The Gift of Gay Porn

You can be either the man you truly are, or the shell of the man you could never be. Tanneron

I walked from the university library back to my fraternity house without a care in the world, but that would soon change. When I entered my room I saw it, anonymously and deliberately placed in the center of the floor to be unavoidably conspicuous – a brown paper bag filled with dozens of hard-core gay porn magazines.

My suspicion was that either Mark or Dan put the bag in my room. How had I signaled to these two guys that I was gay?

What would my roommate think of me now? Would he be surprised, or would he tell me he knew all along? Would he tell others in the house?

I was humiliated. I felt rejected. I thought about leaving the fraternity.

Hang on one sec…

I called a friend whom I had not seen in over fifteen years to tell him I was to speak at a conference in his city. I asked if there were any way we could connect. He was surprised to hear from me and seemed eager to meet.

Several weeks later we met for lunch at a bistro that had been featured in a national advertising campaign for VISA. After all those years we had a lot to talk about, and we plunged right in. After an hour and a half, our conversation began to wane. We were running out of topics. I sensed this was my opening, and I took it.

I told him I was struggling with life. I’d become bored with my job and had no idea what the next step could be. I felt aimless. I couldn’t clearly express any kind of life purpose except to love my family, provide for their wellbeing, and learn to be content.

Most significantly, my faith had run aground. I was afflicted with faith fatigue from years of church attendance, teaching adult Sunday school classes, leading up to four Bible studies in a week, chaperoning the youth group, playing the piano for the worship team, and providing an occasional vocal performance. I was tired of being a Christian, and Jesus was no longer the adventure he once was.

I also described what it had been like to be a volunteer for the Pat Robertson presidential campaign. In the midst of that quixotic quest, I worked with some of the most reactionary conservatives I’d ever met. They had strong convictions about all the prominent moral issues of the day, including homosexuality.

On this subject, their opinion was impregnable. Homosexuals were reprehensible. They were human scum. Ostensibly, this debauchery could be linked to every aspect of American decline. And, wasn’t it astonishing that God had called Robertson to run so after his providential election, he could repudiate this filthy lifestyle directly from the bully pulpit in the White House.

Somewhere in this discussion I must have mentioned how judgmental some of my evangelical friends were, especially on this topic. In their minds, gays were so shamefully wicked that their redemption was impossible even with an overdose of divine love. The book of Romans unmistakably pronounced that homosexuality was the ultimate transgression. No other sin was worse. Homosexuality brought the total abandonment of God upon these men and their depravity would lead them irreversibly to perdition without any hope of salvation.

Adrian listened intently but made no comment. That was fine with me because I was carefully fashioning the framework that was intended to open a new gateway in our friendship.

We walked unhurriedly to his car. He had offered to take me back to my hotel. As we strolled along I knew Adrian was dealing with his own private struggle. I wondered how long it would take before he lowered his guard.

It didn’t take long. He stopped, turned to me straight on, and told me he was gay. I smiled and said I knew, and had known for a long time. I gave him a big hug and told him my love for him had never changed over all these years. He would always be like a brother to me.

A remarkable peace came over his face. A great, gray cloud lifted and his smile became radiant. With some newfound courage he asked if I wanted to meet his partner, and I said of course.

He called his partner and told him about our conversation. His side of the exchange went like this – “we had a great time; everything was good between us; yes, David knew; would it be alright if I brought him home to meet you; it’s going to be OK; he’s fine; could he stay for dinner; he’ll be fine; should we invite some of our friends;….long pause….good, we’ll be home soon.”

Why had his partner been so reluctant to meet me? Adrian had told him I was an evangelical Christian, a conservative Republican, a Bible believer, a family man, a red-blooded American, and…presumably…antigay.

Adrian and his partner, Ben, had been together for a couple years. When I came into the house he glanced at me cautiously, but I gave him a big hug anyway. Adrian and I started immediately to prepare dinner. As we worked side by side, Ben stared at us and just said "wow." He remarked that Adrian and I had not seen or spoken to each other for over fifteen years, but here we were talking and laughing as though we’d never been apart.

Adrian had invited five other guys to join us for steaks, baked potatoes, coleslaw, and beer. As each man arrived Adrian and Ben kissed him on the cheek. It was like shaking hands, and it looked natural.

These friends were curious to learn all about me and especially about my friendship with Adrian. In time our lively conversation turned to Pat Robertson and the evangelical view of homosexuality. I admitted that, as an evangelical myself, it was impossible for me to zigzag through the Bible to avoid verses that condemned sexual intimacy between men.

Yet, at the same time, I explained that my deep love for Adrian prevented me from ever thinking of him as a perverted degenerate. I would always consider him a soulmate. They were simply stunned over how a guy like me could love a gay man unconditionally. When they left they all gave me a hug and told me they’d never before met a Christian like me.

At this point in the evening Adrian said he wanted me to meet another friend who couldn’t make it to the dinner party.

Paul lived alone, was gay, and he was dying of AIDS. When we arrived at his home Adrian let himself in with his own key. Paul was in bed and quite pleased to have visitors. Paul had been a successful architect and had designed his home. We walked out onto a balcony that overlooked a breathtaking array of city lights. The view was magnificent in its simplicity and serenity.

We talked with Paul until it was evident he was tired and needed to rest. He walked with us to the front door. At that moment, without thinking, I turned to Paul and asked if I could pray for him. Paul seemed open to the idea, but Adrian looked upset. I’m certain he was nervous about what I might pray. Would I ask God to forgive him of his evil lifestyle? Would I dare ask God to heal him of a judgment that some believed came from heaven?

I stepped toward Paul and put my hands on either side of his face. I asked the God of all grace and mercy to touch this man and heal him of this disease. I asked the God of love to show this man the depth of Christ’s affection for him. Without hesitation, I put my arms around him and gave him a strong, sustained embrace.

My touching and hugging Paul, at a time in our country when so many wrongly believed AIDS could be transmitted by physical contact, startled both of them. When we got back into the car, with tears in his eyes, Adrian thanked me for praying for Paul, but also for touching him.

The next day was a national holiday and my conference had ended. That afternoon I would fly back to Iowa. I took the subway to Adrian’s home to spend the day with Ben since Adrian had to work.

When I arrived, Ben asked if I could take their yellow lab, Cooper, for a walk around the block. Sure, and off we went - this way and that way – until I realized I had no idea where I was. I had no sense of how to get back.

As Cooper and I were stalled on the sidewalk, with my mind racing to retrace our route, a car drove up and slid into the empty parking space in front of me. A young man got out and turned to me and smiled. It was Paul! I could hardly believe my eyes. Paul was just as surprised. He thanked me for visiting him and for my prayer. We had another good visit but the details are foggy. Of course, he explained where I was and what direction to go.

As I walked away I couldn’t help but think this encounter was heaven-sent. What were the chances that I would get lost walking a dog and end up close to Paul’s doctor’s office, that a man I had just met twelve hours before, who lived miles away, would drive down a street crowded with parked cars, pull into an empty space right in front of me, get out of his car and shout my name?

My mind wrestled uselessly with all the diverse contingencies that came together at a precise location and time so two people, who could not have been more different, could meet one more time. I was amazed.

I found my way back to the house, and then back to Iowa, and back to my family, my job, and the rest of my life.

In a month Paul would be dead.

To be continued.