Well then, what a whirlwind it’s been reading some of these postings.
I’ve already given my Testimony to my Pastor, who has been very supportive, so I won’t include all the details here, although one day, I may transcribe it – for the purpose of greater clarification.
One ongoing theme I found in Anthony’s book was that it was his struggle with his homosexuality that in fact brought him nearer to God.
Think of all the monks, pastors, and ministers, even innocent members of the clergy, passionate ones too, for whom the struggle with their sexuality has been the ‘fireplace’ (if not also fire pit) of their faith!
It has brought me to the brink so many times.
But a bit about myself.
I was brought up in a Deaf family, the second child (I have an elder sister), and need to relate this important prequel story to make the whole picture fit in, first.
Dad was going along to the Garden City Christian Church for worship (large and pioneering Deaf ministry), but Mum & I didn’t want to go along.
Turtle. The story of the turtle must be told.
Dad brought home a turtle from the golf range one day after heavy rain. He became my first (and favourite) pet.
But the turtle ran away.
Mum knew I was distraught, and said to me that we had to ask our late Aunty May where the turtle had gone.
So she hastily constructed a ouija board, to ask Aunty May. And I joined in.
Well, this was to start a week of mayhem, as I missed a week of school to play with the board, and soon it was as if all the forces of nature, the wind, the stars, the planets, were joining in too.
Soon cars were revving up their engines late at night outside my bedroom window, and I was convinced they were there to take me away.
Finally I was told a UFO was going to take me away if I jumped out of the window, and I would be replaced with a clone.
Electricity sparked from the electricity wires near the window as if to say the UFO was near.
This, plus the late night mystery cars had me scared witless, the board was making me lose my mind!
Mum could see I was losing it – at age 11.
We both made a decision to go to Garden City Christian Church and turn back on our practices, and we burnt the board in our backyard.
However, as I came to the altar to receive Jesus Christ at the Church, I was asked in spirit, what would be the sign of this new covenant?
I replied in spirit “Dear Lord, release me from this, and I promise that I will not be gay”.
I had apparently thought that I would become gay as a teenager, and thinking that delivering myself of my gayness would be a pleasing offering, so I did.
Anyway, we returned home, burnt the board, and the menacing cars (and thoughts went away).
I had been saved!
But, as I became a teenager, I became increasingly troubled and lonely, for I believed that this covenant would extend to male friendships as well.
Hence I vowed not to have any male friends, lest something physical arise.
What loneliness and depression!
By 14, I was missing School once a week, depressed at my inability to ‘make it’ or make friends with any of the boys at School, failing at my subjects, and very close to expulsion.
Only my favourite subject, Japanese, was my saving grace, so I vowed to make friends with Japanese. In this way, I could still make male friends without being in the confines of my ‘judeo-christian’ agreement.
And I thrived. I vowed to live in Japan and make Japan my new home, from the ripe old age of 14.
I later won a State and National Speech Contest in Japanese, which gave me a free trip to Japan, which I took advantage of after High School.
Despite also being numerously sexually abused during counselling sessions at School by the male student counsellor (which I did not disclose to anyone), I saw Japan as my way out of the system, and my way to gain my sexual freedom without criticism or disclosure by/to the Church.
I was free!
I had several relationships in my early University days in Japan, but when one of them wanted to return with me to live in Australia with me, I promptly ran to Spain (I did not want my family to know or to lose my inheritance!).
I met up with one of my Italian partners in Europe, things continued.
I was quite happy in myself, and quite happy in my Christianity too.
Then I went to South Korea (also for work), and later, to the Gold Coast, to save up money to go to Communist China, to learn Mandarin, and after a year my Italian partner came to visit me.
The holy spirit said to me ‘You are not to make love with him’, but I could not deny myself – or him more importantly. He was such an important friend, and so close to me and had travelled so far – after a passionate sigh of relief and a hug after checking into our room at the hotel, we made passionate love, and made passionate love each night there on.
But after a week, he all of a sudden said, ‘I want to be inside you’. I couldn’t understand what this request meant, as it was something we had never done, and in all our lovemaking, he had never expressed (nor I) a preference like that before.
