of life.

I think it's interesting that we've developed cars with airbags all around, cameras in the back to keep us from running over someone, brakes that think, steering that almost does its thing without a driver on board, dashboards that warn us about everything short of a bug approaching the windshield . . . and yet we text our way right into a tree on the side of the road. 

If evolution were reality, we'd have side airbags on our bodies that would inflate every time we approached a door through which we should not go. We'd have an early warning system to keep us from taking dead aim at personal destruction. Our high-beam headlights would free us from the fog of temptation that blocks out the beauty of what is real and good in our lives. That camera in the back would react and send a shrill warning when we found ourselves heading back down a treacherous path paved with the bad decisions of our past. Our GPS systems would have built in recognition for the paces oh we dare not go. Our Die-Hard batteries would never fail us, leaving us morally drained on the side of the road in desperate desire for a jump.

We'd be mighty road warriors, sailing across the plains, effortlessly climbing the hills and dipping through the valleys and over the mountains and through the dust and under the rain, unencumbered by the ever-changing environment, charting a well-mapped, fuel-efficient course, homeward bound where open arms await. We'd be whole and happy, pain-free and peaceful.

Only, we're not. 

We're dressed down like David, standing on the plains like an easy target, poorly-armed and oddly-chosen for this battle. Retreat looks sweet.

Only, it's not. 

Much like how we war and against whom, how we surrender and to whom, makes all the difference. Both are powerful moments, whether waving the banner and charging forward on a powerful steed or waving the white flag and dropping forward to your wavering knees.

But which one do you want to do – wage war or surrender?  And which against or who to?  The right war and the right surrender leads to the victory that makes every teardrop a priceless pearl.

Wage war. War against culture, against people who tell you you have not been given choices, against those who say your battle is without merit, against definitions that don’t match your understandings, against those who dummy down truth to make it a sedative for personal relief and satisfaction rather than a force for redemption and reconciliation. Against truth as sure as a slingshot, giants fall. Giants like doubt, fear, false identity, judgment, shame, guilt . . . the barbarians that have stood guard over your dungeon long enough.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. – Romans 8:37

I know. Even though we know He loves us, conquering is not easy in this world in which we live. If it was, I would have much less to write about. How many times did I convince myself I had cast the stone right between the eyes of the giants only to find them later mocking me? But this I know . . . if conquering and vanquishing completely is not in God’s plan, then we are still not to surrender. Not to those giants. When we find that our quiver is empty, there seems to be no ammo, our arms are so heavy we cannot raise our fists to fight and our voice has gone to a whisper . . . we are not defenseless. Like a horseman descending in the valley from a hidden hill comes grace.

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. -- 2 Corinthians 12:9

Have we not lacked our way through life? Aren't too many of our milestones moments when we did not measure up somehow? How is it then that we are to bear our weaknesses like banners of glory? Can we really take what we have so long wanted to hide and deny -- our inability to be what He wants us to be -- and declare it as a valuable thing? Yes.

In Him.

When our weaknesses become valuable, we don't so easily give them away to others. We surrender them to Christ and Christ alone, and, in return, we receive the grace we need to live with them and above them at the same time. Power to the powerless. Perfect power.

Nearly four decades ago I surrendered to what I thought were real needs and embraced an identity -- in secret -- that I thought would  make me happy. I did so with little more than a whimper, almost before I knew it was even a battle. That's often how it works; we're prisoners of war almost before we realize it was declared. Our prison becomes cozy and the darkness protective; we fear the light of discovery and hunker down.

You don't have to do that.

What if it takes the rest of my life to truly be free?  "God's grace is sufficient."

What if I can't restore all the things I've lost?  "God's grace is sufficient."

What if no one believes me? "God's grace is sufficient."

What if people leave me?  "God's grace is sufficient."

What if I stumble again? "God's grace is sufficient?"

What if I doubt? "God's grace is sufficient?"

What if I am besieged by temptation? "God's grace is sufficient."

What if . . .?  "Yes, sufficient for that too."

In the darkness of the lonely night or the promise of a golden dawn, stop telling yourself you can do it. In your own strength, you are as vulnerable as a gloating Goliath. In your weakness, you are a mighty warrior. It may seem like an odd thing, but it is actually a God thing.

Grace to you.

Peace too.

