Starving for A Love I Could Trust Starving for A Love I Could Trust
By Mike Haley
I was desperate for attention. My self-worth was being defined bymen finding me sexually attractive. But where could I find the love Ineeded?
I detached from my father at an early age. After that, I couldn’treceive from him the love and nurturing that I needed to grow into ahealthy adult. Dad meant well, but our times together often led topainful experiences for me.
Playing ball, for example, always seemed to go the same way. Dadand I would be in the back yard tossing the ball, then he’d tell meto bat. I was coordinated, but sometimes lacked the enthusiasm thatDad 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 intothe house and be with the girls.” I never told him the truth: Ireally did prefer being with my mom and two older sisters. I feltmuch safer with them. Dad’s comments crushed my sensitive spirit. Hewas trying to make me tough, but his words only built an invisiblewall between us.
I was about eight years old when I accepted Jesus into my lifethrough the influence of our local church’s Sunday school. I lovedGod and wanted to be a “good boy,” but I was becoming aware offeelings toward other boys that confused me. Then, at age 12, I wasdrawn into my first sexual experience with an adult male, and thisbegan a series of incidents during my early teen years. I wasstarving for attention from adult men.
During my teens, I continued to be humiliated by my father. Manytimes, attempting to amuse his friends, he’d make comments toward melike, “Have you met my daughter?” This time of my life was hellish. Ifelt different from the rest of the guys and concluded, I must begay. I hid this dark secret but worried constantly thatothers-especially my father-would guess the horrible truth.
I began getting physically sick for no apparent reason. My motherdragged me from one doctor to another, but none of them could figureout what was wrong. During this time, the only place I felt loved forthe “real me” was during sexual encounters with the man who molestedme. I loved his attention; for a few moments I could feel secure andwanted. I concluded that this type of attention gave me self-worthand defined me as a man.
After that, I did everything possible to make myself moreappealing to other males. I became obsessed, spending hours thinkingabout other boys in the neighborhood and how I could seduce them. Andusually I was successful.
During high school, I found out about anonymous sex and becamehooked. Then I went away to college and saw a play on campus abouttwo gay men and their undying love for one another. I was mesmerized.As a Christian, I knew my pattern of anonymous sexual encounters wasnot justifiable. But if I could just find that one specialperson-then I could be gay and Christian! Yes, monogamy would fitbetter with my beliefs.
I entered a committed relationship, but soon realized that I stillneeded the emotional “fix” that came from other men noticing me. Oneperson just wasn’t enough to satisfy me. Typically, my relationshipswould last about two years, then my lover and I would get tired ofthe cheating and fighting and we’d go our separate ways. My life hadbecome steeped in sex. I felt so dirty, so worthless.
If I could just get over this “gay” thing, I told myself, my lifewould be much more satisfying. God heard the cry of my heart, butnever in a million years did I expect His help to come in the strangeway it did. It was a summer evening in 1985. I was working out at alocal gym that had a large gay clientele. I found myself attracted toanother guy and we ended up leaving together. But when we got to hiscar, 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 hewas a Christian and was going to a support group for men seekingfreedom from homosexuality. Eventually we ended up driving to theparking lot of a nearby shopping center where we could continue ourdiscussion.
He began telling me about a man named Jeff Konrad, who was doingresearch on the subject of overcoming homosexuality. Suddenly hestopped and stared out the window. “My gosh,” he gasped, “there heis!” Jeff had just walked out of the mall. I felt goosebumps pop upall over my body. Then, a still small voice whispered, “Was My armtoo 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 beganwriting to me; we exchanged letters almost every day. I would writelong letters filled with skeptical questions, almost hoping to findsomething wrong with his theories about homosexuality.
But Jeff was very committed. He was faithful to answer everyquestion and forgive every failure. He also kept copies of all ourcorrespondence, and one day it hit me that our letters would make agreat book. Several years later, You Don’t Have to be Gaywas published, and other men around the world began to benefit fromJeff’s letters to me.
Unfortunately, my flesh was still longing for the forbidden fruitof sexual sin. I continued to fall into homosexuality. But working atcamp confirmed my love for youth ministry, and I applied to Biola, aChristian university in the Los Angeles area. That fall, I beganclasses. Surely being in a Christian environment would help me! But Icontinued to wrestle with my sexual desires, and finally gave uptrying to resist them. I slipped into a double-life syndrome,presenting a “committed Christian” image at school, and pursuinghomosexual encounters outside of classes.
