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I just came across this article in Today's Christian Woman (I just read it for the pictures). It's good, though far too much reading for a woman of average intelligence, so I've edited it down. It's probably still too much for our female readers, so I have a short summary at the end.
I first became aware of how much I despised homosexuality when I worked at a savings and loan in 1981. Don [not his real name], referred to as a "queer" in our small town, shoved his savings passbook across the counter for a large cash withdrawal. He glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his companion, a good-looking boy of about eighteen. The boy laughed and his eyes met mine, full of mockery and challenge.
...one night seven years later, I feared for my life in the throes of my husband's drunken rage. The next day I confronted him. I couldn't live with his drinking problem any longer, and I urged him to seek help. Instead, he moved out. Several months later, he divorced me.
...on January 3, 1992, an emotional earthquake shattered my world. The pages of Tim's letter trembled in my hand as I read: "My sexual orientation has bothered me since I was twelve. Please, Mom, listen to me. I feel a strong attraction for men. I understand how you must feel . …"
Coffee splashed as I slammed my cup on the table and threw down the letter. No, Tim couldn't possibly understand, or he'd never have written this. I lurched up from the sofa, his words scorching my mind.
" … I am who I am, and it's taken me thirteen years to be able to accept this. … "
Thirteen years? No. No, I'd have known. What about his girlfriends in high school and college? How could he be gay? What happened? Where had I failed?
I fell to my knees sobbing. Then pulling myself off the floor, I grabbed my keys, snatched up Tim's letter, and ran to my car, taking off in the winter night.
As the speedometer reached 80 mph, a snow-covered guardrail suddenly rushed toward me. Terrified, I twisted the steering wheel. The car skidded, then held on the graveled shoulder. Peering into the darkness, I searched for familiar landmarks. Finally, I recognized a farmhouse. I'd gone more than fifty miles from home...
As the weeks went by, I felt ashamed and afraid. My prayers seemed inadequate...
"Did I ever tell you about the time Dad took me to a gay community in Massachusetts..."
As Tim described the incident, it became clear his father had been to this place before.
After Tim's letter in 1992, I regarded my adult son as a victim. "They" had caught and trapped him. "They" were faceless, nameless, evil people. Homosexuals. Enemies.
But God wasn't finished with me yet. That spring, Tim brought a friend home—a homosexual. The enemy had arrived on my doorstep. I was tense but quickly realized Tim's friend was even more nervous. I sensed his fear of rejection. Mothering instincts surged, and my heart reached out to him. He wasn't an enemy—he was a wounded soul...
My quiet times with the Lord changed from selfish pain and anger to genuine grief for Tim and others like him. Satan blinds them to the truth and deceives them.
The Lord's softened my heart, and I've learned to hate the sin while I love, or at least care for, the sinner...
Tim often brings homosexual friends when he comes to visit me and my new husband, Chuck. He once told me, "You guys are living proof to my friends that heterosexual marriage can work."
Short summary for the ladies:
This woman's husband was actually a homosexual stealthily disguised as a heterosexual
, and like a typical homosexual, he was drunken, violent, and got a divorce.
Worst of all, he's recruited his son into homosexuality.
But through lots of prayer and Bible-reading the son is learning that heterosexual marriage works, and soon he will become an ex-gay with a wife of his own.
I first became aware of how much I despised homosexuality when I worked at a savings and loan in 1981. Don [not his real name], referred to as a "queer" in our small town, shoved his savings passbook across the counter for a large cash withdrawal. He glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his companion, a good-looking boy of about eighteen. The boy laughed and his eyes met mine, full of mockery and challenge.
...one night seven years later, I feared for my life in the throes of my husband's drunken rage. The next day I confronted him. I couldn't live with his drinking problem any longer, and I urged him to seek help. Instead, he moved out. Several months later, he divorced me.
...on January 3, 1992, an emotional earthquake shattered my world. The pages of Tim's letter trembled in my hand as I read: "My sexual orientation has bothered me since I was twelve. Please, Mom, listen to me. I feel a strong attraction for men. I understand how you must feel . …"
Coffee splashed as I slammed my cup on the table and threw down the letter. No, Tim couldn't possibly understand, or he'd never have written this. I lurched up from the sofa, his words scorching my mind.
" … I am who I am, and it's taken me thirteen years to be able to accept this. … "
Thirteen years? No. No, I'd have known. What about his girlfriends in high school and college? How could he be gay? What happened? Where had I failed?
I fell to my knees sobbing. Then pulling myself off the floor, I grabbed my keys, snatched up Tim's letter, and ran to my car, taking off in the winter night.
As the speedometer reached 80 mph, a snow-covered guardrail suddenly rushed toward me. Terrified, I twisted the steering wheel. The car skidded, then held on the graveled shoulder. Peering into the darkness, I searched for familiar landmarks. Finally, I recognized a farmhouse. I'd gone more than fifty miles from home...
As the weeks went by, I felt ashamed and afraid. My prayers seemed inadequate...
"Did I ever tell you about the time Dad took me to a gay community in Massachusetts..."
As Tim described the incident, it became clear his father had been to this place before.
After Tim's letter in 1992, I regarded my adult son as a victim. "They" had caught and trapped him. "They" were faceless, nameless, evil people. Homosexuals. Enemies.
But God wasn't finished with me yet. That spring, Tim brought a friend home—a homosexual. The enemy had arrived on my doorstep. I was tense but quickly realized Tim's friend was even more nervous. I sensed his fear of rejection. Mothering instincts surged, and my heart reached out to him. He wasn't an enemy—he was a wounded soul...
My quiet times with the Lord changed from selfish pain and anger to genuine grief for Tim and others like him. Satan blinds them to the truth and deceives them.
The Lord's softened my heart, and I've learned to hate the sin while I love, or at least care for, the sinner...
Tim often brings homosexual friends when he comes to visit me and my new husband, Chuck. He once told me, "You guys are living proof to my friends that heterosexual marriage can work."
Short summary for the ladies:
This woman's husband was actually a homosexual stealthily disguised as a heterosexual
, and like a typical homosexual, he was drunken, violent, and got a divorce. Worst of all, he's recruited his son into homosexuality.
But through lots of prayer and Bible-reading the son is learning that heterosexual marriage works, and soon he will become an ex-gay with a wife of his own.
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