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Last week, a "recovering" Evangelical Pastor by the name of Dan Foster who writes on Medium published an astounding piece titled "The Hidden Pain of LGBTQ+ Youth in the Church." It's subtitled "Rethinking Inclusion in Christianity," and is astounding for its palpable empathy, compasson and inclusiveness. I reached out to Dan and he gave me permission to post it here. I do so not just for the regular forum readers, but hopefully for young readers (I hope you're out there!) who may be struggling with the own sexuality and personal identity and need to hear what should be said.
The Hidden Pain of LGBTQ+ Youth in the Church
Rethinking Inclusion in Christianity
Ian was the first kid who told me he was gay.
I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday, much because it took me completely by surprise, and found me hopelessly unprepared to respond.
I was a twenty-something-year-old youth pastor in a church. And, Ian had decided that I was the one person that he could trust with his 'terrible' secret.
In that moment, as the weight of his words hung in the air, I grappled with my own internal conflict. The church environment I was part of hadn't equipped me to handle such revelations with grace and understanding. I was left torn between the teachings I had inherited from my Evangelical upbringing and the compassion my heart urged me to extend.
Yet, as Ian poured out his heart, I knew that this was a pivotal moment. It wasn't just about his journey; it was about the response I would provide -- a response that could either perpetuate the pain of rejection or ignite a spark of acceptance.
I swallowed hard.
"Ian," I said, "There's nothing wrong with you. You're okay and I don't think any less of you."
You could see the relief in his eyes.
Don't think of me as some kind of saint. I confess that at the time, I felt that while I had comforted Ian, I had somehow betrayed God. You see, I was taught -- indoctrinated really -- with this idea that same-sex attracted people were wicked and hopeless sinners. But, when I was confronted with the humanity of Ian's struggle, the first cracks began to appear in the dogma I had been force-fed since my youth.
The seeds of acceptance were planted.
In the two decades I was a pastor, I heard dozens of young people confess their secret struggle with same-sex attraction. And, in the process, I watched myself shift from a hardcore anti-gay warrior to a full LGBTQ ally, with a particular soft spot for same-sex attracted people who have had the misfortune of growing up in fundamentalist religious systems.
My heart just goes out to those people.
As a young person, it's tough when you realize that you are gay. It shouldn't be, but, in reality, the world still has a long way to go when it comes to full acceptance. However, it is doubly tough when you realize that you are gay, and you find yourself enmeshed in a faith community that condemns you, and your identity.
I have nothing but compassion for these people. The reasons for that are simple.
They didn't choose it
I have never met a young person who chose same-sex attraction. Same-sex attraction chose them.
It was not like when puberty kicked in, they walked into the school yard one day and, standing amidst the swings and slides, whimsically said to themselves, "Who am I going to choose to be attracted to? The opposite sex or the same sex? Hmmmmm.... I chose the same sex."
That's a ridiculous notion.
On the contrary, almost without exception, every young person who confided in me, indicated that they had been aware of their same-sex attraction for as long as they can remember -- certainly well before the sexual awakening that happens during puberty.
These brave young people were not the architects of their desires, as if they were handed a palette of preferences to paint their identity. Yet, within the church, there persists a narrative that suggests gay individuals somehow choose their own orientation, overlooking the innate and enduring nature of their same-sex attraction.
And if they believe that homosexuality is a choice, and homosexuality is a sin, then they believe that same-sex attracted people are wilfully in rebellion against God. It is a burdensome label that does profound harm.
Which leads me to my next point...
Most didn't want it
It's crucial to understand that not only do they not choose their same-sex attraction, but many of them earnestly wish they did not have it. This sentiment is not a reflection on the nature of same-sex attraction itself, which is neither good nor bad, but rather an indictment of the church system they found themselves entwined with.
The church, by framing homosexuality as a grave sin, instilled in these young people a profound fear. As they grappled with the dawn of their same-sex attraction, they were thrust into a tumultuous inner struggle, haunted by the prospect of rejection from their families, friends, church community, and even their perception of God.
It's important to emphasize that I believe that there is nothing inherently wrong with same-sex attraction. The predicament lies in the church system that communicated to these young people that their very essence was sinful. This created a painful dissonance between their authentic selves and the teachings they were taught as absolute truth.
