I think down deep we may all secretly hope that the next time we fall in love it will be with an angel—that perfect person with a heart of gold. The one who will never hurt you, never desert you and will love you perfectly through all space and time. That soul mate who loves you with every fiber of his being. The one who will fight for you, die for you and ultimately live by your side until the end of time. No rejection, no betrayal and never a harsh word spoken. He wakes up smiling and his laughter is the elixir to heal all wounds. He speaks the language of love, loves to touch and be touched and will remind you throughout the day that you are a genius, an artist, a modern day prophet—a renaissance man.
Yeah—I would love to love an angel and be loved by one just the same. I think that maybe this little misguided fantasy explains the wild promiscuity in our culture. And when I say our culture, I mean gay and straight alike. We all want one version or another of an angel—that perfect missing piece that will bring you peace. The person to complete you, not compete with you. The one like no other—because he or she does not exist. So we fuck our way to that dead-end alley where we run smack into that big wall of bricks—and the jolt to our head helps us realize that we have had it all and yet we have nothing. No one person will ever fill that void or make us whole. And so it goes. And then in that place of understanding we can either settle for one of the fallen angels that we have come upon—or one that has come upon us.
Cum and go …
Or you leave town to fuck your way to the back of a new dead-end alley where you meet those same cold bricks with a different Zip. And depending on your level of intelligence or degree of insanity—you can continue this promiscuous cycle for years on end. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Begin again.
(Well, hello bricks—we meet again)
At some point it becomes clear that there is no singularly perfect mate that will make you complete. And that is not such a bad thing. Because I think the real goal is to become complete—and then find that fallen angel with whom you can work out the bugs and the kinks and become even more complete as a person and as a partner as you make your way down that selfless journey called love.
And love is a selfless journey if you want to do it right.
If we continue to try to have our needs met by the other—we will at some point burn them out. Ultimately they will have nothing left to give and our only option is to move on once again to find yet another giver from whom we can take everything until our cannibalistic hunger exceeds the resources available to feed our voracious need.
Wash, rinse
repeat.
Just two fleas, each hoping the other is a dog.
But I’m starting to learn that true love, authentic love, love that was intended by the Author of love—is a love that is all about giving. And forgiving. And maybe even allowing the object of our love and affection to pursue their dream even if that dream does not include “me.”
Love is an act of selfless giving—giving that comes out of the center of who we are. Love wells up from somewhere deep inside, and the more we give from that place—the more we build our partner—the more we give him or her strength to pour out selflessly as well. My lifting you up does not diminish me—instead it gives you a stronger and higher footing from which to lift me higher, from which place I can reach back to you, to bring us both higher than we could have ever climbed on our own. Or using each other as steppingstones.
This is authentic love. A life of giving. True living.
Loving,
learning,
nurturing,
exploring,
slipping,
falling then forgiving.
It is never easy but it is authentic and pure. And I think it is from this place of selfless surrender and reckless giving that we begin to experience life in the way that is truly worth living. A life that our God always intended.
So now that I’ve spelled out the secret of success in life and love and other heavenly pursuits—I am brought to that place of finding love in the first place.
You never know where love will find you. Or how it will find you. But inevitably it does find you. Even when you think you’ve found a clever hiding spot. But sometimes love comes in a package you may not recognize—like a formerly fallen Angel in a clever disguise (like a goofy Santa hat).
And the love you find may not be what you expected. It may be so much more.
I spotted my Angel years ago in the heart of the City of Angels while I was working in my dimly lit office on an un-inspired script—my heart wasn’t in it and I was losing interest—when I heard the unmistakable laughter of a gay man across the hall in the copy room.
I waited for a moment looking surreptitiously through my open door waiting to see what sort of queer person dared to work at a Christian production company. It was a little like a Jew stoking the ovens of Auschwitz—hoping not to be discovered while doing his very best to fit in—to fuel the fires to keep his paycheck while doing as little damage as he possibly can to his brothers and sisters who would be fodder for his flamey flames.
Wow, that was way too fucking dramatic. I apologize.
A few moments later Angelo Idoll—
(Yes, that’s his real name—and if that wasn’t enough he went by Angel—my God, this was quickly becoming my own private Rent.)
