"Friendly Fire"

Photo by Igovar Igovar

Dredging Up the Past

Have you ever dealt with something and just wanted to forget it even happened?

During one of my sessions with my therapist, which has been helping me deal with my panic attacks associated with me being assaulted, she threw out this statement:  "I think you're also dealing with PTSD associated with how The Salvation Army treated you, too."

Red warning lights went up. My brain immediately said, "Don't go there!"

And I knew it was true.

I experienced "Friendly Fire" from the only Army that boasts to have no weapons.

The Warnings

Before I became an officer (a pastor) in The Salvation Army, I had two people pull me aside and warn me against it. One had been a missionary to Germany, like I had been, and told me that the field in Germany was extremely difficult and was filled with a lot of heartache and loneliness.  The other was my mother, who, herself, was (and is) an officer. She warned me that I didn't realize how hard and difficult it would be for me.

This was right before I entered our seminary, which is called the College for Officer Training.

I wish I had listened to them then.

What was the Abuse?

Lack of Personal Time

It was little things that sometimes developed into bigger things. As an officer, my time was not my own. When I lived in Germany, it could often be counted on that I had at least one day off per week. Usually this was Monday. When I came back to the United States, this was harder to figure out. I would try to take Saturdays off, but invariably Salvation Army events would be planned for that Saturday where I was required to attend.

With no days off, I got burned out quickly. My work day was rarely 40 hours per week. It often was more like 60 hours, if not more.

No Legal Standing of Employment

As an officer, I was compensated with an allowance, but I had to sign a legal document stating that there was no employment relationship between The Salvation Army and me. Rather it was a "spiritual" relationship. Looking back on this, I realize now how terrible of a situation this was and the fallout from my termination as an officer left me with no legal recourse, even if I wanted to pursue one (which I didn't).

When I was terminated, my pension, home (which was a parsonage), transportation, etc., were all taken away.

One might say that I voluntarily signed up for this. Yes, this is true, but it still led to a very abusive relationship with The Salvation Army.

No Freedom of Thought

My divisional commander (which is akin to a bishop) would monitor my social media posts. There was one point where I voluntarily agreed not to post anything that would seem to negatively speak out against The Salvation Army. I abandoned the group I had formed for Progressive Salvationists and curtailed my social media to just photos of my family and talking about my jogging. My divisional commander even monitored what articles I read and what I "liked." In my termination papers, he stated that he didn't think I had really changed because of what I was liking on social media. (They wanted to see whether or not I was still progressive.)

My personnel secretary (akin to an HR director) called me a heretic for stating that the Bible is rarely clear on matters of sexuality.

No One Holds Them Accountable

When I was going through a divorce, which triggered my termination as an officer, my defense had to be submitted to a nebulous Officer Review Board, which I was not allowed to meet in person because they were made up of my peers. Any appeal I made had to be submitted to our International Headquarters in London, which is not an easy task to accomplish.

I gave up.

It's Not All Black and White

To characterize The Salvation Army as totally evil would be a misrepresentation of the facts. They are not completely evil. They do a lot of good work, which I was a part of and which I will always cherish as some of the best things I ever did. They formed the spiritual foundation of my life and gave me a love of music that I hold dear to this day.

But . . .

When I became different to them, when I was outed as a bisexual person, I was tossed to the side.

As a soldier (layperson) of The Salvation Army, I found no welcome in my local congregation. I had to fight to become a member.

At that point, I knew that if I had to fight to become a member, then I really don't belong any more.

Little Things Trigger Me

I just realized at how upset I get when I am confronted with anything Salvation Army related in my day-t0-day life. I saw a notice that the Chicago Staff Band would be doing a concert near me. There are many progressive Salvationists in that band, even an openly gay member, but I don't know if I could feel at ease at all watching them perform.

A report about The Salvation Army in Lexington, Kentucky, whose congregation I attended as a college student, recently gave a horrible anti-LGBTQ sermon. I saw that and was furious.

I will drive by a thrift store and see that red shield, and I'm reminded again of what was done to me.

What happens now?

I will continue my therapy. I will seek help through this as I work through the trauma I underwent. I doubt The Salvation Army will ever apologize to me. As a top-down hierarchy, it is very difficult to enact any change, unless it comes from the top. The current general recently said some unsavory things towards the LGBTQ+ community. Several letters of complaint were sent to him, as well as a petition, but there has been no response from the International Headquarters.

