The God Box

  "Why'd you bump me, faggot?"Unable to ignore the incident, cafeteria monitors rushed over, but incredibly, they did nothing to stop Jude as he started away."You jerk!" I shouted after him, without thinking.He whirled around. "What are you, like, his boyfriend}" The question was loud enough for the entire lunchroom to hear.I cringed, as blood surged into my head from anger--and embarrassment.Jude swaggered away, and I glanced down at Manuel, sprawled on the floor. I couldn't just leave him. I set my tray down and helped him up.People resumed their conversations. Manuel stood, his shirt smeared with food and his mouth cut from the fall. "Your lip is bleeding," I mumbled."Crap." Manuel glared across the lunchroom at Jude. "You137think I should keep trying to turn the other cheek?""I don't know," I replied. And for the first time

  /prayed for Jude, asking Jesus, Please soften his heart.... And also mine--toward him.I helped Manuel collect his scattered dishes. He didn't feel like getting anything else to eat. I wasn't hungry either. As I got to my table, I wondered if Angie had heard Jude's question to me. If she had, she didn't say anything. But all afternoon I thought about it.After school I took my homework over to Manuel's house, still worried about him. When he answered the door, his lip was swollen."Did you put something on that?" I asked."Like what?" He gave me a suggestive grin, glancing at my own lips. Apparently he wasn't so hurt that he had forgotten how to annoy me."Like ointment" I brushed past him."Oh." On the way to his room he stopped by the bathroom and got some antibiotic. "Can you put it on for me?"I dropped my backpack onto his bedroom carpet and glanced between the tube and his mouth. "You're not helpless.""Please?" He puckered his lips into a pout, making him look like a little boy.I don't know why I gave in. "Stand still." I took the tube and squeezed some ointment onto my finger. As I dabbed it across the cut, the tenderness of his lips surprised me. I guess I assumed that a guy's lips would somehow feel different from a girl's.Manuel stood only inches away, staring at me. "You're really cute," he said softly. "You know that?"Although Angie had often told me I was cute, I'd never really liked how I looked."Shut up," I grumbled, and avoided Manuel's eyes."Yeah." His lips stretched into a smile beneath my fingertip. "You are."138I capped the ointment and shoved the tube into his hand. "I think your mouth is back to normal now."I plunked down onto the carpet and pulled my homework out of my backpack. When Manuel sat down beside me, his knee grazed mine. The touch set off a spark in my body. I wanted to move away, and yet I couldn't. It felt as if Manuel was pulling at me again."What's the matter?" he asked."Nothing." I flipped through my math book."Yeah, there is." Manuel nodded. "You've been acting weird lately. I mean, even more so than usual."I frowned at him. Then I thought about the porn sites and my talk with Pastor. Should I tell Manuel about all that? I gazed down at my math book and confided in a low voice, "I, um, looked at some--you know--some websites ..."Manuel's voice shot up. "You mean porn}""Um, yeah." I shrugged like it was no big deal."And...?" Manuel asked hopefully--at least that's how I interpreted it."And..." My throat clenched as I tried to swallow. Was I really ready to be fully honest with Manuel? "I think, um, maybe, I might be ... bi."I knew that in truth I had failed the bi test. The "Horny Babes" page had proven that. But Pastor Jose and the ex-gay brochures had renewed my hope that I might possibly become attracted to women."Bi, huh?" Manuel scratched his chin. "Well, at least that's a step." "A step toward what?" "Toward accepting yourself."I glanced up at Manuel's wavy, good-smelling hair and recalled my idea about a close relationship with another guy without sex. Manuel was a Christian. He'd told me that he and his family had139joined a church across town. Could he and I both eventually get married to women and still have a special friendship, bonded by our righteous desire to not fall prey to sin?"I, um, talked to my pastor about--you know--stuff.""That's good." Manuel sounded sincere. "What did he say?""Um, he said that so long as a person stays chaste, it's not a sin. He told me to call this group and meet with someone."I pulled from my backpack the pamphlet about the man who had kicked the gay habit.Manuel looked it over. "Why did the guy write it under a fake name?""Um, I don't know. To protect his privacy, I guess.""You mean like the witness protection program? If the guy believes what he's written, why not be open about it?"Manuel's skepticism annoyed me. "You just don't believe people can change.""I believe people can change some things." Manuel tossed the pamphlet back to me. "But not how you're sexually hardwired. Maybe you can avoid sex with guys, and maybe you can even perform with a girl, but that won't change the fact that you're gay.

