My first two years of university were some of the most gut-wrenchingly difficult years I’ve ever experienced. Back then I was deeply entrenched in the closet, knowing that I was definitely not straight, but also trusting no one with that secret.
It remained my secret until I came out to my now ex-wife just a couple years into our marriage.
My first two years of university were some of the most gut-wrenchingly difficult years I’ve ever experienced. Back then I was deeply entrenched in the closet, knowing that I was definitely not straight, but also trusting no one with that secret.
It remained my secret until I came out to my now ex-wife just a couple years into our marriage.
My years at Redeemer and especially those years when I lived on campus, were marked with guilt and fear! I felt guilty that I wasn’t straight. I felt guilty that I developed crushes on my dorm-mates. I felt guilty when I engaged in any sort of interaction with members of the same gender, and guilty when I interacted with members of the opposite gender. I felt guilty for “leading” females on whenever I expressed interest in their lives. I felt guilty when I accessed porn in my dorm room. I felt guilty when I sat in accountability groups and had to pretend that I had once again “failed” to maintain a healthy sexual ethic with regards to members of the opposite sex, fantasy, pornography, and masturbation. I felt guilty when I “played along,” laughing and sharing homophobic jokes.
And I lived daily in fear. I was afraid that someone would catch my eyes wandering. I was afraid that I would get caught crossing my legs the wrong way. I was afraid that someone would catch me aimlessly singing Abba. I was afraid that I would talk in my sleep and accidentally out myself. I was afraid that one of my dorm mates would walk in on me. I was afraid that I would have an erection at the most inopportune times which would lead others to suspect about my orientation. I was afraid that my faith wasn’t strong enough because despite having prayed for years and years and years, I was still gay. I was afraid that I was going to hell, and that there was no way a sinner like me could make it to heaven. I felt afraid that I wasn’t working hard enough, or doing enough spiritually and community-wise to save me from eternal damnation. I felt afraid that I wasn’t worthy of grace because I was gay. I felt afraid that one of my dorm mates would discover my darkest shame, would out me, and I’d face public ridicule and eviction.
Every day, waking and sleeping, I exhausted myself trying to be the best damn straight Christian on campus so no one would ever know. And my true friendships suffered for it. My academic life suffered for it. And without a doubt, my development as a young, spiritually maturing Christian suffered for it. Instead of developing a true faith, I developed the perfect facade and learned how to live it day in and day out.
These days I live in the Netherlands with my husband. It took years and years and years of work to slowly chip away at the shame, guilt and fear, which had, in place of a solid foundation based on Christ, formed the foundation of my daily life. Thankfully there were others, especially several within the RCA and CRC, who walked with me, journeyed with me, and crawled through the deepest valleys with me to help me unpack what I had learned in years of Christian Sunday school, youth group, Christian high school and Christian university. They’ve helped me see a God of love instead of a God of condemnation. Through their joint work, I’ve learned to build a faith and a life that is healthier (no, I’ve not yet learned it all, and I’ve a long way to go), I’m learning to trust that God is good, that His grace is sufficient for even me, and that He chooses me — a gay, married, reform(ed)(ing) Christian — just as a I am. He loves me, yes, even me!
Looking back, I remain grateful for much of my Christian school experience, but if I knew then what I know now, it would not have been my choice for schools. Back then I had no idea that there were Christians who didn’t condemn every expression of LGBTQI+ reality. I had never met another gay or queer Christian, and I was convinced the two could never be married. I’ve now met so many Christians with deep, faith-based roots who are convinced that there is more than one possible way to journey through this life.
The church and Christian schools stand in a beautifully unique place to make a difference in the lives of many, and I pray that courage and wisdom lead to a holistic engagement of the reality of the beautifully diverse Christian reality, thereby helping to create a safe and nurturing learning and faith development space even for those within the LGBTQI+ spectrum.