I'd love to forget everything that happened to me. That would be such a gift.

Forgiving is even a harder thing to do, especially when the other side believes they did no wrong.

I will keep on living, taking one breath at a time.

Maybe that's all I can do.

The Assault Revisited

Write About Scars, Not Open Wounds.

Photo by Nick Swaelen

This was the advice I have often heard when dealing with blogs/podcasts/vlogs, etc. Don't write about something you are currently dealing with.

But what if it's a traumatic event? What if that wound never heals?

It's been seven years since I was assaulted and five years since I wrote about it. Traumatic memories are not like normal memories. They are stored in a different part of the brain. As such, they come unbidden and fresh.

About a year ago I was talking about the assault that happened to me. All of the sudden I was transported in my mind back to that moment. I suddenly felt the arms of my assailant around my neck. My breath was restricted. I felt my neck muscles bulge as I tried to get his arms off of me. I heard him scream about how he was going to beat the homosexuality out of me.

Back to the present:  I locked up. My breathing became rapid. I was almost hyperventilating.

I was having a panic attack. It was my first ever. I shook it off, realizing what it was and actually curious that it happened to me. Then I realized that it was to be expected and not my fault.

Happening Once More . . . 

I have become more open about discussing my past and my sexuality. It has been freeing, but at the same time, jarring. When I tell people that someone strangled me because of my sexual orientation, I often notice a look of shock on people. They cannot believe it happened to me and then they ask me if I am ok. Normally in the moment I am ok.

Recently however I have been having more and more of these panic attacks. They come unbidden, mostly at night, and when my mind is tired. I realize that my brain has been repressing those thoughts and memories from that night. 

I used to be reluctant to seek out mental help. When I returned back from Germany to the United States, I ended up in a deep depression that affected my work and my marriage, ultimately leading to a divorce. I sought help, but at the moment that I sought help, I felt that I was an ultimate failure.

Now I realize that seeking help is a sign of strength.

So once again I have sought out the help of a therapist. She has been absolutely wonderful with me and I am on a new journey of healing.

But because I am bisexual . . .

Most of the recent terrible things that have happened to me have been because of my orientation. So many people, above all Evangelical Christians, treat me with contempt because I am bisexual. Sometimes an Evangelical Christian I have never talked to before will block me on social media. More often friends and family members have taken the time to like pictures of my sons and me on social media, but when there are pictures of my boyfriend and me, those likes are conspicuously absent. Then there was that Evangelical Christian who physically assaulted me. It has come to the point where I feel as if I am done with the animosity.

Sometimes the worst animosity comes from people who want to be nice, but throw out the phrase, "Hate the sin, but love the sinner." I was recently talking to an acquaintance who asked me what I thought of people who are trying to respect me as a person, but just disagreed with my "lifestyle."

What is it about my lifestyle that they actually disagree with? Is it how I go to work? Is it the food I eat? Is it the shows I watch or the games I play?

To be blunt:  It's not my "lifestyle" they object to. It's who I have sex with that they have the most objections. Even celibate people in the LGBTQ+ community experience this discrimination because of their sexual orientation.

I am disgusted and fed up with the bigotry towards the LGBTQ+ community.

The man who assaulted me was drunk and a white Evangelical Christian. Many people will sometimes use the excuse of "he wasn't a real Christian if he did that."

To be polite:  That's bovine scatology. It certainly wasn't Christ-like what he did, but he was/is a Christian.

Many Christians I know aren't very Christ-like. Many non-Christians I know are more Christ-like than myself.

Where does this leave me?

Right now I am continuing my therapy. Probably one of my biggest helps is my boyfriend. When the panic attacks happen, he is there to help me breathe through them.

I still go to church. I worship with them. I feel at home there. They have recently asked me to lead a small group for LGBTQ+ people. I nearly cried when they asked me to do this.

Do you know what's worse than being an LGBTQ+ person who left the Church? Being an LGBTQ+ person who stays in a church that rejects them. (Let me be clear:  This is definitely NOT my current church. They are wonderful.) I have more arguments with people who question my identity as a Christian because I am bisexual. It would be a lot easier to walk away from Christ altogether, but that is not the pathway Christ has shown me to follow.

