A note from the editor:
story 10 of many.
How do I broach the subject? He’s already been here for hours…I should let him get home to his family. It’s not that urgent that he know…
My brain was doing its job: rationalizing away, trying to avoid any confrontation or malaise. But my heart knew.
I heard Bishop and his last appointment stirring inside the office; something about the end of an interview seems to make people more boisterous, as if the increase in volume could erase the somber ambiance so prevalent in Mormon worthiness interviews. I nervously checked my clothes and made sure I smiled casually.
Bishop, on seeing me, grinned. I was his executive secretary and we’d developed a good relationship over the few months since I’d been called.
“Well hello, Brother! Did you want to come in and talk?” His posture was open, beckoning me to come in. I had always admired his intuitive nature; he knew that I needed to share…something.
“Sorry to keep you later. I just kind of…” Trailing off, I thought about how best to put my thoughts into words. “I’ve been having a really hard time lately,” I finally, carefully, said as we sat down across from one another.
Bishop didn’t need to say anything; he tilted his head, still smiling warmly, inviting me to proceed.
“I think that I might be depressed…”
He knew that that wasn’t all. That wasn’t the real reason I’d come to see him. His body language invited me to continue.
“I’m depressed because…” I wasn’t finding my words and my eyes were starting to burn. “I don’t think…I’ll ever get married, at least not with how the Church’s current policies stands.”
Bishop, ever intuitive, knew what I meant when I said that and he immediately reassured me of his love for me. I felt such liberating relief. I’d never told anyone who wasn’t…like me, and it filled my heart with a little spark of hope.
He shared so many affirming resources with me that evening and told me something honest and especially for me, profound:
“Brother, my role isn’t really to keep you in the Church; my role is to make sure that you continue to draw near to the Savior and to God, in or out of the Church, and that you’re happy.”
I don’t recall if we ever even used the word “gay” in our conversation that night. Or “LGBTQ”. Or the cringeworthy (for me) “same-gender attraction”. At that point in time it didn’t matter because that particular bishop spoke sincerely and profoundly of his love for me and reassured me that God loved me too.
***
“I guess I just come from a different time. When I was growing up there weren’t a-any…any G – A – Y people…” Bishop was struggling to voice his thoughts, chuckling uncomfortably. I zoned out and he kept talking, like the adults in Peanuts cartoons.
Had he just spelled the word “gay”? Out loud?
He couldn’t say it! This 75 year-old man sitting across from me, with a lifetime of experience and service in the Church, couldn’t say the word “gay”. He tried to assure me of his love, but it felt hollow. This wasn’t even his first “encounter” with a G – A – Y member of the Church, according to him. Yet he couldn’t utter that simple, three-letter word.
I had moved out to the West Coast a few months prior and was struggling to develop a social life outside of the Church. Where I’d moved was a haven for retired folks, so there weren’t a lot of options for a young, single person to make friends. After the first few weeks of not going to church, I had decided to try the local YSA ward. A week later, here I was, feeling dehumanized in what was supposed to be an affirming, sacred space.
And this, to me, is the crux of the issue: Though the Church has made some progress with its language and big gestures like mormonandgay.lds.org, the higher-ups seem to forget that where it matters most is in training local leaders and in policies that affect members at a local level. Yes, it would be great to see a policy change that allows for gay couples to be married and remain members of the Church in a formal as well as personal way. But it would also be great to have bishops and stake presidents informed of the research behind sexual orientation. It would be great if local leaders deferred to licensed therapists instead of their own worldview. It would be great if they could try to feel what it’s like to be me.
That bishop has since been released and my new bishop is a good man, but in our conversations, I can tell he still holds on to old beliefs about homosexuality that the Church once espoused (read: its members still espouse). He’s trying to listen to and make a place for me, which is all I can ask for at this time without further available guidelines and more helpful resources.
I don’t know what my future holds. Being a gay Mormon presents (very) basically two choices: I could theoretically find some fulfillment in living a celibate life within the Church, I suppose. Or, I could fall in love, get married, raise children, and in the end, be rejected by the faith of my family. I fear the latter, obviously, but I loathe the former, and in the end, I don’t think I will be happy making a choice that leaves me bereft of companionship and emotional connection.
Every gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer individual needs to know that you are valuable. That God loves you. All of you. I believe that God created us differently so that we could help others understand what it is like to be us. So that we could learn how to invite others to "come in" to "come out" with our personal experiences and perspectives. Understanding and loving and supporting LGBTQ people in the LDS church is VITAL to being disciples of Christ. As Dieter Uchtdorf has often invited us, "Come and add your talents, gifts, and energies to ours. We will all become better as a result." We can each do better at appreciating the wide range of gifts God has given us and those around us.
While the church officially may not yet have the most helpful of resources for how to bring two seemingly different core identities together, let us each individually sit down with our brothers and sisters, help them carry their stories, and help them know God loves them not in spite of their sexual orientation but including that sacred part of them.
