A ringing school bell signalled the end of recess. I hate sports, I thought, running toward my fourth grade classroom with a dull ache inside.
Then the attacks grew more vicious. One time some boys put needles in their shoes, with the points sticking out from the inside. They cornered me on the playing field and kicked me hard enough to draw blood. After that, I started trembling whenever anyone came near me.
At 16, my family moved to another city and things got better. Physical education classes were optional, and I dropped out, glad to avoid the humiliation of being picked last when the class divided into teams.
I landed a minor part in our high school play, and began hanging out with the kids in theater. I discovered many of them had also experienced peer rejection, so we banded together for mutual support.
Evenings and weekends, we'd pile into one boy's car and head for the liquor store. Judy, one of the girls, would stand by the door until she convinced a customer to buy us two six-packs of beer. Then we'd head for the house of an older student who lived alone across town.
One night, one of the guys pulled out some hand-rolled cigarettes. "Hey, take a toke on this," he urged. Everybody took a couple of slow, deep drags as the sweet smell of marijuana filled the air. After that, we added getting high to our regular pastimes. Finally I was gaining some acceptance among my peers.
But I didn't tell even my closest friends about my growing sexual attraction to other guys. Nobody knew about that until 1972, my first year as a college student. On campus, I got acquainted with several homosexuals in the drama department. Soon I was a regular at the gay bars downtown.
I especially enjoyed the excitement of the drag shows. Afterward, we'd dance to driving disco music until the bar closed at two a.m., then head for an all-night restaurant. Soon I was going to the bars any chance I could get.
But after a few months, the thin veneer of glamour began wearing thin. One night, we were drinking heavily and somebody slipped me a couple of pills. Soon I was too drugged to even walk. Several friends carried me out of the bar and drove me to an apartment where a wild party was in progress. That night, I was powerless to protect myself as eight different men sexually exploited me.
The next morning, I felt sick and numb. I was miles from school, but I went outside and started walking. During the long walk back to campus, I thought about the humiliation of the previous night.
So much for love and acceptance by other men, I thought bitterly. They were only interested in their own sexual pleasure. I was finally getting a glimpse of the ugly side of the gay lifestyle. But I kept pursuing the homosexual fantasy, looking for the perfect man who could fulfill me.
When a college friend started dressing as a woman, I joined his antics. After we became dorm roommates, the other students began making nasty remarks. One night in retaliation, we staged a wild drag show in the hallway outside our room. The school authorities had to come and put an end to the resulting uproar.
By spring semester, however, I was getting burned out on the drug scene. Pot and acid only made me feel paranoid. At parties, I'd end up in the corner-observing, feeling distant from the crowd.
Soon afterward, I dropped out of college. My frequent sexual exploits had earned me a double diagnosis: mononucleosis and syphilis. The slow weeks of recovery back home gave me lots of time to think. Was homosexuality really giving me what I wanted in life?
You don't have to live this way. The thought hit me one morning after I'd been up all night on an acid trip. I felt miserable and jittery, as scenes from the past flashed through my mind. I looked outside at the glorious crimson and orange colors of the rising sun. I couldn't help contrasting its stark beauty with the ugliness of my life. Was there something-someone-beyond this world that I had not yet experienced?
After that night, I stopped doing most drugs-except pot. I began yoga classes on Monday evenings at the local recreation center. About this time, I entered into my first long-term gay relationship. This is what I've always been looking for, I told myself, thinking my needs for male love and affection were finally being met.
During the following months, I began an earnest spiritual search. I started by devouring books on mysticism. Some members of our yoga class attended a weekend retreat with a visiting guru from Pennsylvania. Later, I wrote him for an application to become part of his ashram.
But a strange thing occurred as I began filling out the form. If you follow this man, you will be forsaking me. The words flashed across my mind every time I put my pen on the paper. Somehow I knew it was Jesus speaking to me, and I resolved to find out more about Him.
