“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s a commandment that sounds simple but cuts so deep. For decades, I wrestled with it — not because I didn’t want to love my neighbor; for the most part, that was easy, especially after becoming a Christian. The problem was loving myself. If I’m honest, I still struggle with the second part of this commandment.

Frankly, my testimony of same-sex attraction doesn’t include any sexual relations with another man. The “plainness” of my testimony is sometimes frustrating. What I’m honestly looking for in such vulnerable moments is a friend who will walk with me day by day as I strive to follow Jesus in my broken sexuality. In a sense, it’s not too complicated — but far too ordinary for many people. 

I remember feeling proud about my height but embarrassed about my weird, beanpole-like body on numerous occasions. It was like I hadn’t gained a single pound since I was a toddler as someone kept stretching out my limbs more and more. I often found myself wishing I could be strong and attractive and well-proportioned like some of my peers.

As I consider my history with broken New Year’s resolutions, I notice that they almost always fall into the three categories of faith, sexuality, and masculinity. This is true of resolutions I made many years ago, even before I heard of YOB and was simply trying to organize my life goals as best I knew in such a way that honored Jesus.

Isn’t it a little like God is letting me in on a secret, being able to perceive beauty like this? It’s like he created this beauty in men, but like any artist, he couldn’t bear to keep it to himself; so, he gave some of us men the eyes to see it, in the masculine way his masculine aspect does.

As I walked through the labyrinth, weaving toward the center and back out, I prayed for forgiveness. I prayed for the Lord to take back control of my relationships – the time I’ve spent wandering, wanting to be wooed by everything and everyone around me.

Even if you did acknowledge a girl’s heart, it felt as though you also had to plot hotness and holiness on a grid, determining the benefits and pitfalls of dating a woman at, say, a “7 hotness, 6 holiness.” I suppose you could find this plotting helpful if your hotness detector is somewhere south of a Kinsey 6, but what should you do if it’s not and you want to get married by some act of God?

This missionary gentleman asked if I'd consider participating in a Bible study he'd be leading. After some thought and prayer, I agreed. The first step of joining this group required each participant to share his or her testimony. I knew this upon agreeing to attend, and I had time to prepare. Of course, part of my testimony is being a gay, celibate Christian. I knew I'd have to share this detail; why wouldn't I be completely transparent in my testimony?

How did we go from Jonathan and David to heaven and hell? What exactly happened between us?  I've replayed every variable in my head over and over: I was too obsessive, I was too much, I was never enough, he was never enough, it's all his fault, it’s all my fault, he caught feelings.

To recognize Christ as fairer than the sons of men, maybe I must first recognize the fairness of men themselves. Not boil down and shy away from the patterns of fairness I behold in them, but simply say, "Hey, he is very beautiful."

I learned that it wasn't safe for me to talk about or process through any of this struggle. Not at this church. And that is just what I did for the rest of high school. I didn't talk about my sexuality with anyone at that church again.

I honestly don't know the meaning behind dreams – whether they're because of the subconscious, or for something God wants to tell us, like He did for people in the Bible. Are dreams, in part, resulting from what's happened to us, things that we need to relive, or are they something altogether different?

Looking back on those bro cuddling blogs years later, after experiencing much more bro cuddling, how does it all hold up? Have any of my thoughts or feelings changed around the subject? Or have I perhaps received some new insights, especially after a lot of cuddle mileage?

This year for Lent, I felt like the Lord told me to give up "selfishness." But what the heck does that mean? Isn't that kind of...generic? Vague? A little too open-ended? Perfect, I can open the door for others before opening it for myself. Check. Well, let's back up a bit: I'm 27 years old, I'm an actor, and this last year has been a whirlwind, at best.

Do I fast because I truly desire to hear from Him more clearly, walk with Him more closely, and feel less spiritually cloudy? Or do I fast because, well, it's comfortable to be uncomfortable? Because it almost feels good to deprive, if not punish my body – particularly after I sin?

It's no secret that the LGBT+ community has a complicated history with the Christian church. This culture war has bled into the church for decades, resulting in those who experience same-sex attraction in their congregations to feel uncared for, unloved, and at worst, excommunicated from the church community. These experiences create soul wounds.

If you're at all familiar with YOB, you're probably aware that little sparrows have infiltrated nearly every corner of our community. They're in the banner of our website, the centerpiece of our logo, and even the tagline of our podcast: "Even the sparrow finds a home," which comes from Psalm 84. But did you know that sparrows are really, really small?

How was this past Christmas reinvigorated for me? Well, this song helped clarify the good parts of my sexuality related to human touch, deeply rooted in the natural instinct common to all humans since birth. I was born with a longing to be comforted, to be held, to be swaddled, to be cuddled. As I've aged, those same good touch instincts were partially absorbed by my sexuality, and now they're muddled.

My biggest takeaway from this year's retreat was simply continuing to do this Side B life with other believers. One of the central themes of that Mary of Bethany message was "Jesus is the vision." I love that statement so much. It's probably going to be written numerous times in my journal, and I imagine it will find its way into future blogs. I'm so grateful for brothers also pursuing this same vision of Jesus.

I believe that if I hadn't come to this retreat, I wouldn't have found this perspective shift – especially with my brother's encouragement. Perhaps I did need to have my hope renewed. My time with my brothers that weekend would facilitate this renewal, refocusing our eyes on the source of our hope, our Lord Jesus Christ.