Finding others who understand me

I was about 15 years old when I realised I was gay. Though I grew up in the church – my dad was a vicar – it wasn’t a topic I ever remember being addressed. My only frame of reference for what Christians thought about homosexuality was a quick mention in a Religious Studies class, where it was stated that Catholics were against gay sex, but that Protestants thought it was probably OK! Goodness knows how that summary had been arrived at, but I took it as gospel. Fine, I thought. I’m not ready to come out yet. This was the early 2000s and I didn’t know any gay people in my rural community. I decided to wait until was 18, when I would tell people and, who knows, maybe even start dating.

Following Jesus as a celibate man

Fast forward a couple of years, and I’m at Spring Harvest. Over the past year, faith has become something I’m taking more seriously. I’d always have called myself a Christian, never doubting that God existed, but I don’t think I’d have been able to explain the gospel to anybody. I’d certainly never made a commitment to give my life to Jesus and yet, at Spring Harvest with some friends, that was what I wanted to do. I’d been gradually falling more and more in love with the Jesus I’d heard about all my life, but never really looked at full in the face. But there was something else happening at the same time. As I discovered a relationship with Jesus for the first time, I’d also discovered something else. In passing, in a talk about something else completely, the youth leader said, “Homosexuality is a no-no.” Just those few words. What did she mean? What did the Bible actually say about something I now recognised was a central part of me?

I hadn’t brought a Bible with me, so I went to the gift shop at Spring Harvest. There, standing with the awkwardness that only a 17-year-old can emanate, I picked up a Youth Bible and went to the index. I found ‘homosexuality’. I went to the page reference and read Leviticus 18:22. The Youth Bible also had a little box alongside, oddly quoting the Pet Shop Boys, and then explaining that homosexual sex is always listed alongside other sins – such as over-eating – and to be careful about ‘your own attitude to gay folk. Have you been judgemental whilst clinging to your own sin?’ 

A couple of days later, a different youth leader said that God had told him someone in the room was struggling with homosexuality and could they come forward for prayer. This has been the only time I’d heard someone say that in any meeting so, looking back, God was clearly on my case! Thankfully there were lots of come-forward-for-prayer prompts, so I didn’t have to ‘out’ myself to my friends when I went forward. I prayed with a kind, compassionate man. I’m so grateful that my first experience of telling someone about my sexuality was this gentle. I believed what the Bible said about gay sex. I chose to  be celibate.My decision to follow Jesus and my decision to be celibate are so intertwined that it’s hard to disentangle them. Since I had fallen so deeply in love with Jesus, and newly amazed by what He had done on the cross, celibacy didn’t feel like a difficult ask. Sure, bring it on! Anything for Him! I barely hesitated.

A harder call than I’d first realised

Of course, things haven’t always been that easy. After my initial fervour waned into a more everyday experience of Christian life, I began to realise that it could be a harder call than I realised. And I knew that eventually I would need other people to walk alongside me in that. At the beginning of my second term at university, in 2005, I decided to tell a friend about my sexuality. He was only a couple of years older than me, but already had the demeanour of somebody very wise, thoughtful and caring; not for nothing is he now the principal of a theology college! Something I find it impossible to properly convey to straight people how terrifying it is to ‘come out’ to someone. On reflection, he may well have had his suspicions already, but for me, besides the man at Spring Harvest I knew I’d never see again, this was the first time I’d said the words “I am gay” out loud to another person, to someone I would see consistently in our Christian Union for the next couple of years. This felt enormous.

Again, I was very blessed with the kindness and wisdom I met. My friend clearly didn’t have much experience in this arena, but went and read relevant books, got advice from others and prayed with me as I dealt with this next stage in life. Not long later I told my twin brother, and a few months later I told my parents. Looking back now, 20 years later, I feel proud of myself back then. I was a teenager and dealing with real hard things. I was certainly scared and relied heavily on the Holy Spirit to give me words and courage. Perhaps naively, I believed that every Christian I told would share my theology, that the Bible called for my response to same-sex attraction to be celibacy. As far as I know, those first Christians did indeed share my belief. It made the experience easier and I was also blessed by having positive responses from everybody. But, especially with my family, we didn’t talk about it again. They took their cue from me: I was obviously reluctant to bring up a topic that I found quite painful and emotional to discuss.

Over the years, I always made sure that I told certain friends. Sometimes (too many times - I should have learned!) it was because female friends thought I was hitting on them. Most of my close friends always have been women and it’s been useful to be honest in those relationships to allow for true depth of friendship without awkwardness. At other times, it was to make sure I had somebody local to turn to when I was having a hard time. Straight friends have always been supportive but, like my family, took their cue from me. For many years, I simply didn’t want to talk about my struggles unless I was having some sort of crisis. Now, I can’t quite put my finger on why. Now I bring it up constantly with friends! I am keener than ever to educate straight people in the church on what experience is like for a gay, celibate Christian. Then, it felt unsayable.

Finding others in the same boat

Something missing for a long time, though, was other people in the same boat as me. There were 18 years between making my decision to be celibate and meeting anybody else who had made the same decision. Well, knowingly meeting them, at least. As it happens, the church I went to for a couple of years at university (before moving to the church which I still attend) had Vaughan Roberts as the vicar and Sam Allberry as the student pastor! Both are well-known names in the same-sex attracted community now, but neither were public about their sexuality at the time. When I think about those 18 years, I honestly don’t know how I went for so long without any sort of ‘Side B’ community. I would get so frustrated when straight friends mentioned that they knew other gay, celibate Christians, because they didn’t need that community. I did. But I wasn’t ready to take the necessary steps and to be vulnerable. It can only have been God who kept me going through those years without any brothers and sisters who knew what my experience was truly like to live.

Five years ago, I had that encounter. By some twisty steps, a mutual friend helped me and my friend (let’s call him Ben, which is not his real name) learn the reality of each other’s lives. We met up and shared our stories. It was so special for me. If talking to straight people felt like I was constantly trying to translate my experience, then this conversation was in my ‘mother tongue’ for the first time. Since then, I have been much bolder in finding a community of Christians who get what my life is like. Of course, all our stories are different. Something I’ve had to learn – coming to this community comparatively late – is that we can all be gay/same-sex attracted and still disagree about particular issues or find different things hard or easy. For so long, I was my only voice of Side B life and I’m learning that I am one of many.

If you are younger (or, indeed, any age!) and scared about finding that community, I get it. Going to a TFT event does feel like instantly coming out to a room full of strangers, and I guess it is. But nothing has been more valuable in this area of my life than meeting other Side B friends. Finally, I have a community of people who can laugh about the occasional absurdities of our lives, have genuine empathy for the struggles and join in recognising the love of Jesus that motivates us to costly obedience. It’s worth the courage, I promise.

This article was originally published in the Autumn 2025 edition of the TFT magazine, Ascend. Click the button below to download your copy.