Dios es fiel.

The week before last was completely insane. I crammed all my research for a major paper into one day, attempted to visit a non-profit for a project only to get a flat tire on the way, helped present for Common Day of Learning on adjusting to your home culture after having a cross-cultural experience, dealt with the craziness of "Decision Day" and began to figure everything out that getting R.A. would have taken care of, and had tons of other homework. Needless to say it was a lot.

At church on Sunday my pastor made a point during his sermon, that it wasn't about success or failure, but being obedient and faithful to God.

In chapel the next day the speaker shared her story of how she came to L.A. to pursue a career in the film industry, ending with the point that it wasn't about success or failure, but being obedient and faithful to God.

At the commissioning service for Mexico on Tuesday night the speaker shared a few things, ending on the note that it wasn't about success or failure, but being obedient and faithful to God. Okay, God, I get it. Clearly You're trying to tell me something. But I as strived to figure out how it tied in with my present circumstances, I failed to do so. It just didn't click... yet.

In my leadership class on Wednesday evening we began with a devotional from My Utmost for His Highest, as we usually did. Although in different words, the premise of it was that it wasn't about success or failure, but being obedient and faithful to God. I laughed when I heard it.

By the end of the week I was exhausted. I was beyond over school and ready to get away from the busyness and chaos of college life. I anticipated my week in Mexico being the thing I needed most, with me coming back refreshed and recharged. I didn't want to have too many expectations, however, as I know things don't always go as we plan or want them to be. So I threw off all expectations as I went into the trip.

I was one of the drivers for my team, which I thoroughly enjoyed as I don't get to drive when I'm at school and I love driving. Of course the most difficult part was finding the balance between following speed limits and staying with your caravan; the two didn't always coincide. I had the same issues driving home. I don't think I've ever prayed so much before, but sure enough, God protected us. No tickets or accidents. Hallelujah! ;)

Our first full day in Mexico, Sunday, was spent making a Walmart run and hanging out at base camp most of the day. There was plenty team bonding, which was much needed. Although it was difficult at first, being in Mexico and "not doing anything," I was grateful for it. Always good connecting with those you're serving with before you go out and do ministry.

Monday through Thursday were spent at the orphanage, Agua de Vida. Definitely one of the coolest ministries I've ever been able to witness. There are somewhere between 25 and 30 kids who live there, ranging from the age of infant to 17. Although most of them come from difficult pasts and rough circumstances, they take care of each other. They defend each other at school and help out around the orphanage. I have no doubt that being raised in a Godly environment helps this. Mario and Veronica Santos, the couple who started the orphanage, have incredible hearts. They've been obedient to God's calling on their lives and give it their all. Mario is American and Veronica is Mexican; they married 25 years ago, spent their first 15 years of marriage in Southern California, then took their three kids and moved to Mexico to start the orphanage. It's now been 10 years. I can't tell you the number of stories they have about God's miraculous provision. Incredible stories.

At the beginning of the week I felt distracted, not present. Monday night we spent some time in prayer and saw every thing we had prayed for come to fruition not just the next day but all week. The weather cooled off. We had strength and energy like we hadn't had before. We were filled with incredible joy. It was so much and so good. We spent most of our time at the orphanage hanging out with the kids. It wasn't us going in and implementing our own plans but rather being present and witnessing the things already going on. Although it could have been difficult we quickly became okay with that. It was such a blessing. At the end of the week, however, we did throw a birthday party for a sweet girl named Sarai. She was turning 10. We had a piñata, played games, and ended the day with cake and "Happy Birthday." It was cool seeing the kids open up as the week went on. Their unique personalities began to show, all the more amazing seen in light of the hardships they had been through.

It wasn't until I was home Friday night, talking to my grandma, that it finally clicked. Everything God had been speaking to me the week before finally made sense. Initially, and even throughout the week, I felt frustrated because I felt like I relationally "failed" with the kids. I didn't get close with any of them and because of it it wasn't too difficult saying goodbye. I felt like it should have been and that frustrated me. "It's not about success or failure, but being obedient and faithful to God." Failure, however we define it, doesn't matter. The point is that we made ourselves available, were willing, and present. I was able to end my time in Mexico feeling joyful and full of peace because it's not about me and my own "successes." It's never been about either of those; it's about God and doing what we're called to do.

