For the last 9 years I have had the privilege under God of pastoring our church family. Our church family comprises a large range of people- different nationalities, ages, social backgrounds and struggles. What unites us all is the desire to know Jesus better and serve him more faithfully. How do I enable our church family to do this? Most importantly it’s through my preaching and pastoring. 

When people ask what my personal experience of pastoral care in the church has been like as a same-sex attracted Christian, I’m aware they might be expecting one of two things. On the one hand there is the horror story – the church that actively tells me I don’t need to live in accordance with what Christians have historically believed about sex and marriage, or maybe the church in which I’m made to feel shame for my experience of attraction.

“I lack nothing” - can that really be true? As a single person, it certainly sometimes feels like I lack things that married people have - connection, intimacy, someone to love and share your life with. But what if singleness doesn’t mean you have to live without these things? And what if being single means God can work through you in a unique way? 

The pandemic hit people living on their own particularly hard. But gathering on Zoom provided a sense of community and continues to do so today. Recognising that at times I struggled to end the day well, I started to wonder if others had the same struggles - perhaps gathering via Zoom could be a positive way to draw our days to a close? And, so, Night Prayers was born just after the National Conference in 2021. 

I’ll be honest, the words “intimacy with God” haven’t always filled me with joy. I now, praise God, find myself saying, “Yes please! ‘Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you’” (Ps 73:25). Previously, my hard heart, bound up by religious pride and sexual sin, rebuffed any closeness with a seemingly judgemental God.

“My expectation in life is to be invisible, and I’m good at it.” This phrase, spoken by a fictional character, Mia Thermopolis, in the movie Princess Diaries, always stood out to me and seeming to apply to my life. I couched it with Christian language, trying to convince myself that I was trying to be humble, but the underlying prevailing thought was rooted in self-hatred. While including my sexuality, these thoughts also came from a broader comprehensive picture of my experiences.