You Don’t Have To Be Gay You Don’t Have To Be Gay
By Jeff (“Bud”) Konrad
Dear Mike: I just got your letter. You’ve got to give me thechance to help. I was also suicidal for years, trapped by homosexualdesires I didn’t want but couldn’t refuse. I understand how you feel,Mike. I was there.
Like you, I thought I had no choice. That changed one day when Ibumped into an old high-school friend who was homosexual.
“Jeff, I have a surprise for you,” he said, then told me he’drecently gotten married. . .to a girl! I was flabbergasted.
“What in the world has come over you?” I asked.
“I’m no longer gay,” he said simply.
I didn’t believe that for an instant, but I just had to get to thebottom of the whole thing. We talked for six hours and, the longer wetalked, the more convinced I became that he’d truly stumbled ontosomething.
He told me that he attended a local support group for ex-gays. Tomake a long story short, I went to check it out and didn’t miss asingle session for the next year.
Mike, I began looking at my past with real honesty. I grew up avery shy, introverted kid, a loner for the most part. I felt terriblyinsecure and inadequate around guys my own age or older, so I avoidedthem as much as possible.
My dad wasn’t home much in those days, so my need for a role modeland some same-sex affirmation was unmet. My parents never displayedany verbal or physical affection. I interpreted their inability toexpress love as meaning that I must not be lovable, that somethingmust be dreadfully wrong with me.
Added to this were a lot of hurt feelings caused by my dad.Whenever I’d cry, he’d tell me to “stop acting like a woman,” whichonly added to my feelings of inadequacy.
As a young boy, I was aware of physical attraction to other boys.Now I see that all I really wanted was to belong and have some malefriends, to feel normal, rather than a “sissy.” But all I could dowas admire other boys from the sidelines.
In junior high I got my first girlfriend. We had lots of funeating lunch together, walking home from school, spending endlesshours on the phone with each other. I was considered really cool forhaving a girlfriend and naturally I was starting to feel a lot betterabout myself, even to the point of actually feeling almost normal.
But it all came to an end when a rumor from the previous summerresurfaced. A friend and I had played “doctor” one day in our fort,the usual exploration that happens among children. But now the kidswere saying that we’d had sex together and it seemed like that wasall anyone at school was talking about.
It was absolutely the most humiliating experience of my life, andfrom that point on, I reverted to being a loner.
Until then I’d merely been just a kid with a few hang-ups. HavingKathy as my girlfriend made me feel like the other guys, but the fearof humiliation just nipped everything in the bud. I became consumedwith my attraction toward guys.
There were even worse problems at home. It was obvious that myparents weren’t in love with each other, that they were just playingthe role of a married couple for the sake of their children. Theirrole play ended when I was 12, and their divorce hit me hard.
I remember my father taking us kids to the park to tell us thenews. When he’d finished his little speech about him and my mothersplitting up, my 13-year-old brother didn’t say a thing, and mysister-11 at the time-giggled. I, on the other hand, cried like ababy. I was devastated.
I couldn’t understand why our “normal life” was being destroyed.This has to be my fault, I thought.
Life continued on. Pretty soon my mother found a boyfriend and Ronmoved in with us. At first I thought he was all right, but when hestarted drinking, he turned into a madman.
Somewhere near the start of all this, my mother and Ron madethings official by getting married, but it didn’t really seem to makeany sort of impression on me. They fought constantly, and at times, Ithought I’d go crazy.
Laying in bed at night, I could distinctly hear the sound of Ron’sfists hitting Mom. If she didn’t immediately cry out, I’d hold mybreath until she made some sound to indicate she was still alive. Itook to sleeping with a butcher knife under my bed, so I’d be readyif Ron came after me.
The craziness went on and on for years until one August day in1974. Ron went totally insane. He battered my mother half to death,then smashed up the furniture and began burning it in the fireplace.I was down the street at a friend’s house. When I heard about it, Ronhad already been holding a gun on my mother for nearly four hours.
After the police arrived, a single shot rang out. The cops stormedthe house and a moment later one stepped back out the front door,shouting at someone to radio for the paramedics.
Without thinking, I ran inside, where I found Ron lying face up onthe living room floor, the rifle still in his hands, blood and lifedraining away from him into the carpet. He died moments later from aself- inflicted bullet wound.
In the coming weeks, even with Ron gone, I still didn’t enjoylife. Every day just brought new pain, loneliness and more questionswithout any answers.
I wanted to scream out for help, but no one was there to listen.”Why?” I kept asking myself. “What have I done to deserve the lifeI’ve had?” Life had let me down, and I wanted out.
