I grew up in what some call the rusty buckle of the Bible Belt…East Texas. As a baby, I was baptized in the Catholic church my family attended. After my parents divorced when I was young (around 6 years old), we stopped attending church altogether. It wasn’t until after my mom remarried before we started attending again. However, since my mom and step dad are both Baptists, we started attending a small Southern Baptist church. I eventually joined the church and was baptized again. I like to say that I’ve been sprinkled and dunked, so I should have a check mark next to my name when my time comes.

Starting in middle school, I could tell there was something about me that was different. It was most apparent in gym class, especially having to get into gym class uniform. I started noticing the other boys. When I finally realized what was going on inside me, I knew it was going against everything I had ever been told. Boys aren’t supposed to like other boys. I was ashamed with myself. I didn’t ask for this, or want this. Why me? As I prayed, and sometimes cried, at bedtime, I begged for God to change me…to make me ‘normal.’

As I got older, and when my prayers went unanswered, I came to the realization that I needed to start loving myself if I wanted to be happy. I told God I was ready to accept myself and hope he still loved me. I then made the decision to start telling friends, and was surprised of the acceptance in my core group.

One night when my brother and I were staying with our dad, I told my brother. I was even more terrified of telling him than my friends. I couldn’t even say the word. I just said, “I’m like Will” from Will & Grace. It was no big deal, he even said he had suspected it. We decided it best not to tell our parents at that time.

During this same time of self acceptance, I threw myself into the youth group. I enjoyed the fellowship with my church friends. I became my youth pastor’s right hand man. I was always the first one there on Sundays and Wednesdays, and usually one of the last to leave. If Todd needed any help with anything, he knew he could count on me.

One summer while we were at a church camp in Florida, my parent’s discovered my secret. I knew something was wrong when I got home. My dad (who at the time lived about 45 minutes away) was there. My brother and his wife (who lived four hours away in Austin) walked out the door as I was walking up from my car, and told me that our parents knew. I probably could have watered the front lawn with my tears. The immediate thought in my head was that I was going to be kicked out and I needed to figure out who I could stay with. After I got myself together and we went inside, small talk about my trip started the conversation. After a pause, my mom declared this was my “coming out party” for them. I honestly wanted to burst out into laughter because I never thought I would hear my mother say those words. Instead, I started to cry, and my mom and dad both came over to hug me and tell me that they loved me.

The following year, my church youth group was planning to attend a yearly life of Christ pageant that another local church put on each year. I asked Todd if my friend Nick, who had never been, could go with us. He said it was no problem. Nick joined us, and the girls seemed to think he and I were a couple, which we weren’t. We just brushed off the comments and enjoyed the show.

The week after the pageant, Todd, our friends Moriah & Crystal, and myself were pulling back into the parking lot in the church van from taking kids home after Wednesday night Bible study. As he stopped the van, he said we needed to talk. Todd never turned around to look at me, or even look at me through the rear view mirror, but told me that I was no longer welcome in the youth group. He said I had become a bad influence on the others. I was devastated. My youth group was my second family, and I was told I was no longer a part of it. I went home, and Mom could tell I was upset. She asked me what was wrong, and I just said, “I’m not going back” and she just said “OK.”

From that point, I decided that I had my own personal relationship with God and I didn’t need a youth pastor, or anyone else for that matter, telling me how that relationship should work. I continued to say my prayers, and even sporadically attended church on Sunday, only if we were going just for the service.

As an adult, I have rarely attended church due to the bad taste in my mouth from how I was treated by my youth pastor. I was introduced to Another Story by some near and dear friends of mine, and I am so glad they did. I love that feeling of acceptance and love from a group of not just other LGBT+, but also of our straight allies meeting and talking about God and his love for everyone. To God, we do not have labels, we are just his children and he loves us just the way we are.