I have taken an intentional hiatus from this blog for several reasons. One of which being that the rehashing of the emotions and events took a little bit more of a toll on my emotional well-being than I would have liked to admit.
Another is that this small piece of writing has caused a rather large rift amongst me and some members of my family. I have made some edits, albeit small changes, to protect those who felt they needed the protection of anonymity.
Thirdly, I have decided that I will vow to finish this thing by my birthday (in late May).
Finally, before I finish telling my story, I would like to add the following disclaimer: This story is my story. I refuse to censor any part of it because it seems like I'm attacking something you believe in, or because you don't particularly care for the way you're portrayed in it. This is my retelling, and my memory.
Now, back to the story...
The person I called to give me a ride to my parent's house was the pastor at the church I had recently joined. He was the man who gave the sermon that I recognized to be my calling to come back to Christ. I called him for two reasons. First and foremost, I wanted out of that house. Secondly, I wanted a man's perspective. It occurred to me that I had only truly spoken with women about it. The car ride back to my parents was fairly smooth. Aside from the unbelievably slow speed he was driving at, it just seemed to take forever. Pastor Tim and I talked about what was going on. We examined every stereotypical reason to feel this way (lack of a father figure, nature versus nurture, etc.). Pastor Tim shared with me the passion he knew I had for serving the Lord. He felt it when I stepped in the baptismal pool with him. This was very true. I was “on fire” for God. But, very politely reminded me that it is a sin to “practice homosexuality” and all but impossible to serve God faithfully while living this lifestyle. When we pulled into my parent's driveway, I thanked him and told him I'd see him on Sunday.
That week was when my revelation came. I had attended church that Sunday, and the sermon was about having a real relationship with God. I spent some time at Aunt Jane's helping her get ready for the Fall Festival she was hosting for the church. Lots of time praying, lots of homework, and lots of time to study The Word and reflect. It was the week my revelation came to me. I was at home, praying, and something in my mind kept telling me 127. I had no idea what this meant. But I went the one place I figured made the most sense: The Bible. I opened it to Genesis 1:27. There were the most beautiful words “So God created man in his own image...” Those words spoke volumes to me. I know that the verse goes on to say that God created man and woman, but what it said to me was that I was created in HIS OWN IMAGE. Why was I trying to change what the creator had made? I knew that God was not a God of confusion, or anything else I had been feeling while fighting this fight. That night I made peace with how I felt. I huge weight was lifted off my chest, and I could see straight (no pun intended). It was truly the beginning of the rest of my life, lived the way it was meant to be lived.
