The Way Out The Way Out
By Phil Hobizal
I thought I was the only dealing with homosexuality. My psychttold me to accept it. I didn’t want to be gay, but there seemed noother choice.
I was raised in a small town outside of Portland, Oregon. Althoughour family was religious, I had no personal knowledge of God.
Dad was always working to support our family of five children.Unfortunately, his constant worries about money left himshort-tempered and critical. He had little time to spend with us andas I grew older, I began to resent him. My mother, on the other hand,was loving and supportive. Because I rejected my father, she becamemy role model. I enjoyed the same things she did: art, music andcooking.
When I was seven, my brother’s friend spent the night. Heintroduced me to sexual experimentation, and we kissed and hugged forhours. Because of my own need for love and acceptance, it felt goodto be close and share this kind of intimacy.
Years went on. I didn’t like the competition of sports, and alwaysfelt different from the other boys. Music became an escape, a way ofproving myself. I enjoyed learning the piano and guitar.
Junior high school brought on a whole new set of pressures. Iswitched from a private to a public school. I didn’t know anybody. Mybody began to change and I was viewed by the other students as asissy.
I was very frightened and thoughts of suicide became morefrequent. I had it all planned: a bottle of pills, the easy way out.But one day my science teacher made the remark, “Anyone who killshimself is a sissy.” Oh no, not that, I thought. That would be theworst thing people could think of me. My only way of escape wasn’t anoption after all.
In my town, there were two types of students: the jocks andstoners. Not being sports-minded, I wasn’t much of a jock. So being astoner was my option, which meant being part of the drug scene.
There was no limit to what I’d try. I became totally rebellious.Inside I resented my mother, blaming her for the way I was. And Ihated my Dad for his neglect. Drugs became my escape from the paininside.
My first sexual encounter occurred with my best friend in highschool. We were drunk and I took advantage of him. Although heallowed it, there was little reciprocation on his part. He wasn’thomosexual and there was no mention of the incident afterwards.
This began a pattern for me with other guys. I would make sexualadvances to them; later, they would say nothing. Fantasy andmasturbation were also a frequent release for my sexual tension, butit was all very unfulfilling. To others I appeared to be a normalkid. I played in the local rock band and was senior class president.Outwardly I was friendly and happy, but inwardly I was wasting away.
As far as I knew, I was the only one around dealing withhomosexuality. I had no one to talk to about it. I didn’t want to begay but there seemed to be no other choice.
After graduation, I moved out of my parents’ home. The rock groupkept me involved in wild parties and drugs. But I was careful not to”come out of the closet” as a homosexual. I was so dependent on whatothers thought of me that I couldn’t risk their rejection. While myfriends were having heterosexual experiences, I was abstaining.Inside I was consumed with homosexual lust. The tension was tearingme apart, and I began to wonder how long I could keep my sanity.
I finally broke down in tears and told my parents the dark secretthat had plagued my life for so many years. It came as no surprise.They had suspected for some time, but didn’t know what to do aboutit.
“Why don’t you become a priest?” was my dad’s response. I realizedthat was no answer, merely another escape. My parents agreed to payfor counseling, but I only went twice. The psychiatrist wanted me toaccept my situation, and recommended group therapy. That wasn’t thesolution I needed.
My personal search for other answers began. But the morepsychology books I read, the more confused I got. I knew that I wastoo undisciplined and insecure to change myself, so I began to studyother possibilities, such as Eastern religions and hypnosis. Still noanswers. Maybe there’s no way out, I thought. I’ll just have toaccept it.
About this time I started a new job, and one of the guys at workbecame my friend. There was something different about Jim; he had apeace in his life that I wanted. He always talked about Jesus.Because I also had a religious background, we’d talk about God. Butit soon became apparent that I didn’t know Him the way Jim did. Tome, God was distant and harsh, not a loving Father.
At the same time, the pull to dive headlong into the gay lifestylewas getting intense. A homosexual man I’d met through work was comingon to me. I had to make a choice: to follow my feelings, or to trythis “Jesus” about whom I was hearing so many good things.
One night in October, 1978, I prayed desperately: “God, if You’rereal, please reveal yourself to me.” As I slept, He spoke to me in avivid dream, letting me know that He had a place for me to eat at Histable [Rev. 3:20]. The next day I woke up with such a peace and joythat I wept. Somehow, I knew God was real, that He was the answer forwhich I’d been searching so long.
