What if kindness as a fruit of the Spirit simply meant your unconscious approach to others – and even to yourself – was to help instead of judge? What if kindness manifested itself in the simple idea that when you see someone in need or hurting or broken, you desire to care for them before you desire to know how it happened?

Many conservative Christians believe that gay men should not only give up gay sex but also deliberately choose to dress, speak, and act more masculinely. A well-known Christian ministry posted an article last year that expressed the view that men with feminine mannerisms and dress are literally going to hell if they don't stop.

I was almost done with my turn of thorns and roses, and I remembered wanting to tell them I liked a girl. I just blurted it out: "So, I like this girl, and I think she's pretty awesome!" All of the guys were a bit shocked and surprised to hear that come out of my mouth.

I feel my Christian community lacking and also the LGBTQ+ community lacking. What is one supposed to do? I think we Christians who are LGBTQ+/SSA can and must push a more compelling narrative – one rooted in the Bible. The church is for all who are repentant, not just the straight ones who are repentant.

I've long heard a common refrain among fellow gay or SSA folks in the church, and it's something I've honestly never been able to relate with. That's not to put myself "above" others; it's just my reality. Many have tried to "pray the gay away," and I can't recall ever doing so. From a young age I felt a certain draw to the other boys, and while I felt shame for the lingering looks and daydreams, I never blamed God or even asked Him to take it away, add a splash of heterosexuality, or what have you.

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.

I desire so greatly to be in heaven in the presence of my God and Savior. Yet I still wait. And wait. Every day with a reminder of my imperfections through a fallen world, broken relationships, and a scarred gender identity. Every day I long for Christ's return. Is this how I live out patience as a queer man?

I just have a longing to be accepted, seen as a man among men. To feel like one of the guys. Yes, I've experienced those feelings with fellow "Side B" friends, but sometimes it only feels like one side of the coin.

Being LGBT+ means that I am often in a turbulent place. Either I am around other Christians who don't understand my identity, or I am around other LGBT+ individuals who don't understand my convictions, or I am around people who cannot grasp either thing.

2019 started out with a vision for a cosy, snug year, bundling up in the warmth of other people's bosoms. For those summer months, I was blessed to see that vision fulfilled, experiencing and giving love just the way I wanted. As for the rest of the year, well, God sure taught me another side to loving people than what I'd considered.

While I often complain about a lack of community, I also keep people at a distance. Only during this socially distant time of coronavirus have I realized something: maybe my community felt lacking because I wanted it to solve all my problems. And finding a community that felt authentic, one where I could be vulnerable, couldn't exist because I wasn't connected with Jesus.

I don't feel like having peace. Peace won't give my family income. Peace won't solve the financial burdens of two massive ministries. Peace won't cure the coronavirus or bring back canceled jobs or put food on the table or anything. Peace won't do anything I want it to do right now. So, what good is it?

I yearn to be held by a bigger, stronger man, to rest in his powerful arms, to lay my head on his chest. I ache for this; I dwell on this desire a lot. I suppose, given the nature of this website, my admission surprises approximately nobody. But it's hard to admit.

With most of the U.S. and much of the world in quarantine or shelter-in-place due to COVID-19, we gathered our featured authors for a conversation on the challenges and calls to growth through these strange times. We hope you feel a little less alone in joining our conversation.

The Covid-19 pandemic has become something of an "isolation equalizer." People everywhere are living in tension and isolation with businesses closed, services restricted, and life as we've known it ground to a halt. We are, all of us, isolated. And yet there is tremendous opportunity to unite in our shared isolation.

Before all the lockdowns started as the coronavirus pandemic spread around the world, I started writing this reflection about how my experience in the "Side B" bubble could play a bigger part in the Church and, in turn, the wider world around me. When this whole pandemic broke out I thought, What better time to play our part but now?

I've heard it said that joy is a contentment or cheeriness not based on circumstances. Wouldn't a foundation of Christ motivate me to love and edify others? And wouldn't this same foundation also keep me from both self-hate and egotism? Ultimately, how can I express joy in my queerness that doesn't glorify sin yet also expresses humility?

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.

In the year of our Lord two thousand and nineteen, a fun idea came to mind. Instead of coming up with a new year's resolution that would require me to exert some striving effort or discipline, I thought of a fun goal for the year instead. I wrote something in my prayer journal; it's a prayer that became my goal for the year. But what did "To love more affectionately and not robotically" actually mean?

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.