I started looking into churches. First, the religious science church. It seemed dead. Then the Christian Science church. All I saw was a building filled with wealthy people. Then I attended a Catholic mass. The priest was a godly man; I could see the character of Jesus Christ in him, and his messages fed my hungry soul. I became convinced that Jesus was the Son of God, and I began praying to Him. I read books on Catholic doctrine, and later went through catechism classes. I joined the Catholic church in 1978.
But my homosexual involvement continued. My "long term" relationship broke up after one year, and I began pursuing other men. Then two Christian women at work reached out to me. "We're praying for you," they'd say. And God began moving in my life in a deeper way.
Two other people from work took me to an Assembly of God church, where I witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit. I heard the message of Jesus dying for my sins, and I started pulling away from the gay bars, giving up smoking and drinking. Then I talked to another priest about my homosexuality, and he said it was OK to be gay. So when I saw a guy at church who I'd also seen in the bars, we talked about having a Christian relationship. Soon we were sexually involved.
Our relationship lasted two weeks. We were both convicted that something was wrong. Then one night when we were together in bed, he said, "We can't do this anymore. This is sodomy." He showed me in the Bible where homosexuality was forbidden, and it hit me like a brick between the eyes. We got down on our knees and asked the Lord to help us turn away from homosexuality.
Soon afterward, I moved in with the two Christian women from work, and we went to every charismatic prayer meeting in town. My walk with the Lord grew stronger and it was soon tested. I worked the graveyard shift at a restaurant about two blocks from one of the gay bars. After two a.m., all my former friends would come in. "Hey, Mike," they'd say, "why haven't ya been around lately?"
"Ahh..." I hedged, "I've got a lot of other things going on." After I gained some confidence, I told them about becoming a Christian. "I won't be coming back to the bar."
"You're a Chreeestian?" they mimicked in a high voice. "Hey, guys, Mike's too holy for us now!" I hated their mockery, but God gave me the strength to ignore their insults. Now my eyes were open to the truth; I felt sorry for these people I had once admired.
Then, on a trip across the United States, I stopped at a monastery in New Mexico, and found a book called The Gay Theology. I read it straight through, and contacted Love In Action listed in the back. I moved to San Rafael in June 1979 to join their live-in program.
There were tons of trials waiting for me! At first, some of my gay mannerisms started coming back because of the other guys around the house. I began to battle sexual temptation. I've got to get out of here, was my response. I'm reverting back to my old ways. But God showed me that He wanted me to be victorious in the midst of the temptations, instead of running away.
After I graduated from the program, I had a very difficult time. The Lord was taking me from the excitement of a relationship with Him based on emotions to one based on faith. I had to learn to trust God, even when I didn't feel His presence. I went through a lot of despondency, feelings of darkness and despair.
But as I persevered, God brought me through. He used other men in the church who reached out to me. At first, I had a lot of fear of rejection. But as time went on, I realized that these guys didn't look at me as being homosexual or inferior to them. Their acceptance and love began to impact my life as God used them to minister healing and acceptance.
Also, I read in the Word of God over and over how much God loves me and has a purpose for my life. A renewing of my mind was taking place, but it took time. I had to be patient, and not get discouraged.
Eventually I received assurance from God that He wanted me to marry and raise a family. He showed me that, through marriage, He would teach me to love sacrificially and bring a new depth into my knowledge of His character.
Sure enough, in 1986, I met my future wife; Helen Mae and I were married the following year. Healing continued to flow from Christ to me through the loving acceptance of my wife and through the challenges that marriage brought to test and strengthen my masculinity.
We now have two boys, and relying on God's power to raise my children has drawn me even deeper into fellowship with Him. The excitement and drama of the Christian life is better by far than anything I could have ever imagined when I lived in the gay lifestyle.
Today, I see myself as a man, as a strong and stable person. I have a lot of peace. Homosexuality is no longer a part of my life-I don't even think of myself as "ex-gay." It's an area that I relate to less and less.
My life is founded on Christ the Rock. I have confidence in the Lord as my relationship with Him has been tested and proven. Through God's unconditional love, my need to belong is fully satisfied.
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Updated: 13 July 2002