I’m in a Sexless Marriage with My Faith
I’m Robert: child of the Most High, musician, Hueligan (fans of Huel protein), uncle “Zio” of four, Enneagram 4w5, Hanabi enthusiast, aromantic, and gay. Many descriptors ... one essence ... always evolving. My cup is full when I’m laughing with family, connecting with new humans, serving in Side B ministries, pondering philosophy, exploring nature, and engaging with others through music, both professionally and recreationally.
While I have happily chosen to be celibate, I am also currently abstinent in terms of my relationship with Christ. It’s not like any spiritual depth or intimacy is absent there, but the “divine romance,” as Phil Wickham puts it, is lacking. I don’t mind “kissing,” if you will, though beyond spiritual flirtation, I feel utterly helpless, unable to grow in my intimacy with the Lord.
Do I read my Bible?
No.
Do I want to?
Yes.
Do I actively choose not to?
Yes.
This is not because I lack time, nor because I’m stubborn or disvalue God’s word. It is due, in part, to the overwhelm that I feel from my multitude of questions that I’ve put on the back burner for over a decade now — the spiritual fatigue that comes from wrestling with God, as Jacob did, and fully surrendering to the fight.
Amidst this humbling and defeat, the Lord has also affirmed me. I recently received a neuropsychological evaluation, per the request of a loved one who was diagnosed with various mental health conditions after our falling out five years ago. From this evaluation, I discovered that I am gifted, which is not a diagnosis but a descriptor that may help explain how my brain processes information differently than the norm.
As I’ve been trying to integrate this new information into my life, I’ve also been reflecting on how I’ve often felt that other Christians have not asked the same questions I have asked. They haven’t wrestled in the ways that I have, which has been confusing and discouraging at times.
Not that I want to bring others down with me, though I do want to be seen and understood in my questioning. I’ve sought out mentors to help me grow in my faith, though I’ve felt like there are few people who are willing and well-equipped to support me as I navigate my particular challenges and lack of divine intimacy (is my Enneagram 4w5 showing yet?).
While experiencing this feeling of spiritual isolation at the 2024 YOB retreat, another brother prayed over me — one of those prayers that lasted a while. One in which the Lord spoke to me directly … personally … through this dear friend’s willingness to lay hands on me. The Lord affirmed me through this intercession, while also convicting me that my “roots can grow deeper,” and that the growth I was looking for could be found in my “quiet time” with God.
I cried tears of gratitude and grief after my brother’s prayer. Any time that I’ve experienced the Lord’s voice in such a personal way as this, it has had a profound impact on my life.
After reckoning that I am not as deeply rooted in my faith as I once thought, this prayer led me, respectfully, to leave the affirming church I was attending at the time (while I still upheld Side B values). I went on a new quest for a church where I could be fed more deeply in alignment with the historic sexual ethic, and also establish my roots in a city closer to where I could find such a community, Lord-willing.
During this journey, God has blessed me with settling down in a new home, something which was not on my radar. And yet regarding my church search, I was faced with door shut, after door shut, after door slam. If I saw a door cracked open, I tried to knock gently, seeking opportunities for connection and discipleship. But while many churches seem to value the word “discipleship,” in practicality few Protestant spaces are invested in intentional, individualized spiritual direction, especially in this ever-changing American culture.
Side note: At every YOB retreat, all leaders and attendees draw tribal stones with one of YOF’s seven values painted on it. At the 2025 retreat, I drew the last stone in the leadership basket, which happened to place me as leader of the Discipleship tribe. This felt like one of God’s “winks,” reminding me that he sees my heart to receive, and from that give, intentional and personalized discipleship.
During my church search, I found a place that I loved due to their solid theology, heartfelt worship, and multiethnic community. However, after kindly expressing my challenges with getting connected due to their small groups being closed for many months, I was met with the strangest interaction by one of the leaders who took a defensive approach and disparaged me while I was already hurt and trying to seek community with an open heart.
I then found a Side X church that I decided to attend, despite holding some significant differences in beliefs. I loved this church for the same reasons as the other one. I shared my sexuality convictions with this church’s leadership, humbly requesting opportunities for connection and mentorship, though sadly I was met with a lack of welcome.
The pastor told me that he does not see sexual orientation as an “ontological reality.” In other words, sexual orientation doesn’t even exist in his eyes. He proceeded to concede that I could experience temptation perhaps “once or twice a year” with a sheepish tone. What a thing to quantify, let alone how blatantly it contradicts the science, psychology, and lived experience of human sexuality.
Despite my disagreements with the gentle ignorance of his comments, I remained open to conversation, emphasizing my heart for unity; in turn, the pastor ended up ghosting me. He had reluctantly expressed my welcomeness in their space, though I was only welcome on paper.
From one church to the next, I proactively and intentionally sought a local body, though eventually I grew weary from the rejection.
At this point in time, I have prayerfully decided to take a break from attending church, aside from weekends when I’m visiting a friend. I’ve decided to replace this time on Sunday mornings with prayer walks, though my hope is that this will not be a long-term resolution.
Throughout these challenges (of which I’ve only highlighted a few), I have this picture of myself in which I am hovering over the ground where God has designed me to be deeply rooted, yet held in place without wavering, by his grace. I have the utmost gratitude for this ongoing grace in my life, as the Lord understands and sympathizes with my issues with spiritual intimacy, though I still long to be planted firmly in the soil, deeply desiring to grow in my relationship with my Creator and Savior.
Despite this longing, I’ve come to realize in a tangible way that there is nothing I can ultimately do to draw closer to Christ. I also cannot stand back idly and wait. Hence, the hovering.
I remain tethered in some ways, though nomadic in others. I resonate with so many perspectives that I feel overtaken; collapsed on the floor like Jacob was in his fight with God, yet earnestly full of hope, peace, and joy, longing even for my surrender and unknowing to be pleasing to God.
He is the one who has humbled me, He is the one who has affirmed me, and He is the one who will raise me up to glorify His name … in His will … in His timing.
Have you wrestled with God’s word, his church, or perhaps his character? How do you hope to grow deeper in your faith, and what has your journey of developing spiritual intimacy looked like?