The expectations I had thrown off about getting close with my team were also blown out of the water. I left every expectation behind yet was blessed with a team that was fun to be with, authentic and transparent, and strives to live like Christ. We hung out the night we got back and are planning to do so this coming weekend as well. Even if we didn't though and the only time we were together was in Mexico, that would've been enough. Again, it's not about success or failure, in whatever sense, but being obedient and faithful.

When that is enough you are truly free.

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Check out a video highlighting my time in Mexico:

Vimeo: http://vimeo.com/89218344

YouTube: http://youtu.be/ciOBFCKOrrg

Peace Like A River.

It's Thursday evening and I'm relaxing at home as it is finally the beginning of spring break. All I've felt today is an incredible sense of peace, a peace that surpasses all understanding. Sometimes I wonder what that actually means, "surpassing all understanding." The ironic thing is when we try to explain it; after all, it does surpass all understanding. However, in my current situation I find it to surpass understanding because it did not come from me. It came through prayer, reflection, and receiving the wisdom of others. You're probably wondering what I'm talking about and for that reason I'll back up a bit.

Last weekend was crazy as I didn't have much time for homework; I had a variety of commitments that made the weekend busy. On Saturday morning I went to a men's breakfast at my church and then spent that evening and night volunteering for a non-profit at a concert. Sunday was busy with church in the morning and a Men's Chorale concert that had me gone for most of the day. And then the week began.

I'm currently taking my writing intensive requirement, which requires a research paper that we work on in pieces throughout the semester. All my research was due by midnight on Tuesday so I spent some of Monday evening (the only time I had to work on it that day) and all of Tuesday (literally... all of it) working on it. I submitted the assignment at 11:57 p.m. and breathed a sigh of relief as I felt like I had just run a mental marathon.

Yesterday was crazy for numerous reasons. Another Men's Chorale performance required a good portion of the day, followed by class, followed by the first grief support event held on campus that I had the privilege of being on the panel for. And then there was the fact that it was "Decision Day." For those of you that do not know what that is, essentially it is a day when all decisions are announced regarding most of the leadership positions on campus. It's a great and awful day all at the same time; great because many rejoice over getting positions that they applied and interviewed for, but difficult because many others are let down that they did not get the position they applied for. I will admit that not getting a position you applied for can be difficult; I myself have been denied numerous positions on campus, most of which would have taken place this year. The first significant instance happened my sophomore year and I must admit that at first I didn't take it very well. If you aren't careful it's easy to let a position define your worth or status and not getting that position left me feeling like I was inadequate in some way. Of course that is not true and I have come far since then.

This year I applied and interviewed to be a Resident Advisor, which I did not get. What made it difficult was not so much not getting the position (though I was disappointed I didn't get it) but rather the implications of what it meant for the future: all of a sudden I had myriad things to figure out, including my living situation, classes, and other school involvement for next year. Being future minded can be beneficial in many ways, but when you are someone like me who can let that affect being present and in the moment it tends not to be a good thing.

I called a couple of my closest family members and talked with my roommates to get their input on things. I only did this because there were a couple of decisions I had to make regarding one position I was given the option to be an alternate for and another I was offered but had to decide whether or not to accept it, both by Friday. By the end of last night I more or less came to a conclusion of what decisions I needed to make and decided that sleeping on it would be best, especially considering by the time those conversations had happened it was almost midnight and I had barely started on my homework.

I woke up this morning having gotten about six hours of sleep, six hours being my nightly average for the past week or so. Of course this general lack of sleep was concerning as it makes you more prone to sickness, among other things. It also concerned me because I am going to Mexico on Saturday for a week-long mission trip and I would not want to go into the trip sick and/or tired.

