My Story | G.

Using letters in place of our names makes me feel like I’m in a spy movie, which excited me quite a bit. It’s also nice to have the option to maintain my anonymity.

As a graduate of FHU, I understand quite well the bubble mindset. If you’d spoken to me in my early teenage years, I would’ve been on the very conservative end of the bubble. That time, my friends, is what I like to refer to as my “denial stage.”

Denial was a big part of my vocabulary for a long time. I don’t think I was ever of the mindset that if I rejected my feelings they would simply “go away.” I think I just figured if I didn’t accept my feelings, it would be easier for me to resist any temptation that would come along to act on those feelings.

Here I am: a bisexual woman. I’m finally comfortable saying that to myself.

I’m willing to say I’ve only verbally confessed it to about five people, but it’s really not anyone’s business unless I want it to be. Being bisexual, I find that some days I’m more attracted to men, other days to women. Today is definitely a “woman” day. Today is the type of day that I once considered a “bad” day. Not because it was a literal bad day, but because my desire to be with a woman is at it’s peak on days like today, and some Christians don’t consider that a good or beautiful thing.

I’m sharing my story, albeit behind the mask of a letter, because us girls need to be spoken for as well. Future, current, alumnae…wherever you stand, you should know that you’re not alone. (And thank you to “M” for inspiring me to speak up, too.)

I was raised in the church. My moral code if firmly embedded in my cerebral cortex, and I’m certain it’s not going anywhere.
•
We’ll call her V.

V and I met freshman year. She was free in admitting her bisexuality. I hadn’t even said the word to myself at that point. I knew I was, but I thought it would “go away” if I didn’t admit it.

V and I hit it off quite well. The more time we spent together, the closer we became. I shared secrets and thoughts and opened up to her.There was a mutual attraction between us. There were a number of “almost kisses.” Think of when you were young and decided it would be fun to play “chicken.” You turn your head or pull back at the last second. It almost happens but it never does. Except that it did, and I wasn’t expecting it. There we were, just chatting away. Out of nowhere, V closed the gap and there it was, my first kiss with another woman—all that sexual tension released in one, fleeting moment. It was everything I imagined it would be and more. Her lips were incredibly soft and inviting. Not long after that, I, in a moment truly out of character, made a move and kissed her again. The second kiss was much more intense than the first.

Well, after that night, we settled back into our normal routine, but I found myself more drawn to her than ever. My infatuation only deepened after that moment. “Getting it out of my system” is definitely not what had happened. We didn’t even talk about what had happened. We just went back to being our friendly selves, but that didn’t last long either.

Long story short, I wound up in bed with her.

It’s all a bit of a blur to me now, but I do remember that she had experience and I most certainly did not. I also remember she took care of me. She calmed me and didn’t make me feel any sort of shame. She was lovely.

After that one night, it all ended. I’m not bitter about it. Sometimes, things happen and people grow apart. It took me a nice chunk of time, but I got over my infatuation. Still, the girl I knew then is special to me and whether I like it or not, she holds a piece of me.

This was a number of years ago, now. Since then, I’ve done a lot of growing and here is where I stand:

I am a Christian woman.

I am bisexual.

I accept that part of myself.

I understand that being bisexual is not something I can change.

It’s a huge part of my identity, and now that I have accepted it, I’m happier in my own skin.

I’ve learned to love every part of myself, every facet of me that makes me who I am. I’ve put my trust in God on a deeper level. God understands better than I ever will my struggles. I know that God will see me through whatever life hands me.

I want my fellow Freedies to know:
1) There’s nothing wrong with you.
2) You don’t have to be ashamed.
3) There are people who will/are/have graced that campus who are just like you.
4) I love you.

I may not know you, but I love you. You are an amazing person and no matter what anyone says, you can never be replaced. Don’t be afraid to talk to someone, even if it’s just one someone. It can make a world of difference and help you accept yourself.

Once you’ve done that, you can take on the world.

-G

My Story | M.

My Story | M

I thought it was time for one of the ladies to break her silence, so here I am. I may have left “our dear old FHU” a few years ago but not so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live ‘silently’ there.

It took me years to understand who I am and how I came to be hear. I am a Christian and I am bisexual.

