Most LGBTQ Christian couples are well-acquainted with what I like to call the Uninvited Spotlight. Sometimes it’s a subtle glow, other times it’s a glaring beam. We’re still enough of an anomaly in faith communities that we draw attention: a covert stare during worship, or perhaps a more explicit comment after the service. Depending on your church, some of this attention may be quite positive and welcoming; in other cases, it will embody the brunt of religious hostility. Either way, it can be difficult to date without the feeling of being watched.
We’re in escrow for a house. Assuming the rest of the process goes smoothly, we’ll be closing in about a week. “Escrow.” “Closing.” These are words I never thought I’d hear myself saying. Buying a house has always been David’s dream. He owned the apartment where he lived in Los Angeles, and renting has been unsettling to him the last few years in Portland. But me? Well, if I’m honest, I’ve never really minded being a renter
A reader asks, "How does a gay couple navigate the pitfalls and issues of jealousy or envy or even unfounded suspicion when one partner has a close gay friend where there may be room for temptation?" We say that trust is something you’re building every day. Every conversation, every act of service you perform for each other, even every conflict that arises, is an opportunity to either add to or chip away at your trust. Confidence that your partner won’t let you down grows as you become attuned to each other.
Guest post: "I was born in Bogotá, Colombia, and was raised in an evangelical Christian home. I am gay, and I have never given up on my Christian faith. I love my city and I love my country. I love our culture, our language, and our music. But being gay here is much harder than it is in more progressive parts of the world. Latin America is very conservative, and highly influenced by traditional Catholic thinking—not to mention the fundamentalist ideas of some evangelicals."
Only weeks after our one-year anniversary, I broke my wedding ring. I’m talking a full-on, cracked-into-pieces scenario. It was one of those slow-motion disasters that took a fraction of a second to happen but seemed to last for minutes. And as I watched the symbol of our marriage shatter across the sidewalk, the one thought gnawing at the pit of my stomach was: How am I going to tell my husband?
We spent part of the afternoon this Saturday at Powell’s, Portland’s beloved bookstore, browsing through the Relationships and LGBT sections. We picked a couple of promising books, but my favorite is a little 1968 volume we found in the vintage shelf titled Marriage: Pro & Con. It is described as being “a compilation of witty sayings for and against the holy state of matrimony.”
I met my girlfriend Allison in Rainbow City, Alabama. You read correctly. There is a small town in Alabama called Rainbow City. It is rural, ultra-conservative, and as unfriendly toward LGBTQ people as you would expect of a tiny Southern town. And yet it was there, in Rainbow City, where I met my girlfriend, discovered my authentic self, and learned about the importance of finding mentors on the long road toward self-acceptance as a gay Christian.
A few months ago, David and I sat down for a conversation with a couple we met online. Tony and Michelle Peterson, co-creators of the #staymarried blog reached out to us, asking if we’d join them for an episode of their podcast. I have to admit, we were a little surprised—we had been reading their blog, and we loved it, but we had also gathered that they’re Christian. The Petersons started their blog after a series of divorces in their close circle of friends left them feeling discouraged, wondering if their own marriage could last.
I am a writer. It has taken me years to speak those words, and even then I tended to mumble my way through them when anyone asked what I did. I am a writer. A while back I quit a job and pursued my dream of writing full-time, but still it took me years to adopt that as part of my identity. Now, just as that label has started to feel comfortable and true, life and relationship are changing my priorities. I am a writer. I don’t know if that mantra fits me anymore. What do we do when marriage reorders our dreams and shifts our goals?
Our one-year anniversary practically snuck up on us this past Sunday. Time is strangely elastic when it comes to the defining moments in our lives—it has a way of moving simultaneously fast and slow. It seems like it was only last week that we were rushing about, finishing last-minute details for the wedding while greeting friends from out of town and hurriedly packing for our honeymoon. But it also feels as if we’ve lived a lot of life, both good and bad, in the past 12 months. I wonder about whether marriage has changed us, and about the trajectory on which we’ve set our relationship for the years to come.