Faith and Certainty

I'm supposed to be in bed.
I have church at 9:30. I'm teaching the lesson in Priesthood, something I'm actually excited to do.

Yet here I am, blogging.

Last night  I went to a gay family home evening with people I'd known through the blog world, but never in person. Despite my initial anxiety, it was a wonderful experience. I spent hours talking there, finally leaving at 2 am. It was wonderful.

Today, after 10 days with his family in Arizona, my boyfriend returned to Provo. Walking into his room and seeing him again was like finding a lost part of my soul. We spent all evening together, and by the time he went home I knew even deeper how much I truly love him.

Tonight, I worked on my lesson. I read through scriptures and looked up references online. Finally, I got to a point that was sufficient for tonight. I set everything aside, turned off my laptop, texted my boyfriend goodnight, and was on my way to turn off the light when my phone buzzed.

My brother texted me. And not just a simple, "hey, what's up" text. A looong text.

He and I have never talked about my sexuality, though I'm sure he knows. Well, tonight's text removes all doubt. And while I've developed a thicker skin in discussing this issue with my parents, it kind of stung to hear what my brother had to say.

He talked about temple worthiness, my previous example to him. He spoke of the devastation it would cause my youngest brother and sister if they knew. Even now I can't bring myself to read the text again, because despite the multiplicity of words, I hear one message:

You're not good enough.

Regardless of his intended message, this is what I hear. It's what I always hear. And it's the message I've heard for the past 23 years. This is my ultimate tender spot. My Achilles heel. The fear that regardless of how hard I try, I am not good enough.

When I finished the text I set my phone aside. The psychologist in me leaped into action, trying to piece apart my emotions so that they didn't overwhelm me.

And then I booted up my laptop.

I need to be fair. My brother has no idea what this issue looks like from the inside. He has no idea what my life has been like. He has no knowledge of the tears and the ache and the shame that I've carried. He doesn't know of the sheer hell I've been through, the valley of shadow and death that I descended into when all logical sense and faith crumbled. He doesn't know.

He also doesn't know of the peace that God has granted me. He doesn't know the freedom of a soul who has been caged for so long. He doesn't know the sheer glory of being able to see yourself, your complete self, and love it. He doesn't know of the pure tenderness of being wrapped up in the person you love. Of feeling your heart connect with another's. Of becoming whole.

But perhaps the greatest reason that the weight fell back onto my shoulders after that text was because it threw my doubt back into my hands. My questions and fears and "what if I'm wrong"s came rushing back to me. The shadow of that dreaded uncertainty fell upon me once more.

This seems to be a popular topic lately. Faith and doubt. Certainty and uncertainty. John Gustav-Wrathall blogged about it this morning here.

As I prepared my lesson tonight I watched a youtube video on faith. The video showed a clip of President Monson speaking at General Conference. "Remember," he said, "that faith and doubt cannot exist in the same place at the same time, for one will dispel the other." I heard that, thought for a moment, and then said "I don't think that's right."

In her book The Gifts of Imperfection and in her TED talk Brene Brown discusses faith. Faith, she says, used to be something used to explain the unknown. It was a belief in mystery, the unexplained. But it's become a safety net and a weapon: 'I'm right, you're wrong. Shut up.'  She goes on in the book about how doubt is not the opposite of faith. Rather, certainty is the opposite of faith.

She writes:
"Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty."

She then quotes the theologian Richard Rohr:
"My scientist friends have come up with things like 'principles of uncertainty' and dark holes. They're willing to live inside imagined hypotheses and theories. But many religious folk insist on answers that are always true. We love closure, resolution and clarity, while thinking that we are people of 'faith'! How strange that the very word 'faith' has come to mean its exact opposite."

Uncertainty scares the hell out of me. It strikes me deep in my center with a fear of being wrong, of failing, of being rejected, and yes, of not being good enough. But certainty isn't faith. And without faith, we can do nothing.

I have been trying to learn to live with uncertainty. Sometimes I do very well with it, like last night at the FHE gathering or today with my boyfriend. But sometimes, like tonight with this text message, that fear gets to me and leaves me scrambling to get back to the sure shores of certainty.

But ironically, that "certainty" only comes from the approval of others. It's almost as if I can get enough people to agree on a point, then that must be the truth. And, among those people at least, I will be "certain." I will be sure.

But were I to retreat back into the world of certainty, of being validated by others, I would not be satisfied. Because deep within me, something would be dying.

I had a dream a few nights ago. I didn't understand it, but as I have been studying jungian dream analysis for a class project I believe that I'm beginning to gain some meaning from it.

I was being instructed by someone. Someone older and wiser. The person reminded me of Master Yoda from Star Wars. Small and simple, yet full of eternal wisdom. He was teaching me, among others, of fidelity. Of complete faithfulness. It was clear by what he taught that faithfulness was vital.

The dream shifted. I was in a tuxedo. Somewhere nearby was a bride. But she wasn't the focus of this part. Although it was clear that I had just been married, the focus was not on to whom, but rather what to do now. I recall looking down at my left hand and seeing a vivid golden band on my ring finger. I loved that ring. It symbolized my union, my completion, my wholeness.

As I look at the ring, Yoda came again. Once again he told me of the vital nature of fidelity. Of faithfulness.

And then I awoke.

I pondered over this dream. Especially the part with the bride, and how the point wasn't that I had married a woman. I couldn't make much sense of this dream.

Earlier today I was reading a book on jungian dream analysis, and the author commented on the archetype of marriage, both in dreams and in life.

