Playing ball, for example, always seemed to go the same way. Dad and I would be in the back yard tossing the ball, then he'd tell me to bat. I was coordinated, but sometimes lacked the enthusiasm that Dad expected of his only son. I enjoyed it for a short time, then-like a typical seven-year-old-I'd lose interest.
Finally, Dad would dismiss me with a snide remark like, "Go into the house and be with the girls." I never told him the truth: I really did prefer being with my mom and two older sisters. I felt much safer with them. Dad's comments crushed my sensitive spirit. He was trying to make me tough, but his words only built an invisible wall between us.
I was about eight years old when I accepted Jesus into my life through the influence of our local church's Sunday school. I loved God and wanted to be a "good boy," but I was becoming aware of feelings toward other boys that confused me. Then, at age 12, I was drawn into my first sexual experience with an adult male, and this began a series of incidents during my early teen years. I was starving for attention from adult men.
During my teens, I continued to be humiliated by my father. Many times, attempting to amuse his friends, he'd make comments toward me like, "Have you met my daughter?" This time of my life was hellish. I felt different from the rest of the guys and concluded, I must be gay. I hid this dark secret but worried constantly that others-especially my father-would guess the horrible truth.
I began getting physically sick for no apparent reason. My mother dragged me from one doctor to another, but none of them could figure out what was wrong. During this time, the only place I felt loved for the "real me" was during sexual encounters with the man who molested me. I loved his attention; for a few moments I could feel secure and wanted. I concluded that this type of attention gave me self-worth and defined me as a man.
After that, I did everything possible to make myself more appealing to other males. I became obsessed, spending hours thinking about other boys in the neighborhood and how I could seduce them. And usually I was successful.
During high school, I found out about anonymous sex and became hooked. Then I went away to college and saw a play on campus about two gay men and their undying love for one another. I was mesmerized. As a Christian, I knew my pattern of anonymous sexual encounters was not justifiable. But if I could just find that one special person-then I could be gay and Christian! Yes, monogamy would fit better with my beliefs.
I entered a committed relationship, but soon realized that I still needed the emotional "fix" that came from other men noticing me. One person just wasn't enough to satisfy me. Typically, my relationships would last about two years, then my lover and I would get tired of the cheating and fighting and we'd go our separate ways. My life had become steeped in sex. I felt so dirty, so worthless.
If I could just get over this "gay" thing, I told myself, my life would be much more satisfying. God heard the cry of my heart, but never in a million years did I expect His help to come in the strange way it did. It was a summer evening in 1985. I was working out at a local gym that had a large gay clientele. I found myself attracted to another guy and we ended up leaving together. But when we got to his car, he stopped.
"I'm sorry that I led you on, but I can't go through with this," he told me. "I'm trying to leave this all behind." He told me that he was a Christian and was going to a support group for men seeking freedom from homosexuality. Eventually we ended up driving to the parking lot of a nearby shopping center where we could continue our discussion.
He began telling me about a man named Jeff Konrad, who was doing research on the subject of overcoming homosexuality. Suddenly he stopped and stared out the window. "My gosh," he gasped, "there he is!" Jeff had just walked out of the mall. I felt goosebumps pop up all over my body. Then, a still small voice whispered, "Was My arm too short to ransom you? Do I lack the strength to rescue you?" (Isa. 50:2).
Two weeks later, I began working at a Christian camp. Jeff began writing to me; we exchanged letters almost every day. I would write long letters filled with skeptical questions, almost hoping to find something wrong with his theories about homosexuality.
But Jeff was very committed. He was faithful to answer every question and forgive every failure. He also kept copies of all our correspondence, and one day it hit me that our letters would make a great book. Several years later, You Don't Have to be Gay was published, and other men around the world began to benefit from Jeff's letters to me.
Unfortunately, my flesh was still longing for the forbidden fruit of sexual sin. I continued to fall into homosexuality. But working at camp confirmed my love for youth ministry, and I applied to Biola, a Christian university in the Los Angeles area. That fall, I began classes. Surely being in a Christian environment would help me! But I continued to wrestle with my sexual desires, and finally gave up trying to resist them. I slipped into a double-life syndrome, presenting a "committed Christian" image at school, and pursuing homosexual encounters outside of classes.
In 1987, my life hit another crisis when I was arrested for prostitution. God used that event to wake me up. I was still in denial. As I was being booked and the arresting officer asked my occupation, I thought nothing about answering, "Christian youth leader."
