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Josh and Lolly |
In my continuing, intense journey about my feelings about "same gender attraction" in the LDS milieu, I chose to post the story of Josh Weed from his own website (joshweed.com). Josh, who is gay, decided to go against the odds and get married to his long time friend Lolly (a 2011 study by John Dehlin at Utah State University of over 1500 LGBT people found that approximately 75% of gay people getting married heterosexually end up getting a divorce). At their ten-year anniversary, (he had come out to Lolly many years prior their marriage) he decided to announce on his Internet blog that he was indeed gay.
As you'll recall from my previous blog posting, getting married to someone of the opposite gender is the Third Option a gay or lesbian member of the LDS Church has. For much of the late 20th Century and beginning of the 21st Century, the Church promoted this path as the "best way" to deal with "same-gender attraction." The Church has since backed off from this stance. (see mormonsandgays.org) As you read his story, you will come to understand his spiritual values, and likely, underlying reasons why he is at peace with his "gayness" and how his marriage has lasted as long as it has.
What you will read regrettably does not deal specifically with his particular story of deciding to get married. I believe he considers that a little too sacred to be put out on the Internet, and while he posted it briefly on his blog, he quickly took it down. What you will read about are his experiences and thoughts about being gay. You will also read the written tender feelings of a female lesbian Latter-day Saint in her thirties about whom Josh comes to know.
Be mindful as you read his story of the recurring theme in my recent postings of contemplated suicide Josh likewise contemplated this drastic action which has become increasingly common among young gays and lesbians in the Church. Suicide is often seen as the only way out of the tremendous self-loathing and/or confusion they feel. Also, be aware of the recurring theme of uneven, uninformed, inconsistent methods used by congregational leaders.
When I was a 14-year-old gay kid living in a home where my dad was a
seminary teacher (Seminary is an LDS religion class) by trade and in the Stake Presidency of our stake (Stake is equivalent to a Catholic diocese), you
can imagine my life was very confusing. I wish I could show you just a
glimpse of how confusing being gay as a Mormon teenager is. I wish I
could mind-meld with each of you so you could see how disturbing it is
to be told your whole life that family is the most important thing on
this earth, and to then find yourself, somehow, horrifyingly, attracted
to your same gender. It's so confusing. It's so terrifying. It's so
lonely. You don't have guy friends to relate to and bond over common
sexual attraction because you're attracted to guys. Girls are into guys,
and your relationships with them are weird and ultra-close, but somehow
not totally fulfilling. You end up feeling very, very, very alone.
Let me take you through some of my youth. Put yourself in my shoes, for a moment.
Imagine being bullied severely at school for being effeminate. Imagine
being taunted daily about being a girl in a boy's body, about being a
faggot, and being queer and being a pervert. Imagine people openly
mocking you. Imagine being thrown in a garbage can. Imagine being
pointed at and laughed at and verbally assaulted as you walk down the
hall. Imagine people calling you disgusting, not letting you sit by
them. Imagine close friends no longer associating with you as unfounded
rumors about your sexuality spread through your school. Imagine the
horror as those rumors spread. Imagine the rejection, the humiliation.
This is seventh grade. I am 12.
Imagine not being able to form any authentic friendships because most
everyone you know has joined in on the bullying. Not to mention that you
could never let anyone know what is really going on inside of
you--especially now.
Imagine having fantasies that you know are culturally despised. Imagine
having secret crushes on the guys in your quorums and your classrooms as
the years pass. Imagine that as they tell you about the girls they
think are hot, the only thing on your mind is how you think
they are
hot. Imagine how isolating this is. How confusing it is. How
humiliating it is to feel normal, romantic longings and to have them be
towards people who could
never reciprocate--who would be utterly
repulsed to
know you were attracted to them. Who might even respond violently.
Imagine this awkwardness--the conversations it lends itself to, the
moments of going red in the face and wishing you could disappear into
nothingness. Imagine changing in a locker room and being sexually
attracted to everyone changing around you--how embarrassing that is, how
terrified you would feel that somebody might find out. How worried you
would be that you'd get your face kicked in if anyone knew your
secret--but what could you do? Gym is
required. Changing is
required.
Imagine how isolated you would feel to know that
nobody had
feelings like you--that you were an anomaly. Weird and disturbed.