"The syzygy (married couple) represents the union of paired opposites. Thus, this archetype governs the process of achieving wholeness in the personalty through formation of conscious polarities."

The whole goal of jungian psychology is the individuation of an individual. To put it another way, it is to become that person that we are truly, deeply, intended to be. This requires not a smothering or casting away of aspects of ourselves, but rather complete assimilation of everything, even those things we fear or hide. True individuation, true wholeness, is a union of opposites.

Thus, the marriage in my dream was not a sign of "find a woman," but rather, a symbol of my gaining further wholeness by integrating all parts of myself into one. Perhaps the most difficult part of myself to work with has been my sexuality, that so completely seems to contradict my faith. Yet, true wholeness is a union of opposites.

Fear would have me bury my shadow, lock away anything that wasn't comfortable, easy, or socially endorsed. Fear would have me bury fear itself. It would have me run from vulnerability. It would have me cling to certainty.

Yoda's words to continue faithful to that union, to that search for wholeness, is an directive to stay the course, in spite of fear. To listen to myself, and to God. And even if I have no explanation, no answers, no certainty, to move forward.

I cannot deny that these feelings are a part of my life. I cannot deny the deep desire to be connected to a wonderful man in every way. I cannot deny the love I feel with my boyfriend, the completion, the absolute serenity.

I have no choice but to claim uncertainty, to claim faith. It is the only ground I have to stand on.

I have no answers. I don't know why or how I came to feel as I do. I don't know what my God will say on that final day. I don't know that this relationship, these hopes and dreams and feelings that I have, aren't all a massive mistake. But I don't know that they are, either.

But one thing I do know. That my God sees the intents of my heart. He knows my desires. That my Savior felt each and every one of these emotions that I now feel. That my Lord has been watching, working, and whispering to me. He has been guiding me, and the journey's not yet over.

And when I have the sense to quiet my fears, to settle the panicked urge to find certainty, I feel his voice: "They don't know you. I know you. Listen to me."

And with Him, who needs certainty?

The Dilemma of the Questioning

He was young when the preachers came. About 14 or so years old. In almost no time at all they had the city riled up in such a state of religious and spiritual fervor that none could ignore. People could hardly speak of things others than faith and works and the judgment of God. In a flurry, people flocked to separate congregations to hear what they considered to be the true word of God.

In this great religious meat market the clergy were the true fueling force. They cried to one and all to come and partake of the waters of life. Let each come and find faith in Jesus; which faith was of no consequence, just come.

Yet, as soon as people filed away from one congregation or the other, such brotherly invitations to Christ fell to contention and condemnation. Priest contended against priest, and convert against convert. In the blink of an eye the Christians didn't seem so christian anymore. Words became weapons, and scripture became deadly.

It was in the midst of this war of words and contest of opinions that he found himself, a young boy so unaware of the ways of the world, seeking to find faith. The tide of religious excitement took him along in its current, and young as he was he couldn't help but feel the same deep and pressing desire to unite himself to God and be one of His people. 

But which congregation was God's, he didn't know. And all the people in town disagreed. Even his family was divided on the issue, maintaining a peaceful truce between the converts and those who kept themselves apart from it all. 

He went to the revival meetings as often as he could. He would sit and listen, eyes and ears ablaze as the latest sermon on the way and will of God was trumpeted forth with great charisma and enthusiasm. The words of the preacher would strike a fire of excitement in his heart, and he would think, "yes, this has to be the one." Though as soon as he left that congregation and joined another, that certainty was fading and being replaced by different orchestra of "be thou"s and "thou shalt"s and "thus saith the Lord"s. As that sermon rolled forth he would feel the excitement again, and feel the logic of it, and think "oh, yes! This one, this has to be it."

But, alas, the fervor never lasted. For as soon as another sect began debating the points of the first or the second, the logic, the reasoning, and the scripture would all be lost in a massive heap of rubble. 

Often he spent his evenings walking the dusty roads pondering the words and ideas of the latest meeting. What they said made so much sense. But so had what the last preacher said. And his sermon contradicted the first. How could they all make so much sense, yet refute each other so completely?

Sometimes, the weight of it would get so heavy that it was all he could do to not cry out in frustration. In moments of fleeting sleep he would stare at the stars and wonder: "what am I to do? Who out of all these is right? If any of them are right, which is it? And how can I know?"

But the even the answer to this question eluded him, and he would eventually fall into an uneasy sleep in the early hours of the morning. 

And so time went on. Preachers preached, converts testified, and the fire of faith seemed to have claimed almost everyone to a congregation. But no matter how many times the boy visited a congregation, he never found any more clarity than he had before. He was going in circles. And even though he felt more partial to some sects over the others, never could he bring himself to throw himself into the waters of baptism and relentless loyalty. 

He listened. And he pondered. And he listened again. He read the Bible, trying to find the answers the preachers weren't giving him, but couldn't find any solidity. However, he did not relent in his search. He couldn't. There was too much at stake.

One evening, while searching the Bible for answers, he fell upon a verse. "If any of you lack wisdom," he read, "let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him." His blood seemed to burn as he read those words, slamming his heart against his ribcage. Every fiber of his being shook. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God.

He couldn't shake those words from his mind. Through the following days they echoed inside of him, bouncing off of every question he asked himself. If any of you lack wisdom. They seemed to whisper in his ear as he listened to the clergy declare their fiery sermons. Let him ask of God. They pulsed with every beat of his heart as he heard converts testify and contradict and argue with one another. And it shall be given him.