—came flying out of that little copy room wearing a dorky Santa hat with a great big boingy spring that made the fluffy ball at the top of his hat bobble and swing. I was swept into the heavenly blue in his crystalline eyes, the eternal smile—and angelic radiance that couldn’t be duplicated, not even in the copy room.
Smitten. Touched by an Angel(o) … a shiny new Idoll with an additional L—that’s an L of a difference and I knew in an instant that I could love this boy well.
But the problem with this perfect little double L’ed idol was that he came with one L of a twist. The formerly fallen Angel had years before led a gay life—but decided to pursue the straight and narrow and found himself a wife. I figured he was one of those that Exodus deceived, a “Ho Mo, No Mo.” I was devastated—but exquisitely intrigued.
The short version of the story is this. We became friends—the three of us—Angel and his amazing wife Amanda. We spent a lot of time together, cooking, shopping and talking about being gay, being X-gay and what that means. Until meeting the Idolls I had pretty much written off the Exodus types—those who so wanted to please God that they were willing to deceive themselves (and those they tried to convert) while they crawled back into an even more stifling closet—because now that closet held a wife!
My problem with that whole scenario is that they seemed as gay as ever … burning down the house. And I could not forgive them. They were doing more damage than good as far as I was concerned, because I’d believed for so long that God would change me if I only jumped through enough hoops. If I fasted, prayed and believed long enough, this whole nightmare would be over and we could move on into a simpler chapter of life. And since this never seemed to happen for me, I felt I was doing something wrong— which always led to many shameful, sleepless nights.
But suddenly I am face to face with an authentic Angel. Or an Angelo, at least—(hey this was Southern California) and his fun-loving wife—and neither were spewing rhetoric or X-gay propaganda. They were being honest about their journey and their willingness to trust beyond what they could see.
But from time to time, my devilish little friend would set my imagination on fire with vivid descriptions of his “old life of sin”—with his legs in the air or talk of the boys he would pin. And just as my imagination would burst into unquenchable flames, this beguiling little Idoll would then tell me how much his life had changed. Now that he had found the love of his life. And as much as I wanted that to be me, that person happened to be his wife.
Angel became painfully honest with me, especially when Amanda wasn’t around. He mentioned over and over how his temptation had not ended. Sometimes it felt that it was slightly suspended— but often, the straight path was only possible through a disciplined act of his will. And though he enjoyed having sex with a woman, sometimes it wasn’t enough, and avoiding extra-curricular romps with hot boys was becoming tough. And in the case of our friendship, he admitted freely to his feelings for me and at the same time he set some boundaries in place—so that we could navigate a friendship where neither of us would lose face.
Or sleep.
For a time that worked. But I learned quickly that loving an Angel was harder than hell—especially an Angel Idoll with a Goddamned extra L.
Finally one drunken night, after a satisfying party had wrapped up at my house, the three of us piled into my bed to watch a movie on my giant screen. It was when his wife fell asleep between us that Angel did something not so angelic—and it was something his sleeping wife would wake to see, undoubtedly confirming her deepest fear that her little converted husband Angel was still completely queer.
Did you realize that the original founders of Exodus International have gone back to their old ways—even though this same organization promises gays all over the world that with enough concentration, prayer and fasting—they too can be changed?* And this just in—John Smid, former director of Love in Action, the nation’s oldest and largest X-gay ministry, admitted on his blog, “I’ve never met a man who experienced a change from homosexual to heterosexual.” And what’s more, he is now making public apologies for inflicting so much pain.**
Now—what to do with this. Your imagination may be running wild, but his indiscretion was ridiculously tame. Tame to me, but apparently not to an angry wife. This little advance would completely rock their newly married life.
It would be disingenuous to pretend that this was an easy pill to swallow. In my first three attempts at writing this chapter, I nailed my little angel to a tree. And I showed him absolutely no mercy. Once again I had found myself caught up in the fantasy that maybe I, too, can be straight, if I jump through the right hoops and have the tenacity to wait. While working on the 700 Club, almost every featured artist formerly known as gay would share on camera how God had made them straight—the studio audience would clap politely, the segment ended nicely and the lights would dim and the network would go to a break. And like clockwork, they would exit stage left and immediately head my way.