Eventually I graduated from Biola and began my first year at a large seminary in Fort Worth, Texas. I hoped that moving away from southern California would make it easier to stay pure. But the move didn't change anything. When I relocated, I simply took all my problems with me.
After one semester, I quit school and moved in with another man. Two years later, our relationship ended in strife and anguish-just like all the others. I called my sister and asked if she would be willing to come out to Texas and help me drive home. Immediately she said yes; she and her husband even offered to let me live with them for as long as I needed a home.
It was December 1989, and my walk away from homosexuality began in earnest. I became very involved in a church in Newport Beach, Calif., and joined a college group that was awesome. These people opened their homes to me and offered me a listening ear any time of the day or night.
One night, while staying at the home of the youth pastor and his wife, I began to understand real love in a new way. They lived in a small home and their new baby was colicky. The baby's crying got so bad that one night they offered to let me sleep in their closet. They apologized the next morning, but I didn't care. I realized that even a small place on the floor in a home filled with God's love was far better than a night's sleep with someone who did nothing but take from me.
Then Jeff invited me to attend the 1990 Exodus conference on overcoming homosexuality. That week I heard a lecture by Sy Rogers. He was talking about our deep need for human support and relationships. "God is not all that you need," Sy said. When I heard those words, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I'd never heard such a remark during all my years of growing up in church!
Yet my heart sensed that Sy's remark was true. I was longing for intimacy with other people, and I realized that my desires were not ungodly or selfish. Sy quoted Genesis 2:18, "The LORD God said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.' " My eyes filled with tears as I sensed that God would put others in my life who could meet all my needs in healthy ways.
Jeff had been a true friend for five years. If he can be that faithful and loving toward me, I thought, surely God can be even more faithful. I was on the threshold of the most difficult decision of my life. I had to leave behind my ideas of how to attain worth and value, and embrace God's ways. I would need to get my value from Him, not from other men.
During the Exodus conference, someone gave me a Scripture which expressed the deepest longings of my heart: "Therefore this is what the Lord says: 'If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me; if you utter worthy, not worthless, words, you will be my spokesman. Let this people turn to you, but you must not turn to them' " (Jer. 15:19).
I longed to relate to straight men, but I always felt tied up in knots when I'd get around a group of "normal" guys. I used to drive past the volleyball courts next to the main beach in Laguna. Finally I decided that I was tired of living like somebody "looking in on life" from the outside. I told one of my college buddies that we should go play some ball down at the beach. It probably sounded like no big thing to him, but I was petrified. I had grown up at the beach but usually went to the gay section where I was comfortable.
How could I go and play with all these normal-looking beach dudes? I wondered. What would I talk about? I'm sure they'll all know I'm a queer. But my determination to stop missing out on life was stronger than my fears. At the volleyball court, I realized that I wasn't too bad a player. And I could "hang out" with other guys and feel quite comfortable. That day I learned another important lesson: I couldn't sit and wait for others to come to me, I had to be willing to meet them on their "turf" and actively work at friendships.
While at the Exodus conference in 1990, I heard someone mention Love In Action's residential program. Immediately I knew this was exactly what the Lord had in mind for me. I had previously worked in a long-term treatment facility for youth, and I knew the value of clear boundaries and accountability. That's exactly what I found when I came to Love In Action.
I arrived with an "all-or-nothing" attitude, ready to do whatever God asked. During my first year, I learned many things, especially the importance of obedience, submission, and vulnerability. I needed to make myself vulnerable to those around me, being open about my own struggles-as well as confronting others about their wrong attitudes.
I also had to work through past issues with my father. At one point, I wrote him a letter, explaining my struggles with homosexuality. I have come to realize that he really has loved me, but sometimes I did not realize it. Now, when I return home, he may wash my car or do something else that is thoughtful. I've realized that's his way of showing love, and I have accepted it. Our relationship is better than it has ever been before.
God has given me a newness of life and a freedom I never thought possible. Now I can look in the mirror without feeling torn by guilt and remorse. My needs for acceptance from men are being met through the friends God has given me. And I'm experiencing His love in new ways, too. My deepest needs are finally being met. *
Mike Haley is Admissions Counselor at Love In Action. He served as a house leader in our residential program from1993-1994. Copyright © 1994 by Mike Haley. Distributed by Love In Action, PO Box 753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307
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