He needed to know. He had to know. And from the word of God itself told him to ask God. Don't ask the preacher. Don't ask the converts. Don't ask religious scholars, or miracle workers, or even the Bible itself. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God.

The words burned within his chest day in and day out, urging him on. They roused excitement within him, not like the preachers with their emotional intonations, but a deeper excitement, as if his very bones were shaking. 

But part of him also hid itself from those words. He couldn't ask. What if God didn't answer? What then? He'd be right back where he started. And even worse, what if he did? What if God gave him an answer, and it wasn't what he expected, what if it was the opposite of what he wanted? Could he handle receiving such an answer? Would he be strong enough? Or would it simply crush him?

These two halves battled it out within him, and all the while he continued to listen, to read, and to ponder, hoping something would sway the fight one way or the other. 

He was in bed one night, feeling the same familiar tension in his stomach as the two sides debated in his head. He tried to shut up the noise and fall asleep, but the battle was beyond him now. 

Finally, he let go, and just listened to the sound of the silence. The tension fell somewhat, though the root was still there in his stomach. He turned and looked out the window in resignation. He couldn't handle the conflict anymore. The indecision was just too much. He looked past the road and toward the woods on the other side of their property. That's where he had decided to go to ask, if he did go. The space between the trees was dark as pitch, despite the bright moonlight pouring across the nearby fields. The contrast was so sharp. All one would have to do to be able to move out of the darkness was take a step. Just one step. And suddenly, everything would be bathed in light. 

That same choice was his.

He didn't sleep much. The battle tried to reignite itself throughout the night, but he knew what he had to do. When the first shreds of twilight broke over the fields, he got up and got dressed. In the deep silence he slipped outside, stopping by the barrel on the side of the house to splash water across his face. Then he turned, faced the woods across the road, and walked.

When the light finally faded from his eyes, he blinked, trying to focus. He was on his back, and morning light was pouring through the trees from the east. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling every inch of his body relax. The tension was gone. The battle was gone. The words and arguments and the questions were gone. Well, maybe not all the questions. But they didn't eat at him the way they had before. 

He listened, this time hearing the silence on a whole new level. It seemed to come from within him. It was the sound of perfect reconciliation. It was calm. Every inhibition had fled. Every doubt was gone. He knew. Wellness and euphoria filled his chest. And for the first time in a long time, he laughed, simply, because it felt good.

Wonderings

I have so much to get done today, but I need to take a moment and get my thoughts down before they're gone.

Yesterday I received "Goodbye, I Love You" by Carol Lynn Pearson in the mail. I love everything she puts her pen to. I read with hunger through to book until I finished about an hour ago. With everything I read I come to love this woman more. Carol Lynn has such a beautiful way of touching the human soul. Her words make me weep.

I found so much that was so familiar in the story of Carol Lynn and Gerald. Their courtship and the dynamics between them was so similar to what I have experienced in my close friendships and relationships with girls. I feel that I have had some of the questions answered by reading their story. For some time I have wondered, what would have happened if I had just found a girl and gotten married? What if I had married the girl I once dated, never touching the world of gay dating? I know now that it would not have gone away. Hearts would have been broken. And that's just something I cannot do.

The beautiful spirituality of the book is not classic Mormonism. And I liked that. She spoke of femininity, of God and Goddess, of meditation and communion with Deity. It refreshed my soul to hear and read and feel the things she wrote.

But I found that while it is a first hand account, there was no declaration of what is, what should be, and how to act. There is no stance on the issue, no prescribed course of action for the church or the nation. There's only Carol Lynn and Gerald, revealed for all to see the deepest parts of their hearts. I think every one who knows this issue firsthand can see themselves there, watching them play out the very things we've felt ourselves.

There are so many things unanswered. It leads one to lift his eyes to the starry night and wonder. It seems that the knowledge God has given us is as each one of those pinpricks in the sky--bright, beautiful, and poignant. But such inky mystery separates them. What does all this mean? How does it all connect? And who am I, who so defies our understanding of the world here and beyond?

We truly are pioneers, as cheesy as the comparison seems. Though unlike the pioneers, I'm not sure what the destination is. In the barren wilderness I forge I can only raise my single voice and ask Him to show the way. He doesn't tell me the destination. He just tells me the next step. And when he doesn't even tell me the next step and the night gets ever darker, he gives me a hand to hold on to, and a shoulder to weep on.

I do not understand. I cannot even explain my own existence. But I know that I need God. As much as I need air to breathe and water to drink, I need him. I need to be engulfed in his spirit and his love.

"I know only as much of God and the world
As a creature with two eyes must;
But what I do understand I love,
And what I don't understand, I trust."

 - Carol Lynn Pearson

As I read this book, a 25 year old first edition copy, I marveled at how dramatically Carol Lynn's life changed. It was fascinating to read of her as a young woman, fresh in love, and to watch the way her world changed, and then to think of how her world has continued to change in one massive metamorphosis driven by divine design. It baffles me, to think of how my life will similarly change. It will morph and become something I cannot even now fathom. What will it be? What will I be? What will I know, and think, and love? The possibility that I contain, as a simple human being, amazes me.

"Today
You came running
With a small specked egg
Warm in your hand.
You could barely understand,
I know,
As I told you
Of Beginnings--
Of egg and bird
Told, too,
That years ago
You began,
Smaller than sight.
And then,
As egg yearns for sky
And seed
Stretches to tree,
You became--
Like me.

Oh,
But there's
So much more.
You and I,
Child,
Have just begun.

