We Consented to Our Own Abuse
He preached a sermon called, “How to Raise Heterosexual Children.” He told us his qualifications were that he raised two heterosexual children. They were both elders in the church, if I recall correctly.
I sat there. Listen to how this man effectively reigned in his “sinful desire of the flesh.” I heard how he chose God and God delivered him a wife, birthed in him new desires, and saved him from the dangers of the homosexual lifestyle that sought to destroy the family, the Church, and the very fabric of society itself.
As a closeted same-sex attraction struggler (that’s how identified at the time), I felt a knot in my stomach twist further and further, wringing out every bit of guilt and filtering it into my very body, frozen and imobile in the plush seats on the second row of the church.
I wasn’t out to many people at the church about my struggle, but also there was no way people didn’t know. I’ve been a glittery unicorn since I was a child. But the thing about churches who are “welcoming, but not affirming” is that they have blinders on. They willfully ignore that part of a persons humanity because it makes them uncomfortable, for in their mind my ability for fall in love with other men was a deficit to my character.
After the final song started playing, I went outside the church, and just started sobbing.
“I can’t do it. I can’t do it.”
I was choosing God the best way I knew how to. Fasting. Praying. Crying out. Worshiping relentlessly. Serving continuously. Giving my time, my money. Receiving the laying on of hands. Going through exorcisms. Foregoing any sort of loving connection with anyone I feared might lead me into sin. I was being faithful. I was choosing God.
But if I was choosing God, why wasn’t I happy? Why wasn’t God doing anything? Why wasn’t I seeing the fruit of the Spirit manifesting as I was told it should and does for the faithful.
No love. No joy. Certainly, no peace. And forget kindness. I was the chief punisher of my conscious mind, speaking harshly to myself anytime I had an impure thought.
I called myself disgusting. I called myself sinful and gross. I thought these things about myself. And it made me cry that I tried so hard but couldn’t change.
But I was told, if I would just hold on, hold on and wait for God’s best for me to show up, then I could stay a part of this beloved community.
In my community, uniformity of thought was so important. Uniformity of feeling was also fairly important. We had to all show this outward sign of God’s work in our lives. JOY! PEACE! KINDNESS! That was the fruit of the spirit. But if your joy didn’t look like their joy, if your peace didn’t look like their peace, then they would apply their own form of “kindness” in order to get you there. They’d wanna “love on you.”
I was made to believe that if I didn’t belong, I would never feel happy because I’d be outside of God’s presence. On top of that, I was also told that I’d go to hell if I chose to live outside what they said was God’s will.
And anytime I got “loved on,” to be honest most of the time it hurt.
Love shouldn’t hurt.
But I didn’t know that. I was taught that I had to make a sacrifice for the kingdom of God. I was told that what I had to offer was not acceptable to God, who I was, the way I loved and the way I connected with others was sinful. What was weird is that I wanted this thing I was told was sinful. “A king gets to make demands that seem unjust to us, but He’s the king. We don’t get to question that sovereignty.”
I wanted nothing more than to please God. So over and over again, I would bend over backwards for my church family. Extra hours volunteering during the week. Participating in the worship band. Giving up Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Prayer circles. Extra therapy with an ex-gay therapist. Men’s groups where I had to confess my sexual proclivities, how I had fallen, how many times I had masturbated. I could never be angry. I could never be upset. I had to CHOOSE JOY.
More times than I can count, it was my “mental health” and my “present struggle” issues that kept me from furthering my leadership in my church. I was never quite there. I was never quite ready.
“You need to be more vulnerable.”
”You also need to keep it professional when working with a team. Be a leader!”
”We feel like your beliefs are a little to outside of Biblical truth.”
”You’re off the worship team for now.”
”You can’t be on the prayer team in youth church because of your struggle.”
”Oh, this is an opportunity for people who are not struggling like you are.”
”Just wait on God’s timing. His timing is perfect.”
”We just want to make sure you’re far enough in your healing to be a safe person around everyone.”
All of these statements and actions, whether or not they were based in a place of wanting to “love on” someone, the impact they had on me was devastating in the long term.
I was made to feel that my mental health struggles were a product of my own faithlessness and my inability to trust God.
I was told that my sexuality could be changed, and that in order to a faithful Christian, I should seek to change my orientation. Celibacy wasn’t even an option for me.
I was put thru these prayer circles exorcisms where I cried and mourned and tried to exorcise what I thought was a demonic presence, when in reality, I was trying to cut out my heart.
And when I told them that this was hurting me and it just kept getting worse, they told me that “if it feels really hard right now, that means God has a big blessing on the other side of this. Just stick with it.”
None of that was love. That was abuse.
I was abused by my church. And because of the environment and beliefs we held, the beliefs I held, I essentially consented to my abuse without even knowing it.
This is a notion I borrow from Emily Townes.
In white, heteronormative spaces, especially within churches with conservative theology, anything that doesn’t fit the mold becomes a threat to the homeostasis of the environment, not to mention the power that the those in power don’t even know they are wielding with reckless abandon. And because we want so badly to belong (because duh, we are social creatures and are WIRED for social belonging), we go along with anything told to us because who the hell is gonna argue with who we think is the voice of God.
If we disagreed, it wasn’t the leaders fault. It was our own fault for not being faithful. Repent, or else.
It’s not just a threat of being alone. It’s the threat of being separated from God, threatened with endless torture in literal Hell.
But what about the hell you experience now? The pain you feel here? The aloneness you feel even though you’re surrounded by people who swear they love you? The fear that you have that if you ever chose to change your mind you would lose everyone?
That is the definition of conditional love, beloved.
You deserve more than that. You deserve to feel good and happy and fulfilled. Your sexuality is not an issue you need to fix. Your desire to present as your own gender is not a flaw in your character. These things are both beautiful things God gave you, and you must learn to love them if you want to be free.
Freedom from fear is possible. It takes time. However, it isn’t difficult. It’s just different. And it starts with just one decision.
Leave the places that are hurting you. Find the people who are going to celebrate you. Shed the fear that God is displeased with you and embrace the truth that God has been waiting on you.
God is waiting on you to accept this Love, so free and so present. Nothing to change. Nothing to fix. Nothing to do away with.
You are loved. Fully. Completely. Right now.
Consent to your abuse no longer. Come away from the places that would see you die of thirst and drink of the waters of Christ which affirm you and fill you with joy.
And, if I may speak from personal experience, it is worth everything to be free. It is worth everything to rediscover your infinite connection to Love.
You are worth it.
-kg
If you’re in a place where you know you need to make a change, you want to get free of fear but have no idea where to start, let’s talk.
