Check out Simone’s testimony of stepping away from religion to find Christ, how surrender replaced striving, and how God’s love brought clarity and peace.
2020 was a wild year for me, as it was for us all. The pandemic unearthed so many things that had been easily avoided in the overflow of distraction. For me, the undead that showed its face was a war that had been raging in the background of my mind for years: the tension between my sexuality and my faith.
In the summer of 2016, the devastating shooting at Orlando’s Pulse nightclub affected me in ways I never saw coming. That tragic event set me on a path that led me to conclude I experience same-sex attractions. For about a year, I covertly wrestled with these feelings in church, in community, and in faith with very little relief. It didn’t take long before I fled to the open arms of the world since I couldn’t find peace in the places I’d always found myself well-nourished.
I moved to D.C. in 2019 and quickly found a community of intelligent, open-minded, loving friends who had a variety of different views on religion and all that came with it, including sexuality. Many of these people are still my closest friends and are truly what I define as the Church, not because of labels, but because of love. However, when the COVID lockdowns began, even the love of my friends–who took me at face value and still saw me as priceless–wasn’t enough to slow the hemorrhaging of my heart.
One night, I was lying in bed weeping as I faced the choice between pursuing God and pursuing the kind of romantic love I so desperately wanted. In the past, I had adopted a question that never failed to align me with my faith rather than my feelings. In times of grief and anger with God, I’d ask myself, “Will this be the thing that separates you from God?” I’d never had a problem confidently declaring that nothing competed with my commitment to God…until this moment. This time when I asked, I sat terrified that the winner in this toss-up might not be God. I wanted so badly to reassure myself that my pursuit of same-sex relationships wasn’t compromising my faith at a fundamental level, but I couldn’t. I was faced with a decision between a love I could choose and my faith–and the Love that chose me.
Despite not feeling very hopeful that I could make peace with my experience and my faith, I had plenty of pandemic time to scour the internet for anything that might give me another, better option. I found plenty of answers that twisted the gospel to justify the kind of decisions I was making, but somewhere deep down I knew those answers were just appeasing (or condemning) me, not confronting or truly considering me. That is, until I found Equip.
To this day, Equip is still the only place I’ve found that shares the gospel both authentically and compassionately. I felt challenged and seen. Equip never pushed simple answers on me but instead expressed truth that required me to run back to the only place that had answers: the altar. Equip’s content met me right where I was. What I read didn’t beat me up over where I should be but pointed me in the right direction: God. I battled for months with God until my spirit was too tired to fight anymore. I was finally at a place in my relationship, my emotions, and my hope where I was ready to listen. Ready to have a conversation rather than prepared for combat.
I finally went to the Judge, the only One who can dole out judgement, but instead He chose compassion and intimacy. When I met with God, He never told me “stop,” “don’t,” or “you shouldn’t.” His answer was always the same: “Come closer.” I was able to sit with Him with no expectation or requirement that I needed to change a single thing. I learned a very important lesson in that season. It wasn’t (and will never be) about sexuality. It’s always been about surrender.
God made beautiful things and beautiful people. I’m not sinning because I notice that, but I must also recognize that the Bible is not a set of rules; it’s an owner’s manual. I can pursue this life whatever way I want, but I was created in such a way that to get the best quality out of this life–and to save myself from heartache–I can just follow His instructions. I have a choice as to whether I think the owner’s manual is valid, just as everyone else does, so I don’t chastise others for choosing to use a different manual or not to use one at all. Instead, I live in such a way that I hope others will come to me and ask, “Hey, how did you get your life to look like that?” and then I hope to show them. I won’t chase after them to convince them they’re wrong.
I had to stray from the God I thought I knew to meet the God who I can trust with all of my life. I had to leave Christianity to find Christ. I had to leave condemnation to find comfort. I had to leave religion to find rhythm. But now, being so firmly rooted by the streams of living water, when self-reflection shows damage, wilting, decay, or rotting, I don’t attempt to heal myself because I don’t have that power. Nor do I disparage the water, the tree, or the soil. Instead, I wait patiently and expectantly for the Gardener to tend to me in the way only He can.
I was looking for answers and instead I found peace. Peace in not knowing the answers and peace in knowing I don’t need them. I wasn’t sent here to police myself or anyone else and, in knowing that, I am able to soak up every drop of humility, joy, love, and freedom. I know my charge: love God and love others. In doing those diligently, I rediscovered God’s unshakeable love for me.