There is a song I dearly loved when I was in the Salvation Army. It was written by the late General John Gowans. I actually had the privilege of singing this song in front of him when he was a special guest in Hannover, Germany for the German Salvation Army's congress there. One of the verses, which always brings me to tears, from his song, "I'll Not Turn Back" goes like this:

If tears should fall,

If I am called to suffer,

If all I love men should deface, defame,

I'll not deny the one that I have followed

Nor be ashamed to bear my Master's Name.

This is who I am:  a Bisexual Christian. I do not deny this. I follow God because of this.

My Friend, the Satanist

 

Nature Stock photos by Vecteezy

Coming Out

My life was in an upheaval. In all honesty, it seems that happens more often than I wish it to. I had just come out as bisexual and with all the consequences that entailed:  I lost my job, my house, transportation, pension, insurance, etc. I went through in actuality a quite amicable divorce, but it was still the worst thing I had ever gone through in my entire life.

I had never been in a same-sex relationship before. After waiting about a year after my divorce, I thought that maybe I could try it. My first ever approach at even talking to someone turned disastrous. There was a parlance that I was unfamiliar with, even as it was titillating. My being in the closet for such a long time meant that I was just as foreign to the LGBT world as I was to the straight world.

It felt very much like the time I moved back from Germany to the United States. The reverse culture shock was worse that moving overseas. When I speak German, I have a very slight American accent. It is faint enough that most Germans are surprised when they find out I am American. Often I was confused for being Dutch or Danish. When I came back to the United States, I had a slight German accent when speaking English. What was worse is that I would forget common English words and would get stuck on the German word, or the German word made much more sense than the English phrase.

I felt just the same in the LGBT community.

A well-meaning pastor, who is also gay, told me about this dating app, called Grindr. Let's just say that was like being thrown into the deep end of the swimming pool after only having one swimming lesson. For those of you unfamiliar with the app, comedian Andi Osho describes it perfectly:

My "hunting" expedition turned out to be farcical and was probably closer to a comedic tragedy, where I was the fool.

Twitterverse

Enter being on Twitter. I am on Twitter occasionally. I don't have that much of a following. That's ok with me. In fact, I currently am following more people than those who follow me. That's probably kept me sane.

Oftentimes someone will follow me on Twitter to get me to follow them back. They often have a blog or a podcast that interests me. When I do follow them back, many times they promptly unfollow me. It's a tactic for a content creator to get more people to follow them.

So one person started following me who had a blog, called "Sacred Tension." I quickly perused it and like what I read. At the time the author, Stephen Long, was a progressive Christian, who was also gay. He had also been a witness and a victim of a mass shooting at a YWAM campus in Colorado. I followed him back. I read some of his pieces and one of them struck out at me. He had written a piece on whether or not YWAM is a religious cult. Reading this piece was fascinating. It started me on my own journey to see whether or not my former denomination, The Salvation Army, was also a cult.

So I reached out to him by Twitter and talked to him about my own experiences deconstructing my faith and whether or not my old denomination was a cult. (I came to the conclusion that it is not a cult, but does have tendencies to become one.)

We had a great conversation and got to know each other. Then I told him about my disastrous exploits dating. We exchanged phone numbers and had a great conversation. It was so nice to finally talk to someone who had been through something similar. Stephen was in a stable relationship and it was great to hear how he somehow made it safely through his own deconstruction.

The Podcast 

A couple of years later Stephen started a podcast. To get his feet wet, he actually interviewed me. I was so happy to do so. It was a bit rough in cut and there are still 8 minutes of silence at the end, but I was very happy with how in turned out.

He started a Patreon account, which I happily support to this day. He would often have patron-only podcasts, too, which were often unedited and definitely unscripted. Sometimes I was on these podcasts and then eventually joined him full time as a podcaster, but only on his Patreon page, which is behind a pay wall. Sometimes Stephen will release one of these for the general public to listen to. I was slightly mortified when one of these was entitled, "Cat Ejaculation."

Becoming a Satanist

I started noticing a slight change in my conversations with Stephen. He started talking a lot about Satanism. I knew from my time as a pastor that most Satanists don't actually worship Satan. They aren't making child sacrifices. I had the view that it was a protest religion, protesting Christianity (for the most part) and the evils that Christianity has imposed on our society. What evils? Freedom of Religion is enshrined in the First Amendment of the US Constitution, but is often not upheld or is flaunted (such as putting "In God We Trust" on US currency to erecting statues of the 10 Commandments on public property).