In 1987, my life hit another crisis when I was arrested forprostitution. God used that event to wake me up. I was still indenial. As I was being booked and the arresting officer asked myoccupation, I thought nothing about answering, “Christian youthleader.”
Eventually I graduated from Biola and began my first year at alarge seminary in Fort Worth, Texas. I hoped that moving away fromsouthern California would make it easier to stay pure. But the movedidn’t change anything. When I relocated, I simply took all myproblems with me.
After one semester, I quit school and moved in with another man.Two years later, our relationship ended in strife and anguish-justlike all the others. I called my sister and asked if she would bewilling to come out to Texas and help me drive home. Immediately shesaid yes; she and her husband even offered to let me live with themfor as long as I needed a home.
It was December 1989, and my walk away from homosexuality began inearnest. I became very involved in a church in Newport Beach, Calif.,and joined a college group that was awesome. These people openedtheir homes to me and offered me a listening ear any time of the dayor night.
One night, while staying at the home of the youth pastor and hiswife, I began to understand real love in a new way. They lived in asmall home and their new baby was colicky. The baby’s crying got sobad that one night they offered to let me sleep in their closet. Theyapologized the next morning, but I didn’t care. I realized that evena small place on the floor in a home filled with God’s love was farbetter than a night’s sleep with someone who did nothing but takefrom me.
Then Jeff invited me to attend the 1990Exodus conference on overcominghomosexuality. That week I heard a lecture by Sy Rogers. He wastalking about our deep need for human support and relationships. “Godis not all that you need,” Sy said. When I heard those words, thehair on the back of my neck stood up. I’d never heard such a remarkduring all my years of growing up in church!
Yet my heart sensed that Sy’s remark was true. I was longing forintimacy with other people, and I realized that my desires were notungodly or selfish. Sy quoted Genesis 2:18, “The LORD God said, ‘Itis not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitablefor him.’ ” My eyes filled with tears as I sensed that God would putothers 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 thatfaithful and loving toward me, I thought, surely God can be even morefaithful. I was on the threshold of the most difficult decision of mylife. I had to leave behind my ideas of how to attain worth andvalue, and embrace God’s ways. I would need to get my value from Him,not from other men.
During the Exodus conference, someonegave me a Scripture which expressed the deepest longings of my heart:”Therefore this is what the Lord says: ‘If you repent, I will restoreyou 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 mustnot turn to them’ ” (Jer. 15:19).
I longed to relate to straight men, but I always felt tied up inknots when I’d get around a group of “normal” guys. I used to drivepast the volleyball courts next to the main beach in Laguna. FinallyI decided that I was tired of living like somebody “looking in onlife” from the outside. I told one of my college buddies that weshould go play some ball down at the beach. It probably sounded likeno big thing to him, but I was petrified. I had grown up at the beachbut 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 aqueer. But my determination to stop missing out on life was strongerthan my fears. At the volleyball court, I realized that I wasn’t toobad a player. And I could “hang out” with other guys and feel quitecomfortable. That day I learned another important lesson: I couldn’tsit and wait for others to come to me, I had to be willing to meetthem on their “turf” and actively work at friendships.
While at the Exodus conference in 1990,I heard someone mention Love In Action’sresidential program. Immediately I knew this was exactly what theLord had in mind for me. I had previously worked in a long-termtreatment facility for youth, and I knew the value of clearboundaries and accountability. That’s exactly what I found when Icame to Love In Action.
I arrived with an “all-or-nothing” attitude, ready to do whateverGod asked. During my first year, I learned many things, especiallythe importance of obedience, submission, and vulnerability. I neededto make myself vulnerable to those around me, being open about my ownstruggles-as well as confronting others about their wrong attitudes.
I also had to work through past issues with my father. At onepoint, I wrote him a letter, explaining my struggles withhomosexuality. I have come to realize that he really has loved me,but sometimes I did not realize it. Now, when I return home, he maywash my car or do something else that is thoughtful. I’ve realizedthat’s his way of showing love, and I have accepted it. Ourrelationship is better than it has ever been before.
God has given me a newness of life and a freedom I never thoughtpossible. Now I can look in the mirror without feeling torn by guiltand remorse. My needs for acceptance from men are being met throughthe friends God has given me. And I’m experiencing His love in newways, too. My deepest needs are finally being met. *
Mike Haley is Admissions Counselor at Love In Action. Heserved 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