Perverted and gross. Imagine how you'd feel as you heard teachers say
being gay was "sick and wrong" and heard peers talk about how they'd
beat the crap out of anyone they knew was gay. Imagine how scary that
real threat feels to a youth. Imagine having nobody to talk to or relate
to. No normalcy, no camaraderie, no safe place.
This was my life. This was my daily reality. This was what my adolescence felt like, day after day after day.
Now imagine having a testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter
Day Saints. Imagine the peace you feel in praying and feeling answers to
your prayers. Imagine feeling God's love and true acceptance. Imagine
knowing, deeply in your heart through the spirit, that Joseph Smith
really did see God and Christ in the grove; that the pages you read in
the Book of Mormon are true. Imagine feeling that book's power every
time you read it. Imagine getting confirmation after spiritual
confirmation that the church is true, is where you belong. Imagine how
comforting it is to know you belong somewhere, and the God really does
love you.
Now I want you to imagine being this age, at this developmental point of
crisis, and hearing some of the rhetoric of decades past about
homosexuality. I want you to imagine reading books by prophets, or
seeing pamphlets and conference talks, in which homosexuality--this
thing that you already hate about yourself, and that you are already
terrified of, and that makes you the target of ridicule and abuse--is
called an
abomination. In which you are told that it is
comparable to bestiality and murder. That it is vile and repugnant. I
want you to imagine reading, as I did at age 13, about how unfortunate
it is that homosexuality is no longer punishable by death as it was in
Mosiac law. That the fact that homosexual acts are no longer punishable
by death is a sign of the moral degradation of our society. Imagine
these words coming from apostles and prophets. Imagine them saying that
my sexual orientation is my fault, is a
perversion, is the result
of my own actions, that I brought it on myself somehow as a 12/13/14
year old Mormon boy who had never even seen a rated R movie, and who
grew up in a nearly perfect household with no history of abuse or
trauma. Imagine them saying it was the result of selfishness, or that it
wasn't real. Imagine them saying that if I
just try hard enough it
would be taken away, and then waking up every single day to the
knowledge that, though I beg and plead and callous my knees at my
bedside pleading desperately for that miracle, nothing has
changed. Imagine how false those misguided words sound. How painful. How
disturbing it is to read, from men I trust and esteem as prophets, that
I am evil, that these attractions that I never chose, if I ever acted
on them,
should be worthy of death. Imagine how this compounds
with all of the other trauma and abuse and harassment I am experiencing
as a gay youth in this society.
I'm trying to be very, very careful as I write about this. I have
decided not to include the specific, cited quotes in an effort not to
disparage good men I love. Because I have chosen to do this, there will
be a contingency of my readers who will say "that never happened! Those
things were never uttered! Impossible." I am telling you,
this happened. I
am telling you, these were things that I read from our leaders as a 14
year old, coming to terms with my life as a gay Mormon. I am telling you
that this is real. Research it if you must, but I promise you will find
exactly what I just described. And that is not to mention the litany
of
horrible things said by local leaders and teachers, and, worst
of all peers in the church as I was growing up--each time, piercing my
heart, making me feel vulnerable and at risk and scared and horrible
about myself.
There is a reason gay Mormon youth have an extremely high suicide rate.
There is a reason I often contemplated death as I was growing up. And as
I've stated many times before,
I had it good. At very
least my parents--even though they didn't know quite what to do to help me--believed me and supported me. Thanks be to God.
I'm sorry to take this post to such a bleak, depressing place, but it is
in going to this place that you will understand why some of the talks
we heard this conference about the issue of homosexuality, while being
the current word of the Brethren of the church on this matter and
therefore more important to me than any other writings on the subject
(including a blog post by a gay married blogger about same sex
marriage), are really, really hard to hear for some gay people. Why
those words re-open old wounds. Why they feel insensitive. I'm not
saying I am ignoring those words. I'm not saying they were wrong. I'm
not saying I don't support my leaders. I do support my leaders. 100%.
What I am saying is that it is more difficult and complex than you
probably imagine for some people to hear things like that. I am saying
that to hear declarative utterances about "not condoning" and
"tolerance" of gay people brings back decades of trauma for many.