I swallowed a container of codeine tablets, knowing I was finallyrunning away for good. Somehow I survived, waking up the followingafternoon. Life continued to drag on, oblivious to my little gestureof defiance.
Several weeks later, a friend from work came by to see me. He wasa very religious guy, always talking about how good Jesus was to him.Larry Shelton seemed to have everything: he was a good-looking, 21-year-old married college student who radiated happiness. He’d beenafter me to come to his house for dinner for quite a while and I’dalways managed to politely refuse.
Once you get involved with Jesus freaks, they never let you alone,was my attitude. On this particular evening, though, I accepted hisinvitation to dinner. He wants to tell me about Jesus, I thought. Butwhat do I have to lose?
I already believed that Jesus was the Son of God and all thatstuff, but somehow Larry’s life was different. One thing I knew forsure-whatever he had, I wanted some of it. If he’d found answers inhis religion, I was willing to let him tell me about it.
Larry and his wife, Faith, welcomed me into their home. Afterdinner, I began questioning them about their beliefs. They didn’tpreach at me or rattle off some mysterious dogma. Instead, from thedepths of their hearts, they offered me a new life through JesusChrist.
I saw what they had wasn’t just “a religion,” but a deeplypersonal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. They enjoyedone-to-one fellowship with Him.
“God is love,” Larry told me. “But because of the sin in yourlife- however small it might be-you are prevented from experiencingthe abundant life God has for you.”
Then Larry illustrated God’s justice. “Just like a judge can’t letguilty criminals go free, God can’t ignore your sins until theirpenalty is paid for.” Faith described how Jesus had taken uponHimself the sins of the world. His death upon the cross had paid thepenalty for my sins, as well as everyone else’s.
All I had to do was believe by sincere faith that Jesus was who Hesaid He was, Larry explained. He had paid for my sins, and I, too,could be forgiven and enter into a personal relationship with theAlmighty.
“How can I receive God’s forgiveness?” I asked.
“You need to go to Him in prayer,” Larry answered. “Invite Jesusinto your life as your Savior from sin. Ask Him to take control ofyour life. Tell Him you’re open to receive all He wishes you tohave.”
We prayed together, and when we’d finished, I felt as if 1000 tonshad been lifted from my shoulders. I was instantly enveloped in greatpeace and contentment. I cried from overwhelming happiness-for thefirst time in my life. I knew that God loved me and cared for me.
Of course, becoming a Christian didn’t solve all my problems.Homosexual desires didn’t stop overnight-although at first I thoughtthey would. “With God, all things are possible,” I read in the Bible(Matt. 19:26). So I began begging God to “heal” me. I even promisedHim I’d go into the ministry if only He’d cure me. My perception ofwhat needed healing was all wrong.
Slowly and gently, God began exposing issues even deeper than myhomosexual feelings. There were barriers in my life to the properfulfillment of legitimate same-sex needs.
I felt unlovable, inadequate, insecure, inhibited. My self-imagewas on the negative side of zero. Plus I was lazy, lacking inmotivation to change, and afraid to try. Those were just a few of theobstacles I had to overcome.
Through prayerful introspection, I was able to pinpoint these”root” issues, then begin dealing with them one at a time. Bringingthem to the surface, I began working through past hurts,misconceptions, and my wrong responses. I was finally takingresponsibility for my actions; I no longer felt a helpless victim ofpast circumstances.
Many of my childhood experiences were beyond my control, but myresponses involved my own choices. A wrong response here, another onethere-eventually they all added up to a distorted image of myselfthat God didn’t intend. And He knew that same-sex encounters wouldnever meet the deeper needs that my homosexual feelings revealed.
Every day now, I ask God to allow opportunities for love andaffirmation to take place in my life, and not just for me but alsothrough me. It’s when we give of ourselves that we receive. Myhealing process really began once I recognized this principle. Byfaith, I stepped out of my shell and became willing to reach out toothers, instead of waiting for someone to reach out to me.
Mike, as you follow Christ’s teachings, the inner healing you needwill occur-it can’t be stopped. The more you get to know God throughHis word and through communicating with Him, the more faith you’llhave. He’ll give you the boldness and confidence to approach all newsituations.
So, Mike, I’m praying for you all the way. I’m excited at theprospect of seeing what God has planned for your life. Please writeand let me know your thoughts. And remember: You don’t have to begay. God gives you a choice.
Your friend,
Jeff
Excerpted by permission from You Don’t Have to be Gay byJeff Konrad. Copyright © 1987 by Pacific Publishing House, POBox 5756, Newport Beach, CA 92662. Distributed by Love In Action, POBox 753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307; 901/542-0250