A Surrender that Brings Life A Surrender that Brings Life
by Kevin Oshiro
I thought the only option was to accept my homosexuality. Howfreeing to find I was wrong.
When I was four years old, I was sexually molested by aneight-year-old male friend. The same year, I shut down emotionallyfrom my dad. The sexual activity with my friend continued into ouradolescence. These factors left me with a longing for male affection,and the belief that sex was the evidence of affection.
My sexual encounters started to include other schoolmates in thirdgrade. Even at that early age, I remember the physical sensations aspleasurable, coupled with an excitement of doing somethinginstinctively forbidden.
Somewhere in grade school, I started feeling “different” fromother boys. I’d previously been friendly and outgoing; now I became aloner.
During junior high, I began making friends but still felt I was”on the outside looking in.” I yearned for a special friend who wouldsomehow make me feel secure and valued. My pursuit got me intoseveral intense, emotionally-dependent relationships. And now I wastoo scared to approach other guys for sex, because my craving had anugly name attached to it: “homosexuality.”
I think I knew what my problem was, but I couldn’t face naming it.The thought of seeking help never even occurred to me; the shame andfear of ridicule ran too deeply.
After college, I moved to Los Angeles. One evening, I got drunk atan office party, went to an adult bookstore and had a homosexualencounter. I went home in shock, disgusted with what I’d done.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “What did I do?” The fact that I was excitedby the whole experience horrified me most of all.
I fought with my sexual desires for another year, then finallyconfided in my only friend at the time-a lesbian drinking buddy. Sheenthusiastically introduced me to the gay bars in Los Angeles. It wasJanuary, 1982.
I told others that I had been born gay, although I never reallybelieved my own words. Accepting a lie was less painful, though, thanbelieving a solution existed-one I hadn’t found and never thought Iwould. And so I simply determined to make the best of the situation.
Consciously, I felt happier. Capitulating to my desires had endedthe internal conflict. Now I can be my true self, I thought. But thecontinual round of drinking, dancing, and sex kept me from seeingwhat homosexuality was doing to my life. The absence of strugglinggave me only an illusion of freedom.
I thought that the excitement of pursuing and being pursued wasfulfilling me. In truth, the adrenaline rush numbed my increasingloneliness and quiet desperation of finding someone who’d really loveme.
I became addicted to the excitement of the bars, bookstores andbath houses. Sex provided a warped sense of adventure. I consciouslyavoided learning anything about AIDS.
Something was missing from my life, something I couldn’t identify.I toyed with looking for a church, but left the idea on the “maybesomeday” list.
Late in 1984, I was miserable enough to try praying. There was norecognition of Jesus in my mind; I thought a new job would solve allmy problems. God, in His mercy, was drawing me to Himself. He beganby bringing some new friends into my life.
I soon discovered they were Christians. Weird! I thought. Isn’tChristianity only for messed-up people who need a crutch? And yetthese folks were neither depressed or dumb. Instead, they hadsomething I hadn’t seen before: peace.
Four months later, I was so unhappy that I finally surrendered:”OK, God, I’ve tried running my life and it’s not working. Let’s tryit Your way now.” The next month I asked Jesus Christ to be Lord andSavior of my life.
Rather than experiencing the joy of my salvation, I was miserablyconvicted about my homosexuality. For the next six months, Ipersisted in attending church, often falling asleep because of mysexual encounters the previous night.
During this period, I was confused about homosexuality. “Lord,” Iprayed, “Your Word says it’s wrong, but my feelings are so strong.Please show me what’s right, and I’ll obey You.”
A few days later, I went to a midweek service. A young man boldlytold how God had brought him out of a life of male prostitution. Iwas impressed with his courage, and spoke with him afterwards.
“I’m gay,” I confessed. “But I can’t do anything about it becauseI was born this way.”
Martin showed me some Scriptures about homosexuality. “And suchwere some of you,” he read from 1 Cor. 6:11.
“Are you familiar with the Apostle Paul’s conversion?” he asked.”If God can change someone as messed up as Paul, don’t you think Hecan do something in your life?”
I knew God was answering my prayer for direction. This isn’t theanswer I hoped for, I thought. But, Lord, I’m going to obey You.
The next month was awful. Despite my resolution to stay away fromthe adult bookstores, I gave in to my cravings. Finally I snarled atGod in frustration. “I can’t stand this. What am I supposed to do?I’m trying to change, but I just can’t do it!”
“That’s exactly right,” He said quietly.