There is a legacy of harsh, incorrect rhetoric coming from the pulpit
about this issue. It was rhetoric that caused great distress and/or
false hope. That rhetoric, over time, has largely shifted and been
corrected, and I'm so grateful about that. It is a miracle. However, as a
gay person, or a person who supports gay family members, it can be
very, very difficult to hear harsh declarative statements about anything
having to do with this issue and not wonder if it is not an unfortunate
continuation of that legacy.
I choose to support the brethren. I choose to give the benefit of the
doubt. I choose to have faith and be believing. I choose to have
patience and allow the Lord time to reveal to his servants that which
they need to know. I have good reason for doing this. Doing so has
brought great blessings to my life. But what I'm saying is that doing
this can be a struggle for some good, faithful people at times--a true
stretch--a genuine act of faith. And that's okay.
Recently I was at the gym with my friend Konrad and he said "you have to
see this coming-out post of a friend of mine." He handed me his phone
and I read it not knowing what to expect, but definitely not
anticipating being as moved as I was by her words. I was stunned at
their power. I want to share her thoughts with you as they relate to
what I'm saying here.
Her name is Emily Stephens. She's in her thirties and is a
writer.
Her coming out was accidental. She responded to a thread on a group
called Mormons Building Bridges, and didn't realize it was open to all
her Facebook friends to see. Her words are powerful and very direct. In
asking where the post came from, she said she was very moved when a
non-SSA member was perplexed at some of the harshness that has
surrounded the issue of homosexuality in the recent conference. Here are
Emily's quotes below, in response to a posting of a girl named Jann:
I am active LDS, served a mission, attend the temple. I love to
serve in YWs (Young Women--a girl's youth organization)! I love to pay a full tithe! And, I pray every night that Heavenly
Father will be merciful and let me die. I've survived being LDS and gay for 13
years, sometimes barely. I figured it out when I was 22. The messages this
weekend conveyed to me exactly what you wrote. I must acknowledge that. I'd like to ignore those talks and only think about Uchtdorf's (in the leadership of the LDS Church)
talk, but I heard their words. My heart has felt their words. They aren't going
away. They aren't even new words. It is what has been said for years. I have a
testimony of the gospel. So, I don't understand why my church hates me so much.
Why do they insist repeatedly that I am vile? Why am I targeted at all? Because
I "love" wrong?
I am terrified of people in my stake finding out I am gay.
Though I am more than sure they suspect. In the past, I had a loving and
compassionate bishop tell me that if people found out, my calling with the
youth would be in jeopardy. Just if they found out I am "gay." I have
never been kissed in my entire life. Never held hands. I've loved secretly and
deeply in my heart, but was taught to do so with the greatest of shame.
It is often suggested that same-sex marriage is the root cause
of the degradation of the family--how is that possible? If we are to be
discussing vile at Conference (twice yearly world-wide gatherings of LDS members and guests), why aren't we talking about pornography,
infidelity, deadbeat parents, addictions, abuse, the objectification of women,
pregnancy outside of wedlock. And when we discuss those things which truly
threaten the family, why aren't we doing so with compassion, asking "how
can we help?" instead of the fearful, "how can I isolate my family
from the world?"
Jann, I want to praise
members like you who are brave enough to ask these questions. I want to thank
members who are courageous enough to see the disparity and deeply feel the pain
it causes and are willing to succor people like me nonetheless. It is brothers
and sisters like you that successfully place my backside in that pew every
Sunday to partake of the sacrament. It is you who gives me hope, especially in
a place where being willing to see us with compassion is an insurmountable
task. God bless you.
She then started being asked why, if things are so difficult as a gay
Mormon, she stays in the church. This was the response, which is what I
read in the gym that morning that so moved me:
For those who saw my post on Mormons Building Bridges yesterday,
someone asked me why I stay: I doubt just as many others do. I have so many reasons to quit.
So, why do I stay?
I stay because I have received a witness of the truthfulness of
the Book of Mormon, because I believe in Christ's teachings we are meant to
emulate, because I believe a 14-year-old boy's prayer was answered by God and
Jesus Christ in the woods of NY. I have witnessed miracles wrought by faith and
priesthood power. I stay because of the many good works I see. I stay because
this goodness far outweighs the bad. I stay because of those kindred few whom I
have told my truth that still love and support me.
