Nothing Less Than Love

It is so important that we do away with caveats when it comes to loving those around us. Caveats mean we put our own spin on who is worthy of God’s love and who isn’t. That spin is usually defined by who we are more than who God is. Our own lenses are faulty no matter how perfect we think they are.

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Am I Happy?

This past weekend my parents visited me for a week. I’m fortunate enough to have a strong relationship with my parents. In fact, even as I processed my sexuality for the past eight years, they’ve loved me unconditionally throughout it all. 

See, they maintain the position of sexuality that asks celibacy of gay individuals, but they’ve come so intimately familiar with the gay/Christian dilemma because of my life. Their sensitivity and heart for gay issues has dramatically grown. They’ve deeply sought to understand my life and they continue to love me as if nothing had changed.

They value my relationship with my partner, because they know I value it. They see that my partner is an important part of my life and so they support us accordingly. When I’m being stubborn or insecure in this relationship, they’re some of the first people to hold me accountable. They offer advice and nearly demand that I continue to be the man they’ve raised in my relationship—regardless of the nature of my relationship.

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In Love With That Jesus Guy

I've really screwed this Christian thing up at times. In my genuine attempts to care about people, I have attempted to elevate myself to the level of the very God that I serve. Here's to self-awareness and being something different.

Historically speaking, I’m what Christians would call a “church brat.” The typical church brat would be defined as the kid who was physically in the church for inordinate amounts of time, usually as a result of a highly involved parent(s). Sometimes, partially in my case, these kids are affectionately referred to as “pastor’s kids.” However, I probably gave new definition to these somewhat cheeky terms. In fact, I embodied not only the physical qualities of this term, but also gave a new face to the solo term: brat.

My typical Sunday morning or Wednesday night involved less of actual church attendance and more of just, well... causing problems. I spent many church services talking under my breath to my friends at a volume that revealed just how unaware I was of my obnoxiousness. If I wasn’t in service, I was off seeking out my dad’s Sunday school classroom to throw dodge-balls at the window to distract him from teaching. If I was in my small group, I was probably distracting the group with side-comments aimed to get as much of a laugh as I reasonably could without being asked to leave. If the group happened to be too focused that evening, it was no challenge for me; that was nothing that a good, loud fart couldn’t solve. 

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