What's At the End of the Rainbow

I'm a gay Mormon guy. One of many, actually. In fact, my bishop told me that in the greater Seattle area, we have over 600 LDS men and women that deal with same-sex attractions. That's more than any other area in the US besides perhaps the Salt Lake Valley. 600! So often, people like me feel like we have no one that can relate to us. If only we realized how non-unique our situation truly is!

Most people know someone who is both gay and Mormon, whether you're a member of the LDS faith or not. Of course, many people don't know they know a gay Mormon, but I'll venture to say everyone does. Many of my friends had other gay Mormon friends before they made my acquaintance. The thing that strikes me is the response I get from a lot of these friends. I get a lot of comments like, "You're not like so-and-so, and he's a gay Mormon," or "Wow, I thought that gay Mormons were more like blank, and you're not really like that," or "You're so different from my other Mormon friend, and he's gay, too." I used to be wary of that comment, but recently I've come to realize that I shouldn't be. Why not?

Well, I guess it's because of where I choose to put the emphasis on my opening statement: I am a gay Mormon guy. I've found that a lot of my friends who are in the same boat choose to put the emphasis on the first part: I am a gay Mormon guy. They talk about their gay life all the time, and place so much importance on that part of themselves. I guess I understand why: we go so long without addressing that portion of our beings, hiding it, even trying to destroy it for so many years. We fear rejection if we were ever to share that intimate part of ourselves with people. And when we finally are comfortable and capable of opening up and expressing that side of our soul, we find such liberation in the act that we allow ourselves to share it almost too generously with others. I remember this stage of my life; it was only just 5 years ago that I was like this.

But there came a point where I needed to figure out how the rest of that statement played in my life. I needed to know if the next part held any weight that I was willing to carry. For quite some time, I didn't know if I had room in my pack for "gay" and "Mormon;" I thought I'd have to leave one of the burdens behind. But as I studied the gospel, prayed to my Heavenly Father, and matured in spirit, I gained a testimony of things so strong and so undeniable, that the emphasis started shifting; my original statement turned into "I am a gay Mormon guy."

Reaching this point in my spiritual development mirrored coming out of the closet in so many interesting ways. I've had moments where telling people my religious affilitations shocked them more than coming out to them. A few people have asked if I was truly happy being a member of the church, and others have encouraged me to try other faiths. And some of those people didn't even know yet that I was gay! Then there are those who admire me for my convictions, and for being myself, and following my heart. They defend me when others are close-minded to my spiritual beliefs. It's been quite an interesting phenomenon to watch.

Nowadays, my statement looks more like this: "I am a gay Mormon guy." Although I know I am quite different from other people, I am just a guy, trying to get by in this world; doing his part to make a difference; doing his best to matter; trying hard to do all that he's set out to accomplish. I have made peace emotionally and spiritually with the decisions that have led me to accept the homosexual feelings I bear, and the testimony of God's church that I cannot forsake. Now, I'm just doing my best to live the way I know I should, not because someone else says so, but because it's truly what I want. Being gay is a part of who I am, but it's not the biggest slice of this pie. My relationship with God is more important. I want to live with Him again; I know it may be a tough road to tread, but I'm willing to go for a hike if it means there's a "happily ever after" to look forward to.

This is going to sound totally gay, but it came to me while I pondered the upcoming celebration of St. Patrick's Day:

Life is like a rainbow. It is made up of many different colors, some that you may love, and others you won't care for. The rainbow seems to extend forever, and you can't see where it ends, and you don't know where it originated. At the end, a little man has a pot of gold, and he'll share it with us if we find them. This is life. There are parts we love, and parts we don't love. We don't know how long this life will last, but we know it has an end. At the end, there is a man there. From where we stand, he looks small because he seems so far away. In actuality, he's not a leprachaun at all - he's a great divine being. Luckily for us, he's our Father. And He has a treasure worth more than anything on this Earth. Many may not believe in this man, or the pot of gold, but I know they're there, because I've asked, and even from way far away, He's let me know that they both exist. I am willing to wait til I get to the end of the rainbow to meet Him, and share in the treasure He has to offer.

Happiness is a Choice

I knew a kid who was called to serve a mission in a foreign land, and had to learn to speak the language. Prior to this appointment, he had minimal exposure to the culture or language of these people he had been called to serve. His patriarchal blessing, however, promised that he'd accomplish the feat of mastery over foreign languages through his faith and diligence.

After a few months out on his mission, however, his parents informed me that he was struggling terribly to learn the language, and communicate with the people he met. Growing up around traditions from another culture (Samoan), and being familiar with the culture and language he was new to, I understood the difficulties that this kid was facing. His parents and I and my best friend tossed around ideas on how we could help him out (my best friend is fluent in the aforementioned language and culture), and we finally decided that there was little we could do but pray on his behalf, for the mental and emotional strength he needed to overcome his struggles with the language barriers.

I committed to praying for him on several occasions over the next year. Whenever I spoke with this kid's parents, they would inform me of the progress he was making, and they looked more and more relieved and happy for the success their son was finding in this difficult trial.