God bless,

Thom

BridgeBack Ministries

The Guest House

A Bridge Between Night and Day

In the soft moonlight of midnight, shadows dancing against the baby-blue wall of the nursery from a cottonwood tree moving gently in the nighttime breeze, it is party time.  The baby is awake and searching for his toes, his pacifier, his blanket, his mommy or his daddy.  He is ready for his day to begin; he wants to explore.  Yes . . . in the soft moonlight of midnight.  Smiling, cooing, laughing.

In the first 10 years of our marriage, Lisa and I had five babies:  four boys and then, a daughter.  It was common among them to go through a period when they would have their nights and days mixed up.  The normal waking in the middle-of the-night with hunger pains or indigestion or a wet diaper was not a huge problem.  You pick them up, hold them, mumble a few comforting words, or, if you're Lisa, sing a lullaby, play with their toes and hopefully they close their eyes before you do.  That was all normal.  It was the periods when they ignored the realities of time and began their day in middle of my night that were hard.

With all their potent body language -- whether red-faced bawling or cherub-faced giggling -- they would say with all the force of an eight-pounder:  "You are not putting me down."  "You are not leaving me in this dark room."

And we didn't.  Not on those occasions where we knew the baby was just a bit mixed up; confused about the distance between day and night, oblivious to dark and light.  These were not "I want" moments.  These were "I need" times.

Sometimes we just need to yield ourselves to the "care for me" and "care about me" cries of those around us who are confused, even if our more common-sense mode tells us that perhaps we should just give them a pat on the back, flip the light back off and close the door.  Cry your way through it; you'll be better for it.  I'm tired.

Sometimes we are the crying child and sometimes we are the comforting one who flips on the light and stays at the side of the weeping and the wailing and the gnashing.  And sometimes we're the child who lies awake and refuses to call out, or the busy and self-absorbed who walks straight down the hall and past the room in which the bewildered toss in fits and turns.

And then, there's God.  He never lets go.  His perfect love casts out fear.  Sometimes we don't see it because of the shadows that cast strange thoughts within our minds, but He is always there.

The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. -- Deuteronomy 31:8

Can you imagine what it would be like to go into our battles and know -- despite the pounding of our hearts and the furious flow of adrenalin -- that someone is at each shoulder, on our left and and on our right, at every step? What if we knew that there was someone right in front of us, fully armed and determined to take the charge?  What if we had the assurance that behind us is someone who will catch us if we fall, and move before us so the battle we think is lost becomes a victory instead?

Imagine . . . and know.

I remember watching the movie Gettysburg a few years back.  I'm not a huge Civil War buff and I have no desire to march in a re-enactment, but there is a stunning moment from that movie that has favorably haunted me from the time I saw it.  It has even been re-enacted in my dreams, which is as close as I want to get to the reality of it.

I don't remember the battle, but I can't forget the scene.  It is a pivotal moment and will turn the war.  Two armies -- the North and the South -- awake from a night of encampment and begin to prepare for the major battle that will cost many of the brave men their lives.  The armies will meet in the clearing, each marching out from the cool covering of the woods, the dark, shady comfort of the trees, into the blazing sun, bayonets at the ready, muzzle-loaders hoisted.

My mind always says. "Don't go!"  Stay in the shade.  Turn around.  Hunker down.  Maybe the enemy will go away.

They don't listen to me.

The men line up in formation, shoulder-to-shoulder, and await the command to move. It comes.  They look into each other's eyes one last time and then focus on the eyes of the enemy, coming out of cover and heading for the clearing.  And they move straight toward the enemy, aware that at some point they will be in hand-to-hand combat and one army will declare the clearing held.

Shots ring out.  Men fall on the left and on the right and the fortunate ones march on, stepping over and around the bodies of the fallen.  Soon, the closeness of the armies makes the long rifles useless to fire and the enemy begins to stab and thrust with bayonets.  Before the battle is over, men are downing each other one-on-one with knives pulled from their belts.  And many fall and die, wondering as they hit the dusty field whether they have done enough to protect their loved ones.

In the end, one army stands, depleted and exhausted, but victorious, despite the huge losses inflicted on them. Great sorrow is experienced in a determination for victory.

I don't like battle.  I like the clear-blue skies unencumbered by the dark and emerging clouds that creep from the horizon and blunt the sun.  I don't want to be close enough to look into the eyes of the enemy; maybe that's why he so often creeps up behind me.

What if our lonely marches toward the seemingly never-ending walls of defiance that threaten to annihilate us in the middle of the clearing are not really lonely marches at all?

Imagine . . . and know.

The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. -- Deuteronomy 31:8.

