And God Was There
February 28, 202
Two years ago, as I began to realize that I had to change my life to agree with my sexuality, I wondered whether I would still enjoy the same intimate relationship with God that I had known since childhood. From age 8, I’d had countless sweet experiences with the Spirit that made it clear to me that I was known and loved by a perfectly kind and passionately loving God.
But I’d also been indoctrinated by the LDS Church that a gay life would bring “spiritual oblivion;” that such would be a fatal deviation from “the covenant path,” which would cut short my eternal progression. As I anticipated coming out, these beliefs created no small worry for me. I knew I couldn’t proceed with such an unorthodox life change without feeling assurance from the Divine Source that this path was permitted and right for me.
To be honest though, the months in 2018 during which these decisions were being made were stiflingly adrenal and I was probably led forward more by compelling urgency than by inspiration. At the risk of trivializing the horror of the World Trade Center attacks, I can somehow understand why a person might choose to leap from a ninetieth-story window rather than willingly succumb to the fire. “Jumping out” didn’t feel like a choice to me. It felt inevitable. I just hoped God would somehow forgive.
But there were a few moments during that time—on occasions when I could calm my heart sufficiently—when I sensed God’s love, assurance, and permission. I hoped these feelings were authentic though I had doubts.
Sometime after I had begun dating men and my divorce was finalized, I noticed that I wasn’t feeling close to God. Living in such a state is contrary to my nature so I carefully considered what might be the cause and solution. I realized I had internalized the “worthiness doctrine” at the heart of LDS purity culture. The worthiness doctrine is essentially that, although God loves all His children, God’s blessings during life and in the hereafter are reserved for those who qualify by obeying specific commandments. According to this doctrine, having sex with men is an automatic disqualifier for the blessing of feeling God’s Spirit.
But why should this be? I remembered the moments of assurance I’d had previously, and the sense of inevitability I’d felt, as though being with a man had become an organismic necessity. I knew conforming to my sexual reality hadn’t come from a loss of faith. It wasn’t an act of apostasy or rebellion. It felt no more rebellious than gasping for breath after a long dive in the pool. So, I reasoned, why should God abandon me for taking what seemed to be my ONLY path?
I decided to declare independence from the worthiness doctrine. I would press toward God and see if He is still there for me.
This required a change in my thinking about a few things. I had to trust the idea that God truly is “no respecter of persons.” I had to accept that being gay is not sin, no error or accident. It is intended. It is part of God’s design for me. And it is good. I had to see my desire for intimacy with the same sex as spiritually equal to a straight person’s desire for the other sex. And I had to reject the notion that God singled me out—along with all gay and lesbian people—to be “vessels of wrath, fitted to destruction.” These perspective shifts cleared the stumbling blocks religion had placed between me and my God, allowing me to approach Him again with humility and confidence.
And He is there.
The worthiness doctrine in LDS belief contains a corollary—the “forgiveness doctrine”—which is that if you feel the guidance of the Holy Spirit in your life, you can be assured you have been forgiven of past sins; therefore you are worthy again. I feel the Spirit regularly. I plainly see it working in my life. I receive clear assurances from time to time that I am on the right path. According to the worthiness doctrine, I’m an unrepentant sinner. But according to the forgiveness doctrine, I am worthy.
I don’t feel a need to explain this glaring inconsistency. It’s enough that I know where I stand with God. I am right with Him. I am in his plan. And He loves me.
My point here is not to push religion on LGBQ people. It is simply to acknowledge that the demands and limitations religion has put to our lives and potentials have been hurtful and wrong. Having supported those demands and limitations in the past, it is incumbent on me to say what I now believe.