Happiness begins and ends in Jesus Christ. That’s it. Full stop. Surely it can’t be as simple as that? We all have friends and family who will encourage us to think something quite different. The argument is often that happiness can only truly be found in the arms of another person, in a sexual union of some sort. We hear voices saying that having Jesus is all well and good, but in this life, you can’t just rely on Him. You need something or someone else that is more tangible and immediate.

I shouldn’t feel like this. I’m a Christian.” “I feel so guilty.” “Do you think I am possessed?” Many times I have heard these, or similar statements, from those experiencing some form of mental or emotional distress or dis-ease. Sometimes this has been fuelled by a person’s engagement with scripture, the teaching they have received or the implicit ethos of the faith group they belong to. 

I grew up in a Christian home. My Mum is a Spirit-filled, born-again believer of Christ, and brought up my sister and I to attend church and Sunday school. My Dad left my Mum under quite heart-breaking circumstances when I was just 2 and moved about 30 miles away. We usually saw him at the weekend. He and Mum had been elders at a local Church of England, but upon his sudden departure, Mum felt unable to return to church.

As a woman with same-sex attraction, I have a history of running away from God and suppressing the conviction of adhering to biblical holiness that He graciously placed on my heart. In my country, same-sex attractions are neither generally spoken about, nor properly addressed in churches,. Therefore, it’s quite easy to not only to compromise belief, but to avoid accountability for ungodly living and keep under the radar.

There are many superficial indicators of faith in my life:

The title of this article was spoken by a pastor of mine many years ago. She was summing up a dozen or so scriptures on the topic of making our election sure, and what a powerful word-picture this statement brings to mind! As Christians, we’ve been called out—we are God’s ekklesia, his representatives on earth. Even so, how strong is the lure to take on the various hues of the world and literally blend back in—just like a salamander.

I thought I might start by laying my cards on the table. I am someone who experiences same-sex attraction and has done since childhood. I am not only attracted to people of the same sex; I am married, and my wife graciously supports me. My desires are rather carnal than romantic. By which I mean, I have never desired a long-term romantic relationship with a man. 

I grew up in a non-Christian family. No one, even in my extended family, went to church except for the standard weddings, christenings and funerals. I attended a boarding school which was nominally Christian. We had Chapel 5 times a week and I sang in the choir at churches and cathedrals around the country. I went to church a lot, so I knew about God, but I didn’t know Him. My school ran an evening club, where we could hang out after curfew.

The boy was looking at me like I was crazy. I can still see his face, bemused and laced with disdain.
“Why are you answering? You’re a girl!” It was a primary school assembly and the teacher had just asked a question, specifically directed at the boys, to which I had responded effusively. The boy’s words doused me like a bucket of icy water.
“Oh yes,” I remembered with a start, “I’m a girl.”
That was the first time I realised that despite being female, I’d assumed I was male. And it was not to be the last.