“Oh. Uh-would You help me, maybe?” God’s promise to complete thework He’d begun in my life (Phil. 1:6) started to sink in.
Soon after, I discovered Pat Boone’s book, Coming Out, in aChristian bookstore. I found the name of an ex-gay ministry in theback, and they encouraged me to contact a local group called DesertStream.
The meetings provided a sanctuary, a place where I felt safe intalking honestly about my struggles. God used the other men toprovide a sense of security and belonging. The healing had begun.
After a month of celibacy, I thought I was ready for ministryleadership. When leaders at Desert Stream gently tried to point outthat I wasn’t ready, I convinced myself that I no longer needed theirhelp, and stopped attending meetings. A month later I fell flat on myface. After repeatedly falling back into sexual sin, I limped back toDesert Stream and joined their 20-week program, “Living Waters.”
God used the program in a way that went beyond everything I’dprayed or even hoped for, as He began healing the relational problemsthat formed the core of my homosexuality.
I started to see where my parents had failed-but also where I washolding unfair expectations and bitterness against them. Forgivenesslaid the foundation for a restoration in our relationship.
God also reminded me of a childhood vow-“I’ll never be likeDad”-that was blocking me from accepting my masculinity identity. Istarted to become aware of how damaging the years of childhood sexualactivities had been.
I renounced these past sins, and began experiencing God in a newway, as a loving Father. I was also able to give and receive genuinewarmth and caring through my small group at “Living Waters.”
Through the camaraderie and through gaining understanding of thethings that drove me, I received the strength to stop having sex.
One day, though, I expressed my fear of again falling into sexualsin to my group leader. “Who are you going to put your trust in-yoursin, or Jesus?” he asked me. That comment really freed me; I realizedthat I was no longer a slave to my impulses. There were several closecalls that year, but the temptations were no longer an automaticprelude to sin.
A lot of hidden hurts came to the light that year. But the painwas cleansing. Much of the hurt came from facing reality, knowing Ihad to abandon all the sinful ways I’d used to manipulate love andacceptance from others.
I found I had an interest in counseling and eventually qualifiedto be a volunteer worker with Desert Stream.
In 1987, I was told that Love In Action was looking for a staffmember. The whole thing sounded like an adventure. Boy, was I everright about that!
The Lord was “sneaky”; He knew I needed the kind of maturing LoveIn Action would facilitate, but also knew I as too proud (and scared)to actually apply for their program.
Over the next five years, my involvement in LIA leadership gave mean extraordinary education. I had to wrestle with tangibly applyingScripture in real life, slowly beginning to communicate truth inlove, to serve when I’d rather sleep. I got to see the lights go onin people’s eyes as they connected with Jesus. I also think I shareda bit in the Lord’s sorrow when I saw friends give up and abandon thetruth for lies.
Seeing people re-embrace homosexuality had a benefit to it,however. Seeing the pain their selfishness caused friends andfamilies gave me extra pause when I was tempted. The price tag on sinwent up in my mind; I didn’t want to hurt the many people who caredfor me.
But in 1992, I came to an even more significant conclusion. I hadcrashed hard emotionally from a series of disappointments. I wasfurious with God and people, and so I contemplated rebelling. Imentally examined whether homosexuality had anything to offer.
Pretty unspiritual to even consider it? Sure, but at the time Ididn’t care. Now, looking back, I am thankful that Jesus didn’timmediately wipe out my problems and my pain. And that’s because Ireached a critical conclusion: as hurt, helpless, and angry at theLord as I felt, life with Him was still better than the best days ofmy old life.
During that period of the “dark ages,” I also had to begin facingmy immaturity, the demands of a little kid starved for attention andnot yet believing that the purest, most reliable place to find thatlove is with his Father.
The Lord has freed me from sexual addiction, including a lifelongstruggle with masturbation. During times of insecurity, I stillwrestle with sexual fantasies-but I know I’m neither a helplessvictim nor an animal driven by instinct; I can choose to seek God’ssupport.
He reminds me through His Word, His Spirit and other men that Idon’t qualify for some elite rank among sinners. He reminds me thatI’m a saint by His mercy and an adopted son by His kindness.
Once I accepted homosexuality out of hopeless resignation. Now Iaccept the reality that the desire may or may not completely fadethis side of heaven. But surrender to it? No thanks-not when the Lordcontinues to show me the healing that comes through surrendering toHim. *
Kevin Oshiro formerly directed the leadership program atLove In Action. He is the conference director for ExodusInternational. Copyright ©1989, 1993 by Kevin Oshiro.Distributed by Love In Action, PO Box 753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307