The Backstory

Sundays were always the highlight of my week. Whether it was playing on the worship team, having discussions with junior high rug rats about video games I’d never be good at, or goofing around during a drama practice for an upcoming production, I knew that that day meant something. Though busy and tiresome, there was a feeling of purpose that I found in the church. I’ve always had a desire to connect with and help people. Most often, it was for no other reason then to see them connect with God, and other people. I remember a production that I was in where the Easter story was told. Playing the role of Peter, I was wrapping up the story at the end, to the audience. I barely got thru the last line as I choked up and completely broke character. The line was simply, “If Jesus can do all this for us, who knows? Maybe he can do it for you too.” I wanted each member of the audience to “get it” so desperately.




Since the age of ten, I’ve always been attracted to guys. Unlike some who wrestle with this, I always knew that the attraction was there, and very real. Often times the attraction was merely physical. But on rare occasion throughout my life there would be a crush. But unlike anyone else’s crush, there was no sidekick to talk thru it. No friend that would say “Dude, let me set you up!” I gathered at a very young age, that my attraction was wrong, misplaced and unbiblical. I acknowledged it was there, and simply tucked it away, considering it a “thorn in my flesh.”



At the age of 28, it seemed as though all of my friends were getting married. I was often asked to play piano at weddings or be in the wedding party in some manner. I was always happy for them, but it started to become very real to me that I wasn’t going to have that special someone to wake up next too. And, in all honesty, this curiosity about sex wasn’t going to be satisfied either. I started to browse the internet, thinking (being naïve) that I would never find someone out there like me. I knew that my hormones were beginning to flare and I would often pray that God would somehow end my life before I had the opportunity to “cross the line”. One night I received an offer. I accepted. To my shame, my first sexual encounter was a one night stand…and I don’t even remember his name.



Nights like this happened rarely, roughly once a year. But I can’t deny that they happened. I hated the feeling afterwards. Knowing that I had done something that completely defied everything that I stood for. But mostly: knowing that I had disappointed God. I began to despise myself, even more so then I had before.



I sought counseling from my church and began a program to rid me of this terrible attraction. I attended therapy for 2 years, hoping for a cure. Therapy has an amazing way of tackling many issues in a person, such as self esteem and the ability to plan and manage one’s daily life while coping with stress. The truth is, I wouldn’t change any of this therapy as I gained much from it. But a cure remained unfound.



The ministry side of me seemed to explode. I was constantly at the church, doing something. My heart beat for kids that were on the fringe. I would go to youth group with a plan, usually with a kid in mind that I knew needed to connect with other kids. That was simply how I was, and frankly how I still am. I tend to be drawn to the friendless. I honestly don’t know why. Those relationships tend to change after they develop confidence and find more friends on their own. And so the pattern would continue as God would always seem to bring me someone new.



I have always maintained that the summer of 2004 was the peak of my life. I had been running a junior high youth ministry at a church that I had volunteered at for 12 years. In the two years I ran it, the ministry had grown from 25 students to an average of 68, and I was beginning to feel like there was something more that needed to be done. I have never been able to put my finger on it, but the church I was serving at, I felt, had given me the most opportunities it was going to give me. A “cap” if you will, in growth. No hard feelings at all, just a sense that I needed to move on.



That summer I was asked to speak at a camp. It was one that I had counseled at and spoken at before. I am convinced to this day that that week was one of the most pivotal weeks of my life. The leadership of the camp had a relationship with a nearby church, one that was in need of a music pastor. I felt my call to be very clear in the area of youth, and that while I can hold my own, playing the piano, I’m simply not a worship leader.



In December of 2004 I accepted a “dual position” of music and youth pastor, with a designated plan that I would primarily focus on building the worship team while they shopped for my replacement, and ultimately just run the youth group.



The story of my time as the music and youth pastor of this church in Yelm is truly a story in and of itself. I could spend pages writing about backbiting, micromanagement, as well as mistakes that I made, trying to keep up with a job at a pace of about 80 hours a week. While I am convinced that the results of this endeavor fueled further actions of mine, I choose not indulge the details, as the details THEMSELVES are not relevant to the guts of this story. But know this: after 9 months, I became a statistic and resigned. I look back now with regret as I know that both the church leadership, and myself, could have handled the situation better. There is no further hurt at this point in my life, though I choose to keep my distance. But at the time, yes, I was angry. I was hurt. And I left Yelm with my middle finger in the air.



My old job had hired me back, and one morning on my way to work, I looked down at the steering wheel to see white knuckles. Never had I felt this way. Never had I hung on to hurt for so long. It felt as if God had not only walked away, but sent his attack dogs to finish the job. I decided that I had given God everything, and that it meant nothing. I began to wonder what life would be like if I walked away from it all. Could this mean that I could now pursue a relationship with a man? My own pursuit of love had been the cost of being in ministry, but now there was no ministry, and God didn’t care either.



