I remember being particularly excited about the fact that he wasn’t just coming over for a bit — he came to stay the night! We would be able to spend so much time together, and I couldn’t imagine any version of that scenario that wouldn’t appeal to me. That is until, of course, something went wrong.

When I decided to commit myself to celibacy as a gay Christian, one prayer became the focus of my personal prayer life. Not having a boyfriend or a husband? That was difficult, but it didn’t cut to the heart of how I envisaged my life. But not having children? That was the real thorn in my flesh.

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.

Leading up to this fall’s YOB retreat, I had a lot of anxiety. Who would be placed in my tribe? What if my tribe members asked me questions I couldn’t answer? What if strong disagreements between tribe members happened that I couldn’t peacefully stop? I felt unqualified for such a leadership task as this!

The air felt thick with something heavy as I rolled up to this year’s YOB retreat – nothing like the old days when I’d show up buzzing with excitement, counting down the moments to new insights or good laughs with the crew. I'm just gonna be real with you: the start of this story might feel dark, but stick with me.

I hear yelling and laughter down the hall – they're out again. Our dorm's nudists don't have a shower party every night, but they seem to occur more and more frequently now. If I wait long enough, maybe they'll be done before I need to use the bathroom. I work on some backup plans; worst case scenario, I can take my stuff to another bathroom. It’s a little more inconvenient, but I'd rather walk a little further than wade through a mob of exposed genitalia.

I continually wrestle with this dynamic in leadership of Your Other Brothers: where do I keep proper distance in the name of boundaries and self-care, and where do I let someone else enter my birdcage? Can I do both well? Can I lead and participate well?

For this first entry on masculinity, I want to share my experiences with masculine leadership, including how the lack of positive, consistent examples of masculine leadership has affected how I interact with and think about the men who are supposed to lead me.

Was I in love with him? Did we have the deepest friendship, or was it actually something more? This is for the lot of us who have gone from strangers to friends to kin to nothing.

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.

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 does this "normal boy" turned "normal man" feel about his naked body? His penis? I'm still unsure of many of the answers to these questions. From the inside out, I've struggled to feel normal (comfortable) in my own skin. This masculine body. Starting with that particular appendage.

I always feel this nervousness attached to holding hands in public. If I want to hold hands with a friend, what will others think of me? What will they think of us? Will they assume we are a couple? Will they say something? Will they be aggressive, or will they ignore us?

On the one hand, I wanted the opportunity to meet and engage with a community whom I've deeply desired connection, and this retreat would also occur over my fall break; on the other hand, I was deeply anxious and afraid of going and then feeling isolated and alone.

Something else that astonished me over the weekend was how much like myself I felt; how proud I was to be seen in the company of my fellow queer brothers; how un-worried I was about what anybody else thought. That's not like me. At least not how I have been.

Going into this retreat, your boy was stressed. Stressed just from day-to-day existing. Looking back and evaluating my spiritual condition at the time, I could not slow down long enough to have one simple conversation with God. Long enough for my brain and my heart to catch up to each other.

I'd be spending the weekend with an entire group of gay/SSA/bi/queer men. Something I’d never done before. But, you know, YOLO. I'd told one of my friends from church, "It will probably be a lot like a typical Christian men's retreat." "Except with more hugging," he replied. But, really, why was I going?

You know, after fifteen years of blogging about gay things and masculine things and all the other intermingled, messy faith things, I often feel like I've run out of stories to tell here. Gay kisses, wet dreams, fetishes – what on earth is there left to say?? Ah, but then I wake up one day and suddenly remember that time another "Side B" guy from a Facebook group asked if he could do something to my genitals. Ah, yes – a new story to tell. Glory be.

I spent most of my twenties trying my best to be straight. I dated women and watched ESPN and prayed and prayed for the gay to go away. I don't suppose there was anything wrong with all that. But at some point I had to acknowledge the reality that God doesn't always remove challenges. He always works through them, though.