It's been 7 months since I posted my coming out story. Little did I know that after putting my heart in text at 2 A.M., my life was about to drastically change.
I wish I could say this journey is easy. I wish I could say this journey felt rewarding. I wish I could say that everyday feels beautiful now that I'm 'out' and living an authentic life. If I told you all that, I would be lying and feeding you nothing but bull shit.
My story was published on June 10th, 2015, and shortly thereafter on June 26th, 2015, marriage equality had finally been granted in all these United States.
What. A. Day.
People who, two weeks prior, had been telling me, "I love you so much!" and "I'm so glad you can finally be you!" were now posting Bible verses saying that God was going to damn this nation, and that surely Jesus was coming back soon because of the SCOTUS decision.
And yes – while you were all high and mighty on your soapboxes of morality – we watched. We meaning those who have fought for years to be equal, celebrated, and loved. Many who, like me, lived years in a closet of desperation, depression, and darkness.
People who had sat by me in church the previous Sunday, people who had worshipped alongside me, and people who had told my parents, "He's someone special! He's a world-changer!" They, too, were posting and saying how horrible this ruling was.
And from that day forward, I removed myself.
I removed myself from the pew on Sunday.
I removed myself from fellowship with other believers.
I removed myself from talking to any pastors or church-goers I had once spent time with.
I removed myself from corporate worship.
I removed myself from private study of the Bible and worship.
I retreated to my room again. I stopped talking to my family. I began starving myself. I started doing all the things I once denounced.
And in that one day, I stopped loving myself and felt death fill my body as it once had prior to coming out.
I don't tell you these things because I want a pity-party, or invited to your church, nor do I want to hear about how affirming your congregation and pastor are of LGBTQ+ members.
I tell you these things because there are people, real people watching you. You, the person who claims to worship the most Holy Being. You, the person who claims to have found love in its greatest and purest form. You, who claims that Jesus is the atonement and life that all need.
You... The person that told me I wasn't good enough, and that God couldn't reach me.
You... The person who damned me in the name of a God I loved, prayed to, and adored.
But please, don't sympathize with me, or feel bad in the least. I need you, for one moment, to turn your attention to a person who loved me in my darkest times, and walked the road that they never should have been forced to walk, because of "Christ-like" people.
My family and friends watched on the sidelines as words of hate were tossed from every angle. They, too, had once believed that this 'sin' could somehow be 'prayed away'. But, something crazy happened in the midst of their prayers – as they had prayed that I may be changed, God ended up changing their hearts. People who, simply acting in love, had their worlds rocked and perceptions changed.
I'm here today to tell you that the only reason we have struggled as a family, is because we have been abandoned by the Body of Christ – those who are to celebrate and embrace people from all walks of life. Your sign that read, "All are welcome!" was quickly debunked by your actions.
Before you continue, I need you to know a prayer I earnestly prayed, and prayed hard before I came out.
I pleaded with God, and asked that only His will be done with my life and my ministry. I pleaded that none of this be in vain, and that I may just help one person be true to who they are.
I had come across a group of mighty LGBTQ+ people and their loved ones called Gay Christian Network – an organization started in efforts to connect people at the intersection of faith and gender/sexuality. After making an account, (which felt like I was signing-up for an online dating service) new members are encouraged to post their story in the "Hello My Name Is..." forum. I posted my story, prayed, and shut my laptop off.
I woke-up and checked my email. Tears starting streaming down my face as I was asked by a GCN staff member if it was okay if they published my coming out story on their social media accounts and website. I, of course, agreed and couldn't help but beam. THIS was the "why" to the question I had been asking God for months.
That evening, my Outlook email application wouldn't stop dinging. Person after person after person after person kept flooding my inbox with their personal stories.
I thought to myself, "You're strong enough to do this! Go for it!" as I sat down to reply. I hadn't even made it to the second paragraph of the first email and I starting weeping.
I was weeping uncontrollably because these stories were like mine. These people were like me. These people had been abandoned by people that once extended an "I love you!" or "Your ministry is incredible!" I had people from ages 14 to 55+ emailing me, asking me how to deal with their pastor's words of hate from the pulpit, or their family's response of denial 'in the Name of Christ'.
This was the love that people got for being gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered.
This was their view of God, Christ, love, Calvary, and forgiveness.