  It's like wanting to change from being left-handed." Manuel grabbed hold of my hand, sending a tingle up my arm. "You can avoid using your left hand and learn to use your right, but you'll still be left-handed. So what's the point? To please other people?""Because ..." I pulled my hand away. "Being gay is wrong.""No," Manuel said firmly. "Gay isn't wrong or right. It just is. What's wrong is hating yourself because of it. You're going to spend more time with yourself than with anyone else in your life. You want to spend that whole time fighting who you are? Do you really think that's what God wants? If she didn't want140people to be gay, then why were we born that way?"Manuel was messing with my mind again."Being gay is usually caused by some childhood trauma," I argued."Is that what your preacher told you?" Manuel shook his head in obvious dismay. "Why do some people always try to find something to blame being gay on? I suggest you do a little Web search on the so-called ex-gay thing. See if you can find any scientific evidence that it works or locate even one legit professional organization that believes in it. Why can't you just stop buying into the story that God condemns gay people?"I clamped my jaw, not knowing what to answer. Once again I wanted to get up and leave Manuel. But why bother? I knew I'd come back."Can we change the subject? Please?"Manuel sighed and stared at me, as if considering what he wanted to say, before he spoke again. "I think you should meet with an ex-gay. I'll be curious what he tells you. And that's the last I'll say about it."True to his word, Manuel pulled out his government book and rested it on his lap. In the process his knee once again bumped mine. Even though it was only for an instant, I nearly melted at his touch. And although I knew I should move my knee away, I let it rest there.When Manuel's parents arrived home, they were pretty upset about his cut lip. During dinner they said they were going to talk with Mr.

  Arbuthnot. But I doubted it would do any good.Later that evening, when I went home, my pa and his girlfriend were in the living room, watching TV."Mijo! " Pa waved me over, and Raquel smiled. "Come sit with us a while."They were watching Will Grace, the show about the gay guy141and his chick friend. My stomach wobbled as my pa and Raquel laughed at Will's effeminate friend swishing his hips and flailing his wrists.When the show switched to a commercial, Raquel told Pa, "You know Harold at my office? Last week his daughter told him she's a lesbian."My pa shook his head. "Poor guy."Suddenly I felt like I might be sick again, and I excused myself. Upon reaching my room, I took a deep breath, and my stomach settled. Was the whole world turning gay? I dropped my backpack and pulled my jacket off, catching my reflection in the mirror.For a long moment I stared at myself. How could Manuel possibly think I was cute? My eyes were too dark, my nose too flat, my lips too big. Was he just teasing? Or could he be feeling the same for me as I was for him?I turned away from the mirror, quickly changed my clothes, and went for a run.Later that week, after Pastor Jose asked me at church if I'd called the ex-gay group, I finally dialed the toll-free number--and immediately tossed my cell phone back down, unable to go through with it."Jesus," I prayed in a trembling voice, "you know how confused and scared I am. Please give me courage." Once more I dialed, and this time I was able to stay on the line. It rang about a million times. I was about to hang up when an old lady answered--not at all what I expected."Thank you for calling New Life Ministries ..." She sounded warm and friendly, like Mrs. Tilly. "Spreading the Good News of the ex-gay community. How may I help you?""Um ..." My voice quavered. "My pastor said to call you ...""Well, I'm glad he did," the lady said cheerily.142Still a little uneasy, I had to force my words out:
"He asked me to, um, set up a meeting at my church with--you know--somebody from your group?"The lady asked what part of the country I lived in and told me they had a group in Abilene. "We'd be happy to send someone from that fellowship to meet with you.""Um, okay."She said she'd call me back to confirm a date and time. After hanging up, I collapsed into bed and whispered, "Thank you, Jesus."143

  Chapter 29

  FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE WEEK I WAITED ANXIOUSLY FOR THE EX-GAY