It also went against my covenant with the LORD as I had believed that anal sex was the true definition of a gay man. As long as it wasn’t anal, I wasn’t gay, and wasn’t breaking my agreement, I thought.
I didn’t enjoy it, and soon I was on the street curb gutter at 2 am in the morning, sobbing and sobbing over how it all went wrong. It was an absolute disaster – and he and I soon parter – no longer as lifetime partners, but burnt-out and wasted friends.
I prayed to God, dear LORD, the next man you give me, let it please be platonic.
And soon enough, God answered my prayer with a very funky and good looking man, also a Japanese, living in Beijing.
It was love at first sight! He was a few years older than me and was also a student, so I looked up to him in many ways, and soon I was having sleepovers in his single dorm room, and talking until 3am in the morning, when we would start to do the ‘silly stupid breathing game’ (i.e. to test out if we were compatible we would stagger eachother’s breaths, it was so exhilarating and exciting – we were trying to come out to eachother in a subtle and indirect way….)
(I had played this game on School camps and sleepovers before, it was always a sure indication if the other guy was interested…..)
We became more and more in love with eachother, until one sleepover, conveniently he didn’t have the spare rollaway bed, he fumbled around, scratching his head, and in an excited manner asked me “Shall we sleep together?”.
My heart nearly leapt!
But, remembering my promise to God, that it should be a platonic relationship, I said in return, off-handly, (but trying to conceal my excitement), ‘As YOU like it….’.
I waited. But he then took this as a snub, and said, he would go and ask a friend for a spare bed.
5 minutes later he returned with the spare bed.
I was defeated!!! (and very deflated!)
We played the ‘silly stupid breathing game’ again, but it was no longer the same.
After several more months of this, I realised I had lost my chance. I had to become desperate.
I was now 26, and after 12 months, still hadn’t made a move.
It was his 34th birthday, and (in front of friends too), we both danced together as if we were a pair in the Disco. We also took some close-up photos together. It was a real turn-on.
As we got in the cab to go home, he later asked me “Do you want to come up?”. I knew exactly what this meant. Could I give him his birthday present, at last? (in a metaphorical sense?).
I once again, remembering my contract to God, said to him, ‘No’, and saying in my spirit, I’ll return to Australia and propose to my girlfriend AND EVERYTHING WILL BE OK!
Problem is, I returned to Oz, and COULDN’T PROPOSE TO HER!
I was devastated. I felt as if I had lost both the male and female sex.
I returned to Beijing, and rang him straight away. ‘Would you like to meet up to take some photos in the snow’ I pleaded. ‘No’, he said coolly.
I had sensed there was a change in the direction of the wind.
We met up two days later – an incredible wait – and in the midst of the night after dinner got into a playfight, but he picked me up and threw me to the ground.
Although the snow impacted my fall, I landed squarely on my back on a concrete slab. The pain was excruciating.
I felt as if he was seeking revenge for stuffing him around and leading him on, and still not getting married.
It was a disaster, and I couldn’t sleep for weeks.
On Australia Day eve, I went to his place again, he gave me a birthday present, it was exquisite. A singular grain of rice in a little holder, with a little magnifying glass. I took the magnifying glass and read the grain of rice, which had microscopic writing on it in Chinese.
His name – ‘Happy Birthday’ – my name.
It was so special – so romantic – I nearly cried.
I read the grain of rice as metaphoric for a seed of our sperm – that we would jointly magically – or through technology – be able to father a child together, made of the respective x and y chromosones of our own sperm – to me this gift was as good as a wedding ring.
I said to him, crying, ‘Oh, I can’t accept!’, and took it, leaving his room, catching a taxi home.
But half way home, I had to return. I said to myself ‘That’s it! I have to see if he wants a physical relationship. I’ll make an approach. God have mercy!’.
I returned to his dorm room. He was surprised to see me, but I explained my way. I’ve come back to stay the night, I said.
He welcomed me in. I thought of the night he asked me to sleep with him. And when he said he was going to the shower, I decided it was time to make my move….