Think:
Worlds from now
What might we be? --
We,
Who are seed
Of Deity."

 - CLP

Who We Really Are

My blog inbox is getting stagnant. A new post is made once every couple of days, and I'm convinced that everyone else has gotten just as slammed with life as I have. So I decided that I would at least contribute to everyone else's inbox with a new post. It was either that, or read the book I keep putting off for literature class.


Problem is that I'm not quite sure what I want to write about. I've had a couple things pop into my head in the last few days, but I don't really feel like writing about those things right now. 


School has been going well. It's busy, but good. My gender class has been interesting. We've spent the last few weeks talking about gender roles and the way they play a huge role in life. In the midst of this I realized that one of the nice things about being gay is that we are completely exempt from the Nazi-like rules of the male gender stereotype. By my mere nature, I defy it. As a child I liked dolls and the Little Mermaid. In elementary I liked make believe on the big toy, not sports. And now, I like Lady Gaga and artsy movies. Being an average guy I would be completely ridiculed by this. I would be a disgrace to the male gender. But by being gay I am excused from the macho male table and allowed to sit at a table that actually celebrates my love of dance club music and spending way too much money at the mall. The things that would make me an outcast in the male gender stereotype actually elevate me in the gay role. Kinda nice.


So a couple weeks ago I came across some notes made by one of the professors in the department I work for called "Homosexual Notes." (Funny, I didn't know that notes had an orientation.) My curiosity got the best of me, and I took a look. I really didn't find anything I hadn't heard before, but it was interesting how the tone of these notes was almost novice. It was clear that he had little literal understanding of my situation. His notes are based on theories discussed by Joe Dallas, and detail the common theory that homosexuality is the result of "sexualized needs for same-gender acceptance." That kind of bothered me. 


Don't get me wrong, I completely understand the logic of it all. Many of us felt like we didn't fit in as we grew up. And so it is easy to say that because we were never accepted we sought for that acceptance, and then sexualized it as we got older. However, while the logic may be sound, I feel like there are some holes in it. 


For example, at the end of his notes it said that "not all boys who don’t get their need for same-sex emotional bonding sexualize these needs however." For the sexualization of unmet needs to be the cause of homosexuality, that means that it has to be present in every case of homosexuality, and that it is the only cause of homosexuality. It also means, at least to my understanding, that this would have to cause homosexuality in every single case where those same-sex needs are not met. But his very statement says that not all boys sexualize it. That seems inconsistent to me.


He later makes the comment, while jotting notes on reparative therapy, that complete homosexuals do not always become complete heterosexuals through that therapy. That also seems to contradict the theory. If these unmet needs were the only true cause of homosexuality, then would not satisfying those needs cause the complete and utter cessation of homosexual feelings? Apparently not.


And what about all those boys who are completely rejected by their peers. They are not accepted by other boys. They are outcasts. Yet, they are not gay. How can you say one boy in this situation will sexualize those unmet needs and another won't? I'm sorry, but it seems to me that those things are determined well before adolescence. In fact, isn't that when most of us realized that we were different than other boys? 


In fact, there is no way whatsoever to prove that it was not the homosexual nature that caused the rejection by the rest of the peer group. It's the proverbial chicken and the egg, and unfortunately, because we cannot manipulate gender nor orientation, it can never be proved. So it thus remains theory, and only a theory. 


These things were going through my head as I was supposed to be studying for my Gender Studies class, and I took a break and wrote my thoughts out on the back of my study guide.


I was thinking about our nature. Not our sexual orientation, but rather those personality traits that set us apart from the general male population. The previously stated theory was going through my head, and here is what I wrote:


Common ideas among conservative psychologists is that rejection by the same gender, or lack of identification with the same gender, leads to unfulfilled same-sex needs which are sexualized later in life. 


Following this theory, rejection of this would lead to embracing opposite gender traits and roles, because one does not "belong" in the other gender. Had the behavior that caused the rejection been simply due to a mix-up of gender traits/roles, the behavior would change so as to meet the approval of the same gender group, and acceptance would occur, and homosexuality would not happen.


However, children as young as two or three show opposite gender traits, including favoritism for opposite-gender toys (the most reliable predictor of future homosexual orientation for men (Bailey & Zucker, 1995)). They are not forced to develop opposite-gender traits (children have not even recognized the existence of gender roles at this time). The traits are simply there. So irregardless of the same-gender group, the child develops traits that commonly belong to the opposite gender. And at rejection they cannot change them, because they are inherent in the personality. 


Thus, the emotional/personality traits of gay and lesbian people are not developed, but are there from birth. How many parents comment that their baby seems to have a personality all his own, even at just a few months old. And those traits follow the child through life. 


Based on the Proclamation on the Family, my gender (which in all technicality is not anatomy, but the emotional personality of a person) is eternal, thus my psychological/personality gender traits are pre-inborn and eternal.


Since we were children we felt different. Since we were toddlers we acted differently. We were more sensitive. We didn't like fighting or conflict. We seemed to be much more attuned to the emotions of other people. We saw beauty where other boys only saw something to smash. We had traits that simply weren't common for boys. But those traits are ours. Our personality is eternal. 