With this story, I leave the words of another friend for you to ponder and hope that we can think of ways to love louder. He said, "Being gay and a Mormon is living with two immensely powerful, completely contradictory forces. What do you think we can do to make things better for gay Mormons? And what about for the larger LGBTQ+ Mormon community? And what needs to change in our church and in our culture with respect to these things?"
Come and sit with someone for a while.
story 10 of many.
Coming in and Coming out.
Pacing back and forth in the courtyard below my apartment, I waited for Bishop to finish his last interview for the night. My heart, knowing what I was planning to do, beat to an increasingly erratic rhythm as my mind raced through questions and excuses.
How do I broach the subject? He’s already been here for hours…I should let him get home to his family. It’s not that urgent that he know…
My brain was doing its job: rationalizing away, trying to avoid any confrontation or malaise. But my heart knew.
I heard Bishop and his last appointment stirring inside the office; something about the end of an interview seems to make people more boisterous, as if the increase in volume could erase the somber ambiance so prevalent in Mormon worthiness interviews. I nervously checked my clothes and made sure I smiled casually.
Bishop, on seeing me, grinned. I was his executive secretary and we’d developed a good relationship over the few months since I’d been called.
“Well hello, Brother! Did you want to come in and talk?” His posture was open, beckoning me to come in. I had always admired his intuitive nature; he knew that I needed to share…something.
“Sorry to keep you later. I just kind of…” Trailing off, I thought about how best to put my thoughts into words. “I’ve been having a really hard time lately,” I finally, carefully, said as we sat down across from one another.
Bishop didn’t need to say anything; he tilted his head, still smiling warmly, inviting me to proceed.
“I think that I might be depressed…”
He knew that that wasn’t all. That wasn’t the real reason I’d come to see him. His body language invited me to continue.
“I’m depressed because…” I wasn’t finding my words and my eyes were starting to burn. “I don’t think…I’ll ever get married, at least not with how the Church’s current policies stands.”
Bishop, ever intuitive, knew what I meant when I said that and he immediately reassured me of his love for me. I felt such liberating relief. I’d never told anyone who wasn’t…like me, and it filled my heart with a little spark of hope.
He shared so many affirming resources with me that evening and told me something honest and especially for me, profound:
“Brother, my role isn’t really to keep you in the Church; my role is to make sure that you continue to draw near to the Savior and to God, in or out of the Church, and that you’re happy.”
I don’t recall if we ever even used the word “gay” in our conversation that night. Or “LGBTQ”. Or the cringeworthy (for me) “same-gender attraction”. At that point in time it didn’t matter because that particular bishop spoke sincerely and profoundly of his love for me and reassured me that God loved me too.
I soon found out, however, that not all bishops are the same.
***
“I guess I just come from a different time. When I was growing up there weren’t a-any…any G – A – Y people…” Bishop was struggling to voice his thoughts, chuckling uncomfortably. I zoned out and he kept talking, like the adults in Peanuts cartoons.
Had he just spelled the word “gay”? Out loud?
He couldn’t say it! This 75 year-old man sitting across from me, with a lifetime of experience and service in the Church, couldn’t say the word “gay”. He tried to assure me of his love, but it felt hollow. This wasn’t even his first “encounter” with a G – A – Y member of the Church, according to him. Yet he couldn’t utter that simple, three-letter word.
I had moved out to the West Coast a few months prior and was struggling to develop a social life outside of the Church. Where I’d moved was a haven for retired folks, so there weren’t a lot of options for a young, single person to make friends. After the first few weeks of not going to church, I had decided to try the local YSA ward. A week later, here I was, feeling dehumanized in what was supposed to be an affirming, sacred space.
And this, to me, is the crux of the issue: Though the Church has made some progress with its language and big gestures like mormonandgay.lds.org, the higher-ups seem to forget that where it matters most is in training local leaders and in policies that affect members at a local level. Yes, it would be great to see a policy change that allows for gay couples to be married and remain members of the Church in a formal as well as personal way. But it would also be great to have bishops and stake presidents informed of the research behind sexual orientation. It would be great if local leaders deferred to licensed therapists instead of their own worldview. It would be great if they could try to feel what it’s like to be me.
That bishop has since been released and my new bishop is a good man, but in our conversations, I can tell he still holds on to old beliefs about homosexuality that the Church once espoused (read: its members still espouse). He’s trying to listen to and make a place for me, which is all I can ask for at this time without further available guidelines and more helpful resources.
I don’t know what my future holds. Being a gay Mormon presents (very) basically two choices: I could theoretically find some fulfillment in living a celibate life within the Church, I suppose. Or, I could fall in love, get married, raise children, and in the end, be rejected by the faith of my family. I fear the latter, obviously, but I loathe the former, and in the end, I don’t think I will be happy making a choice that leaves me bereft of companionship and emotional connection.
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