I knew God could change my sexual orientation, but little did Iknow the pain and upheaval still ahead. Satan wasn’t letting go of methat easy.
Jim and his friends gave me much-needed love and attention. Atfirst, they knew nothing of my homosexual struggles. I wanted so muchto be accepted that I wouldn’t risk being vulnerable with them. Jimsuggested that I try out a church he’d heard about, which had manyyoung people out of the same hippie background from which I had come.I was afraid, but went and sat at the back of the church by myself.When the service was over, I quickly left.
The people were very friendly, and gradually I began hangingaround after church a little longer. The leadership eventually askedme to be an usher, and I became active in different aspects of thechurch life. This kept me busy and helped me avoid too much focus onmy homosexual feelings.
I destroyed anything in my house related to homosexuality, anddevoted myself to prayer and reading God’s Word. I didn’t hang aroundwith my old friends. To them, I had become a “Jesus freak.” I prayedfor new friends and as I became more involved in church life, I beganto establish lasting friendships. The key was being willing to bevulnerable, to feel awkward at times, but still persevere.
Within months of my conversion, my father developed a problem thatrequired a serious operation. We were told he had a 50/50 chance ofliving. For the first time I began to experience feelings of lovetoward my dad and I wept at the thought of losing him. I forgave himfor all he had done to me. The healing process had begun.
After about a year, I knew I needed the support of my church togain more victory over my past. Then came an anonymous phone call onenight from someone threatening to beat me up because I was a “queer.”I went and told my pastor about my background. He was verysupportive, and asked me to share my testimony the next Sunday inchurch!
I was scared to death, but God gave me the courage to get it out.If I’m really going to be a part of this church, I thought, they needto know me for who I am. The church responded very positively; theiracceptance helped me to forgive myself. God’s healing was continuing.
The Lord did many other things in the years to come. He helped meto overcome fantasy and masturbation problems. The habit ofmasturbation was difficult. Although it provided momentary pleasure,afterward I’d fall into depression, with Satan telling me what arotten Christian I was. I remember many nights of weeping in defeat.
James 4:7 was helpful: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resistthe devil, and he will flee from you.” I would acknowledge myweakness to God and tell Him of my love and deep desire to pleaseHim. As I resisted in God’s strength, I got increasing victory.
The Lord also helped me to forgive men and women who had hurt mein my life. I was being changed emotionally and spiritually. Freedomfrom homosexuality was becoming a reality.
But two years into my Christian walk, I fell into homosexualityagain. I’d secretly been holding onto desires for some homosexualactivities I’d never experienced. I began to isolate myself and thena gay neighbor invited me over for dinner. After some wine, mypent-up desires came rushing to the surface. But the experience wastotally unfulfilling; I had a sense of God’s presence that could notbe denied.
I ended up repenting on the spot. I apologized to the guy andleft. I was able to confess to a dear friend and he helped inrestoring me. I knew I had opened the door to much spiritual attack,but I also learned more about the grace and mercy of the Lord. I havenever fallen since that day.
About five years after coming out of homosexuality, I joined anex-gay support group here in Portland. Since the beginning of myjourney, I had been in touch with Love In Action and they let me knowof the group. I found out at the first meeting how valuable mytestimony was. I could encourage others because of what God had takenme through. It felt good to help them take a stand in their lives andexperience God’s love and healing.
God was also faithful to provide a lovely woman to be my wife, andwe now have four children. I first met Patty when we were bothworking on a Christian musical. Our relationship began as friendswith a common goal. We soon grew close and it became evident toeveryone that God was bringing us together in marriage. Our courtshipwas one of the happiest times of my life.
The restoration of the years of despair have been great and I feelI’ve received far more than I deserve. But that’s just how God is.He’s loving and kind, a Father to model your life after. He’s shownme real love.
For years, I looked for an escape from my unhappiness and sexualstruggles. But I’ve found the way out. His Name is Jesus.
Phil Hobizal is director of “The Portland Fellowship,” inPortland, Oregon. Distributed by Love In Action, PO Box 753307,Memphis, TN 38175-3307; 901/542-0250