A Letter to Intolerance

I need to take a quick break from my story, and post a letter I wrote after reading some rather hate-filled comments surrounding the issue of homosexuality. If anyone would like to have an honest, open, love-filled discussion with me, no matter what side of the issue you are on, I welcome your emails: gaysaint@gmail.com

I love you all - especially those who will not show me the same courtesy.

And now, the letter:
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Dear Intolerance,

It is with a rather heavy heart that I write to you today. I don’t think you know how much I hurt in hope that one day you will do nothing more than understand. I’ve seen you often, with your sharp claws exposed as love and gentleness fall prey in all of those whose lives you consume. There are most who have the ability to let your temper roll off them when they see you, but what about the child you infect and destroy? Will you not think of him? Is he not the seed of Godhood? Does he do no good in your eyes?

Is it not enough to know that a child such as this already must conquer fear and doubt? A war wages within the child between who he is and who you want him to be that must end in resolution within him, not within you. You have no resolution. You are the opposite of love. You are fear.

But think not of the child dear Intolerance. Destroy him instead. You think this will silence the child, but the war wages on. You know nothing of the child or the war. You were spared service in such a battle. Is it God that gives you such knowledge to win a war you’ve never had to fight?

Then pray-tell, oh Intolerance, if you are so mighty and high, what would you have the child do to silence the rebellion? Can you even tell him which side is rebelling? Do you not suppose he has already approached his Creator in hopes of angels aiding him on his quest? Do you not suppose he has not done all that you have asked of him already? Would it surprise you to know the battle continues to rage in spite of your uninformative and ill-created suggestions?

Yes. It is up to the darling child to find the enemy and destroy it. Will you not give him a quiet place where he can retreat in love and warmth to do so?

I know you were born with large claws and a disposition to use them, but when you act on such a disposition you anger the very God you claim to know, condemning us all to Hell.

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The Early Years

I was always a little different. I was the kid in elementary school who would bring fresh picked flowers to my teachers simply because I was taught to value the fact that they were of a profession that would ensure my future success. I was always sensitive, and kind to the kids other kids picked on. I remember one day specifically, when my mom and I gave a ride home to one of the girls who was a favorite class scapegoat. My mom told me, “It’s a good thing you’re nice to her, because one day she is going to grow up and be beautiful and she’ll remember you were nice to her.” Funny as it may be, that girl grew up to be one of my closest friends, model gorgeous, and now lives in Russia with her millionaire father.

I’m not trying to say that every sensitive, kind, flower-bearing man is gay, simply that, in my case, these traits came easily to me as a direct result of my feeling “different.” As I look back on it, it wasn’t these traits that MADE me different; they were just the RESULT of something I already was. I think that it is important for me to make that distinction. That isn’t to say that all homosexuals possess these traits – but now I’m getting off topic.

I’m pretty sure the first time I became aware of my sexuality was around age 12. I remember feeling my first twinge of guilt around this age when I was ordained a deacon; I had recently had my first erotic dream – which included a cameo appearance by my best friend’s younger brother. I was so terrified of church discipline (I was sure I would be kicked to the curb if I dared tell anyone about the dream, let alone about the fact that I was, indeed, genuinely attracted to him) that I simply learned to keep my mouth shut, all the while starting down a destructive path of self-loathing.

I promised myself that no matter what I would simply follow the gospel that I had been taught. I compartmentalized my feelings, and thought if I just ignored them they would go away. I continually read my scriptures, attended the temple regularly, read the church magazines before anything else, and was active in seminary, boy scouts, and young men’s. I had great experiences with dating. I prayed at least six times a day. I literally did everything I could think of that the church told me to do – not only because I believed the gospel, but because I wanted to distract myself from the ever bulging mental box in which I had sealed my feelings.

I discovered early on that I could relieve some pressure if I dabbled in pornography. This, surprisingly, I did not feel I needed to hide from my priesthood leaders, and spoke to them often regarding the issue. They never asked what KIND of pornography I was viewing, and I never volunteered the information during my teen years. I have to admit that I was a bit shocked that I never lost my temple recommend, continued to be called to leadership positions, and eventually, was called to serve a mission.

My story will continue there, next week...