After High school I lived with a bunch of girls while we went to school and worked. That year was perhaps the best, most “golden” year of my life thus far: laughing and bonding and staying up late, Starbucks runs, projects and constant travel. And her. “Ellen”

Ellen is the most amazing person I’ve ever known; full of life and humor and love for those around her. She’s had more than her share of troubles and her own burdens that have shaped her into a uniquely magnificent person. She loved God in such a simple, trusting way that it spoke volumes and subtly impacted those around her.

From the moment I saw her there was something that just drew me to her- me and many others. I felt pretty lucky to be in her social circle, hearing her stories and listening to her insights. But she saw me. She invited me in and made me welcome. I couldn’t believe my fortune as I quickly became one of her good friends. I found myself getting to know her on a deeper level and wanted so badly to make her hurts go away, to help her with all of her problems.

If you couldn’t tell already: I had fallen for this girl who had touched my heart and who’d shown me so much of the world and of herself.

I don’t know if I knew then or not. I think I suspected the depth of my feeling, though not the name for it. I worried a little but buried it, not having any knowledge of any other sexuality than the simple, binary system I’d been taught all my life.

I was living under the same roof with her- someone I loved but couldn’t- and shouldn’t!- have. I didn’t know what to do with myself. After she told a group of us her story one day- the story of her own bisexuality and a heartbreak, I finally looked back and saw how pathetically I’d been fooling myself all this time. How jealous I’d been over her closest friendships with guys and girls… every time she’d confessed a new crush to me. She “reassured” those of us that she didn’t feel that way about any of us and confessed she’d fallen in love with someone else.

How much was given to me and taken away in that moment… my heart was crushed even though I recognized the importance of learning what I did: that other Christians felt these conflicting feelings too. I’ve yet to figure out so much about my situation. But even as I work and as I pray for our father’s guidance on all of this I’m confident that with Him as my All-in-All, all will be well and I can be complete.

My Story | A.

I have always been different. During recess, I was content to swing and play in the sandbox. My best friends were girls because I never had much in common with other boys. I had never thought much about the way I acted, but after a string of teasing from people in my class, my behavior changed. As a result, I did everything possible to avoid the teasing: playing sports, running track and dating girls.

I was raised in a very strong Christian family. Growing up, the only things I heard about homosexuals were negative. It was very clear that they did not approve of gay people. During my seventh grade year, an event occurred that would change my life: one of my friends on the basketball team played percussion in the band and convinced me to join at the beginning of that year. After Christmas break a new student, named Jeremy, transferred to my school. He played trumpet and became friends with my best girl friend, Jamie. Through her, Jeremy and me slowly became friends. Our friendship grew stronger until the three of us were inseparable.

During ninth grade, Jeremy started dating a girl in my grade. I became extremely jealous of their relationship. I thought it was only because I missed the quality time we used to spend together. But I began to realize I had a crush on him, but I knew that it was wrong, and I couldn’t be that way.

I prayed to God to take away those feelings.

I just wanted to be normal.

Then, in tenth grade, my life changed. It was during Geometry class. Jeremy was taking a picture with another of our friends. I made a rash decision and photo bombed the picture. I kissed him on the cheek and the moment was captured on film.

The kiss was not premeditated.

It just happened.

I freaked out and convinced my friend to delete the photo, but the image was still burned in my mind. Words like “faggot” and “gay and proud” sounded in my head, along with the laughter. Jeremy, however, never freaked out. For the next couple of weeks, our friendship was strained, mainly because I felt awkward around him.

Then, one Thursday after school, a large group of my classmates were at my house painting t-shirts for the pep rally the next day. Jeremy’s father worked out of town, so he stayed at my house that night. After supper, we were playing games on the Wii, and our eyes locked, and we both leaned in and kissed. We immediately pulled back, but my stomach was doing flips and my heart was pounding. I woke up the next morning with him in my arms. We did not talk about that kiss for a while. At least, not until it happened a second time. After that, we agreed that it could never happen again, because we knew it was a sin and wrong. The whole time, I knew that I would never be able to love a girl the same way I am capable of loving another man.

After I reached this realization, I began hating myself.

Hating myself for being gay.

Hating myself because I knew I was letting my family down.

Hating myself because I was not normal.

I dated girls and guys for short periods throughout the remainder of high school. This period of my life was especially frustrating because even though the girls I dated were great, I could not love them romantically. The summer before my senior year, I broke up with my girlfriend of several months because I knew I was going off to college at the end of the year, and didn’t want to get even more involved with her (and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jeremy).