However, to say that Satanism is a protest religion would not be entirely accurate. They certainly protest, but that is not the extent of who they are. Many people think they just troll Christianity. That is also not entirely accurate. There are Satanists who definitely troll, just as many Christians troll, but that doesn't define who they are.

Privately to his close friends and me, Stephen told me that he was going to become a Satanist. What won him over were the Seven Tenets of The Satanic Temple. (See the link for a better description.)

Stephen no longer felt home in Christianity. He is gay. That excluded him from most congregations. He is in a committed relationship with another man. That excludes him from even more. He was constantly being attacked for those beliefs. Is it any wonder that he fled Christianity?

At first I was bemused. Then a bit bewildered. It wasn't an overnight thing for me to fully comprehend and understand the change that Stephen was going through. However, he did find comfort in Satanism. He found people who accepted him and loved him for who he was. He became one of their most ardent supporters. He is now an ordained Minister of Satan.

Love and acceptance does that to you. When I am loved and accepted, there isn't anything I wouldn't do for that other person.

A Better Person

What I have noticed about my friend is that he has become an even better person than many other Christians I personally know. Stephen has never condemned me for my beliefs, or lack thereof. He has listened to me when I was going through heartbreak. When I was going through a particularly low moment, I am convinced he probably saved my life, just by being there for me and listening to me cry my eyes out.

At the same time, I am not trying to proselytize him nor he me. He is happy and content with Satanism. It has made him a better person. Why in the world would I want to disturb that?

As much as I value right thinking (orthodoxy), I value right actions more so (orthopraxy). It is not so much what we think, but what we do with our beliefs that matters perhaps more so in the scheme of things. Even the writer of James would agree with this statement (See James 1:22).

When I was down, Stephen was there for me. He listened to me. He supported me. When I was in need, Stephen helped me out in more ways than one. He doesn't condemn me. He loves me as a brother.

My friend, Stephen, the Satanist, is perhaps one of the best Christians I know.

Does that sound shocking? Perhaps. I would even think that Stephen would disagree with me about my conclusion. However, I truly believe it is not our correct thinking that defines who we are, but how we act. How we treat each other. How we love each other.

In devoting himself to the Seven Tenets of the Satanic Temple, my friend has become one of the best Christians I know and I will always be grateful to him for that.

On Being Bisexual

I don't always like talking about my sexuality. It's a personal issue for me, one that has led to both many joys and many heartaches. If I were honest with myself, the heartaches were more frequent than the joys, but when the joys came, they came in overflowing passion. Yes, I realize that they etymology of "passion" comes from suffering. So I see the irony in this as well.

The questions and comments about my sexuality sometimes overwhelm me. The comments come from both straight people and people in the LGBT community:

"I don't agree with your lifestyle, but I still love you."

"If you're bisexual, doesn't that mean you want to have sex all the time?"

"Being bi is the holding spot for fabulous, when you become gay."

"Isn't it possible that you're gay and not bi?"

"Have you ever heard the term, 'Bi now, gay later?'"

"How do you reconcile the Bible with your lifestyle?"

"Aren't you afraid of going to Hell?"

So, in a (perhaps futile) attempt to clarify who I am, I felt it might be time to explain what it means for me to be bisexual. I am by no means an authority on bisexuality. My experiences are mine alone. They may or may not be similar to other bi people's experiences.

When did I know?

No, I don't fall into the category of:  "Somehow I always knew." I didn't know what was going on with me. Growing up, I noticed myself being attracted to both men and women. It was at times disconcerting and confusing for me. I was scared to have any relationship, with either a man or a woman. I knew immediately that if I tried to have a relationship with a man, I would be disciplined by my parents. This is not a criticism of them, either. This is just a statement of fact. For them, any same-sex romantic relationship was a sin and a choice.

And . . . I at first believed that. I went on some dates when I was in high school. I was attracted to several girls at different camps, but my introverted self had so much difficulty in even approaching them. I didn't feel handsome. Going through puberty, who ever does? Having a bad case of acne, which could only be cured through Accutane, made my life a living Hell.

