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?

I joined Your Other Brothers back in 2017. I experienced the first and second camp retreats in good ole North Carolina, but then I took a break from YOB the next two years. Why? Because I was tired of it.

I entered my first YOBBERS retreat hoping for renewal out of this weekend. But would I really get that renewal? Would I see a refresh of strength – mentally, physically, spiritually?

I was just about to graduate and launch out into the world, and I couldn't hide from the truth any longer. I'm homosexual. That was the only language I had for it at the time. There was no way I could have used the word gay, because I sure wasn't happy; quite the opposite, in fact. I was devastated.

I'd already been with German guys, so I thought it was a good idea see what guys from other countries were like. I figured the chances of ever again being with other guys from that many countries would be slim. The sad part about having sex with all these men was that I never once gave thought to my relationship with God. It was all about me and those European men.

Like most of you reading I begged, cried, yelled, and tried to "pray the gay away," only to have it all go ignored. For years I thought God ignored me. And if He didn't care about me, why should I acknowledge Him and His Son?

I have entered the season of Lent. We observe Lent in many different ways within the YOB community, depending on our observances to the liturgical calendar and whether our denominations are liturgically focused. Whether you are or aren't Lent-observant, this season presents an opportunity to deepen our relationships with God and others, especially family and those close to us.

Sometimes the scariest question in the world is: How are you doing? That question comes like a longed-for drink of water at the end of a grueling race. It comes like a lover, surprising and enticing in all its warmth and inquiry. It means someone cares. And yet...

I guess we're really doing this again, I thought, this whole retreat thing. Is this officially an annual event now? Can I handle that? Goodness, can I really put on a retreat every year for the rest of my life? Or need I only focus on this year's retreat, letting tomorrow's retreat worry for itself?

Does nice equal good? Does strong equal toxic? Commiseration is a drink that intoxicates quickly, yet we must weep with those who weep. Am I a man? Am I strong? What am I, and where is my place? What is the nature of masculine strength?

When they hear I'm attracted to men but married to a woman, straight people, particularly Christians, sometimes ask if I expect my attractions to "change" in this life. For the longest time, I prayed for God to change my attractions. To make me straight. I do still pray about my sexuality, but I don't pray that God would change my attractions to heterosexual.

As that final morning sped by, I found myself wishing I had been more present that weekend. I don't cry easily or often. Yet tears flowed multiple times during our YOBBERS retreat weekend. And now a few more times since.

My daughter had been injured by an accident — something that had no one to blame or fault. And in that time, I needed to know that it was all going to be all right. I needed to know that it would work out. I needed hope. And I needed to restore my faith in that hope.

Here at Your Other Brothers, we've shared advice for coming out, but what if someone comes out to you? I've compiled a non-exhaustive list of pointers and things to keep in mind when someone comes out to you.

Why would I — someone who claims to believe in an omnipotent God who cares for me — wait to go to that God only until after I had tried everything else? When I began to sort out what my sexuality and gender identity meant to me as a follower of Christ, I didn't have to do it all by myself. I could take it all to God.

As I entered into ministry, I knew my SSA could end it all in one swift move. I hoped that instead of being rejected I would be loved. I hoped that people would notice their prejudice and change once they met me. I spent much time in prayer -- but also smoking.

What would it look like for my distant tribe to be gathered together? Didn't God long to change our shame into praise and renown? "Gather us," I prayed. I prayed that my scattered and lost tribe would be drawn together, our fortunes restored before our eyes. It was a prayer for my own benefit, but also for all of us.

I've noticed a couple different aspects of when we pray together. About the unique power in the fact that I go to God with brothers at my side.