In October of my senior year, Jeremy and I began dating. I fell in love with him, and he helped me love myself again. This was the first time I had ever felt normal and healthy, even though I knew that if my parents found out, I would be kicked out of the house. But being myself and loving myself were well worth the risk. Although Jeremy and I have broken up, we are still close friends. He helped me realize that being gay does not make me an abomination.

The Bible teaches that God’s love is boundless. We are taught to live Christ-like lives, and in order to do that, we need to love like God loves. God loves me. Not because I’m gay, but because he created me in His image. God loves me as a gay man and that makes me proud to be alive in His world.

FAQ Friday (Monday, actually)

Is anonymity the easy way out?

Over the past of couple of months, we have received messages via twitter and email encouraging us to “reveal” our “true identities”. One engaging message even asked to meet with us face-to-face to discuss things in a more personal setting. While we appreciate these offers of self-disclosure, we will continue to remain anonymous.

We are remaining anonymous because this movement is larger than us. At this time, we are committed to being a voice for the voiceless. And maybe, just maybe, one day, we can be a face for the faceless.

FAQ Friday #2

Do you believe that practicing homosexuality is wrong?

Paper Clips exists to give voice to voiceless, courage to the intimidated, care to the abandoned, and strength to the powerless. We do not exist to justify or condemn sexual minorities. We do exist to announce the good news that God’s love is for everyone, regardless of sexual orientation.

If a conclusion is easy to come by, it may not be the best conclusion. If an answer rolls off your tongue without much consideration, that answer may be worth re-considering. Wisdom and integrity come through the long process of prayer, fasting, and hard conversation.

With that being said, we invite you on this difficult journey with us. Pray with us. Fast with us. Engage us in conversation. Since we don’t want easy answers from you, we don’t expect you to want easy answers from us either.

My Story | J.

When I was a little boy, I never heard gay people spoken of in a positive way. They were always “sissies”, “faggots”, and “abominations”. The hatred I heard in people’s voices and saw in their eyes was unmistakable. There was no way around the fact that the people around me would hate me if they ever found out that I’m not straight. I reasoned with myself over the years to alter my “womannerrisms” into “mannerisms”. I did everything in my power to “pass” as a straight man. I made sure my wrist was never limp and my hand never wrested on my hip.I wanted to be respected. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be straight. I wanted to go to heaven. I wanted to see Jesus.

I can’t tell you when I first felt it, but I knew hell would be my home. There was never any hope for me. I was condemned by God to the lake that burns with fire and brimstone: forever. Even though I had never been to the physical hell I was condemned to, I could describe it to you in detail: darkness, heat, and isolation. Interestingly enough, the hell I imagined for my afterlife had slowly invaded and dominated my present life. My heart was dark, the fire of judgment surrounded me, and I felt isolated.

There seemed to be no way out. There was no way out. I tried dating girls. I asked God to take away my orientation. I asked God to make me normal.

One day during my senior year of college, Justin Gerhardt spoke about homosexuality in chapel for two days straight (pun intended) during Sex Week. He went into great detail describing “gay sex” and how gay men have an average of forty sexual partners a year. Something about his presentation did not sit well with me. Even though I was not at point a self-identified gay man, I was aware of my feelings and knew that I had never had forty unique sexual partners in a year’s time nor did I ever desire having forty unique sexual partners in year’s time. In fact, none of the gay people I know have forty unique sexual partners a year. Justin’s misrepresentation sent me on a journey of self-discovery.

From that moment on, I stopped believing the lies I had been told about myself: that I’m a degenerate pervert with no hope of seeing God after I die. A few months later, I struck up a friendship with a fellow graduating senior. One night, he told me he was gay. This made my world collapse. This friend helped me realize that there is room in God’s house for gay people. Up to that point, every other gay person I had ever known was either on depression medication or borderline suicidal. This friend was not. He loved himself, loved God, and loved the life God had given him. I was blown away by the ease with which he embraced the tensions of his existence. He gave me hope for a better life.

As a fully closeted gay person, I adhered to the weakness myth: all gay people are weak. Today, I know the contrary: I am strong. I am strong because of my friends. I am strong because of my family. I am strong because Jesus is my source of unending strength.

An interesting part of this journey is giving up the social privileges of heterosexuality. I can parade around and pretend that I’m straight and continue to lead a somewhat quiet and comfortable life. The difficult part has been admitting my homosexuality and taking its consequences for what they are: beautifully varied. I would rather be authentic and be persecuted for it than inauthentic and be praised for it.