After he returned, I spoke to him about his mission, about his experience with the people and the culture. He lightly spoke about it, and made no deal about his mission, either good or bad. Then, later, I heard him speak sarcastically about the language and returning to that place, and was really saddened by his candor. Didn't this guy realize that there were people out there that were praying for him while he was on his mission? That we asked Heavenly Father to help HIM specifically with his trial? That the very thing he was taking so lightly, others had taken seriously enough to pray to God about?

I continued in this vain for about a week until my mind was taken back to an experience I had years ago. I remember being 20 years old, and very unhappy with the way my life was going. I had envisioned my perfect life as a child: doing a semester of BYU after high school before leaving on a mission right at 19; coming home at 21; getting married by 22; finishing college at 24; being discovered by 25; selling a million records by 26; having 6 children (including a set of twins) by 30; and yada yada, right?! Instead, I was 20, with a year of BYU-I under my belt, no plans to return; no mission call; disfellowshipped from the church; and worst of all, the gradual realization that I was gay, and probably never going to marry or have children! I was very depressed.

During this time, I was visiting my then bishop every week. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. He didn't always tell me what I wanted to hear, but he always told me what I needed to hear, and didn't do it until after he listened to what I had to say. He gave me the most sound advice I'd ever received: "Happiness is a CHOICE." He taught me that happy people don't end up that way by accident. They make the conscious decision to be happy, and that I could be like that if I simply chose to be." I remember trying, a little in vain in the beginning. But one weekend, I did find a way to be happy, and I remember things going well for me. A good friend asked me specifically about that weekend later that month, after not seeing or visiting with me for quite a while. After I declared to him my positive experience, he gave me a big hug and said, "Good, because that's the day where I felt impressed to pray for you."

Years later, I'm reminded of the choice that I have: the choice to feel the way that I want to feel. No matter what is going on in my life, I can either moan and groan, and complain about my circumstances, or I can choose to bear my burden with hope and faith, with the surety that pain is temporary, and that I will make it through whatever is happening. I'm sure that when Christ suffered for me in the Garden, that he did not do it begrudgingly. He willingly atoned for my sins, out of love and out of faith in me. Jesus suffered so much more than I ever will have to, so that I don't have to. So why should I choose to? I am going to follow his example, and bear my burden with a positive spirit, with the reassurance that I have a Savior who knows exactly what I'm feeling, and knows how to succor me. Even if I must bear a difficult trial like SSA, or being single, for the rest of this short mortal life, I will die in the real hope that Heavenly Father has prepared a way for me to experience eternal and everlasting happiness with Him, which gift is more precious and priceless to me than any other temporary things this world has offered me for pleasure. I have made my decision, and I am happier now than I was when I was that confused 20 year old kid.

I am never going to complain about having SSA again, or any other seemingly impossible trial I will face. I will choose to be happy in the knowledge that God would never give me more than I can handle, especially with Him there with me. Besides, I never know who is praying for me!

Letter to a Friend

Here's a portion of a letter I wrote to a friend last night. It serves as a sort of story-of-my-life, and a piece of my testimony, and a really great blog, in my opinion:

"When I was 21, I was still disfellowshipped from the church. I was living in Pasadena, CA at the time with my best friend who also deals with SSA. I was working at the Banana Republic, and was poor as heck. I had way cute clothes though, haha. But it was the most torn I'd felt in my life. I was working so hard to get my blessings back, and to be able to have full fellowship with the Lord's church again. But at the same time, I was living in a very gay-friendly place, working in a very gay-friendly industry, and surrounded by gays and gay-promoting people. It was a very trying time, and there were days where I felt my head was going to explode. If I could have afforded it, I would have gone to get counseling, but I was so poor. I saved up enough money once a week to eat at my favorite restaurant, as a happy treat! And I worked all the time to be able to live, so I only made it to church on Sundays and Mondays, and occasionally morning institute. It was different from home, where I used to go to institute twice or three times a week, fhe on mondays, and two wards on Sundays (I know, I have OCD).

But I knew I was there in CA for a reason, and I knew I had a lot to learn. I had been prompted to move there, and to grow there. In my experience, people in CA are very interesting: the members are either very conservative, letter-of-the-law type people, or very liberal, open-minded people. Though I felt loved by the vast majority of people, there were times at church where ignorant comments or announcements were made, and they were directed at the gays. With the help of my best friend, I learned to not take those comments personally, and learned to be understanding of others who didn't know any better. I learned to balance SGA in my life with the gospel, and let the gospel take precedence whenever there were discrepencies. I learned a healthy fear of evil things, and learned to maintain strength in goodness. A month before my 22nd birthday, I was refellowshipped into the church! And the day after Christmas, I received my patriarchal blessing. I was so happy! After 2 1/2 years, I was finally able to partake of the sacrament, and hold callings, and speak and sing in church again! All of the pain, the tears, the struggles: they were all worth this, being this close to the Lord again.

It's a time in my life that I'll always remember. Whenever I start to feel weak, I can look back at those years, and remember how hard I fought for the life I have now, even when I wasn't sure why I kept going. I know that it was worth it. And if being refellowshipped into the church gave me that much joy, how much more will I feel when the Lord opens the gates of the Celestial Kingdom to me at the judgement day?!

Besides, the songs that I wrote during that time have been some of the best ever! Depression works wonders for creativity, and so does it's reciprocating joy."