I met a dear friend at summer camp. Both of us have struggled with loneliness and despair. Neither of us was very strong or “masculine” growing up. We both took our religious faith seriously. In our adult lives, we both went to seminary. And we both like poetry. And today, whenever I struggle with stuff, his words comfort and encourage me to keep going.

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?

Together, we are still invited to the same calling in marriage: to bear the image of God and represent Christ and the Church in our love for one another. Why would I share this part of our married life, my sexuality, which some may see as so private so as only to be known to one's priest or pastor?

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.

Perhaps it was the touch of melancholy in me that many other "Side B" Christians also feel, or simply being a disabled man, or maybe even a combination of the two – the fact that I have often felt both a physical and mental peace listening to classical music. Whatever it was, my soul felt ministered to in a previously unknown way.

All the other gay films I'd watched were nice, but this was the first gay film I watched and thought: I wish I knew what it was like to be in a relationship. All the other men I've ended up with were only about sex. I didn't care about them or their feelings, much like the son at the beginning of this film. This film brought up feelings I never knew I even had or wanted, for that matter.

How do I deal with unmet sexual desire? It's a question which led me to ask, what is my sexual desire? Of course, "sexual desire" is a category with a lot of things in it. "There's a lot of different fish in that bucket," I told myself. But let's not call it a bucket. Let's call it an aquarium so all the fish have plenty of room to swim around, and so we can get a good look at them.

Though we hold certain theological convictions as queer or "Side B" Christians, I was recently reminded we share much history and experience with the greater LGBTQ+ community – which shapes and influences our own lives and experiences. Things are better now than they were sixty years ago, but abuse by religious and secular societies still exist. There is more work to be done.

It seems the only celibate communities forming are only by fellow "Side B" gay Christians, done so out of necessity. That really bothers me. Don't misunderstand me: it is good for celibate gay Christians to form communities. What bothers me, though, is that those communities should have already been started by celibate straight people.

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.

Don't get me wrong, I am completely and utterly attracted to men. I've never been attracted to a woman in my life. And yet my attraction to the same sex doesn't go quite as far as many others' do. Ultimately, I just have no desire for sex with other men even though I'm attracted to them.

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.

To many Christians, I am a burden. I have strong faith convictions, and I try to live according to those convictions. I love studying the Bible and find joy in my faith. I also give up a lot. Living the celibate life is not easy at times. But all too often the burden of this celibate gay/SSA life is only increased by the church.

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.

A same-sex celibate partnership is an intimate coupling between two same-sex attracted or gay-identifying individuals. Bonded for life in a way similar to marriage but, of course, minus the sex. I have already seen a few celibate couplings form between guys. I've been mostly watching from a distance, but other times I've contacted those folks to ask questions. Sometimes I view them with a lot of envy.

Several of our authors recently attended the inaugural Revoice conference in St. Louis: a gathering for sexual minorities in the church. Here are our thoughts on the (controversial?) conference we experienced together.

When I was a kid, my dream was to grow up and get a wife and kids. A lot of kids. My family and church taught me to pray for my future spouse. So, I did. Everyday for years. I prayed for the girl I'd one day marry, that God would protect her and care for her, whoever she was.