I woke up today feeling an incredible sense of peace. Despite the grogginess and hours I had to spend on homework this morning it permeated my thoughts and my entire sense of being. By the time my day ended, which was around 5 p.m., I reflected on my day and thought, "It's been a really good day." Reflecting on what happened today it did not make much sense; I was sleep-deprived, had classes all day, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. When I realized this it made that peace all the more significant as I knew it had not come from me. All I could think of was how it must have been that peace from God that surpasses all understanding, the peace we are promised if we are not anxious about anything and give all our requests to God through prayer and thanksgiving. God followed through on that promise and it has given me much strength and joy.

As I go to Mexico this weekend I trust that God has prepared me for such a time as this. I trust that God has a plan, God is in control, and it is my hope that I will stay open to God's leading and the things God wants to do while 300 others and I are down there. In the least I can say that I am beyond excited for the trip; I anticipate that being detached for a while from technology, homework, life on this side of the border, and anything else familiar will be refreshing and exciting. Other than that I do not have any expectations, but even then I probably should not have the expectation that I will come back refreshed. For all I know the week may be challenging and draining. Regardless of how things go, what I am sure of is that the peace of God is going before us, with us, and after us. It is that peace that I pray we all come to know, not just on a mission trip or during times of trial but each and every day of our lives as we strive to live for a purpose that goes far beyond ourselves.

The Aches of a Heart.

Today is Sunday, February 2nd, 2014.

Five years ago today was Monday, February 2nd, 2009. The day after the Steelers beat the Cardinals in the Super Bowl. That was the day my father died.

It was a day like any other. I went to school, with plenty going on. Scarlet & Gold, the choir I was in, was busy practicing for the val-o-gram fundraiser that we were putting on in a couple of weeks. In physics we were building roller coasters, which was a pretty sweet alternative to homework. Everything was normal.

When I got home from school I took a nap, did some homework, and before I knew it it was dinnertime. Mom had made sloppy joe's for dinner. We hadn't heard from Dad for a while, but I figured he had been out all day working. It wasn't usual for him to be gone until late running errands or doing things for work. Mom mentioned how she hadn't heard from him since lunch, which she seemed slightly concerned about.

A little later Grandpa Gary showed up. Said he also hadn't heard from Dad in a while. Don't worry about it, I told myself. He'll come home. He always does.

Eight o'clock rolls around and I'm on the phone with a close friend from school. We were talking about all the amazing things that God was doing on campus. I was walking around the house as I was talking to her, and I happened to come to the front windows that overlooked the street. And that's when I saw it.

A cop car, with two policemen, was parked across the street. They were getting out of the car. And that's when my heart sank: the worst had happened. There was no doubt about it. I rushed to the front door, hung up on my friend, and answered the door.

"Is your mom here?" the policeman asked. Before I could even turn around to call for her, my mom came flying down the steps. She was in her bedroom, talking on the phone, but she must've been looking out her window as well. She went out onto the front porch to talk with the officers and I recall going to the kitchen. Franticly pacing because I was getting really worried. A few seconds later I heard it.

It was the wail of a woman who had just lost her husband. The wail of a woman whose world came crashing down. The wail of a woman who was incredibly strong. The wail of a woman whose strength was taken from under her. My strength went too, and my world also came crashing down.

Tears. Lots of tears. I called anyone I could think of, anyone who would care. Most people didn't answer their phones. Go figure, I thought. One of my best friends from childhood did answer, but he couldn't understand me through the emotional wreck that I was and told me to call him back later.

My first prayer: "God, I love You. God, I love You. God, I LOVE You." All I could pray, not just on that night, but for weeks. I don't take any credit for this. I can't take any credit for it. I can't take any credit for it because on my own I'm not great. I'm not some amazing superhuman who can handle anything. I'm not some righteous, better-than-anyone human being. I am just like the rest of you. I have fears, doubts, desires, needs, and everything else typical to humanity. All of this to say I can only attribute those initial prayers to the amazing grace of an incredible God.

Everything from that point on was a blur. Dana, my brother's best friend's mom, came over. Told my brother and I to stay home. All I wanted was to leave. I had to see him. I had to see the dead body of my father to believe that he was actually gone. I was sure I was being lied to. I was sure that it was all a joke. This isn't my life, I thought. This can't be my life.