I am gay. I am happy. God loves me.

FAQ Friday #1

(Every Friday, we will respond to the myriad of e-mails we’ve received over the last few weeks. Be patient with us. Our opinions are still evolving.)

What do you believe?

Well, first off, we believe God loves all people. The most potent embodiment of that love is the person, Jesus Christ. Jesus is, according to his cousin John, the “Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” Notice that John refers to the “world”, not just straight people. Jesus lived, died, resurrected, and ascended for the world. We are doing our best to not limit that love to one group of people.

Why are you doing this?

Why would we not do this? If we do not speak for those who with no voice, stand for those with no support, and love those who have been impounded in the scrap yards of community, who will? If LGBT people are going to find safe space, the church must offer it. We’re the church, so we’re offering it.

How can you call yourselves “gay Christians”?

We don’t call ourselves “gay Christians”. We are Christians who happen to be gay, much like Christians who happen to be left-handed. There are followers of Jesus who are attracted to the opposite sex and there are followers of Jesus who are attracted to the same sex.

My Story | C.

It was a grey t-shirt. All it said on the front was this: GAP. I remember it like it was yesterday.

For some, middle school is a memorable mix of puberty, awkward dances, and weird smells. For others, middle school is a living hell. A source of my living hell was a family friend giving me a bag of hand-me-down clothes from their older son who was going into high school. I thought I was so cool getting to wear his clothes. There was one shirt that was in the bag that I wore on one of the first days of school, and at least once every week after that. I was cool. Gap was cool.

Unlike most kids, recess was not my favorite time of the day. I never wanted to play ball with any of the guys. Most of my friends were girls. I was never “one of the guys.” There was always snickering and pointing, especially at lunch. Because I sat at the “girl table”, I knew people talked about me.

One particular day, I attempted to play football with the guys. See, my mom had a close friend from work whose son, Tyler, had just enrolled in my school. I had met him before at a family function. I thought he was a nice guy. He wasn’t just a nice guy, though. He was a “cool” guy. Girls flocked to him. He was popular among the guys. Tyler was the new middle school celebrity. I felt cool because I “knew” Tyler. Well, I didn’t really know him, but I pretended I did.

One day, I mustered the courage to join Tyler for that unforgettable football match. My adolescent social reasoning led me to think that being seen with Tyler would create instant popularity for me. There was no way for me to anticipate the impending disaster.
I can’t recall the score or my athletic form. But I can recall one thing: the Gap t-shirt I was wearing that day. As soon as the game ended, Tyler and a few of his friends mocked my performance on the field. I remember them whispering about how I should have sat behind and hung out with my girl friends. Then Tyler looked at me and pointed, saying, “GAP? G-A-P means Gay and proud, right?”

My heart sank. People laughed. I was hurt and confused and helpless.

I remember similar instances of people making fun of my voice throughout elementary and middle school. It didn’t stop there. They critiqued my demeanor and social circle. “Gay” and “faggot” became regulars in my everyday life. I became native to a land of verbal and emotional abuse. I tried pretending that everything was fine. I tried pretending that I was not fazed by the constant torment.

I woke up every morning dreading going to school, worrying about what others thought of me. It could have been worse though. Thank God it wasn’t. Bullying dehumanizes children to the point of non-existence. For some, suicide is the only reasonable way of escape. To see suicide in this light is completely unacceptable.

I don’t know what you want to call me: bisexual, queer, gay. I don’t care about your labels or what you want to classify me as. I like girls but I like boys a little more. That’s me. That’s life. Call me what you want. I’m not here to live up to your expectations. I cannot apologize for who I am.

I grew up going to a Church of Christ. I heard a lot of sermons about homosexuality. Those sermons always made me nervous because I knew something was different about me. In high school I acknowledged my attraction to other men. Well, to an extent. I knew I had to get rid of my attraction because my orientation was an abomination before God. Not only did God hate homosexuality; God hated me. Even while dating girls and participating in youth group activities, I knew God hated me. I did my best keeping my orientation hidden. No one needed to know. I had it all planned out too: go on to a Christian college and marry a Christian girl, and life would be picture perfect. I’d be fixed at last.