Now, I haven't said anything about actual attraction, because when you throw the body into the mix crazy things happen. (And I just haven't gotten that far in my own thought process). But I find great comfort in the fact that my personality traits, which are often the first things that make others believe one is gay, are not wrong. They cannot, and should not be changed. We are talking about trying to stifle God-given spiritual gifts. And I don't like that idea. :)


But let's look at a couple other things, straying from the scientific side of things. Let's make a list of classical male traits:


 - strong
 - independent
 - masculine
 - assertive
 - tough


Now a list of feminine traits:


 - affectionate
 - sentimental
 - submissive
 - nurturing
 - meek
 - emotional


Now ask yourself, which of these sounds more like the Savior, as we see him in the scriptures? Ironically enough, the feminine traits fit him better. However, from other parts of the scriptures we see that he can be strong, assertive, masculine, and tough when he needs to be. But the thing that surprises us the most (and evidently the writers of the scriptures) was that he possessed a strong amount of traditionally feminine traits.


Taking that a bit further, with the decree that we must become as Christ is, we can see that we must become a blend of male and female traits. In this light, the declaration that it is not good for man to be alone makes sense. A man and a woman coming together allows them to work on each other, like yin and yang, and to be complete people.


However, many of us are already endowed with the treasured feminine traits. (Sometimes it's the masculine ones we need to work on!) In her book No More Goodbyes, Carol Lynn Pearson makes an interesting comment. She talks about a two-piece sculpture of a man and a woman, beautifully intertwined. 


"The figures were so right. Trevor created male and female to be together, just like God did. Why couldn't Gerald (her husband) see that, know that, feel that? The response I'd heard from him so often: 'Of course. Male and female together. Only some of us find that wedding within ourselves instead of with another of the opposite sex.' It never made sense to me, but it did to Gerald. And to Trevor."


And to me. 


In this light, I see the traits I have been given as a marvelous gift. Last semester I took a class based on values and character, and one of the assignments was to go through a list of values and name our top eight. Without hesitation, my number one value was compassion. It is something I have been given, something I need so much more of, and a gift that I treasure as a priceless jewel. I would never give away the traits that make me an outlier. They make me who I am.


I don't know how things really all fit together. Maybe someday God will fill us in on the details. But I know for sure that he created me as a unique and beautiful creature. As that rare 5%, we have been given gifts that can change the world, if we use them. We can return hate with love, intolerance with compassion, and angry misunderstanding with acceptance and explanation. Of all people to have received these precious gifts, doesn't it make sense that it would be us?


It makes sense to me

Lessons from 5 Sages: 3 Doors Down, Buddha, Elder Wirthlin, C.S. Lewis, and Lady Gaga

It's been a while since I've written, and a lot of things have come to my mind lately. But these three things have stood out the strongest lately. And as I was thinking about them today, I realized that they are all connected.

The first is the song "If I could be like that" by 3 Doors Down.




I love the lyrics. They're piercing.

He’s spent his whole life being too young

To live the life that’s in his dreams
And then he lies awake and he wonders
Why can't that be me?

'Cause in his life he is filled 
With all these good intentions
He's left a lot of thing
He'd rather not mention right now

Just before he says goodnight
He looks up with a little smile at me
And he says

"If I could be like that 
Well I would give anything
Just to live one day
In those shoes"

If I could be like that
What would I do?
What would I do?

Now in dreams we run

She spends her days up in the north park
Watching the people as they pass
And all she wants is just a little piece of this dream
Is that too much to ask?

With a safe home and a warm bed
On a quiet little street
All she wants is just that something to hold on to
That's all she needs

If I could be like that 
Well I would give anything
Just to live one day
In those shoes

If I could be like that
What would I do?
What would I do?

I'm falling into this in dreams
We run away

If I could be like that 
Well I would give anything
Just to live one day
In those shoes

If I could be like that
What would I do?
What would I do?

How many times in my life have I felt like the boy at the beginning of the song, perpetually outside looking in, seeing my dreams just beyond my fingertips? 

How many times have I said those words to myself?

If I could be like that 
Well I would give anything
Just to live one day
In those shoes

It's almost heartbreaking to think of how long I've been waiting. Waiting for life to start. Waiting to be loved. Waiting to be happy. Waiting to be worth something. 

But the more I think about it, the more I believe that waiting is focused on the wrong thing. I've been waiting for ages for the outside world to fulfill internal needs. I need to love myself, and I need to live my life right now. Then I can have those days I've dreamed of.

I believe it was Buddha that said "Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without."

But it is one thing to understand that, and another to internalize it. 

I spent a lot of my life trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be. Because if I was perfect for them, then they would love me. I would be lovable. And then I would be happy. 

But I was never perfect. And even when I got close, others never made me happy. 

I think that is something that many members of the church can relate to. It is in that light that I reference the late Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin.

"Some are lost because they are different. They feel as though they don’t belong. Perhaps because they are different, they find themselves slipping away from the flock. They may look, act, think, and speak differently than those around them and that sometimes causes them to assume they don’t fit in. They conclude that they are not needed.


"Tied to this misconception is the erroneous belief that all members of the Church should look, talk, and be alike. The Lord did not people the earth with a vibrant orchestra of personalities only to value the piccolos of the world. Every instrument is precious and adds to the complex beauty of the symphony. All of Heavenly Father’s children are different in some degree, yet each has his own beautiful sound that adds depth and richness to the whole.
This variety of creation itself is a testament of how the Lord values all His children. He does not esteem one flesh above another, but He “inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; . . . all are alike unto God.”


". . .Brothers and sisters, if only we had more compassion for those who are different from us, it would lighten many of the problems and sorrows in the world today. It would certainly make our families and the Church a more hallowed and heavenly place."


