I’m not supposed to believe in God.
That’s what people have been telling me for years. Who I am is wrong, a sin, shouldn’t be happening. I am not wanted, and it is all my choice. I have brought this upon myself, according to some people.
Being gay and also wanting to believe in God is tough. Believe me, I know.
For the past three years, I have been wrestling with this concept of faith, especially as it pertains to my sexuality. Do I believe? What do I believe? Should I? There has been a whole lot of doubt in it, and a lot of anger with myself.
Now, this is not a choice–let me clear that up. If I could, there is absolutely no way I would voluntarily choose this. And recent scientific findings have found some possible causes in chemical levels in the brain that could be an answer. (I don’t understand it all but apparently there is something.) Then how does being told that it is a choice affect me?
I’ve been confused. I don’t know what to believe, and have doubted religion for years now. For approximately an entire year, I’m not sure that I believed at all. But that all changed this summer.
I went on a week long trip with my church youth group to Tennessee. There, I felt loved. I saw God working in other peoples’ lives, and mine as well. I became friends with all sorts of people, and felt a message of acceptance and hope being sent to me. This trip could have been my last shot. I had been praying for a couple of days, hoping that something on the trip would strike me. I wasn’t sure if I was actually praying or just throwing my thoughts out there, because at the time I wasn’t even sure God was real. But I went with it. And clearly, He heard me.
Since then, I have felt so much happier. More positive, kind, and loving. And I’ve seen things like it in the people around me too, both those I choose to surround myself with and those I am around because of situation. The positivity of these people is incredibly genuine, and being around them makes my days so much easier. I just feel more connected to God and everybody else.
But then another question arises. Am I doing it right?
Now, I know there isn’t technically any right way to be spiritual, but I see so many people doing amazing things in the name of God, and I’m just not there yet. What if I’m not enough? That is my new worry.
As I’m writing this on Sunday night, I have seen a Tweet. That tweet is from somebody I know, and it is an open invitation to go to a prayer the following morning. My first thought: What a cool idea!
Then doubt seeps in. I stat to think about this. Should I go? What if I’m not wanted? People would scoff at the idea of a gay kid believing in God, right? But tonight is not like other nights, where I would let my fear get the best of me. Tonight I swallow my fear, and make the decision to go. I set reminders on my phone to make sure I don’t “forget.” I am committed.
Because so what if it does go wrong? It’s the opinion of people, people who most likely won’t matter very much to me in a few years. But God will always be there. So why not give it a shot? It could go wrong, but it could go so amazingly right.
I am loved. The love of those people is absolutely nothing compared to the amazing love of God, the love of my family, and the love of my closest friends. All three of those things are unconditional. So when I give this a chance, I’m not risking very much. I can only gain.
I may not be the strongest believer, and I may be absolutely filled with doubt, but I have been given a chance. So I intend to run with it. I will make the best out of it. I will let go and let God.