  MINISTRY TO CALL. EACH TIME MY CELL RANG, MY HEART JUMPED, TILL

  FINALLY, THE OLD LADY PHONED AND SAID THEY HAD SET UP A MEETING AT

  MY CHURCH. THEN I WAITED EVEN MORE ANXIOUSLY, HARDLY ABLE TO EAT OR

  SLEEP, UNTIL THE DAY OF MY APPOINTMENT. ONCE AGAIN I ARRIVED AT

  CHURCH WAY TOO EARLY."Hi, sweetie," Mrs. Tilly greeted me."Hi, um... I'm supposed to be, um, meeting someone here?""I know, honey." She nodded understandingly. Had Pastor Jose told her why I was here today? She leaned forward as if to tell me a secret. "I've got a new joke for you. The preacher's little boy watched his papa write a sermon and asked, 'How do you know what to say?' His papa replied, 'Why, God tells me.' So, the little boy thinks about that a moment and says, 'Then why do you keep crossing things out?'"Mrs. Tilly burst out laughing. I politely tried to join her. Then I trudged over to the couch and waited. A sign on the wall stared back at me: BELIEVE AND RECEIVE, DOUBT AND LOSE OUT.144After what seemed like

  centuries, the front door opened, and a guy in his late twenties walked over to Mrs. Tilly.

  Instinctively I knew he was the ex-gay. He wore crisp khakis, polished loafers, a tweed jacket, and a striped tie--a preppy look unusual for our west Texas town, except for going to church. But I guess technically we were in church."Paul?" Mrs. Tilly called to me, and I walked over. "This is Eric Smith."Eric smiled politely and gave me a firm handshake, though his palm felt almost as clammy as mine."Pastor is away." Mrs. Tilly opened the door to his office. "So you can use his study."It felt a little awkward to be in Pastor's room without him there. Eric sat in the wing chair where I had sat last time, but I didn't feel right sitting in Pastor's chair. Instead, I sat on the couch."So, um..." Eric cleared his throat. "I'd like to witness to you about my own life.

  Okay?""Sure," I said, clasping my hands to keep them still."Ever since I was a boy," Eric began,

  "I always felt different. In school, other kids called me names, and I bought into the lie that I'm gay.""You're not?" I blurted out. I guess I'd assumed the group would send someone gay."Well,"

  he clarified, "we don't believe anyone is truly gay. We're just broken, wounded, and have deep-seated gender-identity confusion--GIC-- which is usually the result of broken relationships with our parents, sexual abuse, rejection from peers, or childhood trauma causing same-sex attraction, SSA."Even though Eric had barely started speaking, my thoughts already began to scramble. Do I have deep-seated GIC? But I'd never145felt confused about my gender identity. I'd always wanted to be a guy, not a girl. And I'd never been sexually abused. Furthermore, I knew lots of people at school who had broken relationships with their parents. How come they don't have SSA? Besides, according to Pastor Jose's sermons, aren't we all broken and wounded?I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but I forced myself to sit still and listen."In high school," Eric continued, "I tried dating girls, but I kept being attracted to guys. Every night I dreamed about them. You know, sex dreams. I knew it was wrong and hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop my feelings. I felt like the loneliest boy on earth."I sat up excitedly, knowing exactly what he meant.

  He was telling my story!But then he continued: "Until I couldn't take it any longer. Junior year, I started drinking and doing drugs."That part I definitely did not identify with. After seeing what alcohol had done to my pa, I'd stayed clear of even a sip of beer and steered miles away from drugs."For college," Eric continued, "I went to Austin and immediately fell into the gay scene. At first I thought I'd gone to heaven, with all these cute guys coming on to me. I went home with a new one every night. But inside I started feeling even more lonely than before."So, why didn't you get a boyfriend? I wondered. Eric was good-looking and seemed nice. Hadn't he wanted one?As Eric spoke, his leg jiggled fretfully. He appeared even more nervous than I was, if such a thing was possible."The crowd just bounced from guy to guy." Eric frowned and looked sad.

  "Gay love is a lie. It doesn't exist. Being gay is really about being a slave to sex and desire. The lifestyle is all about partying hearty and getting off."146But what about someone like Manuel?