I have felt that way. Perhaps I always have. Especially here in Provo there is a false belief that the only kind of good person is a person that looks and acts and talks a certain way. Everyone feels the pressure to be that person, and no one ever becomes that person. Thus, Utah has made its way as the most depressed state in the nation. Because we never feel like we are enough. 


Yet, while we struggle, we send others the message that they're not enough. But true Christianity, true charity, means loving and accepting others, telling them that they're enough, even when they aren't perfect. Even if you completely disagree with them. 


That leads me to my final point. To begin, I'd like to reference this video:






Yup, that's Lady Gaga. Or, Stefani Germanotti, to be exact. The resemblance is definitely there, but something changed between the salad-eating days and the days of international stardom.


Had we been a customer in that restaurant we would have looked right over her, passed her right by. She seems a girl of no consequence, someone who won't amount to much. Dare I say she even looks borderline frumpy (my sincere apologies to all the disciples of Gaga who find that blasphemous).


If we had stopped and spoken to her we may have learned that she was a struggling musician, that she played night clubs waiting for her big break, but we probably wouldn't have really believed that she would become something great.


But here she is today:

Who knew that within the seemingly inconsequential girl of Stefani Germanotti was a person that would send a ripple throughout the world, influencing others with her music, and becoming an international icon?


No one knew. And that's the point.


Within each and every one of us is someone that can change the world. Each of us has a message for the people of this earth. Each of us has something of value, and if we let that out, we can do incredible things.


C.S. Lewis said:
"There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit -- immortal horrors or everlasting splendors."
"It is a serious thing," says Lewis, "to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship."


We have limitations and obstacles, of course. But greatness and happiness are within our grasp. Perhaps we are waiting, dreaming of the day that we can live "in those shoes." But we don't have to. We don't have to be lost, feeling like outcasts. Because peace comes from within, so does power. So does joy. So does confidence and security and faith. We are mighty beings, kept from reaching our great potential simply by our own self-doubt. 


But if we can overcome that doubt, that fear, we can become great. We can change the world. And greatest of all, we can be happy.

Denying Vulnerability

I know I haven't posted for a while, but judging by how few blog updates I found on my dashboard, it was a busy week for everyone.

My last real post was about certainty, something that I've thought about ever since. The day after my certainty post I had a meeting with my therapist, and it was a really hard meeting. The confidence that I had the preceding week was officially shattered during that session, and to be quite honest I was somewhat hurt by the things my therapist said. Or perhaps it was more the unspoken words that hurt. Regardless, it sent me reeling back into the chasm of confusion and doubt, and despite the last week of climbing I'm still not quite out.

But I have been thinking about certainty and about faith. I really appreciate Rob's comment on my post. I also really liked his post on his own blog. He always gives very sound counsel. But it actually seems somewhat ironic that in the LDS church we have come to link certainty and faith as synonyms, when really, they are complete opposites. If we have faith, we don't know things for certain. We have assurance. We believe. We say that we know, but that knowledge is not a certainty. It is faith. And really, it is the lack of certainty that makes faith powerful.

I can't for the life of me remember where I read this, whether on a blog, in an article, or in No More Goodbyes, but I read something about how religion used to be a belief in mystery that explained what doesn't make sense. But now we have changed religion in order to define every minute detail of what doesn't make sense. But that kind of defeats the purpose. (Just found the reference. It's on the video of Brene Brown that I reference later).

So maybe, just maybe we aren't meant to understand everything. Are we supposed to ask? By all means, yes! But do we need a detailed explanation in order to move forward at all? No. And we're not going to get one. And technically, that's what we teach in the church. But few actually want to go forward without that certainty.

Because if you aren't certain, there's room for doubt. It's possible that you're wrong. And if you're not certain you're vulnerable. And no one likes being vulnerable.

I love this video of Brene Brown, and can't do it justice in a few words. But she talks about how the way to truly live is to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Being vulnerable can open the way to true living.

By no means am I ready for this. But I'm going to try. To be frank, it scares the hell out of me. But I'm tired of living my life striving for perfection in order to compensate for my vulnerability. Because ultimately, it led me to a position where I didn't even know what I liked or wanted in life. I didn't even know who I was. Because I'd never dared to open up and find out.

But if we don't open up and truly live, then what point is there in living at all?

Searching for Certainty

My boyfriend and I had an interesting conversation today. We talked a bit about our relationship, and we both agree that this phase of our relationship is nearing an end. We discussed things like moving in together, and even marriage. It made me smile to see the subtle excitement in his eyes as we talked about some of that. But I could also see some of the nervous apprehension that I knew was in my own eyes.

There are some big steps coming up, and these type of steps require certainty. I have always been the type that hates risks. I want to know the result before I make the decision. I don't want to risk anything. And it's the same way with this. I want to know for certain that this is the guy. I don't want any doubt. But it's difficult to have that certainty when I've never dated anyone else. Heck, I've barely even had conversations with other gay guys. I know that I love him, but I want to know for certain that I want him above anyone else. But where does such certainty come from?

I know that relationships are things of risk and trust by their very nature. It doesn't matter if you're gay or straight, we all experience these things. So where does the certainty come from that motivates people to pledge their love to each other and build a life together, despite the hardships? Perhaps the certainty is already here, and the doubt I'm experiencing is simply there for its own sake. I don't know.

Our conversation shifted from there to more religious topics. We don't often talk about being gay in a religious context, so tonight was interesting. My boyfriend mentioned the fact that I had dated a girl before, and that I had experienced attraction to some small degree. He said that if we did end up together, he didn't want me to be living a lie, or deceiving myself. But that's how I felt before. And that's what I feel like when I think of having a straight relationship and living the traditional life. Like it would be trying to fit myself to others' expectations, having to stifle the parts of me that the world didn't want.

