Jesus Paused

This post is a sequel to the post titled "Come (pause) Follow Me" so if you haven't read that one, you may want to read it first, for context. 

We have one of those "little golden books" that focuses on the Story of Jesus. Some time after writing the blog entry about pausing after we come to Jesus, before we can follow him, I was reading this little golden book to my youngest daughter. One page of this book stood out that had never stood out to me before. 

I'll go ahead and share just a snippet of the scripture reference for the story:

"And Jesus being full of the Holy Ghost returned from Jordan, and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, being forty days tempted of the devil."

Luke 4: 1-2

The thought that came to me, that I've never had before, was that Jesus Paused. I suppose I've always thought of this story as an example of Jesus being beyond amazing, because he was that guy that fasted and prayed for 40 days. Something I never intend to do, because I'm not that amazing. Right? I've acknowledged that it's an example of Jesus being tempted... but at the same time never really given Jesus his due for this story. It always felt something like... "okay, he was tempted, but not REALLY tempted... because he's Jesus." Right? I think that we don't give Jesus credit when we assume that he was tempted but not really tempted. I am reminded of a quote from a book I read recently:

"I mistook a candle flame for temptation, and I was unprepared when it became a raging wildfire stealing oxygen from the air." (Tender Leaves of Hope: Finding Belonging as LGBTQ Latter-day Saint Women by Meghan Decker)

I suppose I had always assumed that Jesus only faced that "candle flame" of temptation, and never a "raging wildfire," which seems unfair in retrospect. People always say "Jesus understands how you feel, he felt temptation too." And in my head that was always followed by the caveat "yeah, but only sort of." We have to acknowledge that in order to truly understand how we feel, we have to assume that he experienced being overwhelmed by temptation. 

But what I also find interesting to note here is that Jesus was "led by the Spirit into the wilderness." We often talk of time in the wilderness as a "time of trial" for biblical characters. And the Spirit led him there. He needed this time before he could go forth and truly begin his ministry. He needed to pause. He needed to wrestle with his feelings, wrestle with God, wrestle with Satan. He needed those experiences before he could be firm in his resolve, before he could be ready to face the upcoming trials like the Cross.

A quote, from Ben Schilaty that I also find applicable here is 

"It is Christlike, to not want to do hard things."

Upon the cross, Jesus prayed that if it be possible, the cup might be removed. He was overwhelmed by the trial he was facing. He was facing unmeasurable grief and pain, and he didn't want to do it. 

I think it is powerful to remember that it is Christlike to feel temptation. It is Christlike to pause. It is Christlike to wrestle with the path God has laid out for us. It is Christlike to not want to do it. It is Christlike to feel like it's a little unfair. And yet, it is Christlike to feel those things, and still choose to follow God anyway.

Not Gay “Enough”

One of the reasons it has taken me so long to start talking about being gay, is that I have always felt somewhat like my feelings are invalid. Like a fraud. I didn't fit the box of being straight, but I didn't quite fit the box of being gay. I just didn't fit. Because I have never lived the lifestyle, and because I was able to ignore it and deny it for so long, and because I dated boys and kissed boys, and am now married to a man, and because I don’t know if I was born that way or if I was influenced by the sexual abuse I experienced, because the abuse happened so young, I can’t really remember before that. I wasn’t sure if that made me less “valid” or not. It just felt like I couldn’t call myself gay, because I wasn’t gay “enough.” And despite wanting to and coming close to, I have never kissed a girl on the lips. I wasn’t gay in the way that other people perceived me. I worried if I talked about it that people would call me out for not being gay “enough.” And because more than one person asked me if I was a lesbian in high school and I told people over and over again that I was not. They asked that question because of how I interacted with girls. I even had a girl feel the need to tell me she didn’t think of me that way. I didn’t feel that way about her either, but I lacked the boundaries necessary to make that clear. I had told myself that the way I interacted with girls was normal so that I didn’t have to face anything different. I wasn’t flirting… I was “outgoing” or my friends and I were just “so comfortable” with each other that we could be physical and it didn’t mean anything. Something. Anything but gay.

In high school I told myself that I appreciated looking at girls bodies because I was artistic and I was just admiring something beautiful. The way you would admire a painting. I ignored the fact that I didn’t look at boys that way. I rushed the physicality of my relationship with my first boyfriend because the only thing exciting about it was trying something new. I didn’t actually enjoy any of it. When I finally told him I was attracted to girls, he offered to bring girls into our relationship. It was awkward because he (like so many others have since) assumed that I was bisexual. The “bisexual” label has never felt like it really fit me though. But this assumption included the idea that I would be interested in a three-way experience.  As tempting as it was to say yes in order to experience kissing a girl, I also worried that I would be more interested in her than him and that that would hurt his feelings. And the whole idea of a guy getting off on two girls kissing just felt like…. So not the context I wanted to experience kissing a girl in anyway. And there was the guilt I felt that kissing a girl would make me a bad person. That wanting to kiss a girl made me damaged. There were times when I felt like I could hardly think about anything else. There were friends that I considered asking if I could kiss them because I knew they would let me if I asked and it wouldn’t make it weird afterwards. In reality, I think that would have been emotionally difficult for me. 