I’m still working through this, but I don’t think my sexual orientation is something I can toss in the garbage. It will not disappear over night. I have prayed and cried, asking God to change me. Instead of changing my orientation, God has used the last series of months to fill my life with good friends. And they are not just good friends. They are Christian friends. These friends do not want to change me. They love me. They accept me. They tell me that God loves me. And I actually believe them. I wish every person could have the love and support I have.

I do not know much, but I do know this: I am where I am because of God love. And honestly, it sucks not being able to share with Christians the area in my life where I see God working the most. I’m not sure why God made me to be who I am. I am created in God’s image. You were created in God’s image. We are all created equal in God’s image. But equal does not mean “same”. We are not the same. We are a beautifully diverse tapestry of Christ’s likeness.

So many people are hurting. So many people are lost. So many people are being put through counseling and being told that they are not okay and that they need to become straight. I’m tired of fear. I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of people not understanding. It’s crazy. I know. But this is me. This is the life God has handed me. Argue all you want with me that I am ‘choosing’ to live a “lifestyle”, and let me ask you to live a day in the last fifteen years of my life. Then, you tell me that I am choosing to be put through this mess. It’s simple: This is me. And I love myself.

Even though writing is not my forte, it was important for me to write this. It is time for us to begin treating each other with the love and kindness of Jesus. Take the time to care. Take the time to listen. Take the time to imagine what it’s like to hide from the people you love.


There are so many people struggling with their sexual orientation; people you’d least expect. Whoever those people are, they need friends. They need people who are willing to do the hard work of walking along the road of life with them. They need to be told that God is love and that God’s love is available to them too.

I’m no different from you. I’m a guy who likes guys. You call me a sinner. God calls me blessed. And I am so thankful God has, in fact, blessed me with this life.

Yours truly,
G.A.P.

My Story | P.

In some ways, I was like every other boy in my town: I played sports, told girls that they had cooties, and was a different Ninja Turtle four Halloweens in a row. I had an imaginary friend named Frank who was smarter and cooler than your imaginary friends, but overall, I was a normal, healthy, southern boy.

I had always known Josh. Our mothers were best friends and we used to play battleships together and trade baseball cards. He was a few years older than me, which I liked. I thought his life as a fifth grader was so glamorous. See, I was stuck in second grade with a patronizing teacher who could barely do math and a room full of morons who still didn’t know that Santa Clause was their mother.

I learned a lot from Josh.

He was very smart and funny. I even thought he was attractive. This attraction caused confusion in my young heart. Trust me, even though I was eight, I knew a lot about sex and even more about Christianity. I wasn’t under the assumption that white storks brought black babies to Chinese homes. I knew where babies came from. I also knew that God hated premarital sex, interracial dating, and especially homosexuality. It sounds strange today, but I wish I could have pleaded youthful ignorance and just followed my heart. I liked Josh, and it has taken me nearly 15 years to admit that.

When I hit puberty, I did what every teenage boy does. I started yelling at authority figures, worrying about acne, buying clothes from American Eagle, and talking to other boys about girls. Middle school is about survival, and I certainly wasn’t immune to the need to fit in to impress my schoolmates. The wrath of God is one thing, but the wrath of the popular middle school crowd was something I feared much more.

I educated myself on how to be popular and was going to do whatever it took to make that happen. I made my mom buy me a pair of Timberland boots, which she couldn’t afford. I acted like I didn’t know some of my old friends because they weren’t attractive or popular. I learned what the word ‘faggot’ meant, and I made sure I was never called that.

What I had with Josh was five years earlier, and I was over that. So, like every other guy, I asked a popular girl to be my girlfriend. She said yes, which set me up for a successful adolescence. (I am crying as I recall the hell I put others through during this time of life. I put them through hell because I was living in a self-imposed hell of self-hatred and self-rejection).

I was baptized in eighth grade. I remember being so excited beforehand because I knew that baptism would take away my unnatural thoughts for other boys. I knew that I had sin in my life and I wanted to come in contact with the blood of Christ so that I could be cleansed and spend eternity in Heaven with Jesus. So out of the water I arose: a straight child of God. (My preacher’s handsome nephew was visiting, so my heterosexuality lasted all of fifteen minutes). Because of my feelings for the preacher’s nephew, I knew my baptism was invalid. I considered being re-baptized, but this thought kept me in the church pew: “Baptism washes away sins, but I guess it doesn’t wash away me.”

