Death Does Not Become Me

I've been thinking a lot about death lately. Okay, not just lately. It’s more like I think about death every day. It's kind of a constant presence in my life. I carry it on my back like a cloak. It’s invisible, but it isn’t light. Thoughts of death are very heavy.

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of dying. Maybe it’s not the dying as much as it’s the fear of what comes after. I’ve been aware of a place called Hell for as long as I’ve been able carry a tune. And believe me, that’s a long time.

You see, I was raised in a religious environment where I was cautioned on the unimaginable fiery pit of Hell — or Lake of Fire. I was warned of a judgment day and of how if my name wasn’t found in the Book of Life I would be cast into that pit — that waterless lake — to writhe and burn for eternity. Eternity. That’s forever. Burning. Consumed but not. Feasted on by maggots. Consumed but not. Tormented by demons. No peace. Only anguish. And the falling. Hell, I also remember it being said, is bottomless. So, there would never be nothing but burning, gnawing, writhing, torment, and falling.

Hell scared the shit out of me as a child. 

I was educated early in the redemptive power of Jesus Christ. How he, and only he, could save my soul from eternal damnation. All I had to do was ask him into my heart to save my soul from Hell. By doing so, I would be granted entrance into Heaven where I would live for eternity in a mansion of my own in the golden street suburbs of a Utopia that I couldn’t begin to fathom. And I asked him. Then I had to believe that he actually did it. That he saved my soul from Hell.  As a child I imagined Jesus — he looked like the images that appeared in my Bible (white man, beard, compassionate expression, a nice post facial glow) — sitting on a throne in my chest. He was in my heart after all. I had asked him to come inside, and I believed he had accepted my invitation. He had to be sitting there. I didn’t quite know how, but I believed. Ah, the faith of a child.

As I got older my attraction to men began to surface from the dark shadows of my deepest desires. I began to realize that I was homosexual. Wait. What? Homosexual? How was that going to work? As long as I had know about Heaven and Hell I had known that a homosexual was not going to be granted entrance into Heaven. I mean, the Bible said so and I was taught to believe those words without challenge.

Revelations, chapter 21, verse 8: But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur.

As a homosexual many will say I fall into the category of the sexually immoral. I might also be considered cowardly if you take into account all of my fears. Then, of course, there’s the option of denying my homosexuality, which would make me a liar. Sheesh.

My thoughts of death —or the afterlife — beget quite a damper on my present life. I am alive but I’m not really living. I fear that fiery pit every single day that I breathe. I find no comfort in the fact that I asked Christ into my heart to save me from that place. I find no comfort in the fact that God is said to have created man in his image and here I am created homosexual...in his image, right? These things don’t match up for me. It’s almost as if I believe I can only have one or the other. I can be a homosexual, live my life, find happiness here on Earth ending up in Hell Or I can fight my desires and deny everything I feel in the hopes that I will find my name in that Book and get to walk through those pearly gates.

I know that not every Christian feels that homosexuals will not see the Kingdom of Heaven. But many do. America — and the world — has made great progress in the area of LGBTQ rights and overall acceptance in the past few years. But even now there are those who are pleased to see our rights being rolled back or at least being attempted to be rolled back. Being a Christian means being Christlike. I have to ask: How is discrimination and violence against a minority group in the name of God Christlike?

As a homosexual, I have lived my life under the shadow of fear for as long as I can remember. First it’s Hell. Then it’s bullies on the playground. Then it’s bullies in high school. Then it’s AIDS. Then it’s fear of familial rejection. Then it’s narrow-minded people who somehow feel better about themselves when they call me names. Then it’s the Americans who currently feel emboldened to stand strong against me on the grounds of religious beliefs.

LGBTQ people have decided that enough is enough and are now very visible. Because of that, narrow-minded people feel persecuted and oppressed. I’m sorry, but give me a break. Oppressed? I’ve felt oppressed since I realized I was homosexual. They’re not oppressed. They just don’t understand same-sex attraction. And they often get hung up on that "dirty," "nasty" sex I enjoy with a man. If they just thought about it in terms of when they realized who they were attracted to and that we realize it the same way an amazing epiphany might happen. But alas, many would rather just think of me as immoral. I’m not. 

When I came out to him even my father responded that he believes what the Bible says. In that moment I was so relieved that he said he loved me and that I was welcome in his home that I didn’t ask him what he meant. To this day I don’t know. Does he merely believe, per the Bible, that my homosexuality is wrong? Or does he believe, per the Bible, that I won’t be joining him in Heaven? Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe I don't need to know. I can’t quite understand how people can still believe that homosexuality is a choice instead of the way we’re born. Believing it’s a choice is the choice. Not accepting what homosexuals tell you about when they knew they were homosexual is a choice. But I’m off topic.

I’m often angry. It stems from the rhetoric that was used to oppress me as a child. I was scared into believing something that still affects me negatively today. I can’t seem to release the fear. I can’t seem to release the anger.

I find no comfort in my past invocation. I have no faith. I do not trust. 

I don’t know if Hell is a real place, or if we live in hell every day here on Earth. I don’t know if Heaven is a real place either, or if it’s a story of a beautiful paradise made up to comfort us in our time of need when a loved one has died. 