I jumped in HIS bed, and waited for him to return. He returned shortly after, looked at me, and shouting out loud like a mad dog, said “Get out!”, over and over.
I was shell-shocked. My move was too late, and it had failed.
And now I couldn’t recover. I had lost my girlfriend in Australia, and now my only other hope.
I tried desperately not to cry, but apologise.
I shrunk into my bed and slept that night again, next to him.
No ‘silly funny breathing game’ that night though.
The next day we caught a taxi into town, I couldn’t hold back the tears – I was choking on them.
He had to return to Japan.
I wanted to follow him to the Airport. He didn’t want me to follow.
I was lost.
I cried and cried and cried senseless. I was jerkily sobbing so much at the same time, it had become a strange physical condition. Other people in the restaurant were looking at me.
He left, with his luggage.
I was gone.
I spent the next few days counting my sorrows. Still went to work, tried to act as if nothing had happened.
Then Chinese New Year came up – 5 days of holidays.
I frantically decided to find him in Japan, so I purchased a return ticket, to try and resurrect the friendship. (Or salvage it).
“JUST friends”, I kept saying to myself.
He was shocked. Didn’t want to see me at first. Then he could see how desperate I was. I literally threw myself at him. He reluctantly agreed.
I was so over the moon, I sang the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah, alone in my hotel bed.
It can be alright, I re-assured myself.
I met his family. I apologised to him. I played it very, very straight.
I then departed after two days. Mission accomplished.
But I knew it was the end.
I returned to Beijing. My depression got worse each day. It was almost as if I was digging my own grave,m each day I was a foot deeper in the soil.
Soon, I was very far down, and it was very very dark, with the walls on the sides threatening to cave in.
Suicide was the only option.
I went to a function that night. Then to a bar with some friends. Some of the men were gay and were trying to ask about my orientation. This nearly pushed me over the edge.
The next day there was a full solar eclipse. I took this as a sign from heaven that I had broken my word, and hence MUST die.
I went from hotel to hotel contemplating my fate, considering how it could be done.
I returned home, late.
Then at 2am in the morning, I heard menacing cars revving up their engines outside my bedroom window, like had happened to me as an 11-year old after the turtle had disappeared.
I imagined that it was a gang, out to break into my room, kidnap and torture me.
I was scared witless.
I went to the kitchen, took the sharpest knife I could find, returned to my room and closed the door locked. I thought, if I am dead they can’t get to me.
It was a messy night. I sunk into unconsciousness. But I woke up in the early morning. The gang had gone, but now my wrist and neck, and room, were a mess.
But I was alive.
I met up with my boyfriend in the hospital in Beijing. I didn’t say it was his fault, I wanted him to start a new life. I was too confused.
I was repatriated to Australia and spent 3 weeks in the PA Hospital Psychiatric Ward.
I blamed it all on my sexuality, but their only counsel and support was to give me medication. Oh, if they had sent me someone understanding! But I was also too scared to really ‘come out’. I was a mess.
After discharge and medication, my condition improved.
I soon was looking for work.
And I made another prayer to God.
‘Dear LORD, for my next mate, let him be open about his orientation’
And the LORD provided.
I soon found a man – another Japanese – in a local gay newspaper.
And we clicked.
I felt a wave of relief the eve of our first night together and forgot to ring my sister to say I wouldn’t be coming over.
A whole new future, together with my new boyfriend.
It was a defining moment. I felt true happiness for the first time.
God always answers prayer!
We made passionate love many a time and over the months our relationship blossomed.
But I still couldn’t find work, and I was concerned he might ask. I was also concerned he would one day, whilst making love, notice the scar on my wrist and ask about it.
And I noted that he wasn’t really interested in a social relationship – he just wanted sex in bed.
One morning, after making love again (by this time I was getting tired), I saw a silverfish scurry up the bedroom wall.
I took it as an ominous sign, that we had been wasting too much sperm, and that the relationship had to end.
I was now, lost, AGAIN!
Later that month, I had become desperate again ‘Oh LORD! I have used up all of my lifelines! I don’t know what to do!’
I became increasingly despondent day by day, and looked at new ways to finish my life.