I stay because I made a promise to Heavenly Father in the temple
to keep covenants that I believe in. I stay amidst the consensus attitude of
"one must be adamantly against GAY PERSONS or else one is somehow
condoning the ACTS of homosexuality" because there are people who have
changed and show compassion, understanding, and unconditional love no matter
how a person "acts." Christ commanded us to love, not tolerate. I AM
my acts. I stay because I believe in people. I believe in the atonement. I believe
hearts and minds can be changed. I believe we can improve.
Lastly, I stay because I had no one like me to look up to when I
was growing up--that is the loneliest of realities. I stay to give a face and a
name, a testimony and sense of humor to Mormon and gay. I stay because I am
equal parts Mormon and equal parts gay, and always will be. I stay for gay
youth, who like me, pray every night for God to let them die so they don't have
to feel this pain. I stay to make a difference, even if it is little.
I stay.
Absolutely beautiful. In her words, I hope you hear what I hear. I hope you see the sweet faith of a good woman, and the
profound pain
of one of God's children. I hope you see why empathy needs to trump
condemnation; why mercy needs to overwhelm justice; why, perhaps, my
post on gay marriage resonated in so many people's hearts. Why it was
important to have that post out there for a time, and might be important
again at some point. I hope you see why this issue is not cut and
dried, why it is rich and complex and complicated and very, very
difficult.
There
are no easy answers here. I definitely don't claim to have
them. I have questions. I have questions and miraculous experiences of
my past, and faith. That's what I have.
When I was 13 or 14 I decided to read
The Miracle of Forgiveness. Before I "go there" I want to clarify that Spencer W. Kimball is one of my favorite church writers. Reading his book
Faith Precedes the Miracle as a youth was one of the formative experiences of my life.
The Miracle of Forgiveness itself
is a book with a phenomenal premise--that even though we falter and
sin, we can be fully rectified through Christ. In so many ways it is a
beautiful book.
But, there is a section about homosexuality. And that section says
harsh, unkind and in some cases untrue things about this issue. When I
read the section about homosexuality I--a sweet Mormon kid with a good
testimony--was
stunned. It felt like a personal slap in my
face. I was so hurt and disturbed by those words I actually took my copy
of the book and threw it across the room in shock and horror. I
remember feeling betrayed as I watched that book hit the wall. I was so
wounded by the words about homosexuality. They were problematic. They
made me feel horrible. They made me feel broken and unloved by God. They
did not ring with the spirit of truth. This was not a case of "the
wicked take the truth to be hard." I had not
been wicked. I was just a kid. I wasn't trying to defend a "depraved" lifestyle. I didn't even
know what life consisted of yet. I was gay, through no fault of my own. That's
it.
I was disturbed to the core.
This was a prophet! And he had said things that were wrong!! Things about me!! I
got in the car to go to a violin lesson that day with my dad. I was
angry. I felt betrayed both by this prophet, as well as by my dad who
had told me to trust prophets. "How could a prophet say those things?" I
asked my dad censuriously. "How does that make sense? How could he call
himself a prophet?"
My dad was patient. He had encountered many things in his career in CES (Church Education System).
"He was a prophet, Josh. He changed the world for the better and was an
incredible man of God who led the church exceptionally well." he said.
"He was also a man living in a culture, and that culture affected his
thinking. Some of what he said about that issue was not true. He was a
man living in a certain cultural climate, and he experienced
imperfection as a human."
In my sophomoric mind that sounded like a complete cop-out. I thought it
was balderdash. "But what about revelation?" I asked. "This kind of
thing
shouldn't happen." My thinking was sweetly simplistic and my faith lacked nuance. It hadn't yet been tried.
Then my dad said something that has helped me many times since then.
"Josh," he said, "prophets are men. They are not perfect. And this kind
of thing
does happen. It has happened for many years in the
history of the church and will continue to happen. Your job is to
support your leaders. Let God do the job of correcting them in the rare
instances in which they err. As you support them, even when they err,
you will be blessed, and so will they." It was a hard truth to swallow
at that young age. But that conversation blessed my life.
My first direct application of this idea came two or three years later when I told my first bishop (local congregational leader) about being gay.
