Wooed in the Wilderness of this YOB Retreat
I'm Brandon. I studied English, and now I teach math; I love Jesus, and I also like guys. I'm seemingly full of contradictions, but they make for interesting stories.
Leading up to my third YOB retreat, I had the opportunity to write a reflection to be read during one of our worship sessions. A leader asked me to reflect on Hosea 2:14-23 – “For the gay, celibate/married Christian’s unfaithfulness, emptiness in the wilderness, and the ultimate wooing of the Husband whose love is faithful.” I spent a week reflecting on how this passage spoke into my story and those of my fellow brothers and wanderers.
As I read over those verses, I saw my own wandering heart mirrored in Israel’s story, wrestling with what faithfulness looks like in the tension between longing and obedience:
As brothers who walk a path few understand, we have made a choice. A choice of celibacy. A choice of traditional sexual ethics. A choice to surrender our sexual desires to Christ. This is stepping into the unknown – a wilderness where risks, hurts, and loneliness await. Yet we trust God’s goodness on the far side of this wilderness.
Unfortunately, our brokenness causes us to wander as we feel like Israel in the desert. We forget who leads us and chase new lovers. In seasons of isolation and fear, our cravings of intimacy can lead us into hidden habits that promise relief. We pursue the affection and love of men not for the joys and blessings of brotherhood but for pleasure and lust to numb the difficulties of this journey, blurring boundaries and building relationships based on secrecy rather than covenant. Sometimes it’s a late-night text that crosses the line, or consuming media that distorts God’s desire for our hearts and minds.
Yet even here, God tenderly calls us back. In His faithfulness, God allures us back into the wilderness – not to shame or forsake us, but to reclaim and betroth us to Himself forever. No longer are we bound to fleeting connections. Where shame once named us “Not My People,” God now calls us “My People,” His beloved.
Then He promises: “And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord.”
God’s love is what allows us to move onward, past emptiness. Into the joy and belonging of fellowship with Christ and with one another.
When I finished writing this reflection, one thought hit me hard: I am such a wanderer. I chase affection, I get swept up in longing, and I’m easily wooed away from what I know is true.
The story of Hosea isn’t far from mine – I am constantly in need of God to woo me back.
Heading to the airport for my third YOB retreat, I felt more excitement than the first or the second. I’ve been finding a sense of belonging and community within YOB, staying in regular contact with brothers through texts, calls, Instagram reels, and book studies. I’ve even been blessed to visit some, host a few in my city, and introduce them to my local community.
The first morning of this retreat, we spent time reflecting at a prayer labyrinth. Unlike a maze, a labyrinth has no wrong turns – only a single, winding path meant to quiet the mind and steady the heart. It is a space to pray, reflect, and listen to God as you journey inward toward His presence, and then outward again, renewed.
While awaiting my turn to embark across the labyrinth’s gravel path, I heeded our initial prompt: What do you need to let go of?
As I contemplated this question in prayer, I felt hurt and bitterness arise. I thought of the men who’ve ignored me, hurt my feelings, or otherwise failed to meet my expectations. Even at this retreat – men with whom I longed to spend time – I found myself wrestling with awkward or half-hearted greetings, feeling invisible with those I’d previously connected, and generally out of place as some avoided my gaze.
In that moment, I felt the weight of my own Hosea story again – still running after lesser loves, even while God was near. I recognized how much control these feelings had over me.
My longing for connection clashed with the truth that not every relationship can be close or reciprocal. I often spend so much time chasing masculine connection, hoping something will take root and blossom into deep friendship.
Meanwhile, growing convicted by how little I chase after Christ.
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.
Reaching the center of the labyrinth, I felt moved for the first time in a while. Our second prompt of this labyrinth exercise was to be open to God’s voice and hear what He might be saying in the center. As I sat in the wet grass of that circle, I thought about how much I am fighting to be good enough for everyone around me. Fighting not to feel ignored, or as though I have to compete for people’s attention.
A phrase I’d recently heard echoed in my mind: “You are too much and not enough.”
Those words captured my anxious inner dialogue. Tears formed as I took those hurts from my walk, and I felt my exhaustion. I am not good enough to do this journey on my own, so I need God’s strength and peace to wash over me.
I am doing this alone, so of course this will hurt; of course, I will not be good enough. I am trying to please every person at the same time, losing myself and my Rock in the process.
As the time came for me to return from the labyrinth and into the rest of my brothers, I reflected on the final prompt: Where is God leading me out in this world, and where is He leading me for the rest of this retreat?
As I retraced my steps out of the labyrinth, gratitude began to rise – the same God who exposes my idols also surrounds me with faithful brothers.
I thought of YOBBERS like Pierce and Kevin – brothers who check in regularly, ground me when shame or fear surfaces, and invite me into their own walks with Christ.
I thought of the two Jordans back home, who have listened carefully to my story and encouraged me to keep walking with the Lord, even when hurt from the church feels overwhelming.
And I thought of my Discipleship tribe at this YOB retreat. Through these men, God keeps calling me back, reminding me that faith is never a solo journey but a shared walk toward our Faithful Husband.
Yet even surrounded by faithful brothers, my heart still wanders. I tend to chase after men who intrigue me for their attractiveness, elusiveness, or popularity rather than spiritual integrity. That’s not to say those men couldn’t help me grow spiritually, but that’s also not why I seek their relationship.
The story of Hosea reflects my own wandering. I often chase certain men in an attempt to silence the voices telling me I’m unwanted – not good enough, not attractive enough, not manly enough.
The labyrinth reminded me how easily I chase affection.
How appropriate that with all these thoughts around affection and spiritual mentorship, I had been placed on this Discipleship tribe the previous night. Discipleship has actually been on my mind the last few months.
My participation in a discipleship group back home led to my seeking spiritual guidance from an older man, which did not lead to anything. This summer, I joined a book study on Robby Gallaty’s Growing Up: How to Be a Disciple Who Makes Disciples, where we shared our experiences of discipleship – both where it’s been lacking and where it’s borne fruit.
I realized that discipleship is God’s ongoing way of wooing us back – through brothers who walk beside us, mentors who remind us who we are, and the slow work of the Spirit shaping our hearts in the wilderness.
This year’s YOB retreat theme of “Onward” spoke directly into that truth. God’s call to move onward isn’t always about going somewhere new – it’s about leaving behind the patterns that keep us wandering. For me, that means letting go of my pursuit of men who draw my attention away from God and toward my own insecurity.
Like Israel, I keep running after lesser loves, hoping they’ll tell me who I am.
But the Lord keeps calling me onward. He invites me to walk with brothers who point me back to Him, beyond shallow admiration into spiritual formation. Onward isn’t just a direction; it’s the invitation of a faithful God who keeps wooing us back to Himself, again and again.
When have you felt wooed by lesser loves? How have you seen God woo you back to Him, perhaps again and again?