And then, once again, we come to doubt. My boyfriend and I talked about our whole situation from a religious standpoint, wondering aloud what the real solution was. Where do we fit in the grand scheme of things? What role do we play in God's plans for everything?

The more we talked the more I felt the need for revelation reaffirmed. We need answers, and only divine ones will suffice. I've heard convincing cases for and against homosexuality using the scriptures, and so it's clear that our definitive answer isn't there. And the solutions that the church offers seem to rob our lives of all purpose and joy. Yet the plan the world sets before me destroys all certainty from a religious standpoint. So what's the answer? I feel like the only thing that will suffice is the word of God directly from his lips. We need answers, and we need the ordained prophet of God to receive them. So I hope he's asking.

But we're taught that God gave us two lines to heaven. The prophet is one. And the other is the one we claim directly. One that I have neglected to use for some time. And when it comes to this issue, I seem to have always avoided the subject. I don't know that I've ever actually prayed and asked right out what he would have me do, or what his viewpoint was. And I think I'm scared to. I don't want to go back to the dark place I was before, feeling conflicted and tormented by two seemingly-incongruent parts of myself. There was no peace nor happiness there.

I know what I'd like to hear. I want to be told that there is a purpose in all this, that my attraction is part of a grand design, and that I can find happiness through a family of my own. I have heard from others who felt that God was leading them that way, but is that where he wants me?

I think what I want most is to have my own conviction reaffirmed, regardless of what that is. But the thing is, I never felt divine confirmation that my guilt-inducing, self-hating philosophy was right.

So maybe it's time I start turning my attention heavenward. Perhaps with time and effort I will be able to finally ask God what he thinks about all this. But I need to be free from any other influence, personal, cultural, emotional, etc. I need to be able to know that what I receive is from him. And to do that I need to be free from all bias, ready to receive any answer. Come to think of it, that's exactly what the church needs as well. We need to be ready to accept the answer, whatever it may be.

I take great comfort in the fact that my God looks upon my heart, and that throughout the tumultuous events of the last year he has been judging me based on my sincere desires. I am grateful for a God of mercy, who never condemns nor abandons. And I take strength in my God of change, who takes the rough man that I am and works to mold me into someone more compassionate, more forgiving, more willing to serve and to love. And when it comes down to it, I think those changes are more important to my God than my orientation.

In this situation it sometimes feels like we are alone, and that no one is willing to understand. But I know that God is. Perhaps my view of God strays from the "traditional" understanding of who he is. But I'll take my ever-present God of compassion over a fearsome God of anger any day.

On that note, I love this scripture. It has come to represent all that God has done for me. And that impact has been made simply by being there.

"...I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up."

Retrospection: Adolescence

As I got to high school I was able to investigate and pursue my own interests more fully. I had been in choir and drama a bit in junior high, and so my first year in high school I latched right on to the choir. I even auditioned and was accepted into the higher combined choir. I loved singing, and the people in choir and drama were much more accepting than those in other areas.

I avoided gym like the plague. I even took an online gym class, just to avoid being in that environment. Insecure jocks seemed to have an instinctive ability to find the more sensitive guys and make their lives miserable. The psychologist in me believes that it is because of personal insecurity, but who knows?

I also began pursuing creative writing. Writing was something that I had discovered in elementary. I had never imagined that those make-believe worlds I loved to play in could be written down in incredible detail and saved for later. I loved it.

I remember one day when my cousin showed me a short story another girl had written. It was scrawled in some random gel-pen color (I was part of the short gel-pen fad that went through some elementary schools). But it was a romance story. And although I was a boy, I was enthralled by it. I had no idea that such a thing could be written. And I realized that I could do that very thing. I wrote many of my own little romances, and they progressed as I got older, moving from lined paper and pen to computer files. My little brother and sister have inherited my old computers, and they loved finding old things that I'd written and lost. My little sister especially loves the romance stories that she finds. Personally, it makes me anxious, because I can't remember what kind of stories have been saved on those computers! Also, those stories were never meant for anyone else. They were mine and mine alone.

I took a creative writing class my first year in high school. Looking back, my teacher was as batty as they get, but she raved over everything we wrote, and I guess more than giving us a critical opinion on our writing, she fostered a love of writing within us. I don't know if that's what she meant to do, but it certainly worked for me. As I went through high school other students mocked her for her absent-mindedness, but I never could. She had a good heart, and she loved writing as much as I did. And that was all that mattered.

As for my attraction, high school simply exacerbated it. Boys were getting better looking, gaining muscle mass (another reason I didn't like gym. I liked looking at the boys, and it made me feel incredibly guilty). I wasn't the only one struggling with feelings I didn't understand, though. I remember overhearing a conversation between a boy from my choir class with another friend, and just from the small bit I heard I could tell that he was struggling with being gay. He was almost five years ahead of me on that one. I hadn't even admitted it to myself yet. But it certainly drew my attention. I didn't know why, but anything gay did. I was drawn to it, but I guilted myself constantly over it.

A lot of that comes from the faith I was raised in. Not all of it. My own personal perfectionism played its own demonic role. But the two combined were a nasty combination. I was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, otherwise known as the Mormon church. I know that there are a lot of nasty feelings toward the church when it comes to its relationship with the gay and lesbian world, but understand that for me the church was something wonderful.

