Chapter 28 In the Closet

Through the summer Ruth spent more time at the Center. She and I teased Colin about Anna, a single woman who worked for the Nurse’s Registry. We had tried to get him interested in other women occasionally, but Anna lived in the building. She worked there. She was available. She was nice. Why didn’t he take her out? Sometimes he acted a little sore at our teasing. But we didn’t stop.

By late September, I have given in to Ruth’s allure. She was my girlfriend. In October, I returned to the apartment on a Sunday evening after spending the day with Ruth. Colin, as usual, wanted to hear about my day. He was always cheering us on.
I asked him about Anna again. Why didn’t he date her . . . or someone? “You’re always talking about how nice it would be to have a woman in your life, why don’t you do something about it? It’s not like there aren’t any available women. If you’re not interested in Anna, what about Pauline or Linda?”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he spoke with uncharacteristic hesitancy. “Listen, Johnny, I think it’s time to tell you why I’m single. Why I don’t date Anna or Emily or Pauline. I don’t want to hurt them. It just wouldn’t work out.
“When I was growing up in England, my mother was very strong. She ran my dad around like he was a child. And, of course, polio strongly affected my sense of who I was. I couldn’t compete with the other kids physically, so I became a voracious reader. I got into the occult.

“Then I saw an advertisement for some a lecture on flying saucers. I went and was shocked to discover that it was a religious meeting. But I got hooked and I attended every meeting. My parents didn’t have any particular religion so they didn’t mind when I decided to get baptized.

“I loved the prophecies and learning about God. But even as I was getting more and more involved in church, I was troubled by the growing realization that I did not like women the way other boys did.

“The preacher at our church encouraged me to go to Newbold College. He said that was the place to meet nice Adventist girls. So I went. And I went out with girls there, very nice girls. I even kissed a few of them. But there was nothing in my heart that responded.

“I talked with one of the religion professors. He told me to just find a nice girl who played the piano and marry her and everything would work out in time. I tried. I dated one girl for over a year, but as much as I enjoyed her as a friend, I just could not see being married to her.

“After I graduated from Newbold, I worked as a pastor for a few years, then came to Andrews to get my masters. There, I really faced this thing. I fasted and prayed. I had friends who fasted and prayed with me. One time I felt this utter confidence that God was going to heal me. I asked to be a anointed. In preparation, I spent a week fasting and praying. The anointing was held on Friday night. I had a girlfriend. She was there. Three seminary professors and several of my classmates participated. We spent an hour praying before they finally anointed me and claimed God’s promises of transformation and new life.

“I went to bed utterly euphoric.

“I picked up Wanda the next morning and we went to church together. The whole world was bright. I was healed. I was normal. I was a heterosexual. At the end of the day I kissed her. It was wonderful.

“But a couple of weeks later the old feelings were back. Wanda begged me not to worry about it. We could work on it together, she insisted. But it just wasn’t right to marry someone you didn’t have feelings for. I mean sexual desire. She was sweet. I liked her. But it just wasn’t there.

“Later at Andrews a group performed an exorcism on me. They believed homosexual impulses were a form of demon possession. Again, for a couple of weeks, I felt different. But it didn’t last.

“So I’m committed to a life of celibacy–unless God heals me. I still pray every day to be changed. But there you have it old boy. That’s why I don’t date Anna. That’s why I get upset when you and Ruth tease me.”

I was stunned. What would it be like to be trapped in a prison like that? I was mad at God for all the conflict I felt over Ruth, but that was just because she was the wrong race and this was the wrong time in my life for a serious relationship. What would it be like to know you could never have a wife? Never have someone to sleep with, have sex with, raise a family with, grow old with?

I had prayed for a bicycle, and money miraculously showed up. Colin prayed for healing from homosexuality. He fasted and prayed. He was anointed. He had an exorcism. He had tried everything imaginable to obtain God’s power to change so he could live the life God wanted him to live. And it didn’t work. Why would God condemn people for something there was no healing for?

I had picked up from church culture the assumption that homosexuals were people who made bad choices. Just like alcoholics or smokers. They might have a hard time altering their behavior, but if they would simply choose to do the right thing, they could. Of course, like all temptations, homosexual temptation could be resisted only with the help of God. But certainly that help was available. Now, I couldn’t be so sure. God didn’t show up to help Colin.

I didn’t know where this left the Bible’s bold claims. It talked glibly about God’s power. “No temptation has befallen you, except what is common to all men. And God will, with the temptation, make available a way of escape.” “God is at work in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.” “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I knew my moral failures were my own fault. I had no excuse. I simply made bad choices–choices that were not inevitable, choices that could have been different if I had taken more time to pray and read my Bible. Listening to Colin, I could not imagine what more he could have done. If that was true, how could I as a preacher stand up and tell people about the power of God, when apparently it did not work in the lives of homosexuals?


I flew home for Christmas, then returned to New York for a weekend before leaving for Middle East College in Beirut, Lebanon.

Going to MEC was a lark. In September, someone had stayed at the Center for a couple of days to visit a girl who worked there. He was an American, returning for a second year at MEC. He loved it. Said it was easy to get accepted and easy to transfer credits back to Adventist colleges in the U.S. Why didn't I come when my year at the Center was up in December. Sure. Why not?

On Sunday of that last weekend back in New York, as Ruth and I were walking east on 46th Street away from The Center toward Avenue of the Americas to catch the “Train to the Plane,” the subway/bus system connecting Manhattan and JFK Airport, we met Benny coming toward us. He was drunk and wanted to talk. I explained I had a plane to catch. I couldn’t talk now. He shifted back and forth across the sidewalk determined to keep us from passing. I called to a policeman who happened to be standing not far away.

“Officer, can you help us?”

“What’s the trouble?”

“This guy won’t let us walk down the sidewalk. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“You want me to arrest you?” The policeman challenged Benny sharply. “Get over against that wall.”

“But officer . . .”

“Shut up and get over against that wall.” Benny complied.

I thanked the policeman and we continued east. A minute later I looked back. Benny was staggering toward Times Square.

I first met Benny when he was newly arrived from Alabama, the son of a southern Pentecostal preacher. No job, but determined to find one and make a new life for himself far away from the stifling world of his childhood. He had attended Bible studies in the Ark occasionally. Then he started coming in drunk. After that I’d meet him on the street occasionally, obviously drunk, apparently homeless. Nothing I could say had the slightest affect on his addiction.

Other people could tell their stories of God’s miraculous intervention. They could talk about times when God clearly broke through and demonstrated his power through them. I remembered someone telling me about an Adventist preacher who took seriously our prophet's counsel about personal involvement with the unfortunate. This preacher took a homeless alcoholic into his home. Had the man accompany him everywhere he went–to conference committee meetings, to preaching appointments. Eventually, the man got his life straightened out, got a job, returned to his estranged wife.

The best I could do was witness a tragic slide into oblivion.

At JFK, I checked in, then Ruth and I walked out to the gate. We sat, holding hands, waiting for my flight to start boarding, already feeling the ache of separation.