Hell continues to scare the shit out of me. 

And my fear of death does not become me. It hampers me. It stifles me. It limits me. Living my life to its fullest would become me more. I just can't quite step into the sun and leave my shadows behind.

Unexpected Inspiration

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It was a normal Friday morning. I had slept amazingly well through the night which was a welcomed change from the previous two. I made my coffee and settled on my sofa to finally watch CBS Sunday Morning from January 13.

That’s when I met Nick Vujicic in the segment titled AGAINST ALL ODDS. Nick was born without arms or legs. It’s a rare birth defect called Phocomelia. No arms. No legs. Yet there he was smiling, happy, appearing unafraid, not discouraged, and profoundly moving as he shared part of his life’s journey with us, the viewing audience. I watched as he balanced a golf club between his neck and shoulder like we with arms might cradle a telephone. I watched as he swung the club and landed a whole-in-one. I watched as he propelled his torso body from a diving board into the waiting pool of water below. I watched as he surfaced, breaking through the top of the water, treading in place by moving his pelvis in the mode of a dolphin tale then swimming on his back. Both of those challenges were accepted by a person I would never have thought would have attempted either. And you know what? After watching the clip, it doesn’t surprise me that he accomplishes whatever he sets his mind to.

Here’s the reason: Nick said he embraces what he does have instead of being angry at what he doesn’t have. What a lesson. Think about that.  How often are we truly thankful for what we have? I personally have a good job, a beautiful home, my health, my senses, my family, my friends, my creativity, etc. Yet when things don’t go my way I forget all about what I do have and dwell on what I don’t have (or didn’t get, or screwed up). Let me repeat this: Nick said he embraces what he does have instead of being angry at what he doesn’t have. Instead of asking you to think about that, I have to think about that. This is a man who faces the challenge of living his life every day without the arms and legs that I take for granted. And not only can he swing a golf club and swim, he can cook and type. Yes, type. He has two toes on what appears to be a partial foot. I bemoan the lack of inspiration sometimes to sit down and type with my 10 fingers, while this man has written two books and types 60 words a minute with those two toes. Who do I think I am? 

I had to question would I be able to find that kind of joy in my life had I been born like Nick? My immediate response was: no. Knowing myself as I currently am, I think I would be depressed and unhappy and constantly asking why I wasn’t born normal. Nick is normal. His life is his normal. What I see as someone extraordinary is someone who sees himself as a person living the life he was blessed enough to be given. Oh that I could see that in myself every day. I am blessed to be alive. I am blessed to have been given everything that I’ve been given. What am I doing with my life?

This man who was born with no limbs has created an outreach program lifewithoutlimbs.org to help others with their own problems whatever those problems may be. His tag line: From No Limbs To No Limits. This man, who once as an adolescent gave up for just a second. He allowed himself to sink under the water in his bathtub. He couldn't go on with the stares and bullying at school anymore. Thankfully, for me and the others who are inspired by his story, he couldn't do it. He now invites the stares that pushed him so close to that despairing end by being a dynamic speaker who draws crowds with his message of faith, hope, and courage.

 He can’t shake your hand, but he can ask for a hug. He invites the embrace of anyone, everyone.

He is an inspiring, uplifting human being who in the greatest of all odds faced the challenges of life and grew into the man that isn’t afraid to sky dive, surf, get married, and, you guessed it, become a father. He doesn’t let anything stop him or hold him back. My wish for myself is to have a small portion of his courage and then to see how I might multiply that courage if only I’d get out of my own way and stop with the occasional pity parties that I throw for myself. Nick says he owes everything in his life to his faith. Many of you may know faith is something I’m struggling with right now. I believe that I saw this segment on a day when it was going to do me the most good--the day I was going to be the most receptive to its message. I may still be scared of God, but there’s no denying that he works in mysterious ways and none of us can truly know how.

As if Nick’s story wasn’t inspiring enough it was followed by SNOWFLAKES FOR NEWTOWN which is part of the “On The Road” series from CBS news. In the wake of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut, the Connecticut PTSA requested hand made snowflakes so they could decorate the new school where the displaced children would now be attending. What they didn’t expect was an outpouring of support shown by the influx of snowflakes from all over our country and even from other countries. Children just like those lost in the devastating tragedy gave a part of themselves as they created the snowflakes for their fellow compatriots who survived. Children reaching out to fellow children to show support and love. Children who might not know the full extent of what happened in Sandy Hook, but haven’t lost their innocence or ability to love unconditionally. We forget sometimes that children do know how to share, do know how to support, do know how to love one another.

So much innocence was lost in Sandy Hook. The snowflakes to me represent the wonder and beauty of childhood and show how creativity brings out the best in all of us. We never know how even the smallest gesture can affect a life in the profoundest of ways.

Watching these two stories made every problem I think I have seem inconsequential. As tears fell down my cheeks I realized how blessed I am. I’m working through some stuff in my life and it tends to materialize in this blog. Sometimes I’m afraid it comes across as complaining. I don’t intend it that way. As I sat there, eyes blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop, I saw hope, possibility and inspiration on the television screen in front of me. I felt a renewed desire to be an inspiration and to experience all of my possibilities.