The story of my life is one of conflict, impasse and discovery.
The conflict was between my sexuality and my spirituality. I’ve always been drawn to spirituality. I’m an INFJ in Myers-Briggs typology, often described as the most mystical of the types. That fits me. I am by nature drawn to the infinite, the mysterious, the transcendent. I grew up in a conservative form of Christianity, where being gay is considered sinful. Yet I am gay. That tension was sometimes overwhelming. It often brought me to the brink of suicide.
I served over twenty years as a pastor. I loved the work. I enjoyed counseling, teaching, and helping others connect with the Infinite. But to fulfill the expectations of my faith, my family, and my friends, I was trying to be straight. I married. I had children, two beautiful daughters. I tried desperately to be straight. Of course, it didn’t work. On the contrary, the deeper I went in my spirituality, the more I came to accept myself as a gay man.
Then I fell in love. Wow! It felt so right. At last my inner world and my outer world were in harmony. But I still had a commitment to my marriage. That led me to a gut-wrenching impasse. Did I keep my marriage vows or did I integrate my sexuality? There seemed to be no right answer.
A year after I fell in love, I came out. It blew my world apart. I lost so much — my marriage, other relationships, career, security. I was in the middle of a doctoral program in spirituality at the Catholic University of America at the time. I finished the coursework toward my doctorate. But eventually the implications of coming out led me to drop out of the Ph.D. program. I realized I would not work in a specifically Christian context again, so the doctorate in Christian spirituality no longer made sense.
Coming out also led me to question what I believed. Part of my coming out process was learning to trust my own experience above what others said. I used that same principle to guide my decision about a spiritual path. I had experienced something real in times of meditation and prayer. I could not, like many gay men of my generation, give up the spiritual quest. Yet I wondered about the framework for that quest.
I began to explore other faiths. I discovered that all the major traditions offered insights and practices that were helpful. They used different language to describe the spiritual journey. Yet there seemed to be a single transcendent something toward which they all pointed, the same transcendent something I had experienced in my moments of greatest openness.
At long last, the two aspects of my being — my sexuality and my spirituality — found reconciliation. I would pursue the spiritual quest as a gay man from an interspiritual perspective.
As I explored the new field of gay spirituality, I kept wishing for books and articles that went beyond the basics. There were some excellent resources, but not as many as I had hoped.
This blog is about creating some of what I wanted to find. It is about helping us gay men find a spirituality that will sustain us through the period of societal disintegration we are now facing — more than that, a spirituality that will nourish us to be a force for healing and sanity as we shape the society of the future.
My goal is to write, teach, and mentor other gay men toward the transcendent. I draw from the great wisdom traditions, as well as modern psychology, and gay writers through the ages. Whether you ascribe to a particular tradition or are a spiritual seeker like me, I hope you will find here encouragement and insight for your gay journey.