”But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. Since everything will be destroyed this way, what kind of people ought you to be?” (2 Peter 3:10-11)
Who will be my judge and jury? The church? My gay peers? Mother and father? Or perhaps you? Yes, even you have begun to weigh and measure my character at this early stage. And who’s to blame you? Everyone has a right to their opinions. Their beliefs. My religion believes that God will place me on his left when the time comes. The second coming. Deep down, I don’t believe that’s true. On that day, All That Is will read my heart and realize that it was...it is pure. It seeks truth and is willing to risk everything in hopes of finding it. Who am I to say, no?
What gave me the strength to follow my heart? Love, of course.
As you may remember, my first experience with love occurred in middle school with David. That flame lived far too short a life. Snuffed out by the pressure from others. A warning of the dangers ahead. Because of this, I only had a taste of the power a flame could have if allowed to burn long enough. Allowed to take root within a person and provide an inner focus. A focus so strong that everything that hinders it would be destroyed. Including the person who carried that flame.
Who hurt me?
Fire.
It burns.
In high school, I met a boy who sparked a second flame within me. Not noticeable at first. Just a warmth within from time to time. Perhaps a bit of indigestion? Nerves? Then there was the slight smell of smoke. But from where? I was unsure and unknowing of what was happening to me. Caught by surprise as the flame shot up from the kindling. Strong and sure. This fire had time to take hold within me. At first I glowed. Bright as the sun. My rays fell upon all and had no biases. No judgment. All was done in love. But in the end, I fell from my heights. Like Icarus, having flown far too high. The events left jagged scars across my heart. So many years ago that was. Can I even recall it all? I was a different person. Before.
Most days, when I touch those inner wounds, I feel nothing. It’s as if all the nerve endings have been singed away. Numb. Just old scar tissue proving something significant has happened there. But there are other days, moments when I’m not paying attention, that something or someone unexpected touches upon a wound and I am aware life still exists. Somewhere within the melted flesh there are feelings. Feelings to be explored and feeling yet to be had.
Feelings not dared to be fully felt. Until now. Let me tell you of my great fall. Of my trial before man, not God.
Photo by Collin Marrero
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