"Baptist Boy"
Mike Goeke, 10/25/07
There are days when I wish people did not know about my struggle with homosexuality. At times, it would be nice for my wife and me to have our little secret, and to go on with life as two regular people. But when I think of that option, I remember why I went public with my struggle in the first place and I know that I cannot retreat.
About two years into my process of walking out of homosexuality and the rebuilding of my marriage, I was on a run and was thinking about how far God had brought me. Suddenly, a face flashed into my mind the face of "Baptist Boy." My wife and I lived in a college town when I left her to pursue homosexuality. Before I left, we were faithful at the First Baptist Church Sunday morning AND Sunday evening faithful. The church had a large college ministry, and I noticed a young man who seemed to be very involved and popular in the ministry. I noticed him because of the unique way he looked out from under his glasses.
I was in school at the time, and also noticed this kid on campus. He was a member of a Christian fraternity, and I noticed him often in the Student Center with other fraternity members and surrounded by sorority girls.
After I left my wife, I began to frequent the gay bar in town. One night, I was leaning on the bar with some friends and looked out at the dance floor and noticed the young man with the glasses dancing with another guy. They were all over each other. I pointed him out to my friends, told them about his involvement at First Baptist Church and in the Christian fraternity and we nicknamed him "Baptist Boy."
As I ran that day and remembered "Baptist Boy," my eyes just filled with tears and I began to cry with remorse. We had never teased him to his face, but we made fun of him just the same. I realized that day that I knew the conflict in his heart. I knew the dueling lure of God and relational fulfillment. I knew the way he probably felt on Sunday mornings, and the way he felt on Friday nights. I knew. I knew in a way many people might not understand.
That day, I decided I could no longer comfortably heal in private, holding my story in. I pictured church after church full of "Baptist Boys" - people secretly struggling deep inside and conflicted between their sexuality and their spirituality. I realized that if I didnt share my story, these people may never know that there was hope, and an option other than a dual life or a life surrendered to homosexuality. "Baptist Boys" (and girls) are everywhere, in every church. I pray that "Baptist Boy" found a church that truly cared and where he felt safe to share his struggle and that walked alongside him in his process. And I pray I meet him some day, so I can hug him and tell him how sorry I am, and share the hope that I have.