The Lord Himself?  Before us and with us?  He never leaves? And yet, he knows we become afraid and are sometimes discouraged.  That sometimes our days and our nights are so mixed up that we are in a constant swamp of greyness.  That sometimes we want to cast aside our armor and just dig a hole and hide.  He never leaves.

Sometimes God comes to us and meets our outstretched hands in moments of exploration as we seek to discover our place in the world.  And he speaks in a quiet still voice.  At other times, He stands before us and all around us in full battle gear as we gasp for our survival.  And he goes through the rage with us as the enemy strikes and we risk stumbling to our faces flat in the field.  He never leaves.

God is never confused about night and day.  Evil and good.  Truth and deceit.  No clever costuming by the enemy can fool God.  He knows the serpent's voice and is immune to its cleverness.

We could learn a lot from God.  Duhh.

Like standing with each other so we could take the clearing instead of retreating to the woods.  I'm sure some of those soldiers were more combat-ready and better-trained than the others, but they all marched in.  Some were probably already pretty wounded from earlier battles.  Some may not have slept the night before, robbed of rest by apprehension.  Some may not have even liked the man on his left or right.  Some may have been saints; others bound by sin.  Yet, there they were, there for each other.  Judgement could wait.  Condemnation was on hold.  They were too busy pointing bayonets in unison at the enemy to point fingers at each other. They were more determined to be a mighty army themselves than to shoot the wounded among them.

The church could learn a lot from them.  And from God.

The army marches forward to victory because the weaknesses of each are overwhelmed by the combined strength of all.  Even though the battlefield will sometimes melt down into chaos and confusion, the clarity of the mission remains.

Whether we are in the nursery wanting nurturing or in the clearing wanting a co-clobberer to enable our courage, we need to move forward.

We need a clarity of mission.  We need to know where we want to be so we can make provision to get there, whether we limp across or leap across or get carried across.

We need to realize we don't live in a barn.  I remember when I was a kid, my mother would sometimes peek into my room and tell me to get it cleaned up.  "You don't live in a barn," she would say.  I've thought about that in other ways.  We talk so much about God opening doors, or we pull out the old saying that "when one door closes, He always opens a window."  And these things are true.  But, shouldn't we be closing a few doors in the meantime?  Saying no to old habits and bad thinking?  Eliminating destructive relationships that the enemy uses in our lives.

We need to be stronger for others.  Those of us who struggle need to make darn sure that we are not enabling other strugglers. It is neither kind nor compassionate to play games along the edge of a cliff, to expose ourselves to temptations, to trim the hedges low enough to jump over, to put open spots in the boundaries, to keep relationships intact when we know we are headed for a fall.  And I see that, all the time.  People rarely fall alone.  If you are a co-enabler, you're in co-denial.

We need to be ready to cross the bridge.  One of my mother's -- and perhaps every harried mother's -- favorite sayings was "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."  I often told my own kids "We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it."  "When we get to it," is the dangerous part of the phrase. The men at Gettysburg knew the clearing was ahead.  They paused, planned, tried to rest, shared a meal, strengthened themselves as best they could, cleaned their armor, organized and pledged to cross the clearing . . . all before they came to it.  And they knew well in advance when they would "get to it."

When I was a little boy, the directions for crossing a street were to look both ways twice and then cross.  It was less scary if a crossing guard was there, but it was nice to know that if the guard was not present, I knew what to do.  As I got a little older, I found myself crossing in the middle of the block so I wouldn't have to wait on that crossing guard.  And, on occasion, even if I did look both ways, and even if it wasn't exactly clear, I would dart out into the street and dodge a car or two and leap to the opposite curb.  I had decided that the instructions were too much trouble and the crossing guard way too slow.  It is "my" life, after all.  I can do with it what I want.

Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" -- Matthew 16:24-26

My life?  Mine?  Not so much.

We can learn a lot from Jesus.

My brothers, if one of you should wander from the truth and someone should bring him back, remember this: Whoever turns a sinner from the error of his way will save him from death and cover over a multitude of sins. -- James 5:19-20

This was written to Christians with the full awareness that they were surrounded by people who might wander away from the truth and into the darkened room of deceit, an often-fatal error.  We should be saying:  "Not on my watch."

No matter how dark the room, He will not leave us in it.  We may refuse to walk into the clearing with Him, but it will be our decision, not His.  He is the light that shines in the darkness.  He bridges the distance between night and day.

God Bless,

Thom

BridgeBack Ministries

The Guest House in Norman