So, they were left with a terrible choice: Leave the church, or bury their true identity. Sadly, many chose the latter...
They tried to bury it
Inevitably, most of the young people who were carrying this burden, tried to carry it alone. They dared not mention it to anyone. The church, intended to be a place of solace, became for them a silent torture chamber where the echoes of their authentic selves were stifled by the weight of social expectation and religious doctrines.
The struggle to conform to an ideal that denied the validity of their same-sex attraction pushed them into the shadows, where the fear of judgment and rejection loomed large. As they attempted to bury this intrinsic aspect of their identity, the toll on their mental and emotional well-being was immeasurable. The isolation was palpable, as they grappled with an internal conflict that seemed insurmountable.
In the silent battles fought within their hearts, they yearned for acceptance, understanding, and freedom. The choice to bury their true identity became a heavy burden, carried in solitude, with the unspoken hope that one day, they could reconcile their faith with the truth of who they were.
In desperation, they turned to the one thing they believed could help them...
They prayed for healing
Without exception, every single young person who confided in me about same-sex attraction, has laboured through many months, or even years of begging and pleading with God to take it away.
Without exception, God did not answer this prayer, for any of them.
Not one.
And that silence cut deep.
The became like modern-day Apostle Paul's pleading for God to take away the thorn in their flesh, only to be denied. Most came to believe that God either couldn't change them, in which case he was impotent. Or, he wouldn't change them, in which case he was callous.
What a tragedy.
They were terrified to talk about it
When the burden finally became too much to bear, some of them would finally seek out a trusted person to share their struggle with. It was a privileged position to be on the receiving end of such a conversation.
The conversations would inevitably all go the same way. They would say to me, "Hey, there is something that I want to tell you."
Then there was usually a long, awkward pause.
It was as if they were psyching themselves up to tell me that they had murdered someone and hid the body somewhere. The irony is that, in a strange kind of way, they really had -- they had tried to put to death who they really were. But they found that person painfully hard to dismiss.
When at last they disclosed their deep, dark struggle, often through tears, what broke my heart was always the look in their eyes. Their eyes would betray a profound fear of judgment, rejection, and a potential fracture in the fabric of the relationship. There was always a pleading in their eyes that said, "Please don't reject me!"
Of course, I never did.
But, I pity the young person who told the wrong person.
They abandoned the church.
The unfortunate truth is that some found themselves sharing their vulnerabilities with individuals who were more interested in "fixing" them than providing empathy or understanding. Instead of finding solace, they encountered judgment and condemnation -- a heart-breaking betrayal that often severed not only their connection to that person but, in some cases, to the church community as a whole.
In the aftermath of misplaced trust, some chose to abandon the church. The very institution meant to provide spiritual guidance and unconditional love became a source of pain, rejection, and alienation. The departure was not a rejection of faith necessarily, but a desperate attempt to preserve their mental and emotional well-being, seeking refuge in spaces where acceptance and understanding weren't conditional on conformity to outdated norms.
They received a terrible message from the church: You must conform to the heteronormative ideal to be accepted here. Many would go on to reject God as well. After all, if this is what the people of God were like, then what of God?
My Deepest Wish
The reason that I have completely changed my position on same-sex attraction is pretty simple. Once you start meeting people who have actually walked this road, it become impossible to keep up with judgment without some serious denial of the facts.
If a person has a sexual identity that they didn't choose and probably didn't want, and have begged God to take it away, but he hasn't, what is the appropriate response to that person?
It has to be nothing but compassion.
Throw out the theology textbook.
My deepest wish for LGBTQ+ people who also happen to wish to be followers of Christ, is that those two positions would not be viewed as mutually exclusive, but are able to be lived in harmony. And, my prayer is that the church would come to see them as sisters and brothers and non-specific others who belong as much as anyone else.
To all those people who grew up in church who lived with the 'terrible' secret they never felt safe to share.
God loves you.
I love you.
You belong.
++++++++++++
Dan Foster writes in "Backyard Church" on Medium, and is the author of "Leaving Church, Finding God: Discovering Faith Beyond Organized Religion."
The original Medium post appears here.
[Updated on: Mon, 11 December 2023 23:45]
Bensiamin
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