Once a “repaired” gay man, and a minister preaching salvation from homosexuality, now Tim Rymel just hopes to be heard when he says you are worthy of being loved just because you’re here.
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I’d been trying to reach Michael for weeks. We hadn’t spoken in nearly 25 years and I was anxious to catch up. He wasn’t returning my calls and I began to wonder if he was busy, or just avoiding me.
Michael and I shared a rather unique experience with only a handful of other men. We were part of a residential program in the early ‘90s to address our unwanted same-sex attractions. It’s better known as conversion, or reparative therapy. We, the former participants, were called “ex-gays.” I had often wondered how my former housemates were doing. I assumed they were doing better than me.
Life certainly didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.
… I and my co-workers appeared on national television and radio shows, in churches, schools and universities across the country proclaiming our message: There is freedom from homosexuality through Jesus Christ.
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After graduating from the 12-month conversion therapy program, I joined the organization. For the next five years, as the outreach director of this prominent and world renowned Christian ministry, I and my co-workers appeared on national television and radio shows, in churches, schools and universities across the country proclaiming our message: There is freedom from homosexuality through Jesus Christ.
I even married a woman and we had two children. Yet, as much as I wanted to believe God had changed me, I knew my attraction toward her was forced. So did she. Less than seven years into our marriage, she divorced me. I was devastated. I simply couldn’t match my Christian faith to my circumstances. The incongruence ate at my soul.
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For the next six years I isolated myself from family and friends, milking my worthlessness and contemplating my own demise. I had failed as a minister, as a husband and an ex-gay. I spiraled into confusion as doubts about God consumed me.
Too ashamed to contact anyone else, and thinking I was the only one who couldn’t make it, I simply disappeared. Now, so had Michael, it seemed.
But alas, my repeated phone calls and messages must have worn him down.
“I know it’s not right,” he continued, “but some days I just hook up with guys to feel a little better.”
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“How are you doing?” I asked with anticipation when he finally answered his phone.
“I’ve had better days,” he quipped in a monotone, southern drawl. He was guarded.
Over the next few minutes, I coaxed Michael into a conversation and asked that he bring me up to speed on how life had been since we last saw each other. He hit the highs and lows of what it means to be an ex-gay man, navigating two worlds of conservative religion and a society that celebrates or hates you. I knew it well. I never found my place there. Michael hadn’t either.
“I’ve given up the idea that anyone will ever love me,” he said. My heart broke for him. “I know it’s not right,” he continued, “but some days I just hook up with guys to feel a little better.”
Nearly 25 years after leaving a program that was supposed to help Michael reconcile his faith and sexuality, he was more trapped than ever. His guilt and despair was palpable. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, but had he stood next to me, his emotional distance still would have made the act hollow. For so many years, I was Michael.
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The cathartic act of writing to soothe my own aching soul became a passion to pull together a group of outcasts, sliced and shredded by devout dogmas.
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I started writing about my journey as a way to address my own shame and guilt from my past. I needed to tell my story, if for no other reason than to push the massive weight of failure off my shoulders. Like Michael, I believed I wasn’t worthy of love. Going public with my tale couldn’t have done any more harm than continuing to live in the silence of societal exclusion. I purposefully stepped out of the shadows and into authenticity. “Your story is my story,” said one and then another. And then another. With each voice I found the strength to share more hurt, more fear and even deeper pain. The “truth” I once believed had become an entrapment.
With the release of my book, Going Gay – My Journey from Evangelical Christian Minister to Self-acceptance, Love, Life and Meaning I discovered the breadth of those damaged by reparative therapy. The misguided, if not hateful, words of a church community that once embraced us continues to wield its sword at those who cannot reconcile their reality with the church’s literal brand of religion. The cathartic act of writing to soothe my own aching soul became a passion to pull together a group of outcasts, sliced and shredded by devout dogmas.
In the summer of 2014, I was privileged to list my name, along with eight other former prominent ex-gay ministry leaders to put an end to reparative therapy for minors. Two states, California and New Jersey, were the first to outlaw the practice. In some cases, this was too little too late as the stories continue to roll in about religious abuse. There is much more work to do.
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I write to speak life and hope into people who have struggled to find it. I write to challenge a religious institution that has historically upheld tradition and legalism over dignity, grace and humanity. I write to give voice to those whose realities clash with their ideals. I write to provoke ideas, raise questions and add to the conversation about what it means to be human, to be worthy, and to be loved just because we are here.
After all, that’s what we want as human beings. To be validated. To be free. To be heard.
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Michael’s journey began under religious zeal and repression. Understandably, the zeal has waned; the guilt has not. We haven’t talked since that day, several months ago, but not because I’ve forgotten about him. I haven’t. He’s chosen to avoid me, and any reminder of his pain and perceived failure. He’s not ready to deal with it.
But there are many others like Michael who reach out to me nearly every day, anxious to share their stories with someone. Not just someone who will listen, but someone who will hear them. After all, that’s what we want as human beings. To be validated. To be free. To be heard.
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Photo: Flickr/peter burge
Tim, I love this article. it carries with it the deeper emotion of what it’s like to attempt to pursue reparative therapy. The deeper shame and discouragement along with despair follow into the soul of most who attempt to “change” their homosexuality due to religious conviction, or guilt (more often the latter). I tried for 25 years to be the very best ExGay I could be. I performed as much of the prescribed practices that i was told would help me find “freedom” from my own homosexuality. I also married thinking, hoping, believing, that God was big enough to open… Read more »
Thank you, John. As you know, I look up to you and admire your courage, honesty and authenticity. Love you, brother.
Glad you wrote this article. That being said: 1. After countless twin studies, the Human Genome Project and decades of research there is STILL no scientific proof that romantic same-sex attraction is genetic and/or inborn. And that tells me (knowing ex-gay people who were once as gay as could be and who are now, not) that we’ve not yet found a reason why being gay is immutable. And worse, it troubles me that many have been told the “you’re born that way” falsehood. It’s NEVER good to base critical life decisions on untruths. Ever. 2. And speaking of “untruths”, it… Read more »
Your post is full of untruths. Not much else to say.
After countless twin studies, the Human Genome Project and decades of research, there is STILL no scientific proof that romantic opposite-sex attraction is genetic and/or inborn. And that tells me that we’ve not yet found a reason why being straight is immutable. So what? Most straight people just get on with their lives without worrying about whether their sexuality is “genetic and/or inborn”, about whether we’ve found a reason why being straight is immutable, or about whether “You’re born that way” is a falsehood. Gay people can do likewise, and most of us do. The assertion that being gay is… Read more »
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Absolutely beautiful words. I’m grateful that stories have power and people can say to one another, “your story is my story.” Thank you for sharing. Just out of curiosity, do you still considered yourself a Christian? As you have embraced who you are your worth simply for, as you said, being here, what conclusions (if any – I realize that its an incredibly complex process) have you come to regarding your faith? I ask because I too have felt shunned and hurt by the church, though for reasons other than being gay as I am straight. I’m… Read more »
Thank you, Nicholas for your kind words. I consider myself a truth seeker. I’ve dropped the Christian label because it means different things to different people. I’ve written a couple of blogs on my own site, TimRymel.com, about “Why I don’t talk about Scriptures,” and “What it means to be a truth seeker.” I dismantled everything I believed and started rebuilding it from the ground up. I don’t believe God, if He exists, is threatened by science, discussion and new discoveries. We humans believe something first and then perceive things in a way that upholds our beliefs. Always. That’s how… Read more »