“If I traded it all, if I gave it all away for one thing, wouldn’t that be something?” --Finger Eleven



I put up a personal ad on a gay website in October of 2005. I went out on a few dates with a few different guys, with nothing bad to say about any of them. In December I got a response to my ad from a man named Mike, and unfortunately he was from New Orleans. We hit it off instantly and in January he flew up to Seattle for a 5 day weekend. I found myself enjoying his humor and wit while showing him around my city. Physically we were somewhat restrained that weekend, but an amazing revelation hit me. I was now being intimate with someone that I loved. The difference between “sex for fun” and “lovemaking”, was starting to become very real to me. While it was way too early in our relationship to call it love, that’s where I was at, at the time. We proceeded to see each other once a month for the next six months, sometimes up to ten days at a time.



It was around March that I had the realization that I wanted to put a pic of Mike up on my desk at work. I wanted to be proud to be with him. I soon started coming out to my co-workers. This was obviously the safest place for me to do so. I simply knew that no one would care, but even then I was scared as hell.



Every time Mike left there were tears, and we began to discuss being together permanently. The mistake I was beginning to make was that I was isolating myself from others. Only my co-workers were people that I would talk to. I was on worship team at the church that I had originally been attending before I had left for Yelm, and had asked to be removed from the schedule. I had even silently walked away from an understudy role I had gotten in a play, simply because I was afraid I might “slip up” and start talking about Mike.



After agreeing that I would move down there, I began to let a few people know where I was moving too, though never why. My next step was to tell my family. And the problem was they had not been apart of this journey so far at all, because I didn’t include them. I had to tell my parents, brother, and sister, of my orientation, that I had found someone, and that I was moving across the country all within a period of about a month. Out of all the mistakes I had made this was without a doubt my biggest.



I also felt that there were a few significant friends, from my church life, that needed to know the real reason I was leaving. However I still wanted to keep things quiet. I was honestly convinced that I could slip out of state unnoticed. I genuinely believed that people, at least at this point, wouldn’t really notice I had left. And that if they did, they would just assume I was doing ministry work with hurricane Katrina.



I told six close friends. The responses varied greatly. Two of them chose to keep quiet, knowing that this was “between God and John.” However, there were a few that chose to ask others for prayer. I remember wanting very much to tell a few others myself, but there were those that beat me to it. One individual, whom I can honestly say I am reconciled with now, emailed 45 people and organized two different prayer meetings. In his defense, there was no mal intent, only a complete shock and a loss of what to do. But the truth is, all it did was push me away. I no longer felt I could show my face anywhere, and when my job asked me to stay another month due to volume, I declined. I needed to leave.



One of my co-workers, a strong Baptist woman, had in a friendly way, let me know her opinion of what I was doing, both of us having the same background. I share this small part of the story, because she ended up being one of the greatest examples of Christ. She organized the office to donate money to help me move, and on my last day of work, I was presented with a gift card for $400. She did not agree with what I was doing, but she knew that God was in charge of my life, not her or any church. Greenpoint Mortgage and Lura Mitchell had become an amazing support system that I’ll never forget.



After seeing my father cry, I said my goodbyes to the family. Mike flew up here to share the driving, which turned out to be the most fun road trip I had ever been on. We took our time. We hung out with some friends of his in Jacksonville, Mississippi, over a weekend. It was great.



While it could be argued that I simply wanted the “white picket fence” life, it turned out that Mike’s entire life was a lie. There were many things undisclosed that I discovered: Warrants for his arrest, tax evasion, and an extreme possessiveness, to name a few. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I sincerely felt that I had to deal with these issues in order to be loved. I never thought of “other options.”



The only “honey-moon” period was our road trip down there. We started fighting almost instantly, and it was usually over his being defensive when I would ask him about something suspicious. But I won’t lie. I missed my family. After overhearing a conversation about an illegal activity he was involved in, I began to be afraid of what could be next. While many other details have gone unsaid, it had become very clear to me that his possessiveness was going to ruin me. And it was only after I left, that my fears were confirmed.



I started on the road with about $60 in cash, $100 on a credit card, and a bad tire. I took the nerve of calling one of my friends, Chris Ritchie. Though I was scared to ask, I knew that somehow he would make something happen. He informed me that all I needed to do was go to a western union of my choice and there was $400 waiting for me. While he and I have our differences today, I will always maintain that when the rubber met the road, he came thru.



My good friend Zane, who lived in South Dakota at the time, also became a haven of safety as I simply told myself that I just needed to “make it to Zane’s, and I can make it home.” I was a wreck. I ruined a man’s life. My heart hurt so bad at the thought that I was now not going to have someone to wake up next too, and that I had broken someone’s heart.



But I remembered all to well what it was I was going home to, also. I couldn’t show my face there now for sure. I had only been proven wrong in my decision to leave in the first place. “See I told ya so” ran thru my brain. Questions of “am I better off dead?” entered my mind frequently.



