When God Says 'No' - An Extreme Case

The preacher had been talking about prayer for a few Sundays now. Today was no different. He started by asking, "If Jesus were standing up here in front of you today, what would you most want to ask Him for?"

It was about then that my face started leaking. I hate crying in church. I always feel weakened and exposed, then suddenly everyone knows. I have a heart and I have issues. It burns holes in my pride and embarrasses me. It shouldn't, but it does. I like to appear stoic; unaffected by what I might feel. Able to control it, to put it into it's place and let it die. That was not on the schedule today.

It was supposed to be a sermon about prayer requests and petitions to God, but it turned a bit ugly for me. I was having flashbacks of anger and guilt and shame. I was feeling unforgiven. It was as though there were still issues that remained outstanding between me and my Creator.

I have, on occasion, felt this way before. I don't recall that it ever brought tears, but the vile voices of doubt, blame and regret have rung loud and clear in my life at various times. It's stinkin thinkin according to an old friend, but when it takes hold, it can ruin a day, a week or even a year or a decade.

So how would I answer the question? I really don't have to answer it because Jesus knows exactly what I would ask. It's what I used to ask frequently as a teenager and as a young man. I asked for it in the midst of my sin and also after the time of sin had passed. It's the same request I quit making somewhere around my 30th birthday because I was so angry about it. It's the thing that separated us, that drove a wedge in our relationship. It's the thing that, as I believed at the time, destroyed all my dreams. It caused me to give up hope. It caused me to cease communication with Him. I was mad.

My thinking back then was that prayer does not work, or more correctly, it does not work when the request is for myself. I know this is wrong now, but back then, I just wanted relief. I wanted to be normal (whatever that is). Like Pinocchio, I just wanted to be a real boy. I did not want to be this wretched thing that was a pariah in the Church and a joke outside of the Church. 

I did not choose to be gay. I did not want these same sex sexual attractions. I prayed to the Lord for relief even in the time I was acting out. It seemed then that my only answer from Him was silence. I blamed Him. I asked Him, why did You make me this way? Why is something I did not choose also a sin for me to participate in? Would you have me be alone all my life? How do I explain my lack of marital status? What kind of God are You?

It was painful. Much of my perspective back then was shaped by my solitude, an attitude of legalism and my unwillingness to work with Him on this. My thought was that He should just fix this if He does not want me to be gay. I did offer my celibacy after an 18 month dalliance with someone that understood what I was feeling. Strangely, the celibacy was not as hard as I thought it might be. The desire continued, but I no longer acted out. Of course, I thought I was doing it all myself.

"Look Dad. See what I can do. Can you fix me now?"

No. The answer was no.

That was unacceptable to me.

He was apparently unimpressed by my sexless life, my protests and my refusal to continue my pursuit of Him. I left His church and I quit talking to Him. I actually gave up on church rather early and quickly. I did not want to explain why I was such a freak of nature and then expect them to love me anyway. My pride conspired with everything else to work against me. I was like a toddler that holds his breath to get what he wants. I held my breath until I was 40 years old, but living in a spiritual desert that has no light can be exhausting and very cold. It was time to breathe again and feel the warmth of His presence.

He and I worked it out. I resumed a semblance of a prayer life and started again in a church, the same one that birthed me. I became a teacher. I have joked with various classes that the only reason I know anything about the Bible is because I spent 40 years looking for loopholes, but you know, it's not far from the truth. Whatever.

17 years later, I came out of the closet at church before 300 of my brothers and sisters. It's the best thing I've ever done. Transparency is the ticket. And, at the risk of igniting my pride, I feel pretty solid over 40+ years of celibacy. I realize now that I did not do this by myself and also that it could have been much easier had I not been so arrogant about the broken flesh I was given to live in.  But we live and learn. My stubbornness has worked against me and it has also been a very useful tool in the hands of God. I still have too much pride, but God is helping to keep that in check. My banner today is similar to Paul's in 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10.

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

For God to work in our lives, we must become spiritually broken. It took God 40 years to break me. He never gave up. I'm glad He did not let me die in my arrogance and anger. I am so thankful for this and I praise His Name for His patience.

This morning, during the sermon, I had a flash of guilt and shame. Have I properly repented and submitted to His will? Am I still nursing a wound that scarred over and healed decades ago? Do I still have some repressed anger?

Maybe...I guess it's something I need to pray about.