I was invited by a schoolmate to attend one of their church gigs. I am not a church person, but for the purpose of chancing at reliving my once religious life, I decided to give my adamant nod.
I was with two friends, so I didn’t think I would have problems fitting in. We were a bit late, so the activity had already started when we arrived. And to my surprise, the church gig was really a gig, with the lights down low in the cramped venue and with a live band performing Christian rock music.
In my old religion, although I am not saying that I have a new one, we were taught the value of serenity in praising God. There was only an organ that accompanied our hymns, and a choir donned in white togas. Our services were totally peaceful, quiet, and sleepy. So upon entering the mini-concert hall, my old faith was relieved, instantly detesting the thing going around me.
But the people in the room were members of the youth. It kind of makes sense. The gig must some sort of a technique to entice people to attend the gathering. Also, the sermon was tailored for the youth. It was not the usual sermon where several biblical passages are lambasted at the people’s faces. Instead, it was more of like a casual seminar, with a lot of jokes going around, which proved to be effective in maintaining the audience’s attention.
I must be wrong after all. But still, I could not feel a knock in my heart. Yes, I was singing and dancing with the congregation, but when I raise my hands to God, I couldn’t. I just can’t do anything that I have no intention and sincerity of doing so. But for the sake of not being noticed, I raised my hands, full stretched, in comical pretense.
I was really hoping that something could melt the icy crusts in my heart. I am trying my best to open my heart, but I could not feel God. And every time I do so, the issue of homosexuality is always a part of the pastor’s sermon. It has now happened twice, and it coincides with the moments that I am seriously considering the reconstruction of my faith. If this has an implication, I want to know what it is. Is it a way of telling me to leave or to go on?
If it is the former, then it is telling me that to God really created me this way. If it is the latter, then I must adhere to the notion that homosexuality, or should I say homosexual acts, are bad for spiritual life. But I can’t. I cannot turn away from who I really am.
I know I have been this way since my brains could make imprints of things that I see, hear, smell, taste, and feel. I always profess that I have been gay all my life, and it is true. I never felt straight in my whole life, al though I felt what it was like how to make things straight and act straight. It feels weird and bad enough for people of my feather to deal and go through such, and having additional religious brouhaha on homosexuality would make me want to wish for hell or high water.
But maybe I will give this thing another shot. There must be some faith out there who wouldn’t mind my long hair and purple nails. After all, my old religion told me that God is loving and forgiving.
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