Dear Homosexual Person or “Woke” Ally,
OK, I’m not 12 years old, and neither are you, so stop telling me I “hate gay people.” Dialectic rarely materializes from thrown about, pre-pubescent accusations.
I believe that people are born with an attraction to people of the same sex.
I was attracted to a girl named Megan at Tawanka Elementary School in Langhorne, Pennsylvania when I was about seven years old. Maybe eight. It starts early for us humans, I suppose.
Now, I did not know about sex or much about how boys and girls differed physically at that time, and Megan’s clothed, seven-or-eight-year-old female body, as far as I could tell, was as devoid of curves as mine was. I am describing something more like a fascination with her face and hair. I thought she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, although I could not have articulated that to anyone at the time. All I knew was that when I saw her, my stomach did somersaults and I wanted to stare at her endlessly.
I never spoke a single word to her, and I have no idea who she is today.
But I Do Know This:
She looked a lot like Jennifer, my wife. Brunette, long, slightly wavy hair. High cheekbones. Pale complexion. Dark eyebrows. (Jennifer ranks a rung above Megan in the Troy’s All-time Prettiest Girl Awards.) And even today, when I think about the girls I liked to look at as a teenager, or the women I think are pretty as they walk by today, they often look very much like Megan.
So yes, I think a great deal of physical attraction is pre-wired. Even your (or your friends’) homosexual tendencies.
I also believe that I could be married to someone who looks completely different, and still be madly in love because love isn’t a feeling: It’s a daily choice to sacrifice self for the good of another – but I digress.
The point is that my opinion about homosexuality has nothing to do with hate, that word the young kids love to toss about like a freshly dog-chewed frisbee. It doesn’t even fly right, and it feels rough and slobbery in hand, but they fling it none-the-less.
What Does God Say?
God says a lot about sex in the Bible, and I believe the Bible. He tells me not to lust after those pretty women, and not to have sex with a woman if I’m not married to her. Actually, He advises me that it’s best not to marry at all, but that it’s better to marry than to burn. And He tells me not to have sex with another man. So regardless of whom I find attractive, God has rules. He made me, and I follow His rules as best I can. Maybe I’d like to have six wives. Maybe I’d like to have an affair on the side with another brunette, Meganesque woman. But I don’t because God said not to.
You might argue (weakly) that God made you gay so He must be OK with that. That won’t fly. I tend to want to steal things, and it tempts me. If I could be anything I wanted to be, I’d run a chop shop. But guess who keeps me from taking your car. Did God make me a thief? No, I believe that I can blame The Fall for that little character flaw, but in any case, God tells me not to steal, so I don’t do it. Your car is safe. So is your wife, even if she’s a Megan.
Maybe you feel more obligated to satisfy your flesh than to follow God’s rules. Fine. I mean, not FINE, but whatever. That’s not my business at all. Fornicate your eyeballs out with troops of people of both sexes every night in your bedroom. I DON”T CARE. God does, but I do not.
Don’t Parade Your Sex Into the Streets
Don’t teach my children that it’s “OK to be gay.” I MUST counteract the damage you do to my children through your publicizing of sex by redoubling my efforts to teach them how unrighteous your actions are. By extension, I must also preserve my society by fighting to keep sex, all sex, out of the public eye and away from children and other people who don’t WANT sex on their minds all day, every day; people who don’t define themselves by where they stick their junk.
I didn’t need some adult pervert to “guide me through my feelings” regarding Megan. I didn’t need a picture book telling me that soon those butterflies in my stomach would result in Megan and me gloriously copulating under the maple tree in the schoolyard. No, I just lived with the feelings, wondering what it all meant until one day I understood, exactly as millions of pre-Freud, pre-Spock, pre-post-modern PC bull manure people have done for millennia.
Sin is Sin
And no, it’s not a personal war on just homosexuality. I fight the same battle against many, many, many other sins and issues, some right here within my soul. I don’t even let my shacking-up, heterosexual kinfolk sleep together under my roof. I WILL NOT teach my children that they should behave one way, but condone the opposite behavior in Uncle Frank and “Aunt” Becky. I’m certainly not going to teach them God’s word, but then not point out what a shame and a sham it is that there are 12 rainbow flags hanging in businesses downtown right now.
“Gay pride?” Proud of what, exactly? Proud that you bump uglies with someone to feel good for a while? I guess most humans on Earth are proud, in that case. Whoopie! Let’s all get a flag!
Here’s what your pride is: It’s a defensive response to someone pointing out your shame. God (or society, or your Dad, or whatever) points at your actions and says, “That’s a shame.” and you respond with, “Uh-uh, I’m PROUD, see? I even have a colorful flag to prove it.”
So to summarize: I’m not on the “wave a rainbow flag” wagon because the Bible is not unclear in any way that God is opposed to homosexuality (save your ignorant argument about shellfish for some other day.) You choose to wave a flag, and I choose to believe the Bible. You choose to teach your children “love is love, and God can go get bent,” and I choose to teach my children “God is God and humans justifying their sin because it feels good can go get bent.”
No hate involved, just freedom. You shove against society, and I push back.