The angels may well have been rejoicing in heaven at the moment of my conversion, but joy was far from me. I knew that what I was doing was right, but I cried tears of sorrow knowing, at least in part, the immediate cost of taking up the cross of obedient discipleship. I walked away from Alice, the love of my life, a keenly anticipated future, and a mindset that had been fashioned over a 25-year period.
This moving story of one woman’s struggle to remain faithful to the Bible’s teaching is one example of the many thousands in our churches…
Alice was everything I had ever wanted in a partner. After two previous long-term relationships and a few dalliances, I just knew that she was “it”. We were destined to grow old together.
And then randomly, as a non-believer, I started reading the Bible.
When I wasn’t at work, I had my head stuck in this book, and was devouring every word in front of me. During the subsequent months, although I don’t recall reading any of the specific passages, I came to realise that my gay life and behaviour were simply not compatible with this holy and all-powerful God. I just knew that I couldn’t become a Christian and continue with life as I knew it.
This left me in a dilemma, for I had only been attracted to my own gender since childhood. The sense of feeling different began around the age of three and only ever deepened and clarified as I entered puberty. While my friends at school started to drool over pictures of pop stars and became giddy at the sight of certain lads from the boys’ school, I longed to be the recipient of their affection. I longed to love and be loved. In the 1970s, however, these were not the kind of feelings to which one could admit. I entered university at 18, finally finding other like-minded women, and soon engaged in my first physical relationship.