I am an idolater. While I don’t have any statues or shrine made out of wood, stone or metal, the gods I’ve been worshiping are real nevertheless.
Years ago I met and fell quite in love with the individuals that, for privacy’s sake, I call “Matthias” and “Martin.” Whether it was born from the happy infatuation that comes with a crush-turned-love, built from the dry affection parched realm that I made my heart (“Wait, someone has noticed ME?”) or created from the shallow stirrings of my loins at the prospect of having not just one beloved but two, I built a shrine in my heart, a pedestal from which I could serve, love and subtly worship the two greatest guys I ever had the pleasure and blessing of knowing. I could love Jesus too! And everything would be happy and great.
Then stuff happened. Like really bad stuff. I goofed up terribly.
Whether or not my thoughts and feelings accurately reflect reality at this point, I feel that their further trek into a brave new world of a “true Christianity” that includes universalism, antinomian behavioral ethic and other things is my fault.
Have you ever loved someone with all your heart only to have the turn away from the One Who providentially brought you together? I loved them, and I thing I still do love them. (This is where someone from my peanut gallery would chime with proof thereof.)
But somewhere along the line, my love for them turned to worship – a (not so) subtle honoring of Matthias in particular, but Martin too.
Instead of focusing on Christ and His present love for me, there were long stretches of time when all is could think about was how they didn’t love me any more. Instead of finding a holy rest in the atoning grace and mercies of the perfect God of love, I sought ways to make propitiation with my broken gods of loving, getting them to regard me with smiles again.
Even now I feel a deep broken-heartedness about no longer being able to be part of their lives, though in an theologically objective, emotionally stoic way, do I want to be part of someone’s life who’s trust for the Bible as God’s Word is rapidly ebbing away? (The answer? I’m torn.)
I could go on and on, but I think that would just make my idolatry even more apparent. But I guess the “funny” thing is, this sort of snubbing God, this obsessive grabbing for something that He’s not yet blessed me yet, is blatantly not merely a “gay” thing. Though, to share some footsteps with Wesley Hill, the context of being gay that has framed my experience has been helpful in getting me to see idolatry for what it is. I doubt I could have seen how much I really disregard the One who loves me, if I weren’t keenly aware of the strange places where my orientation and my ethics interact.
But I’m rambling again, and I apologize. I’ll continue on with a bit more focus in part two.