I went to Homecoming. Believe it or not, I was asked out. The whole situation for me was both great and awkward. She asked me out. She paid for dinner. She had the car. I felt like I was in a no-win situation. In retrospect, I should have realized that she showed so much interest in me and I should have been flattered. Instead, I was embarrassed:  Embarrassed that I didn't have a car at the time and embarrassed that I liked her, but didn't know what to do. I didn't go to prom at all while in high school. I just didn't have the courage to do so.

Do I regret that? Absolutely.

It was because I was attracted to women that I kept on thinking to myself:  "Being gay is a choice. It's not something that's genetic. People are lying and living in sin." How wrong I was.

You're probably thinking:  What about being attracted to men?

Yes, that happened, too, and came on in a fury. I hid it all, too. I saw guys my age and was attracted to them. I couldn't explain it, either. When people ask me what attracts me to men as opposed to women, it's hard to quantify. 

The Camp Years, with hair still!

Did I . . . you know?

I am not about to give away names, but this is perhaps is what was most difficult for me to do. Being attracted to both men and women, I would most often spend time with other guys my age. Sleepovers and camps sponsored by my church were the opportunities I had to experiment at all.

And, as with any church camp, the very next day was accompanied by amnesia and the guy I had the encounter with would normally deny it or act like nothing happened. Being a recluse, I was scared to even bring it up at all. Since those encounters happened at church youth retreats, church camps, or church sleepovers, the guilt placed on me by my church was overwhelming. It normally led to praying at the altar afterwards. (In my old denomination, this was a place near the front with a prayer rail and a place to kneel. For young people, it was only acceptable to pray at camp or a youth retreats, never during actual church services.)

The College Years

College came and matters only intensified themselves. My roommate, God bless him, was the best person in the world to me. I never discussed my sexuality with him and he was definitely only interested in girls.

And then it happened:  I fell in love. I fell in love with my best friend's girlfriend.

That sucks. It hurt like nothing else I had been through. I cared, though, more about my friend and never told him anything about it at all. When he moved back to Norway, his girlfriend insisted on spending every minute with me:  lunch, study breaks, on the phone. It was mostly to talk about him, but it became pure torture and pure bliss for me.

I was so confused. I didn't know what to do. My college offered counseling and I took advantage of it.

It was the first time I ever mentioned to another soul what I was feeling. I cried. I cried until it hurt to cry and I ran out of tears. All of those pent-up emotions came pouring out like never before. I felt so much better. Believe it or not, that counselor never told me what I was feeling was bad at all. He never said having same-sex attractions was a sin. That surprised me because I was attending a Christian college. I just assumed he thought that.

After my good, long cry, I was at peace again.

The Marriage Years

And then I was married! Those thirteen years together with my wife were some of the happiest and saddest times of my life. I had fallen in love with the most beautiful person in the world. It was wonderful. We had three beautiful sons together. The first son we struggled to have after a miscarriage. The second was a total surprise. Our last came during our difficult transition back to the United States from Germany.

In all that time I never discussed being bisexual with my wife. I had decided for myself that this was definitely a choice. I was happy with her. I enjoyed my life with her. I loved our ministry in Germany. I repressed everything I thought about other men. To my everlasting shame, I even told one of our members of our church in Germany that he should leave when he came out to me as gay.

At the same time, something terrible began to happen with me:  Depression. I was going through classic depression. I spent all my time in my office, buried in my computer or a book. I stopped talking to my wife. She became frustrated with me, too, and understandably so. It was during that time that our denomination, The Salvation Army, decided to send us back to the United States, not telling us why.

Only after being home for a year and a half did they tell us that they brought us home because of our marriage difficulties and thought to set us up with counseling when we returned. That didn't happen until we asked for help.

Instead, we were sent to a small congregation that had a history of financial problems, never having ever led a congregation in the United States. We floundered.

Our thrift store wasn't making any money. We just broke even. Our headquarters took over the store. It still only broke even.

I came out . . . as a liberal.

It was during this time that I had to face certain things about myself. I had changed. I had lived for 10 years in Germany:  from 2000-2010. I lived there before the attacks on September 11th. I came back to a changed and paranoid country. I was changed, too, but couldn't admit it to myself.

