Anguish

I've been crying a lot these past two days. It began just after I finished watching the replay of Jeff Chu's opening speech at the GCN conference that took place two weeks ago in Portland.

He called for a church to be more inclusive. To love without judging. And that everyone has a story to bring to the table. Everyone mattered. 

I didn't know why I cried that night but I sobbed so hard. 

Then at church today, I inexplicably started weeping during worship. I teared up at different points throughout the sermon as well. Subsequently, as I was walking back home, I had to keep myself in check to prevent a floodgate of tears from escaping and scaring the passerbys around me. 

I suppose what I felt was anguish. How every gay Christian might feel at one point in their lives. 

Now I've not experience homophobia in church. That's not the reason for the tears. It's something more basic. 

I wish I were straight. 

How many times have I, like the countless others before me, come to God in earnest and anguished prayer, asking for the same-sex attractions to be taken away? How many times have I heard the well-meaning advice dished out to me by the many pastors I've come out to, to have a vision for the future, for marriage, for a life without this? How many times have I felt so different in church, in cell group, unable to articulate my feelings, my thoughts, my secrets I keep hidden in my closet?

I cry because of the anguish within. 

And yet God provides a way out. 

He tells me that He loves me just as I am. 

"Just as you are."

Just as I am.

And I calm down. The tears stop flowing. I take a deep breath and meditate on that. And I thank God I am His. 



All whom My Father gives (entrusts) to Me will come to Me; and the one who comes to Me I will most certainly not cast out [I will never, no never, reject one of them who comes to Me]. (John 6:37 AMP)

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