Coming Out for Real

I just officially came out to the world by posting this on my new blog and sharing it on Facebook.

I'm so scared.

Families and Salvation

So I just wrote this post about families, homosexuality, and salvation... and then I was thinking... It's time for me to get a new blog under my real name. And so I've started a new blog. If you'd like to continue reading, it can be found here. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented on this blog. It's been a big part of my coming out process and has helped me quite a bit to come to terms with and redevelop a lot of what I believe. My new blog is going to focus a lot on issues with homosexuality and religion. If you're interested, you're welcome to keep reading and commenting. Thanks again to everyone!

Thoughts on North Star and Apologetics

Yesterday I joined the North Star facebook group. I was excited to read the comments and see what people were talking about. Unfortunately, to this point they have made me very frustrated. The reason seems to me to be the same reason that apologetics in general frustrate me: instead of a genuine search for truth, they are wholly based on the assumption of certain premises followed by the construction of cultural norms of conformity preferred over freedom of thought. To be fair, it's not so much a problem with North Star as it is a problem with the Church  culture that permeates North Star.
I don't believe that lasting peace and happiness come from untruths (probably because of my LDS background :) ). If discovery of truth is necessary for true peace, and if peace of mind is something worth arriving at, then we must have a reliable method for discovering truth. The method that seems to have worked the best in the past four hundred years is the scientific method.
I've always loved Alma 32 because of how similar the process of faith described therein is to the scientific method. It's a process of experimentation and judgment based on results. While there are significant differences between this spiritual method and the scientific method (like the inability to reproduce results in a demonstrable way and blatant subjectivity of the spiritual method), both methods are based on a premise that most apologists, in my estimation, at least, fail to meet. This premise is presented in the beginning of Alma 32 when Alma tells the people that they are blessed because their poverty has led them to humility, which is the prerequisite for gaining a witness and developing faith. In order to gain faith, Alma teaches, you cannot have already cast out the "seed" by your "unbelief."
Alma is teaching that the premise to the spiritual method of coming to know truth is approaching the question with an unbiased mind, having not already come to a conclusion beforehand. In the scientific method it is the same way: when the facts don't match the theory, you throw out the theory, not the facts. This implies a willingness to be wrong and produces a flexibility in dialogue not currently seen among apologetics nor in the communications I've read from North Star.
Apologists begin with the assumed premise that the truth is known to them and that no facts contradicting the truth are actually facts. Their view that contradictory evidence is the result of cherry picking and data manipulation leads them, in my estimation, to be even more guilty of the same.
Last night I read the reactions on North Star to a post on the "No More Strangers" blog, which was written about the dangers of celibacy. The speed at which people dismissed the message of the post and relied simply on anecdotes and pithy, faith promoting aphorisms frustrated me (though to be fair, the original article was also anecdotal in nature). In discussing whether or not celibacy can lead to a happy life, there was no discussion of data (such as the research conducted on the quality of life of celibate gay Mormons by John Dehlin) - only an already agreed upon theory.
I have to put out the caveat that I could be completely wrong about both North Star and apologists. My observations are only based on what I have been able to observe. It's more than possible that I've only observed a small portion. This is also not a commentary on individuals within those two categories, but rather on the cultural norms established in the way the groups approach problems.
In conclusion, I think that allowing myself freedom of thought and being willing to question my deepest assumptions has greatly increased my quality of life. I'm more authentic and honest than I've ever been, which has brought me a lot of peace. I would encourage all gay, SSA, and even straight Mormons (heck, I'd encourage every living person) to really, deeply question all of your assumptions. And if there are some assumptions I've failed to question or look at openly and honestly, please point them out.
And that's all I have to say about that.

On the Disorderliness of Lives

I'm currently taking a class on the history of the French Revolution, and the professor is incredible. He is the most brilliant individual I have ever met. Also, he is incredibly well-spoken and lots of fun to listen to. The other day in class he made a comment on which I have been ruminating. He was talking about the Terror, the period of the revolution where everyone started guillotining the aristocracy and anyone who betrayed the revolution, and he was trying to help us understand its causes and what it was like for people to live through that time period. And then he said it: "lives are not orderly." It was very simple, and yet so deeply profound.

Growing up in the church you are often led to believe the opposite-- that there is a distinct order and pattern to which one must adhere to in life. When you're eight, you are baptized. For boys, you receive the priesthood at the age of twelve. After high school, you go on a mission. After getting back, you get married as soon as possible. You go to school. You get a job. You have kids as soon as possible. And then you support your family. And that is the order of life.

But the problem with looking at life this way is that lives are not orderly. There is beautiful degree of chaos that seems to govern our interactions, and life is anything but predictable. Setting up a system of rigid expectations becomes harmful because when they fail us, we feel deeply discontent, even like we're failures for not adhering to the order of things. (Of course planning, preparation, and having some concept of orderliness is important--let's not throw out the baby with the bath water. But that's besides the point I'm trying to make.) I've found both in myself and in others that when things become disorderly to a certain degree, people begin to freak out and want to give up. But I think that being frustrated over disorder is missing the beauty in the ordeal.

