While I have had many wonderful, supportive Christians in my life, I find many more who just do not want to meet me where I am with my sexuality. Instead of being a great cloud of witnesses encouraging me onward, some act as a voice of the enemy telling me I have no place at God's table.

Many conservative Christians don't believe I've ever really tried to change. Those with this position assert that my goal must be to become heterosexual, that God wants nothing less than that for me – and from me. Thus, if I haven't received this orientation change yet, then my faith must not be strong enough, or I haven't ever truly wanted this change.

Many of us with same-sex attractions have experienced that well-meaning friend or family member who feels the need to "love us well" by telling us, "God made you gay, so how could marrying someone of the same sex be wrong?" I appreciate not being cast out by said people because of my sexuality, but they also seem unwilling to believe that I've actually given my sexuality some thought.

More than anything, though, what struck me about this year's retreat was a deep sense of unity. As I looked around the room of forty brothers, I considered how what unites us all is our crazy decision to make Jesus our everything – not just to follow Christ in a church on Sunday, but to take a devotion to Him into every single second of our lives.

There is no one group that is "for" my existence as a celibate SSA Christian, nor is there a specific group "against" it. It can feel like I have no clear place to turn to in the Church, because every place is equally likely to attack some part of who I am or what I do. Meanwhile, all I strive to be is a sold out follower of Christ.

Whatever the reason, this is where I find myself: apathetic toward the Church, God, and disciplines like reading Scripture and prayer. I'm not angry at the Church -- just apathetic. And in that apathy I feel ordinarily strong convictions weaken.

The latest song to get me spiritually musing is "Dear Younger Me" by the band, MercyMe. The premise of the song is thinking through what one would tell his younger self if he ever got the chance. Would it be some cheesy speech about enjoying every moment to its fullest? Would he warn himself of all the mistakes to come, even though those mistakes are now inseparable from the man he became? What would he say? What would I say to a younger me?

Rather than blindly following Him, Jesus invites us to do a little spiritual preparation to ensure we are committed to seeing our faith walk through. As I look back on my own faith journey, I realize just how important this reflection and preparation has been in spiritually working through my sexuality.

With most of the U.S. and much of the world in quarantine or shelter-in-place due to COVID-19, we gathered our featured authors for a conversation on the challenges and calls to growth through these strange times. We hope you feel a little less alone in joining our conversation.

Right on cue, in walks that cute guy again. Instantly, I'm back to spiraling, back to wondering if this faith thing can really work out in the end, or if I'm actually as crazy as I sound when I tell someone I'm pursuing celibacy. It's in these moments that God feels like the eternal God of "no" — no sex, no boyfriend, no husband, no romance, no intimacy. No love. God becomes the God who won't let me eat the fruit from the one tree I'm craving, instead of the God who provided an entire garden just for me.

When the call came, it wasn't that I couldn't hear it; it was that I had no interest in obeying. For Jonah, that call was Nineveh. For me? It was coming out. My "solution" for my sexuality was quite simple: I'd tell no one, become straight, and then move on with my life. A secret I'd die keeping rather than ever share; I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone another human.