One Saturday when I was 11, my Dad asked me if I would like to go for a walk with him. I was thrilled, as Dad never spent much time with me. I felt so proud as we walked down the street. This was my father, and I was his son. Then came the words I will never forget: "Jim, your mother and I have been having some problems..."
In a flash, I realized where this conversation was headed. His request to spend time alone with me--for the first time in months--only served as a preamble to him cutting out of our lives for good.
I was furious and cussed a blue streak at him before running away. I was devastated. How could my father leave me? Why didn't he ever spend any time with me? What was wrong with me?
By the end of the year, my two oldest brothers were in college and my other brother was living with my father. Our household had gone from a family of six to just Mom and me. I became the man of the house, my mother's confidante, and a boy with no male role models. So I began searching for someone to take the place of the men who had all left me.
I found the answer in the pages of my brother's porn magazines that he'd left hidden downstairs. Even though it was heterosexual pornography, there were enough males in the photos to give me a steady supply of available men when I was confused or depressed. They were always there, perfect and sexual. I wanted to be just like them when I grew up.
When my father moved in with my mother's best friend, he refused to see me unless I condoned his new relationship. I refused and lost any hope of a relationship with him. I had become a Christian about six months prior to my Dad's departure. Now I clung to God to get me through the pain of my father's abandonment. I attended a Bible study and read the Psalms at night to go to sleep.
But my father's absence continued to hurt me deeply. I longed for him and hated him for leaving me. The magazines in the basement continued to provide a solace. By age 14, I was living a double life: part of me was devoted to God my Father, and the other part was equally devoted to pornographic images of men who were father, brother, friend and lover.
In high school, my anger grew. My father was wealthy, yet he refused to pay child support or alimony. I never saw him and he never called me. I knew that I didn't matter to him. I was hungry for men: emotionally, spiritually and sexually. By my senior year in high school, I began having sex with other men. It was great! At last I had found men who really wanted to be with me.
In college, I "came out" to my family and friends. My friends thought my homosexuality was "way cool" and my popularity soared as I flaunted my newfound sexual identity. My family was a different story. They felt deeply embarrassed and angry. One brother confronted me: "You may not have chosen your sexual orientation, but you have chosen to act on it. I don't think you have a right to be gay when it comes to obeying God." I was livid--but never forgot his words.
A month later, I got seriously involved with Doug, a sensitive and graceful ballet dancer. We began dating on Valentine's Day, 1982. It felt so right to be getting romantically involved with a man--much more honest than dating girls in high school.
Doug and I were both starved for male attention, a codependent's dream-come-true. We loved did everything together, even droppin out of college for a semester and touring Europe. Afterward, we re-entered college and settled down in a nice apartment. Life was lots of fun.
After a year, however, I started to feel suffocated inside. Who was I? Was I just some projection of this man's ideals? Was I just living out the expectations of the gay subculture around me? If I was gay, why was I so miserable?
Over time, a depression settled into my soul that was as dark and heavy as the grave. Somehow I had left God by the wayside; He had become a distant authority figure. I became upset. How could God judge me for being gay? Hadn't He made me this way? If God was so loving, why had He turned His face away from me?
I started drinking and smoking pot to deal with the depression. I broke up with Doug and entered the gay "fast lane": all-night parties, plus lots of sex and chemicals. The depression only deepened. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would commit suicide.
Two years later, a wave of despair came crashing over me. One evening I burst into tears and drove, crying, out into the country. I stopped the car under some trees, looked up at the sky through sun-dappled leaves, and spoke to God in angry desperation. "Why have You turned your face away?"
Suddenly the truth hit me. God was right there--and always had been. It was me who had turned away. In the same instant, I realized what it would cost me to turn back to Him: surrendering control of my life. I would have to become His son. His disciple. His warrior. His love. His.
But hadn't that been what I had been looking for all along--a father who loved me? Suddenly I felt the possibility of hope. A peace began to sift through my soul, like daybreak entering a basement window. Over the next few months, the crushing depression began to lift.
That summer, God brought an amazing series of friends into my life. I worked with a cast of seven other college students, performing musical revues for tourists in West Palm Beach, FL. Those students changed my life. We had the most incredible chemistry, both on and off the stage. One of them--a 20-year-old straight guy named Rod--became my best friend. The entire summer became an exercise in male affirmation and fun. I began to see myself as a man among men. As someone another man would befriend for reasons other than sex.
After that summer, I stopped going to bars and hanging out with my gay friends as much. I started going to church, made straight friends, and even dated women.
But still I struggled. Sex had become my coping mechanism for life's harshness. Anytime I felt afraid or disappointed or angry, I had sex. But the more sex I had, the less satisfying it became.
Several years passed. Then, when I was 26, my mother said something I've never forgotten: "When you're finally ready to heal, you'll heal." I knew what she meant: I wasn't experiencing healing because I didn't want it bad enough to actually give up the habitual sex.
From that point on, I knew my will had to be totally focussed on healing. And that's been my focus for the past eight years. As I choose to resist sin, God empowers my choice. "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13) has become a reality to me.
I met my wife-to-be when we both worked for a Christian theater company in Houston. We started dating, and quickly got very emotionally intense. It was a re-enactment of my relationship with Doug a decade earlier. Soon I was gasping for emotional breathing space and we broke up.
Four months later, we got back together. That November, I asked her to marry me. When she said yes, we started making wedding plans. Everything seemed wonderful--but I was terrified. In January, she hurt my feelings one night and I promptly went to a gay bar and found a one-night stand.
The next day, I told her the truth. After that, the laughter went out of our relationship; a month later, we broke up again. I went to therapy for sexual addiction and she went to therapy for codependency.
That fall we ended up at the same graduate school, bumping into each other in the registration line. We stayed clear of each other for awhile, but eventually started dating again. A year-and-a-half later, we cautiously got engaged. Both of us had seen some major breakthroughs in our respective issues and--after much prayer!--felt God's go-ahead. We were married in 1992.
Is my life free from any pull toward homosexuality? No. It's still difficult at times. But despite the temptations, I know the truth. Following Jesus Christ is the only path that is ultimately fulfilling. All else is an illusion of happiness that eventually leads to death. Last year, I got a phone call from a good Christian friend who had a similar past to mine. He was at the doctor's office and had just found out he was HIV positive. We were both devastated. Then it hit me: That should have been me! As we grieved together, I had a new sense of the mercy and grace of God in my life.
So, although the Christian walk is hard at times, I see the choices so clearly. Death or life. Blessing or destruction. Yes, I still struggle, but when I hear my infant son's laughter or see the joy in my wife's smile, I know that my life is good, very good.
So I'm still learning how to obey. God wants us to have joy and an abundant life. But, when I look up joy in the Bible, it usually follows the word obedience. The fruit of obedience is joy.
The desire of my heart has been to have a father who really wants me. And God has given me that. He's given me Himself.
Additional Information:
Copyright 1997 Jim Shores. Jim and his wife Carol perform nationally as Acts of Renewal (Christian Theatre Company). These performances have been enormously popular at Exodus Conferences for a number of years. They also perform across the country at marriage conferences, singles events, colleges and church worship services. For booking information contact: 864-421-9100 or citaexec@aol.com |
