ANGLICAN EX-GAYS TELL THEIR STORIES

News Analysis | By David W. Virtue | Ottawa | September 2, 2004

OTTAWA, ON — These are the stories that both embarrass and convict revisionist Episcopal and Canadian Anglican priests, bishops and archbishops. They also anger theologians like Jeffrey John and William Countryman, and send former bishops like Jack Spong and Walter Righter into theological orbit.

They are also the stories that confuse and confound the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams, author of The Body's Grace, whose desire it is for us all to get along, acknowledging our differences but staying together no matter what.

But you see, it's the "no matter what" part that is troubling to so many. And for three former homosexuals — two rectors, one a woman, and a layman — the "no matter what" rings hollow when you listen to their stories of God's saving love and redeeming grace to change and heal.

These are not stories of blinding Damascus road experiences, but the dogged, plodding realization that something is deeply wrong in their sexual psyches and impulses, and they are powerless without God's help to change.

And one by one their moving stories of deliverance from the homosexual lifestyle, addiction to pornography, rape, abuse and violence are told. There are no dry eyes as 700 orthodox Canadian Anglicans listen attentively.

There is the story of Dawn McDonald, now an Anglican priest. "Being an ex-gay is even more difficult than being gay. To many in the Anglican Church, my story is 'politically incorrect', and there is opposition from every corner. I know where I have been, and I know what the Lord has done in my life. Take it or leave it, this is a story of the Gospel and how it transformed my life."

"As far back as I can remember I always had a feeling that I was different. I wanted to be a boy and I delighted in nicknames like 'Tomboy'. For all intents and purposes, I was certain that I was a boy in a girl's body."

For grade 7 she was sent to a girls' school, where she met a strong attraction toward one of her classmates. After that school year, she was transferred to a local Japanese school and encouraged to date boys. She was always aware of her homosexual tendencies, but felt her faith in Christ required her to live as a straight person. At 20, she entered into a homosexual relationship that lasted 13 years; the lifestyle felt right, and she was certain she was "born" homosexual.

But Dawn's story included also what she calls the "dark" stuff. "When I was born, my father wanted a boy, and I grew up feeling I was a great disappointment to my father. To complicate things, I was being sexually abused by my father's students. Like all kids who are sexually abused, I felt very 'dirty' and ashamed of myself."

When she was 18 her parents sent her to Nova Scotia. She was raped by her grandfather, and when she sought help from her uncle, he raped her as well. She ran to California and ended up on the streets. An uncle helped her return to Japan. Her father greeted her with anger.

At 20, she became a missionary in a Pentecostal church in Japan. "I had no formal training and I was not prepared to face the sufferings that came from discriminations they faced, nor was I prepared for the high suicide rate. I was questioning the very existence of God when I met the Australian woman who offered me the comfort that I desperately wanted. I made my choice then to walk away from my Christian beliefs."

After 13 years in the homosexual relationship, she was in a car accident and found herself in hospital. "Through this experience, I came to realize that I was given a 'second chance' to make the most of my life. I found myself waking up in the middle of the night singing, 'Father, I adore you... Jesus, I adore you... Spirit, I adore you.' I was claimed for Christ at my baptism, and God was now claiming me back!"

About a month later, Dawn went to an Anglican parish church for the first time in 14 years. Today she is the priest at Holy Cross Japanese Canadian Anglican Church in Vancouver, Canada. Now she stands before the crowd, her testimony told — she lifts her face and smiles through the tears. She has been made whole. The crowd rises to its feet.

Then there is the story of 42-year-old Darryl, a man who first felt same-sex attractions when he was fourteen. Raised as a "cradle Anglican" in Winnipeg, Manitoba, he always cherished his Anglican heritage and valued the sacramental and apostolic traditions of the church. He was confused about his homosexual attractions in junior high school, feeling ashamed and embarrassed, sensing he was different from his peers.

"Only God knows how often I prayed and begged Him to change my unwanted orientation. In an abusive cycle of fantasy, pornography, masturbation, guilt, and begging forgiveness, I tried, in my own strength, to turn away from homosexual desire. I agonized for more years than I care to remember."

At 22 he moved to a different city to study Psychiatric Nursing. "Using pornography as a tension reliever, I came in contact with other men with similar desires, but I was too terrified to act out with another person. Feeling frightened, I went to my parish priest who was empathetic and prayerful, but I felt that he did not understand me, and I never went back."

Returning to Winnipeg at 26, he started cruising gay areas in his car, eventually acting out with another man. "It was a very dark day for me. It quickly led to out-of-control behaviors and the development of an addiction to anonymous sexual contact with other men. My anguish intensified as I kept this life secret."

Darryl reached the end of his rope when he got a call from the Public Health Department — he was named as a possible contact for Chlamydia. Mercifully, all tests were negative. "I made a promise to myself: If I'm clean, then I'm going to get help." He immediately made an appointment to see his priest, and began a long season of counseling, then a referral to New Direction for Life Ministries, an affiliate of Exodus North America.

Darryl remembers the most difficult day of his life: "telling my girlfriend of my homosexual struggles, and offering her the choice of continuing or ending our relationship. She bravely said 'Yes' to us. She is now my wife of ten years. We also have two wonderful daughters. Never have I felt so whole or complete."

"Mental health literature contains many valid examples and documented cases of men and women who have successfully changed their sexual orientation. Change is possible, and determination to change is the key to success." Darryl says he has personally witnessed hundreds of people who have found release from same-sex attractions. "You can be free," he told his fellow Anglicans.

This crowd of 700 Anglicans are once again moved by this testimony of God's grace and rise to their feet.

Then there is the story of Don, now a priest in his 50s. He grew up seeing very little of his father. "I equated homosexual activity with the desire for male bonding. I wanted to please a man as much as possible, beyond sexual activity." Don went on to university and graduated in Los Angeles at the time of the emergence of AIDS. "A few moments of sexual pleasure did not touch my deepest needs." Don became a lapsed Anglican.

But in 1989 Don had a born-again experience. "I saw in the sermon that I wanted to blame someone and not myself. I now saw that there were no excuses. I could no longer blame God, my father or brothers." Don believes the cruelty of liberal theology is that it prevents people from experiencing the liberating power of Jesus Christ. The crowd roars its approval.

These stories reflect the scope of what God has done and continues to do in surrendered lives. They are, above all, stories of love and forgiveness, wholeness and healing, redemption and grace — they are the stories of grace that is greater than all our sin.