My bishop was a good man, of course. Very kind. However, he did not
believe what I was telling him. He would hear my words, hear me pour my
soul out to him about my struggles, and he would then tell me that I was
making being gay up in my head. That there was some other explanation
for what was happening. Maybe I just really looked up to the guys I was
attracted to. Maybe I had accidentally fantasized wrong and made my
brain start to think it liked guys. He would defend his words and
beliefs with decades-old remarks of church leaders--some of the same
ones that had been so traumatizing to me before. I would say "No, this
is real. It's...
real. I'm not lying. I'm not making this up. I'm
only sexually attracted to other guys. It's actually happening. I
promise." He would refuse to believe me.
I can't even
begin to tell you how troubling this was for me.
However, I really did take my Dad's advice to heart. I knew the church
was true, and I knew that my Bishop was called of God. So I went home
and prayed. I told God how hurtful it was to not be believed. But I also
told him that I would trust my Bishop and support him in his role as my
leader. And then I asked, and had faith, that whatever miracles needed
to take place in my life would happen regardless of the limitations of
that man, who was trying to do his best to serve God.
Over the course of my time with this bishop I:
--was accepted into a church school even though I was open about being gay, and he chose to recommended me with reservations.
--went through the temple
--prepared my mission papers
--was called on a foreign mission even though I was open about my
homosexuality in my interviews, and somebody in the process had marked a
sheet saying that I was only supposed to serve state-side with the
quote "think twice before sending this young man to be with a male
companion for two years." (I still have my mission papers--they gave
them back to me at the end of my mission--and I still have that sheet.)
Kind of huge, right?
Those things are
miracles that greatly blessed my life. The fact that my Bishop had
no understanding or belief in me about
my situation had no bearing. As I trusted God's servant and moved
forward with faith, and as that servant did the very best he could, God
allowed the miracles that needed to happen happen. I often think with
gratitude of the Apostle who got my mission papers in order to issue my
call, saw that it had been recommended that I only serve state-side, and
then felt impressed to call me on a foreign mission to Venezuela
anyway. His
special consideration of my case, and his willingness to listen to the
spirit and trust Heavenly Father, touch me deeply to this day. It is
something I treasure--the knowledge that if I trust my leaders, no
matter what, God will come through for me in the end and things will be
what they need to be.
This is my manifesto. A post filled with heartache and hope and
questions and stories and no easy answers and faith. A post filled with
my experiences as a gay youth, the pain those caused, the difficulties
of grappling with faith and truth and revelation. A post that is
complicated and long, but has some moments of clarity. A post that
communicates that I, certainly, don't have all the answers. That I, like
Nephi (writer in the Book of Mormon), do not know the meaning of all things, but I do know that God loves His children. That he loves all of his children, including his gay children.
This is my manifesto. This is my truth. I don't get it all yet, but I do
believe I will some day. And I believe you will too, if that is
something that's important to you.
In the meantime, if I had some advice, it would be this: believe. Choose
to believe the brethren. Choose to allow the Lord to work through His
chosen servants. Choose to believe those things, those spiritual
assurances, that you know in your heart to be true. Choose to have faith
that the Lord will work things out over time. Choose to believe your
faith and to doubt your doubts. Choose to believe that the Lord will
hear your prayers of anxiety around these issues, and that he will guide
things forward correctly. Choose to believe in His timing. Choose to
surrender your will to His processes.
I promise you that amazing things will happen as you do that. I know this because I have seen it happen. This very blog is
an example of this happening. It is an example of the Lord working in
mysterious ways to share truth. Of the Lord making extraordinary things
happen to bless the lives of his children--of him making extraordinary
things happen to richly bless my life.
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Josh, Lolly and their Kids |
So Josh Weed decided to take the Third Path. Jann and Emily are on the Fourth Path. The odds are against him, but so far, so good. I believe that LDS Church leadership would like for all lesbians and gays to take this path, rather than Emily and Jann's path. But for every Josh Weed, there are three people that end their heterosexual relationship in divorce, with devastated spouses, children, and extended families in their wake. Ask LDS writer Carol Lynn Pearson. But it is an option.
To be clear, it took a lot of courage for him to marry and to come out as he did. Because he chose to do so, many in the militant LGBT community (and there are MANY who are) have been vitriolic in their condemnation of what he did and have verbally attacked him personally. Interestingly, many of those who want to be understood and accepted for their sexual orientation are often as intolerant or more so than the straight people they condemn as bigoted and homophobic. If one chooses to do what Josh did, which goes against almost every tenet of the LGBT beliefs, watch out.