2009 marked the close of a fifteen year chapter, life identified as a homosexual.  Three events proceeded my exodus.  My Grandmother’s bold entrance into the throne of grace, on my behalf, final destruction reached, and the death of my personal end of day evangelist.

The events occurred in 2009.  My heart was stirring in conviction, my eyes were beginning to open.  The test result came back positive.  What I had feared became my reality.  Grief took me down closer to the bottom, but I refused to stop.  Eric, motionless his father’s eyes were heavy with sadness.  They read of hopelessness tinted with despair and regret.  My friend had died, my evangelist went home to be with the Lord.

“Guess what I’ve done?”  “I’ve given my heart back to Jesus!”  Eric, my evangelist had given me his personal road map of repentance.  His funeral was packed with those I had seen in the bar.  Flies had swarmed in to remember the life of their drug dealer, sex partner, and disc jockey.  How many lives had he reached before his death?  I felt somehow disconnected from the swarm and upset.

As I retraced the steps the evangelist had laid out, I followed after them like the prodigal leaving the trough.  I was dying and dead in  my trespass and sin.  Life, the life of Jesus was already there.

For years I had tried to “pray the gay away”, but it wouldn’t leave.

Longing for the days where righteousness could be experienced my strength grew increasingly weak, and my knees begging for forgiveness were too calloused, too quick to give up.

My first step out from the gay lifestyle was difficult.  The swarms of addiction kept knocking on my door, but I persevered.  Reading the word of God and finding fellowship with other believers I was alone in my homosexual recovery.

The Apostle Paul’s message to the Roman Church was my bread and butter.  Give me this day my daily bread, my cry was heard and the storm was beginning to cease.  Five months I would battle back feelings of depression and thoughts of suicide.  It was as if multitudes of demons were trying to destroy me, Psalms 107 took care of that.

Little by little, moment by moment, glory to glory His life was coming into focus.  The Grandmother whose life was spent in virtuous petition witnessed the Spirit of God touch, pat down, and move on a heart once broken from sins torment.  Receiving the life of Christ Jesus into mine, His righteousness and all that entails became real to me, I am becoming all who Jesus is.  Christ died and arose, all for my freedom.  My walk is steadied, my identity is now in Him, my vine is being trimmed, and fruit that was always meant to grow from the foundation of the world now thrives on a branch that is secured into the Vine.  I am nourished and whole, justified, and sanctified.  Thanks be to God, Father.