I found a rubber tube, and tried to hang myself from it. But it broke.
I looked at one of my mother’s dresses, and faniced dressing up as a woman, and running away from home.
Finally I settled on getting very drunk, and burning the house down, with me in it, whilst my parents were out.
It wasn’t a success.
The Fire Brigade was alerted. The gas stove and papers quelled, and I was found, choking on my own drunked vomit in the store room downstairs.
I had survived. Back to the PA, and was released for Christmas.
Time for a new beginning.
God obviously still wanted me. But I didn’t want my sexuality any more. I wanted OUT.
There was an AOG Church one-week retreat, and I went forward for healing each day.
One of the Pastors, Pastor Lyle Holland, prayed for me in tongues as she extended her right arm over my belly.
I could feel a warm sensation of power extend from her, and I could see a vision of a dark encrusted thorny vine lodged around my gut, in my spirit.
Each day I went forward, it seemed to gradually become dislodged.
I started speaking in tongues for the first time. It was a mystical and wonderful experience.
Finally, on the last day I went forward again, praying this time also for the generational sins, the sins of my father and so on, and all of a sudden, I was on the floor kicking and screaming with about 10 people on top of me trying to hold me down.
After about 20 seconds it was all gone. I felt completely relieved, like I was completely clean and new. The dark encrustation on my soul had been removed, and all the sickness, confusion, suicidal thoughts were gone.
I had become a new creation in Christ, the old things were no more.
I wanted to become a Priest.
Temptation, pornography, masturbation, wanting to be with Gay men, all of these things disappeared.
I was completely brand new.
I was still attracted to men, and I still loved those who I loved, but it didn’t manifest itself sexually any more. The addiction to sex was cured!
I committed myself to reading the Holy Bible out aloud every day, and making copious notes. I attended Church twice or three times a week, and never failed to testify of my new found love in Christ. I purchased several Bible Courses and vowed to enter Bible College.
But then something strange happened.
My father disapproved of me going to Church all of a sudden, and actually physically prevented me going. You are going to stay at home and be your Mother’s Carer, he threatened me.
And one morning as I got in a Cab to get to Church, he came around, stood in front of the cab, placed his hands on the bonnet, and refused it to go. He then pulled me out of the cab and got in himself, and went to Church.
I felt disgusted, and I repeated the scripture in my head, ‘If any of you should deny my little ones of the Christ, it is better that you place a millstone around your next and be cast into the bottom of the sea’.
He denied me going to Church, he denied me finding my career path with the Christ, I’ll do as he says, but he will receive a curse, so I decided.
And he wasn’t to live another six years. After a long estrangement, he passed away in 2004.
But by that time, I had lost my way again, been re-hospitalised several times by him, had lived in a homeless man’s hostel in West End, lived in a half-way house, returned home, and soon, after several years of not being at Church, the Devil quickened to me all of a sudden…..
‘It’s not that you don’t want to do it…. you can’t….. it doesn’t work anymore’.
True, I had become truely celibate, to all forms of sexual expression, even masturbation, and now the Devil was saying it was because ‘it’ didn’t work.
Well, isn’t the devil sophisticated! I belived it, and half curiously I had a wank again, to see what it was like. And I enjoyed it.
Well, the change didn’t happen overnight, but soon masturbation re-entered as something ‘acceptable’ to do.
And soon I needed helpers as well…. my favourite gay porn as of old.
Soon I was buying photo books and DVDs, and art-house Gay movies as well, to ‘help myself’.
But I was still ‘celibate’.
And after 11 years, at age 37, there was another AOG Camp-Retreat, this time in Perth, and I vowed to return, however, to trumpet now that I was a GAY CHRISTIAN!
And on the eve of the fourth night, I got horny, and wanked myself in bed, then in the shower, and whilst away in Albany, met an Asian Buddhist man at the Youth Hostel, who was very forthcomingly open, and we spoke about our sexual experiences – to find out we were a match.
I was desperate! I hadn’t made love with a man for over 11 years, and we passionately made love in a park.
The next day, in another park, we found another man ‘waiting’ (cruising) and the three of us made love.