Something that has been healing for me is the realization that I am not alone. There are so many people out there under the “queer umbrella” that do not feel like they totally fit in the heterosexual box, or the homosexual box or the female box or the male box or any box. The boxes are too small and don’t allow for the fluidity in which we all experience the world on any given day. The feeling that you don’t quite fit in is certainly not uncommon. Nor is the feeling that you don’t quite match the expectations people have for you, or that you believe they have for you. 

I remember reading articles on the various labels for sexuality and one particular article said sexual identity is yours to choose. Even if you are sometimes attracted to men but are normally attracted to women, you can still identify as gay if that is what you feel most aligns with your experience. You choose. And it doesn’t matter what other people think. And that helped me a lot. It was probably the main reason why I was able to finally choose the label of “gay” years later because I felt it best aligned with how I felt, even if I didn’t quite fit the norm. 

I’m still trying to feel comfortable in my shoes. I have accepted that being attracted to women does not make me “bad.” But the possibility of that attraction being directed toward a specific person does still make me feel like a bad person sometimes. I suppose that is made more complicated by the fact that I am married. So obviously right now I feel like my attention shouldn’t stray from my husband. But I am also learning that it is okay to acknowledge that I find someone attractive. That doesn’t make me a bad person any more than my husband admitting a certain actress is attractive makes him a bad person. Acting on those thoughts is an issue. Dwelling on them can be an issue. But having the thought that someone is attractive? Not the issue. 

Sometimes I think I might just have to keep telling myself that for a while before I fully believe it in my bones. Another mantra to repeat along with “I am enough,” and “I am loved, and I am wanted, and normal is different for everybody.”

Empathy Acceptance

I once asked a new friend if they were at all uncomfortable with me being gay. I just needed to know how much this person could love me for who I am before I allowed myself to settle into really loving them too. Because if I loved them without knowing if that part of who I am made them uncomfortable, and then found out later that they were in fact not at ease with that… I knew it would hurt more than if I found out then, at that stage of our friendship. 

And when I asked the question, this person responded quite sincerely and emphatically that it was not an issue. Genuinely enough that I really felt like I could believe her, which, given my anxiety at the time was a feat in and of itself. Even still I listened to those words over and over and over again because I needed to hear the words a hundred times before it could drown out all the self-doubt and worry. She expressed that she was impressed because "I was stronger than she would be." It’s hard for me to be comfortable with that kind of praise, and she’s not the first person to give it, or the last. But what strikes me about the statement is that it means at least for some small period of time, that person has taken the time to ask themselves “what would it look like” or “what would it feel like” if I was told my whole life that I couldn’t marry the kind of person I am attracted to? To flip the narrative, “what if I was expected to marry a woman, when I myself am straight?” And she had determined that she would really and truly struggle with it, and was therefore impressed with my ability to be married to a man and have children, and truly love my spouse. To emphasize... I do not think of it as some great strength or trial to be married to my husband. I love my husband and enjoy being married to him. And I am very lucky to have him. But I respect, admire and appreciate the act of someone else trying to put themselves in my shoes, and sharing this moment with me.

And that kind of empathy is rarer than I used to think it was. I remember when I was 9 years old, learning about the Tonkawa Indians.. and my teacher told me that I had a gift for putting myself in someone else’s shoes and empathizing with how they would feel. I liked that she viewed it as a strength and honestly I think that was one of the things that made me prioritize actively growing that skillset. That was the first time I realized that not everyone has that ability. But it still felt foreign. Because it came so naturally to me, I couldn’t understand how other people couldn’t do that. I think a lot of empathetic people feel that way. Which is why it can hurt so much when other people don’t care as much because it feels so natural… they must really not care to not love the way I do. Does that make sense? It’s taken a long time to understand that not everyone can put themselves in someone else’s shoes. And not everyone cares the same way about people. When I find empathetic souls... it tends to feel a bit abnormal these days to be honest.

I once asked this person how she could be so open and at ease and accepting of me. And her response was something along the lines of “everyone needs to be loved.” And it was with this casual shrug like, “duh, this is no big deal” kind of attitude. But it is a big deal, because there are so many people who (most likely) without even meaning to, make me feel like the elephant in the room. Who make me feel like I should just not say anything so they can quietly pretend away the parts of me that make them uncomfortable. And feeling the constant pressure to be quiet makes me feel trapped and unlovable.