I started realizing I was a liberal with the horrendous healthcare system we have in the United States. My wife and I had decided to use a midwife to give birth with our third child, just as we had done with our first two children. This would have been covered by our insurance, but we had to find a doctor to give us prenatal care. Initially the doctors we talked with refused to even see us because we were giving birth at home. They felt that if we gave birth at home and something happened to the child that we would sue the doctors.

This was insane. We moved from a country where midwives are the standard for every birth and obstetricians are only called in case of an emergency.

So we had to pay for the birth out of pocket. Still, it was probably even cheaper than had we given birth at a hospital.

I started to complain about our situation on social media. Most of our friends, especially those in The Salvation Army, simply told us that we would get used to it again in the United States. We didn't. It seemed to get worse. Then they began to openly criticize us.

After detailing all of the frustrations I was having with the insurance and the absolute lack of any recycling facilities in our county, one of my parishioners told me, "You're a liberal." I was shocked. Me? A liberal? I voted for McCain in the election of 2008 (a decision I have since come to regret). Then I had to admit to myself. I was indeed a liberal.

The Progressive Salvationist

During this time, I thought to myself that I couldn't be the only one in my denomination who thought the same way. There had to be other people of a liberal persuasion.

Indeed there was. I found a fellow officer who posted many great posts about socialism and how Christianity is closer to socialism than capitalism. I approached this friend of mine and asked him what he thought about creating a group just for Salvationists of a liberal slant. We agreed and called the Facebook group:  "The Progressive Salvationist."

This was the beginning of the end of my career as a Salvation Army officer.

It was exciting. I met many other Salvationists, at first in the United States and Europe, but then worldwide, who were also progressive. We let anyone in at the beginning, as long as they were respectful. (This changed when people began sending screenshots to our headquarters to "report" on us.)

I began hearing very similar stories from our new members:  "I was an officer in The Salvation Army, but left because I am a woman and wanted to marry the woman I loved."

"I got kicked out of the Army for being gay."

I started then to think about this logically. When Jesus was on this Earth, he associated with people society had rejected:  Prostitutes, swindlers, unpatriotic tax collectors, lepers. If Jesus were here today, who are the marginalized of our society? The immigrant, people of color, the LGBT community. Jesus didn't ask them to change. He loved and accepted them. So I loved and accepted our members who were in the LGBT community.

What about you, Timothy?

I started then to logically think about myself. If you can love and affirm these other people who are in the LGBT community, what about yourself?

Can you be honest with yourself?

I. Am. Bisexual.

I cried. I came undone, but I was finally honest with myself.

The End

I came out to a friend. My messages were discovered, copied, and given to others against my knowledge and will. My wife was understandably upset. Although I still loved her, she wanted a divorce. There were other reasons, of course, but I will not disparage her. She is the mother of my 3 sons and I see the love of her in them as well. Divorce is never pretty and she will always be special to me.

Unfortunately, since we were going through the divorce, The Salvation Army terminated us as officers. They also told me that because of my stance on LGBT issues and because of my orientation, I can never become an officer again. My ordination was terminated irrevocably.

I lost everything:  My family, my job, my home, transportation, pension, etc.

The Beginning

I have talked in other posts about these issues before and what happened afterwards. 

Being bisexual openly is a new thing. I have had many friends come out to me personally, but not openly yet. It is comforting talking to them about what it means to be out. It is very difficult. It devastated my life, but it also opened up a new life.

What does it mean to be bisexual then for me? I have the best of both worlds. Loving all people no matter their gender is perhaps one of the godliest things I can think of.

I am reminded that Jesus said that the Greatest Commandments were to love God and to love others. All other instructions for life stem from these two. My being bisexual does not go against either of these commandments.

I am discovering God in a new way than I have met God before:  Bigger than the god of my childhood and evangelicalism. 

Awhile ago I wrote these words on Twitter:

One thing I miss about Evangelical Christianity is the anthropomorphized god I worshipped. This often centered on Jesus, which is not good for a good Trinitarian. It was as if this God were somehow tangible, giving rise to the "Jesus is my boyfriend" worship songs. That made it very confusing for me, growing up bisexual. In discovering mysticism, God became both impersonal and more personal; closer, but more aloof. In all this, I am still discovering who and what God is, leaving behind the god of my imagination and discovering the Mystical One.

photo credit: Arturo- The Last Waltz - Variações via photopin (license)