Anyone who has talked to me for more than fifteen minutes about humanity will know that my favorite comparison is to trees. I always compare people to trees. (Sidenote--I was giddy with joy the other day when I read moral psychologist Jonathon Haidt say "I think a better metaphor is that people are like plants...") The reason I do this is because trees are messy. They grow in random shapes and the branches twist in different directions. No two trees are completely alike, and yet they all have an incredible, inherent beauty. And here's the thing I love most about trees-- they don't try to be beautiful. Nothing in the natural world (except people) really tries to be beautiful. Sunsets, oceans, and waterfalls are all just inherently beautiful. And you know what? We don't really have to try to be worth something either. Each of us has an inherent worth simply because we exist. Also, trees don't make mistakes... they just grow. Viewing our mistakes solely as awful infringements against some grand, eternal moral code has never sat well with me. I find more utility in viewing them as growth opportunities.

But with trees and forests and the natural world... there's an element of disorder to it all. And I think it's the disorder that makes it beautiful. So when unpredictable changes come and our lives seem to be falling apart, I think it's useful to ponder on the disorderliness of lives and to remember that the disorderliness is part of what creates the beauty.

"I don't love you, but I always will..."

These two songs express completely how I've come to feel about the church.

Some Thoughts on Friendship

Today I talked with a friend that recently returned from her mission (like four days ago), and filled her in on everything that's happened since she left, which has been quite a lot. It sent me thinking about friends and the purpose of friendship and the type of friend that I want to be.

I had a really, really close group of friends throughout high school. I felt like I could talk to them about anything and everything. When I was feeling down or lonely, I would always go to them first. Their letters and encouragement really kept me going through some of the harder moments of my mission. I was so excited to be back with them when I got home. And then... things started to change. As I went through my personal emotional crisis in regards to my sexual orientation, I felt like I couldn't turn to them anymore. Talking to them about it made things awkward, and they seemed to avoid the subject as much as possible. And that really hurt. More than anything, I wished so badly that they would reach out to me and help me. I was in so much pain, and I needed so desperately to talk about what I was experiencing and what I was going through. I almost felt betrayed that the people I had trusted so deeply seemed to suddenly be gone when things got difficult.

Since then, I've made a lot of new friends. One of the very best has been there for me through all of it. She was with me in China when things first started getting bad, and she listened without being judgmental at all. It was such a refreshing difference from my other friends, who all seemed to have the agenda of maintaining the status quo of their understanding of me and of our relationships. I've also been able to talk to two of my roommates in depth about things, and they've been really supportive, and it hasn't changed anything in our friendships.

Through this all, I've learned a lot about friendship and about the type of friend that I want to be to people. I don't blame my old friends too much for the way they acted--they had no idea how to handle the situation (and frankly, neither did I). Though...it would be an untruth to say I wasn't bitter at all. It really felt betraying. But I'm so grateful to those friends who were willing to just listen. And I think that's the mark of a true friend-- someone who's able to listen without judgment and who helps you come to your own conclusions. And I think it's important that listening isn't a passive act--I mean the act of actually trying to understand people, which involves questions and really wondering what the person is feeling and thinking and going through. I think there are few better ways to express love for someone than to wonder. 

And it really hurts when people don't wonder--especially people who care the most. When I've talked to other gay people, for example, there seems to rarely be greater pain in their eyes than when they say their parents don't want to talk about it and just pretend it's not there. We can't pretend away other people's problems. And trying to is selfish. Wondering enough to ask questions and intently listen and trying to understand what people are going through is, in my opinion, one of the greatest ways to show love, and the best way of being a friend to someone who's going through a hard time.

Suffering

In the last few days I've had lots of really good, deep conversations with friends and family members about pain. I've realized more and more that suffering is universally a part of everyone's lives. No matter how great people's lives seem on the outside, on the inside, suffering is a core part of their being.

If this is true, then what's the point of it all? If God is real, all powerful and all loving, how could he create a world with this much pain? We all have those moments when we pause and feel the reverberations of a nihilistic emptiness pulsing through our bodies--when life feels devoid of meaning and time seems to stand still, almost mocking us by refusing to move forward and past the moment of greatest grief. When I feel completely covered in loneliness I often notice a deep irony. One day I was walking back from campus, and feeling that deep sadness slowly returning, and I looked up to notice the clouds. A setting sun had given them a deep, pink fringe that contrasted so beautifully with the blue sky behind it. I couldn't help but think, how can the world persist in being so beautiful when all my heart seems to persist in is pain?

I've noticed before that the natural world almost can't help but be beautiful. Even the most gnarled trees are beautiful. Even the stormiest skies have a sort of beauty to them. But it's a cold, uncaring beauty. Sometimes I wonder if God isn't like that-- a cold, uncaring being who can't help but be awe-inspiring and beautiful at the same time. But I still really feel and deeply believe that He is something more than that. Somehow, buried behind all of this pain, there is a sort of meaning and purpose.

The true test of life, I think, isn't to eliminate pain, but to find joy in spite of it. And let me be the first one to say that I suck at that. But even though I get caught up in my own frustrations so often, moments of peace and clarity are also there. And there's something transcendent and beautiful in them.

There's so much deep pain among gay members of the Church. There are so many broken hearts that need to be healed. I hope that anyone reading this who's going through a hard time knows that my heart hurts with yours.