03 Aug 2017
I never heard the term “mixed-orientation” marriage until a few years ago. I didn’t have a name for what we had. It was just marriage. There wasn’t any special treatment of our relationship. Maybe things would have been easier if there was. I wasn’t aware of any couples’ support groups, retreats, or conferences focusing on this unique covenant.
When Mike pursued me, he already knew about my past and it didn’t matter to him. He would joke that we have the same struggle: a weakness for women. He wasn’t intimidated by my attraction to women, and he wasn’t threatened by it either. He just loved me. He didn’t want us to have a strong relationship in spite of my attractions; he believed we could have one that transcended my attractions. A mixed-orientation marriage didn’t scare him at all.
Our story isn’t one you will read about in the media because it doesn’t attract the same attention as others, namely the ones featuring adultery and divorce due to a spouse’s same-sex attraction. News like this feeds the false belief that any sexual desires thwarted or denied will only cause heartbreak and betrayal. “Follow your heart” becomes the new Golden Rule, and “being true to yourself” is now seen as heroic, regardless of who gets hurt.
But Mike didn’t expect me to be miraculously delivered from my struggle as soon as he put the ring on my finger. He knew it would be a journey, but he had hope. Mike trusted my relationship with Jesus would be the foundation of my love for him.
Ultimately, I wasn’t choosing between Mike and women, I was choosing between God and women. I committed my heart, body, and spirit to Jesus, and that included my sexuality.
The most powerful temptation for me is to find my worth in my friendships with women. I would pursue and invest with abandon, often leaving my husband feeling abandoned. He would point out that I listen more and better to the women in my life than I do to him. I would immediately get defensive. But it turned out to be true. I would put more stock in my friends’ opinions and advice, and seeking Mike’s was an afterthought.
The cure for that isn’t giving Mike more attention or time, it’s responding to Jesus’s conviction about where my heart is. If I’m not present to my husband, that most likely means I’m not present to God. I can’t improve my marriage solely by focusing on my husband’s needs. The only victory over flesh we will find is when we are both seeking the kingdom first.
Ultimately, I wasn’t choosing between Mike and women, I was choosing between God and women. I committed my heart, body, and spirit to Jesus, and that included my sexuality. I tried the white-knuckling for years. I tried to be vigilant about what I saw, listened to, and read. I prayed for awareness of the vibes (bait) I was putting out and being honest about vibes from others I was picking up. I was scrupulous in my confession. I wore shame like a shroud and defeat like a mantle.
I was focusing on behavior modification when what I needed was heart transformation. God doesn’t want me driven to distraction by fleeting feelings or momentary twinges of desire, he wants me so transfixed by him that what I want changes dramatically. I’m no longer aiming for fewer temptations as I am longing for more of God — more of his Word, more of his presence, and more of his healing power. That is when I want more of Mike — more of his heart, more of his attention, more of his affection.
God doesn’t want me driven to distraction by fleeting feelings or momentary twinges of desire, he wants me so transfixed by him that what I want changes dramatically.
There are specific challenges we face in our relationship. Mike has felt lonely over the years. He often prays that my longing for him would match the intensity of my desire for women. Anne Lamott once said that the mind is a dangerous place, you shouldn’t go in there alone. I have women I confess to, who hold me accountable, and ask hard questions. My husband checks in with me regularly and helps me stay present.
When I’m in a vulnerable place struggling with my thoughts and desires, I don’t stay there. I’m learning how to invite Jesus, right then and there, into whatever fantasy is playing in my head. I imagine myself talking to him about what is happening, why l want it, or who I want, and how I think it will fill the hole inside me. Then I look at him and beg him to be enough for me, to give me the power to say no to myself, to surrender my desires to him, and ask him to fill the emptiness inside me with his Spirit.
My struggle can be a constant source of hurt for Mike. He senses a low-grade rejection of him as a man. He hasn’t had anyone to talk to about this; nobody he knows has experienced it. He doesn’t have a safe place to express his pain and confusion. He doesn’t have someone to walk alongside him in this. It’s taken him years to acknowledge it and share how he feels.
I don’t believe that my same-sex attraction is the biggest obstacle in our marriage. It’s not the hinge that all other arguments or issues swing on. When we have conflict it’s not because I have a crush on a woman, entered into enmeshment with a friend, or gave in to using porn. More likely than not, it’s about Mike’s anger, my impatience, my detachment, his negativity. Those are the real enemies of our marriage.
We know that God brought us together and keeps us committed. Our marriage is a testimony of how God’s healing power and love can draw people to one another and keep them devoted, faithful, and fruitful, even in the face of adversity and disappointment. Our faults and failings threaten to separate us, but when we are vulnerable and honest, those same things pull us closer to each other and to God. We have an enemy who wants to destroy our marriage, and us, but we have a God who will defeat death and destruction in any form, and he has hope and a future for our marriage.
Tammy is founder and curator of The Mudroom, a collaborative blog encouraging women to speak truth, love hard, and enter in with each other. Find out more: here.
07 Aug 2012
Washed and Waiting is a series of Christian theological and personal reflections written by a doctoral student who struggles with same-sex attraction. Wesley Hill begins his story as a secret, frightened believer with forbidden yearnings in the church. He ends his biography as an open, integrated member of Christian community who has chosen celibacy as a lifestyle of faithfulness for Christ. The book is almost devotional at points, exploring the spiritual nuances of the gospel as they apply to his struggle. Even if he weren’t addressing same-sex yearnings, he provides us with a model of what growing discipleship looks like as we live in a broken world.
This is not a “success” story. There is little movement away from his same-sex attractions during the course of his story, and Hill says he cannot even imagine what the absence of these desires might look like in his life. But we do see personal transformation in how he increasingly understands and welcomes his celibate struggle as an impetus and means to deepen his relationship with Christ. After all, intimacy and union with Christ are the ultimate goals for all believers.
In the introduction, Hill explains his terminology. He calls himself a “gay Christian” and, more frequently, a “homosexual Christian.” Since we hear this term from those who want to legitimize homosexual relations as a “Christian” alternative, it feels uncomfortable—probably both to those who want to legitimize homosexual practice and to those who reject it. At Harvest USA, we feel that using a sexual orientation qualifier for Christians lessens one’s full and primary identity in Christ (see this blog for an excellent discussion on this topic).
But Hill is absolutely on target in reminding us that there is, and always has been, a slice of the Christian church who have struggled, usually silently, with same-sex attraction while remaining faithful to Christ in their lifestyle. Hill provides a number of well-known names as representatives; there are more than we realize. God calls us in the church to understand, empathize, and support them. Like all of us, whatever our sexual attractions, they are broken people, and Christ walks with them in their suffering.
You can’t take this journey of celibacy without accepting that sin causes basic human brokenness. Same-sex attraction is, like all forms of brokenness, a result of the human race’s fall in Adam. And like all effects of the Fall in our lives, we struggle to attain the goal of personal holiness for which Christ calls all of us to strive as we wait for the coming glory when sexuality will no longer be an issue, and intimacy will be complete in Christ. Those who have a small vision of the coming glory—when the coming of Christ will usher in a restored humanity and world—who see sexual intimacy as a right, and who refuse suffering as part of the spiritual journey, will struggle with Hill’s book. But those who long for deep intimacy with Christ, understand the relational power of Christian community, and find Christian waiting profitable in the long run, will find this book encouraging and full of hope.