“Hey big guy, would you like to grab dinner or maybe some drinks?” They’d ask with an unbelievable straight face. And once again, my hopeful heart would sink.
“My God, that sounds great, but what would your lesbian of a wife or 17 lovely children think?”
The truth is, no matter how much this sort of double standard angered me, I realize now that no matter what path any of us choose to take, from time to time, we will all fall into hypocrisy. I battle it all the time in my own way—so why should I harshly judge another frail human if they also lose their way? (Even if it is a way that I believe may bring more harm than good.)
(I don’t want to come off sounding like a bitter queen—that is so not a good look for me.)
As much as I wanted to use this incident to point out the ridiculous sham these two misguided Idolls were living, I suddenly realized what the nagging extra L in Idoll was actually for. This is the L of true Love—authentic love where you L-evate the other above your immediate perceived needs and you place them in the place of safety where they can achieve their dream.
Not yours.
I suddenly realized that as much as I would love to make love to this Angel—to take him home and call him my own—this gorgeous little Idoll had a dream that was uniquely his, and that dream involved a home. A home that he had already created with a partner of his choosing and although his eye may stray from time to time and I may fall in his field of vision, he had already made his decision—to pursue the straight and narrow, no matter what he may be feeling. This was a decision that was uniquely his and required no defense. And if we are truly going to celebrate diversity, then we must allow everyone on earth—especially our friends—to pursue their path no matter what that path may be or how ridiculous it seems. It is their own dream. And maybe, God’s own dream.
Before I was touched inappropriately, Angel had pointed out a blog written by the president of Exodus International where he speaks of obedience over orientation. How orientation—gay or straight— may be firmly in place, but when God calls us to a life of obedience, sacrifice, celibacy, or marriage with a specific gender, it is far more important to pursue obedience rather than satisfy our most basic needs. And in that place of obedience, God is truly pleased. After reading through the blog, I started thinking about my life and my own experiences with God. My path looks so much different than anyone I know but the bottom line is he wants me to trust him no matter what anyone else may think. And every time he has asked me for something, or made a promise, I have chosen to recklessly believe. Even if that meant moving 10,000 miles away. What I can honestly tell you is that in every single instance, no matter how outlandish the promise—he has been good for his word. Every single time.
Up until now, he has never promised to make me straight—so I guess I will go on recklessly believing while being completely gay.
The farther along I get on this journey, the more I am seeing that God isn’t a God of black and white. What he expects of you is not necessarily what he expects of me—and I’m not to judge just because I don’t agree. After living through this whole ridiculous mishap with my little double-L’ed Idoll, I decided to try my best to never judge an Angel—enlightened, misguided or otherwise inclined—and instead I would honor their journey as I hoped they would honor mine.
Hey Angel-
I have a thousand thoughts streaming through my mind right now. But I do believe the bottom line is this:
I may not agree with how you’ve chosen to live. But your choice has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with what you believe to be obedience to your God.
You and I are not all that different. And I don’t say that to be diplomatic.
There will be many well-meaning Christians who will judge me for writing and publishing Gay Conversations With God. They will know in their heart of hearts that I have lost my way—and that I’m leading others down a dark and dangerous path. They will even be waiting with bated breath for me to encounter God’s fiery wrath.
And the supreme irony is that like you, I believe that God is calling me to a life of obedience above all things. And that level of obedience keeps changing over time. For right now, I think I am supposed to write and publish an outrageous book telling of God’s love. For all of his children. All types, all kinds. Even though the price seems to be quite high. (I’m going to lose my job—and maybe even the newfound love of my mother. But hell, I know it’s more important that I reach out to help my brother.)
As I continue on this messy journey I am finding that God sometimes asks us to do extremely crazy things.
Like Isaiah, for instance.
God asked him to parade around nude for three years. Did I mention—nude. Three thousand years before Showtime or HBO—
—to make a point.
(Global warming would have come in handy back then—both for comfort and for appearance’s sake)
Then there was Jeremiah, whom God told 2xist™ for months in only his Calvins—and originally he was supposed to cook his meals on fires of human poopLogs!™
So …
I am at an interesting crossroads.
Moving forward scares the shit out of me. Standing still exhausts me. And I know I have to be obedient, no matter how much judgment and wrath will come my way.