It was truly exhilarating! I hadn’t experienced anything like it!
Whilst sharing these spiritual and sexual experiences with this Buddhist man and (other) Asian/South American man, I felt as if I had come to full blossom. My spirituality and sexuality seemed to gel together….
RETURN TO BRISBANE – ENTER INTO PURGATORY
But after returning to Brisbane, I felt as if I had descended into a personal hell.
Hadn’t I betrayed the Christ?
Soon I was reaching out, speaking to anyone I could about my predicament. Couldn’t anyone help me?
I was living very desperate and despondent days again. Like foam washed up again to the shore, my whole sexual past that I had been made clean of, came to re-visit me.
I found it difficult to sleep, difficult to think about anything else.
What was ‘buried with the Christ’ at my conversion/exorcism, had now come to be crucified with him, for all to see.
I sought out the Church again, and sought out the founding Minister of Garden City Christian Church.
If anyone can ‘save’ me or help me, he can, I thought.
I told him everything.
He said he would pray for me, and said even if I was not entirely without blame, that Jesus Christ’s blood would redeem me and save me.
He was very understanding and sympathetic.
He also suggested I start worship with him, at his Church, which I did.
CHURCH – AGAIN!
The internal condemnation did not leave straight away, but after three months it did lift.
And soon I thought, I’ve been forgiven. I don’t need to return to Church.
Soon I returned to the pornography and the masturbation, and said I didn’t want to return to Church, for numerous reasons.
And that held them off. At last, no more phone calls!
And then, I said, right, they won’t be coming back! I don’t need them anymore (Church).
I removed a booklet from Church from my bedside table and placed it in the Guest Room.
Other materials from Church that had been on my office study desk, I promptly threw in the bin.
I sighed a huge sigh of relief. Enough! I said!
And then, the very next day, I got a knock at the door.
It was ‘x’ from Church. Hi, how ya goin? Got time for a coffee, he asked. I nervously gathered myself, and tried to please him straight away (thinking, OK, I’ll be nice and polite, and he’ll politely go away!), and said sure!, how about next week?
We made a time, and I nervously waited for him to appear again.
‘So, why haven’t you been coming to Church? We’ve all missed you!’ he said.
I fumbled around, not knowing really what to say (how irritating, how AM I going to get rid of him, I thought to myself)
Like a trained bulldog, he wouldn’t relent in his questioning, although the free coffee and muffin was appealing enough….
Right then, I thought, I’ll say anything, still agree to meet him if he comes around, but not to go to Church….
Two weeks later he came again.
We went for a coffee again!
He seems pleasant enough, I thought, and the coffee ain’t bad, but I am not going back to Church!, thought I.
Two weeks later, coffee again.
Two weeks later, coffee again. He still won’t give up!
He then, rang the Pastor during coffee. I had to cough repeatedly whilst speaking to the Pastor ‘I’ve fallen again, it’s the pornography’, he said not to cut myself off from Church, we all fall from grace, but we are all forgiven.
With that from the head honcho, I decided to return to Church.
I still go to Church, and am quite happy.
I still have an occasional problem with gay porn and wanking, but better keep myself clean that way than engaging with another person, for all the complications that that may engage (physical, emotional and spiritual).
I confess my sins in my prayer, and continually ask God to cleanse me, forgive me, bless me and my loved ones, family and friends.
I still worship vibrantly at Church, but wish to *quietly* know more about what it is like to be a Gay Christian.
I am happy with myself, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
I have renewed email contact with former gay lovers (Christian and non-Christian) in a form of spiritual, emotional and physical reconciliation. I still need them for friendship and support!
I hope to start, with Freedom 2 b(e) a Brisbane Chapter, so that we can have personal support in Brisbane – and if any of you should be visiting Brisbane, please contact me too!
I whole-heartedly believe in the scripture ‘Neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free-man, male nor female, can separate us from the love we have in Christ Jesus’. We are all one in the body of Christ.
Many thanks for Anthony ‘s book, this website, Anthony’s support and your postings which have inspired me to write this Gay Testimony (Gay and ‘Happy’ Gay).
In His Name