My drive home was so alone, and the only place I wanted to be was back with my family. They had turned out to be the truest thing, loving me unconditionally even though I had broken their heart. I am lucky to have them, unlike many others I know that have similar issues to work thru.



During my drive home, my fears of Mike’s retaliation came true. He called my old church, Cedar Park, and informed the pastor that he called the FBI and the Bothell police and had reported a kidnapping; that somehow Cedar Park had taken me against my will, though he had seen my leave in my own car a week earlier. He called my parents several times, making threats against them, and telling them that he was going to send down voodoo curses on them. Even a year and a half later, after the obsessive voice mails and emails had stopped, he would end up sending an email to both churches I had been apart of, and the camp, making accusations that would attempt to threaten my reputation. I would like to point out that these accusations were not believed in any way shape or form, but I’m sure that that is only because of my long history in ministry.



I came home on a Saturday, and while it was good to see my family, it felt surreal. There was an awkwardness I still can’t explain. But when my sister walked in the door, I knew things were going to be fine. In my mind, I was going to start my life over near my family, in Puyallup. However, I needed a job, and when my former employer had called me asking to come back to work (yes for a third time) I was faced with a dilemma of how to make the commute work. Also that afternoon, my friend Chris called and he reassured me that while people knew why I had left, that people just wanted to see me, that they had missed me. And there would be no shame. And the next night I did something I couldn’t believe I was doing…I went to church there.



This is actually my favorite part of this story, because it gives me hope. I couldn’t even make it to a place to sit when I walked in the door, purposely a little late. People swarmed me with hugs and tears. There were even two people, Alex and Colleen Stephen, who offered to put me up as long as I needed to, so I could get my head on straight and go back to my job. I ended up taking the offer and with an amazing love, they let me stay for 9 months. I will forever say that there are some amazing people at that church. With my head spinning, I actually started to consider coming to this church again. Could it be possible that I could be open and honest about wrestling with this? The thought was nerve-wracking, but I was so hurt by the situation, that I was ready to hear what anyone would have to say, and these were people that knew my heart very deeply. I wanted to face this issue head on and desperately needed this church that I had served at for 12 years to come along side me.



Then three days later I had a meeting with the leadership of the church. The head pastor, associate pastor, youth pastor and the head admin were all there. I apologized profusely for allowing events to put them through such drama and that didn’t seem to be an issue with them at all. But the meeting turned things south. I was asked the question “do you believe homosexuality is a sin?” and I answered politely that I didn’t know, but that I wanted to figure that out. I was told I would not be allowed to attend unless I was sure. In that meeting, I am ashamed to say that I caved. I basically said “well ok, then I guess it’s wrong.” This was mistake #2,347. I believe whole heartedly in the intentions of these individuals, but it was clear that they simply didn’t know what to do with me. Over the next week I had gotten a phone call and was told that I was not allowed to go to the main campus for Sunday morning service, but could attend a branch church over in the Kenmore area. I also received a “letter of understanding” regarding some guidelines that I had to fulfill in order to even attend the branch church.



Some of the guidelines made sense but were obvious and could have gone without saying. For example, I was not to be a part of any leadership or do anything that could be perceived as leadership. Honestly? I was like “duh”, as I had nothing left in me to give towards leadership anyway. I was a wreck and just wanted to be around my friends.



Another guideline was that I was not to talk to anyone at all about my previous experiences, other then three leaders of the church, being the pastor, associate pastor, and the branch pastor of the church that I was allowed to attend. Looking back, it amazes me how much control I allowed them to ask of me, and how much authority over my own life I allowed myself to give to them. I will go so far as to say that this borders on cult-like behavior, though I do not perceive this church as a cult at all.



I attended the branch church for a few months, but in the end I always felt awkward there, though they were very hospitable towards me. The branch pastor made many efforts to make me feel welcome, and in all honesty, had a better grasp of how to handle “the gay dilemma” then most people know. But the damage was done, and I simply couldn’t make myself attend there anymore.



Congratulations if you’ve actually made it this far. We’re almost done. My life is much simpler now, purposely. I’m not a part of any church body, though I do play piano for a few, from time to time. I long to be in an outlet to help people and have found myself going back to school to finish my teaching certification. I sometimes miss the church world very much, but it feels as though I must be resolved in my issue in order to grow there. But that’s just it. I am NOT resolved. I truly don’t know where God stands with me, and on this issue. I’ve educated myself on every biblical argument and seen “good and bad fruit” from both the gay community and the church community, simply because we’re human. Go figure. I’m currently reading some really good stuff and am starting a blog to openly wrestle with these questions, hoping to find resolve and to include those that care into my thoughts on the issue. Hopefully someone will learn from my story and not make the huge mistakes I, and others have made.



Thanks for reading…



-unresolved