This is not a fairytale, and I wish, as a person watching and experiencing it all, that it were.
My view of Jesus has been affected. My view of love has been affected. My purpose feels taken, and I have never felt more hope-less.
The church needs to do better. They need to love unconditionally, and not use it as a catchy phrase on their front lawn. They need to love as Jesus did. They need to focus on the hearts of people, and not become morality or salvation police. That was never the church's job, but their job was always, and still continues to be, to love even when they may not understand.
I don't currently attend a church. I have not one desire to step foot in such a building. I don't feel loved and welcomed, nor do I feel like I'm valued as a human or Follower of Christ. My gifts and talents aren't appreciated, nor are my words or thoughts taken for more than a grain of salt. I asked in the final paragraphs of my coming out story that I wouldn't be added to a prayer list or become the talk of the town. Instead, today, as you sit here and read this, I would ask all those who claim to love the Lord, that you may pray for the church as a whole. That you may pray for its inhabitants, and that you may pray for its pastors. I would also ask you to pray that no one ever feels the pain, loneliness, and Hell that I and so so SO many others have felt. I would ask that love may not be a visitor, but that it may be your spirit, heart, and mission.
I've learned that the LGBTQ+ community is full of love, grace, support, unity, passion, and forgiveness. I'm sorry that homophobia dismisses so many wonderful people from experiencing what could be a powerful, spiritual place. This community is hard-working, and brims with joy when others are celebrated, encouraged, and loved.
One of my most favorite pastors of all time, John Pavlovitz, posted a wonderful blog in the early stages of my coming out journey titled, "If I have Gay Children (Four Promises From a Christian Pastor and Parent)," and within it, he used the beautiful words of Psalm 139 to discuss the making and creativity that God places into each of our DNA strands. Psalm 139 illustrates the love of God, the depth of His love, and the purpose He has placed on each of His children's lives.
For those who still send me articles, words of hate, or "prayers" to "pray the gay away" – you are a part of the issue, not the solution. Your words aren't anointed, nor are the covered in the life-giving, all-cleansing blood of Jesus. Your words are hallow and full of hate. Your words cut me deeper than you'll ever know. Using prayer and the Bible against me do nothing but drive me deeper away from the source of grace and love – you aren't just closing the doors in the my face, you're nailing them shut and placing "do not enter" signs on the windows.
For those who have loved me, guided me, prayed with me, counseled me, wept with me, opened their hearts to me, welcomed me into their homes, and searched tirelessly to find answers – you will be rewarded. You are the shining light of Jesus to someone who is tired and weary, and your actions have proved that there is a God, and that love still remains within the hearts of some Believers. While many spent their time boarding-up the doors, you built me a new home – whether Christian, Agnostic, Atheist, Muslim, Hindu, Deist – I'm thankful to God for you, your actions, and your words of encouragement.
I love Jesus. I love his words. I love his actions. I love his friendship. I love his voice. I love him for his love. I love him for selflessly taking my cross. I love him for his powerful provision and guidance in the storms. I love him for my salvation. I love him even when people use him as a mighty weapon against me. But still, he calls my name and tells me he has boldly and fearlessly called me to lead his people.
To the LGBTQ+ community: I love you all. With all of my heart, with everything in me, I love you. From sexual orientation, to those who are about to undergo transgender surgery, I love you all. You were created with a bold purpose, and have fought a tougher road than what so many will ever have to fight. You are my family, you are my church, and you keep me going on my worst days.
To my family: I love how you've grown. I love how you've cried with me. I love how you've learned with me. I love how you've fought beside me. I love how you've prayed for me. I love how you've let me be me. I love how you accepted me and so many others who walk this same path. I love your advocacy. I love you.
To the church: I'm trying to forgive you. I'm working daily to help those that you've pushed aside. Americanized Christianity is becoming a powerful cult that pushes once-faithful and potential members to the ground. I would be lying if I said I didn't have, "I hate you" here at first, but I know that not all houses of worship react in such a manor to diversity, culture, and people. I'm sad for you, and that you refuse to see the love and passion that LGBTQ+ people of faith possess. Whatever your reasoning or justification – dammit, LISTEN to people. EMBRACE diversity. CELEBRATE people. For the love of God and The One you claim to worship,
L O V E.
Live genuinely. Love radically. Speak boldly.
I'm Corey Black, and I don't want this to be anyone else's normal.
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