Ever since I was a child I loved it. I loved learning about Jesus and how to be a good boy. I loved the way that scripture and the things of God can pierce and change the human soul. And this love progressed through my adolescent years. But when my perfectionist nature combined with the rules and regulations side of the church things got more complicated.

Because I cared what people thought about me. I cared what my parents thought, what my sunday school teachers though, what the bishop thought, and what God thought. And I believed that in order to be loved at all, to be even remotely lovable, I had to be perfect. So, I latched on to those rules and I obeyed them as perfectly as I could, the same way I had with my parents.

The result was being a person that many looked up to, being the boy that mothers wanted their daughters to end up with, but also being very conflicted inside. Not to mention that all my achievements were hollow. I was an incredible student, a by-the-book mormon boy, but I wasn't satisfied. To this day, one of my proudest achievements is winning first place in a creative writing contest when I was in 9th grade. I entered all on my own, and I did it because I wanted to, not because I was expected to. And miraculously I won. And still today, almost a decade later, I am incredibly proud of the fact that my name is the only guy's name on the plaque at my junior high. And it's because it was all for me.

That, however, was rare in my early years. Most of the time I did all I could to try and be like others wanted me to be. And because of that need for acceptance I denied my true attraction with every fiber of my being. In bishops interviews, even up to my mission interview, I denied any attraction to guys. I was commended on my respect of women. I seemed to have no problem with that. At the time I just thought I was really good. The idea makes me laugh now.

But most of my adolescent years were spent trying to be "good enough" for God. Trying to meet every requirement perfectly, so that I would be lovable in his eyes. Looking back, I spent way too much time feeling guilty and not enough actually trying to be a Christian. That's what guilt does to you, if you let it control you. You actually lose your spirituality, and you lose your ability to touch others' lives.

I made it through high school unscathed, however. It may not shock any readers that by graduation I still hadn't had a real girlfriend or had a first kiss (or even held someone's hand). I believed it was because I just hadn't found the right girl, or wouldn't be able to have the relationship I wanted in high school. In reality, though, I never felt like I fit with a girl. Not like other guys did. And whenever I had romantic fantasies, I was always different. Really, in those fantasies, I was emotionally straight.

My lack of steady dating did not deter some girls, however. I had a few girls who pursued me in high school. All of which would get turned down. Nicely, though. I could never bear to hurt someone. One of those girls would become one of my best friends. We'll call her Monique. She had a definite thing for me during our sophomore year. Something that faded but would never fully disappear, in spite of my lack of interest. But I liked spending time with her. She was fun, and she laughed at my stupid jokes. I can't really even remember what point Monique and I became really close. It just kind of happened. She would be the only one I kept in touch with after high school. And she would be the only person from my past that I willingly told about my orientation. That's how amazingly good of a friendship we had. It's definitely been tested since I came out to her a year ago, and the more I look at it the more I think it's because part of her was waiting for me to fall in love with her, and when I came out I destroyed that. I think it broke her heart. And that makes me sad. But she's dating a wonderful guy right now, so I have high hopes for her.

The summer after high school I moved to Provo to work before I started my freshman year at BYU. As for the college experience, however, that will have to wait until next time.

Feeling Split

So, I've been feeling a lot of the normal confusion surrounding this whole situation. Trying to figure out what trumps what, feelings or spiritual devotions. It's difficult. And it doesn't help that there seem to be so few options. Unless you miraculously change and can live a traditional life (and I've talked to people who have experienced this, but they go through hell in the process), you have to be celibate to be a full fledged active member of the church. And there's just nothing after that.

But not only have I been playing with the idea of trying to change, again, but I've had the question going through my mind for the last week or so, "do I really even want to be straight?" I know what most people would say to that. "Of course you do!" They don't even hesitate. I think that many straight people, especially members of the church, think that this is painful, or awkward for us. It feels uncomfortable and ill-fitting to them, so it certainly must to us. But it doesn't. It doesn't feel awkward at all. It feels like it fits, like the feeling of finally finding the matching puzzle piece you've been looking for and pressing the two into place. The awkward feeling is the one that comes when I think of having a deep and personal relationship with a woman.

Another thing that many straight people may not realize is that the draw is not purely physical. Really, the biggest attraction to a same-sex relationship is emotional. As I think about it, I think that the body can learn attraction. I've heard it said that the most powerful sex organ is the brain. But that, in essence, is the problem. I think I'd have a harder time feeling comfortable in an emotionally intimate way with a woman. And that, of course, affects all the rest. The emotional draw for a relationship with another guy is the most powerful and rewarding part of it all.

But on the other side of the coin, I don't want to have to lose my faith and my religious devotions because of the way I feel. Honestly, I'd like to regain some of the spirituality that I've lost since this all blew up in my face (another story for another time, but one that needs to be told).  I want to go to church, watch general conference, the whole lot. But I don't want to feel like an outsider, either. And I don't want to wonder what will happen after this life. Yeah, God loves us. Of course he does. Anyone who says otherwise is not a true Christian. But laws are laws. I just wish we knew a little more about his thoughts on all these issues.

I think one thing that gets to me the most is that if I chose to follow my feelings, then I wouldn't reach my full potential, and I'd somehow fail in fulfilling some grand purpose or task that I had promised to do before this life. Honestly, I feel that in some way, that purpose has to do with the way I feel. I just don't know what side of the emotions it will all be on.

Anyway, I take comfort in the love God has for all of us. Most of the time the only thing I can say that I truly want is for him to lead me where he wants me to be. I don't know where that is, but I'm assuming it's good.