High school was a little bit easier, not because it was any less confusing, but because of my involvement and constant busy-ness. I was an all-state athlete, an outstanding tenor in a choir of tone-deaf boys, and a scholar. (I maintained a 4.0 all four years). I should have felt good about myself, right? Well, I did for the most part. However, Josh was a senior my freshman year, which marked the first time that we had been in the same school building since our innocent encounter in 1994. Since our moms weren’t as close as they had been in the past, Josh and I naturally grew apart. I avoided him like the plague, but we ran into each other occasionally at parties. (I had taken to drinking because I enjoyed the feeling and I was still hiding my pain and confusion behind the mask of popularity).

One night Josh and I had both had a little too much to drink, and we were sitting together on a tailgate talking about football. I remember opening up to him about how I felt about him when we were younger. He was a senior and was terrified that someone would hear us, so he yelled at me and called me a faggot and said that I was drunk and he didn’t know what I was talking about. It would be five years before we would speak again. I was devastated, confused, and hurt. This was a turning point for me: I started dating a girl, which lasted for two years; my entire sophomore and junior years. I lost my virginity to her, cried over her, and bought her nice Christmas presents. I was straight. I don’t know how it happened, but I was cured. Praise God.

I was cured until I met David.

He transferred to my high school for our senior year. I had never met someone so smart, so funny. We spent hours talking about Calculus, Physics, and Emily Dickinson. I had never met a guy as intellectually curious as I was and certainly had never met a guy who could express his emotions so fluently. He captivated me, even though I knew we were both straight Christians who were just really intimate friends. I longed to be around him all the time.

Towards the end of our senior year, we were at a party with a few close friends, including our girlfriends. Everyone was drinking and we decided to play a game of “truth or dare”. It was funny at first, watching people drink whole beers in one breath, answering questions about who they had made out with. When it was my turn, I was dared to kiss David. So after we pretended to be adamantly against it, I leaned over and gave him a split second kiss. Afterwards, I pretended to be sick and ran into the house. In reality, the tears had begun to flow.

I was in the bathroom when I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was my girlfriend, Brooke, checking on me. It was David. This time, he grabbed me and gave me a real kiss. He told me that he felt something and that it was confusing for him and he didn’t know what to do. I agreed, but we decided to go back out to the party and talk about it later. When we did discuss it later, he told me that he loved his girlfriend and wanted to stay with her. I broke up with mine, claiming that I was worried about the distance we would face when I went off to college. She and I are still friends to this day, seven years later. (David is now married and is expecting his first child. He called me about a year and a half ago, right before his wedding. He told me that he has thought about me often and that he just wanted to know how I was doing. I think about him often and wish he and his new family the best).

When my mother was helping me move into college, she leaned over and asked, “Are you sure you want to stay here? These people seem crazy and there are too many rules.” Touché, Mom. Truthfully, I enjoyed my college years. I made lifelong friends, received a quality education, and grew closer to God. I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything in the world. As active and “spiritual” as I was in college, I still found myself attracted to men. Trust me, I tried changing. I went to counseling, prayed fervently, and dated a wonderful girl, who I almost proposed to.

I love women and think they are great and beautiful. Even though I think women are wonderful, I am not attracted to them. I can’t explain it (as if I need to explain myself anyway). This is my life. I know every argument that has been made for and against it. This is not the life I chose for myself. This is the life God has blessed me with. I have tried running away from God and my God-given life. But I can’t “run away from God” because God is where I am headed, and God is where I have been. Most importantly, God is where I am.

So here I am, a young, gay twenty-something who is still searching. I don’t expect many of you that read this to understand. Whatever the reason for your interest, I hope that you read one thing, and that is this: You are sitting in the student center right now with gay guys; you are in class right now with lesbians; your roommate is struggling with her sexuality; you sit on the same pew at church with gay students. These students are no different from you. They love God. They love people. They are confused about their futures. They want to be loved and understood and appreciated, just like you.

So, if you can’t understand, listen.

If you can’t listen, love.

Love can be heard.

If you are gay or struggling with your sexuality and spirituality, seek help. There are people who understand and can lend an empathetic ear. You are not alone. Your journey is meant to be lived in community. Find yours. It’s out there waiting for you.

If you know who you are, don’t waste another minute living someone else’s life. Your life is precious and so is time. God is with you, and if God is for you, who can be against you?

Love,

Each Other