In my morning reading yesterday I found this in an old book my mom gave me years ago:
“When God, by his Spirit through his Word gives you a clear vision of his will, you must “walk in the light” of that vision … if you don’t walk in the light of that you will sink to a level of bondage never envisioned by our Lord. Mentally disobeying the “heavenly vision” will make you a slave to ideas and views that are completely foreign to Jesus Christ. Don’t look at someone else and say, “Well, if he can have those views and prosper than why can’t I? You have to walk in light of the vision that has been given to you. Don’t compare yourself with others and judge them—that is between God and them.”
There are times I look at you and your life and I’m envious. I would love to have what you have. It is so simple. Yeah, right—but you make it look that way.
Then, there are times I would love for you to join me. To be my partner in crime—helping spread this outrageous message of love.
And then there are the rare times that I’m angered by it all and I want to dismiss what
you have done and write it off as youthful naiveté that will one day bite you in the ass.
In my deepest heart of hearts I know it isn’t naiveté at all but obedience to the heavenly vision God has given you.
The bottom line is this:
We must be faithful to the vision God has given us—whatever that happens to be—no matter how crazy it may seem. Like a 90-year-old believing he could pop a boner and usher in the vast tribe of God’s chosen people— 3400 years B.V. (before Viagra).
Or believing that a young teen girl was impregnated by God himself.
Or, to be the husband of that young teen girl and believe—even for a moment—that you haven’t hitched your ride to a lying little whore.
And what’s more …
The Bible is full of even more outrageous stories that have become so routine, they have lost their punch. “Lying little whore” has become “Blessed Virgin Mary.”
But imagine the viscosity of the emotions these real heroes of the faith had to be wading through as they continued to believe past what they could see.
And I believe that is where we are.
I am going to pursue the vision that God has given me—a vision that is uniquely mine, and I will honor the one he has given you.
And if I am completely wrong in any or all of this, I believe it will be friends like you who will help right my ship.
Thank you for your friendship.
James
Writing these words and living them out have proven to be more of a challenge than I ever imagined. Angelo and I, although we cared for each other, decided to disconnect completely while we allowed our deep emotional connection to subside—so that he could maintain a healthier relationship with his tender, formerly trusting wife.
And I honor that. For one thing I have learned—maybe the only thing I have learned—is that when you give God something sacrificially, he often gives that thing back. But this time that thing (whatever it may happen to be) is now much more healthy. And will be instrumental in helping you step into your heavenly vision, your dream. And although it would be a heavenly vision to spend the rest of this journey with an Angel Idoll by my side, I know that wouldn’t be kosher with his lovely bride.
Angelo made a choice. He is taking a path that I don’t feel called to take. As pissed off as I had become with his hypocrisy, and even the false hope that he may present to others like him—I realized down deep that I can still love him. And maybe with the more authentic L, I respect him enough to do what I can to help L-evate him, to give him a boost to help him find his path and live his dream. And I know that when our paths converge once again, he will be in an even stronger place. A place where he may L-evate me.
Yeah,
Llove sucks.
But if we live in it, authentically—we will become less judgmental of everyone we meet.
The homo, the harlot, the jew … the X-gay Angel and the Exodus crew.
Because it all boils down to this.
One day we will stand naked (and hopefully not ashamed) before a loving (not an angry) God and it’s only going to be the two of us. Not another soul to blame for the things we have done, for the people we have mistreated and judged—or those who have done the same.
And once we finish up that face to face meeting with the God of the Universe and Creator of all, I am sure there will be time to get one of the millions of other angels to fall …
For me.
I mean, Christ. We have an eternity. Right!!??
Love without judgment and live without fear.
God is love.
And sometimes love is queer.
It may take a lifetime to figure out.
But maybe that’s why we are here?
Postscript:
I’m still not planning on sending any monthly checks to those Exodus types. But I guess I need to respect them for doing what they think is right. I mean, I don’t think God is crying in his gin and tonic over the Amish who think it honors God to live without electricity and use horses that can’t take them far, but he is probably saying to himself … MohammaDammit—get a CAR!
*(From the article, “Turning Off Gays” on Salon.com, July 18, 2005, http://www.salon.com/2005/07/18/ungay/).
**John Smid’s blog, Grace Rivers: http://www.gracerivers.com/gays-repent/