  That wasn't his "lifestyle." Actually, it sounded more like some of the straight guys at my school, with their parties, drinking, drugs, and girls. As Eric talked, it seemed like he wanted to blame all his problems on being gay."My grades crashed and I got put on academic probation," Eric continued. "Then I got a DUI for driving drunk."So, did you go to AA or rehab? I was about to ask, but Eric pressed on. "I didn't want to be gay, and yet I couldn't stop myself. Then I found out that a guy I'd had sex with had HIV, and we hadn't used a condom. I freaked out."I edged back in my seat, a little wigged out myself. Why hadn't they used a condom? Didn't they know about safe sex? Was Eric now HIV positive? I'd never met anyone like that. And even though I knew you couldn't get AIDS from shaking hands, I casually wiped my palm on the sofa's armrest."I got tested," Eric continued, "promising myself that I'd never have gay sex again. But when my test turned out negative, I was back at the bar, partying to celebrate. The next morning I woke up with a new guy whose name I couldn't even remember."I squirmed uneasily on the sofa. Even though I admired Eric's honesty, the more he talked, the more his testimony seemed way different from my life. I had no desire to drink, do drugs, or have sex with different guys."In my soul ..." Eric gave a sigh. "I started to feel desperate, you know? Hopeless. I no longer wanted to live. My mom knew something was wrong. She sent me a Bible, but I didn't read it. I had stopped going to church, believing my religion didn't want me. But out of desperation, I prayed for the first time in years.

  'God, help me.' A week later, I met a guy outside a bar. And instead of asking me to go home, he invited me for coffee. That's different, I thought, so I went with him."147Eric wiped his brow and seemed to calm down a little. "Over coffee, my new friend told me about his struggle with homosexuality and how his life changed when he invited Jesus Christ into his heart. For the first time I heard about the life-changing power of the Gospel. Before that, I'd never known people who struggled to live Christ-like lives."But what about a case like mine? I wondered. I do know Christians. I know Christ. I've tried to live a Christ-like life. And I've invited Jesus into my heart--

  twice."God answered my call for help." Eric's voice rang with certainty. "He led me to ex-gay people who, like me, had learned the hard way how empty and destructive the gay lifestyle is.

  They helped me get through the lies I'd bought into. I now understand that homosexuality is simply a form of idolatry--worshiping the male body as a god."That rang a bell. Was that what St.

  Paul meant by his passage in Romans against idolatry? But then what about straight people?

  Were heterosexuals turning away from God to worship the opposite sex's body as a god?"What you're going through is a test," Eric told me. "Simply because you have SSA doesn't mean you're gay. A lot of young people have same-sex crushes, but they grow out of it."I recalled my middle school health book saying that. Yet I hadn't grown out of it. And it sounded like he hadn't either.Eric gripped the arms of his chair. "My desire for guys is now one percent of what it was before. You've got to have faith. God works miracles. With help, he can change you, too."One percent didn't sound so bad ... and yet the thought of wrestling with these feelings all my life made me wonder, Why?"Do you have any questions?" Eric said.148My head was throbbing with about a million questions. To start, I asked, "Are you in AA?""No," he replied. "But our recovery program is based on the twelve steps. You see, homosexuality is like alcoholism. You've got to resist the lie--like an alcoholic fights his desire to drin
k."Hmm. That wasn't what my pa said. He'd explained to me that by accepting he was an alcoholic, he had ceased fighting. He often said that acceptance was the answer to all of life's problems.Another thing: Eric seemed to keep repeating that being gay was a lie, and yet. . . hadn't he said he'd had gay feelings since he was a kid? The things he was saying seemed almost more confusing than helpful. In spite of all the questions I had, I hesitated to ask him anything more."I know it's a lot to think about," Eric said, nodding. "I want to invite you to our fellowship and support group in Abilene, so you can meet other members. We have meetings twice a week with worship, teaching, and prayer."I pressed back in my seat. After hearing Eric, I wasn't ready to face a whole group of other people like him."Would you pray with me before I go?" Eric asked.I nodded, relieved to shift my focus to God."Dear Jesus," Eric prayed, "please forgive Paul. Don't let him be ensnared in sin. Strengthen him to fight the sinful deception of homosexuality. And give him faith to believe he can be healed. In your name. Amen.""Amen," I echoed, and suddenly asked one more question: "Are you married now?"Eric's brow furrowed. "No." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his leg started to jiggle again. "I have a girlfriend, but. . . well. . . um, we've decided to take a break for a while, to149be sure about what God wants for us." Eric shifted in his seat and glanced down at his hands. "Relationships are complicated. People are complicated." He gazed up, returning from his thoughts. "But I'm happier now than when I thought I was gay."Although Eric said he was happy, his words didn't match the rest of him. His face was serious and his body stiff, and his tone wasn't exactly cheerful. During the entire time he had hardly smiled at all.I recalled Galatians 5:22: The fruit of the Spirit is joy. I didn't feel much joy coming from Eric. He seemed nice, but ... what had I expected? I wasn't sure. Maybe someone genuinely joyful, despite being gay--somebody more like ... Manuel.150