And I want people to be comfortable. I desperately do. Perhaps in part because I desperately want to feel comfortable and so I want the same for others. When I asked this person if they were comfortable with me being gay, I told her if she wasn’t then we could totally pretend I wasn’t and just move on and that would be okay. And it would have been okay in that I wouldn’t have held it against her… but it also would have told me exactly where we stood. I would never have allowed myself to be vulnerable with her in any way ever again. And that would have made me sad. I would have put up walls to emotionally distance myself from the relationship and I would have devoted less time to the friendship. It would have made me feel a little broken and unloved. But that’s not something I’m unfamiliar with, and I could have dealed. Some of you may disagree with that attitude, and I certainly wouldn’t have hidden that part of me just because of one person… I was only saying it didn’t have to be something the two of us actively discussed. If that makes sense. 

I recently had a scripture pointed out to me… and this person was relating it to their struggle with coming out to people.

"But with some I am not well pleased, for they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man."

Doctrine & Covenants 60:2

They were careful to point out that being gay is not a “talent”… but I like this analogy. They felt like the times they had "come out" to people had served a greater spiritual purpose in either their own lives or in someone else’s (or both). And there were times they hadn’t shared this vulnerable part of them because of "fear of man"… and therefore likely missed some opportunity to do what God wanted them to do. I feel that sometimes. I feel sometimes like I have a work to do, and part of that work relates to having been sexually abused, and part of that work comes from being gay, and part of that work comes from being a mother, and part of that work comes from being a friend, and part of that work comes from being a wife, and part of that work comes from struggling with depression and anxiety, and all of that work relates to being a daughter of God. And keeping any part of me quiet would lessen the amount of work I can get done. I am not some loud voice in a crowd. My voice doesn’t reach very many people. And not many people read my blog. And that’s okay. But I still feel like part of my work is to speak, and it doesn’t matter if it only affects one person, although obviously I hope to reach as many as I can… But sometimes I don’t even post my blogs to Facebook because it feels like I was probably the only person who needed those words. Still, I remain grateful for the people who can put themselves in my shoes, I remain grateful for people who love me when I don’t understand why, and who seek to understand me when I feel alone and misunderstood, and who help me to feel comfortable. I am grateful for the experiences I have had that allow me to help others.

I am grateful for who I am, if who I am can make someone else comfortable when they feel uncomfortable as much as I do.

Gay and Okay

 I recently attended a devotional featuring Ben Schilaty as a guest speaker. Ben Schilaty is an openly gay member of my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This prompted me to check out his blog. I admit I sort of binged and read several of his blog posts back to back. And I loved several of them, and could probably write a blog sharing something I learned from each one. But today I want to talk about one he wrote in April of last year where he talks about a crush he had on a boy. 

What sticks out to me most about this aside from the sheer amount of vulnerable detail shared in that post, was that he acknowledged that struggling with his decision to stay within the bounds we believe God has set… is still a present struggle. It’s not something that he struggled with for a while, got good at, and now that his decision has been made it’s easier now. I mean maybe it’s easier than it once was but it doesn’t go away. Does that make sense? I guess you look at a guy who’s written a book on the subject and is older than you, and is giving speeches at devotional meetings as someone who’s got his life figured out. And I guess I have spent most of my life feeling like I was “doing well” if the subject of same sex attraction was far from my mind. And when it was on my mind that meant I was “struggling.” But here’s this guy that I guess in some ways I look up to (without any of that star-struck celebrity nonsense)… as someone who has figured this out… and he still thinks about and regularly acknowledges that he’s gay. He can be gay and okay at the same time And I guess that sort of said to me… I can be okay, and I can be thinking about it, and acknowledge I am attracted to women, and also be okay. It doesn’t have to mean I am “struggling.” And for the most part I had already come to that conclusion on my own, but it just sort of helps to not be alone in that. 

Unrelated to that blog post, but I woke up this morning feeling particularly unashamed. Not that I’ve been struggling with shame lately. More just the general anxiety about me being awkward, because sometimes I am awkward ;) and I still worry that I make other people uncomfortable. But I woke up this morning feeling particularly aware of the fact that I can feel the way I feel, and it’s okay. It doesn’t control me. And I can experience things differently and be okay.

And then I went to church. And I sat there in the Sacrament meeting, and just felt peace. I can’t remember the last time I really felt that way, enveloped by that feeling. And I thought to myself, I am feeling the Holy Ghost. And it really had nothing to do with anything anyone was saying. Honestly I don’t think I was really even listening. All I was focused on was that feeling. But I just sat there, sitting in the feeling of peace, that I was where I was supposed to be, that I was whole and unbroken, and I think more importantly, a feeling that I was worthy of being loved. And as I sit here writing this I think… maybe the Holy Ghost had an easier time talking to me when I was at peace with who I am. With less noise in my head… I could better connect with Him. And as we left church I hoped the feeling wouldn’t leave. 

And I hope for you to have that feeling too.