Don't Let me Wallow

by Laurie Krieg
I have read many excellent blogs and books about same-sex attraction and following Jesus. 

I have also read many depressing blogs and books on SSA and following Jesus that left me feeling hopeless.

About 90 percent of this second type seem to be written like a mournful dirge bemoaning the tragic pain of the existence of people with same-sex attractions. The main focus seems to be, “Woe is me. Woe is you. Those of you who are celibate and single? It’s going to be terribly hard for the rest of your life. Those of you who choose to marry in a ‘mixed sexuality’ marriage? You can try to love one another, but it will be painfully frustrating. Your life and my life is doomed to decades of longing and missing out on what we want. Yes, Jesus is good, but…”

After finishing one book with such a tone, I sat on my bed and put my hands over my face. Why do I feel so terrible? I tried not to slip into the beckoning angry depression, and prayed. “God, help me. Help me not to react. Help me to think like you. What do you think about this?”

Two things came to mind:
1. God is using these authors.
2. They are missing something.

What do you mean, God?  Immediately, I could picture what looked like the aftermath of battle. Bent, burned trees, and objects that might have been bodies covered in darkness. I could sense God prompting me to look upward in my mind’s eye. When I did, I noticed a breathtaking sunset behind all that ugly. Burgundy, tangerine, and burnt yellow brilliance. Had I not been nudged, I would have focused on the battle—on the sorrow, pain, and loss.

These authors are not completely wrong. My life can be hard. Celibate, single, same-sex attracted men and women can also have a difficult life. There are situations that are uniquely challenging for us in friendships, church, marriage, holidays, etc. because of continual, persistent struggles with same-sex attraction.

But guess what? The same could be true of any of us. Your struggles with heterosexual lust, workaholism, anxiety, depression, food-addiction, cell phone addiction, perfectionism, or any of the other “isms” can make your in friendships, churches, marriages, singleness, jobs, and parenting uniquely difficult.

But to allow us to stay in the depressing minefield of battle without any glimpse of the sunset on the periphery is depressing at best, and false teaching at worst. To let us sit in our sorrow and say, “Poor me. I can’t have what I want because the church is so stupid and the Bible says ‘no,’” is not helpful. 

Yes, we need to grieve. Yes, we need to acknowledge the fact that it is hard, that some people are mean and do not get it, and might be mean and misunderstand for the rest of our lives. But we grieve and move forward. We don’t build a house in the sorrow.

It is not a kindness to me, kindness to other Christians who struggle with same-sex attraction, or a kindness to those of you who struggle with another idol to let us fill that hole in our hearts by making our homes on Self-Pity Island. 

Suffering is a part of this Christian walk. “So then, since Christ suffered physical pain, you must arm yourselves with the same attitude he had, and be ready to suffer, too.” (1 Peter 4:1) In spite of multiple exhortations to suffer well, however, the Gospel lacks the depressing tone that can flood the pages of books and blogs on Christians wrestling with same-sex attraction.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne.” Hebrews 1:1-2

Jesus suffered while keeping his eyes on the bigger picture. We can suffer, and yet focus on the truth that we, too, are seated with Christ. We fix our eyes on him, keep an awareness on our weaknesses, and run forward. 

In that I find hope. In that I find my identity.

So, please: Do not let me wallow in my sorrow. Let me lament, let me grieve (and lament and grieve with me), but then act as my true Christian brother or sister, and exhort me to get back in the real battle that is greater than my battle with flesh and blood.

P.S. I just watched this, and had to add it here. Francis Chan blows the roof off (per usual) with this insightful look at eternity versus now.