By the end of high school, I'd become quite skilled at ignoring my sexuality. I regained the feeling of almost belonging, along with an unreliable joy for life. While ignoring my emotional and romantic attraction to the same gender, I even relearned how to appreciate my accomplishments.

As the human necessity to be known conquered my fear of rejection, I took the risk of confiding in more close friends. I knew that coming out had often affected those around me and reasoned that negative reactions were easier to face earlier in a relationship rather than later. And I did receive negative reactions. Some of my friendships dissolved, others changed. Some friendships stayed the same only if I continued to pretend that I was no different.

After so many bad experiences, I was surprised that some of my friends showed support instead of disgust. Sometimes, I would be informed that what I felt was sinful, but many would also offer prayers, and I appreciated that. I recall opening up to one friend who reacted by teasing me about how much harder his looks must make my life. One mentioned that it wasn't that big of a deal to them and that our friendship didn't have to change. Another overheard the conversation but rather than gossip, showed kindness. Soon, I even confided in an adult whose reaction and support would slowly change my own self-perception.

Because my attempts at becoming straight only resulted in self-harm and the fear of emotional proximity, I considered others' advice again. One friend gave me Christopher Yuan's testimonial and suggested that I go to therapy. I read the book but resented seeing a therapist due to past unpleasant experiences. Another friend started sending me sermon clips and other resources. Better yet, she was willing to listen when I needed it the most.

I remember being invited to a short seminar at a nearby church. I jumped at the opportunity, hoping to receive guidance on becoming straight or traversing my future. After attending all the meetings, I privately asked the once-gay speaker about how to live life with the crushing burden of having these unwanted attractions. He procured his own book, which, although a powerful conversion story, didn't answer any of the questions that pertained to my life.

For instance, the book, and many like it, recounted former lives filled with drug dealing, premarital sex, and/or addictions. They explained how being same-sex attracted may not be a conscious choice but living in the homosexual lifestyle was. This often left me wondering what in my life constituted a “homosexual lifestyle” and how I could escape the sins I didn't know I was committing.

Despite these mixed messages, I noticed that a few of those I had entrusted with my secret simultaneously cared about me and loved God. This flew in the face of my belief that Christians hated gay people. Those that proved they cared regardless of my sexual orientation, made me consider that I could love God and be loved as well.

───────

My reconnection to God was nothing like the testimonies I had heard growing up. I had read countless stories of people narrowly evading death and turning to God who spared them for His purposes. Even my father occasionally told his gripping testimony. Several people I knew personally turned their lives around radically when they committed themselves to following Christ. "I stopped smoking immediately," a coworker explained. "Oh, and I became vegan overnight, too."

Though I enjoyed hearing these stories and appreciated God's power to transform, my conversion story proved more prolonged and unremarkable than those routinely published. Getting to know God didn't make me straight. I expected to feel awful on account of my sexuality in front of the God whose Word was sometimes quoted to justify queer dehumanization. Instead, I felt the most at peace with myself and my sexuality while spending time with Him. Instead of condemnation, I experienced comfort.

The most radical part of this process was leaving behind the shame I had carried ever since I recognized I was attracted to the same gender. When I came out to a few close friends in high school, I would often feel the need to apologize for being in their life. In my mind, it could be devastating to be close to someone like me. However, with a new perspective and support, I was able to see value in myself again. One rehumanizing experience at a time, the shame dissolved.

Gradually distancing myself from cycles of shame, depression, and self-degradation felt phenomenal in college, but I still didn't know how my sexuality might affect my life as a Christian. I couldn't go on ignoring it like I had in high school. While searching for answers, I received a wide range of suggestions and solutions from the peers and adults I confided in.

“You need to go to this one ministry I heard about in Texas.” “If you're truly seeking God, He will work miracles in your life.” “A gay Christian is an oxymoron. You are deceiving yourself.” “I'm sure if you just meet the right girl . . .” “God is patient and works with the best that we can do.”

To be sure of my choices before I spent more of my life aiming for orientation change, I tried to put my trust in God. I had never been much of a prayer warrior before, but now I was extremely intentional about continuously asking God if I could expect to be straight someday. I had never made progress before and neither had many others, so was it ever going to be worth the effort? If so, I was prepared to follow through with what strength I had left. If not, I needed to figure out what was next.

At first, I felt like I was just repeating a daily chant for my journal, but after a few months, I felt like I began to receive some sort of answer through morning devotions and mentors. I didn't get a recipe from God, but I gathered that if I was focused on becoming straight, my priorities were entirely in the wrong place. Apparently, I was asking a largely irrelevant question. I didn't need to feel straight — as if sexualizing females is what would please God. Instead, God seemed to be asking whether I was willing to follow Him wherever He may lead and accept that to be enough.

Unexpectedly, I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted. Of course, following Him wouldn't be simple either. First, I struggled to make sense of what this answer meant. I had always been convinced that His plans included hiding or curing myself. However, God soon led in the opposite direction.

───────

Thankfully, my newfound hope did not end with me. A desire for transparency and instigating change encouraged me to open up to more friends and mentors. I wanted to confront the misconceptions some of my peers and superiors had about queer individuals. Many of us grew up with assumptions about the queer community that had never been challenged. Often, I was the first individual to come out to them. A quite natural reaction tended to be:

"Well, I've always known it's bad to be gay. But I've never really thought about what it must feel like . . . at least not until you came out to me."

Naturally, we don't bother to challenge assumptions and stand out unless we have a stake in the topic. That's fine. None of us need to be involved in everything. However, because many queer individuals attempt to conceal their sexuality, others around them don't know whom their remarks may affect. That's just another reason to think before we speak.

I certainly can't point fingers. While I noticed others' perception of the queer community shifting, my own self-image transformed. I had to dissolve my own prejudices and homophobia. Were gay people pedophiles? Neither I nor any queer individuals I knew had felt anything that supported that. Was describing myself as gay "one step closer to the homosexual lifestyle"? What even was that? Sure, I was romantically attracted to guys, but I had no lifestyle other than that of an intensely studious academic. Was being attracted to the same gender sinful? I found that my Bible neither guaranteed nor required opposite-sex attraction.

Of course, it's not like I suddenly found all the “true answers” about sexuality and God's intent for it. Rather, once I recognized how little I knew, I was encouraged to continue digging into the stories, theology, and research to gain a better understanding. So, I explored the stories of gay Christians such as Justin Lee, Greg Coles, and Mel White and studied the various theological views they represented.

Like the men in those testimonies, I felt God pushing me to fully leave behind the shame that had ruled my life for a decade. I knew that as a 20-year-old I had neither comprehensive experience nor all the pieces to my sexuality, but I could still be whole. I had never had someone to relate to in my struggle, so at least my experience could be for others what I once needed.

In addition to putting myself out there, I felt that coming out was necessary to improve my mental health. By my junior year of college, I had gathered up the courage to do so. Though nerve racking, it opened many doors I had never seen before. Not only did coming out improve my mental health, but it made others think about issues that they considered too distant from their community to pay attention to. Not everyone was encouraging and friendly, but the opportunities for connecting and sharing with others were well worth it. Rather than choking me from the inside, my story impacted those around me.