Eventually my Grandpa Gary and Aunt Christine were over. All I remember is embracing them, along with my brother, and weeping. All of us. Exclamations of grief, questions asking where my dad was, hugs trying to make sense of it all. Hugs that seemed to be our only glimpse of hope.

More family came in that night. Grandma Kathy, Papa Steve, aunts, uncles, more grandparents... more and more people came. At one point our house had 30 people sleeping in it. Floors, beds, couches, and anything else one could sleep on were all taken. I barely slept that first night. Maybe five hours.

That first morning I didn't want to eat. In fact, I wanted to starve myself. I already felt so close to the edge of my humanity and life itself; what was a little more pain? Aunt Misty made me eat. I was reluctant, but did so anyways. Figured it was probably good for me. I'm thankful for people like Aunt Misty to have helped me in the little things at that time, such as eating. She blessed me in more ways than she will ever know.

My friend Lydia called me that morning. Stepped out of class after reading the newspaper. It wouldn't have been hard for her to miss. "Kennewick man dies in fatal crash," read the front-page headlines. Seeing the name "Gary S. Conachan, Jr." didn't help either for I also carry my father's name. Answering her call assured her that it was in fact my father who had passed away and not me. Not that it made it any easier.

Grandpa Ron and one of my uncles (I think?--really, it's all a blur) took me to the store with them. We picked up a few newspapers. I read the words on the page, but I wasn't reading about my own life. I was reading about the life of another 15-year-old boy named Gary. A boy who had lost his father in a terrible car accident. I felt terrible for him. What a loss that must've been. Oh, wait. That's me. Numb. I felt numb.

I didn't go to school for two weeks. I missed classes, val-o-grams, projects, homework assignments--I missed it all. But I didn't care. Nothing else mattered at that point. Friends visited and people brought food--SO MUCH FOOD--and consolations. Pastors came with the same. I've never felt more loved or supported than I did in those two weeks. It was truly amazing.

Life had to go on. If we didn't let it, we'd debilitate ourselves and die of hopelessness. So we got up. We chose to fight, to push on. With whatever fragment of strength and will we had left, we moved forward. It felt awkward. It didn't feel right. But what choice did we have? Time pushed us along; we didn't have any say in the matter.

Losing my dad wrecked me. I lost one of my best friends, the one man who understood me more than anyone. I lost a man who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did or said. We laughed and joked around, sometimes making him seem like the "third child." We did so much together growing up. He truly was a man with a big heart. He was extremely loving, had a gentle spirit about him, and had one of the greatest smiles--if only he'd smiled with his teeth more. Anyone that knew him knows he hated to do so; but he smiled a lot anyways. The funny, quirky things about my dad that I miss deeply.

Over the next five years I went through a lot. I overcame condemnation, a self-hatred rooted so deeply that it debilitated me. Not only did I not match up to others but I felt like I was far beyond saving. I felt like no one cared. My self-esteem was incredibly low. I was a mess.

I doubted my identity. I doubted my manhood, for if my father was the only sense of manhood I'd had to hold onto, what else did I have? Thus began the search for the thing that was within me all along. The search driven by a perceived lack, telling me that I wasn't enough and that I would only be "enough" via things external to me. Thus began a long and painful struggle. Somehow God was present through it all. Somehow God held onto me. I didn't understand it, but God knew what God was doing. God was in control and that was all that mattered; it's all that's ever mattered.

I stand here today, five years after my dad passed away and I'm a little more pieced together. I'm still broken. I've still got many struggles and things I deal with on a daily basis. But things are getting better. Little by little, things are improving. It doesn't mean that I have to fake it--though it's tempting and I have succumbed to it often--or be perfect. I never will be perfect. But I do have the power to be real. I can be authentic to everyone around me. And so I strive to be.

I also strive to find all my security and affirmation in Christ alone. My identity doesn't depend on the affirmation of others nor the amount of Facebook or Instagram likes I receive. (You laugh, but how many of us subconsciously think that?! I know I have!) Encouragement from others is edifying and taken seriously, but it's not the lifeblood from which I live. I say this more out of faith than anything. I want it to be true in my life. I so desperately want it to be true in my life.

God loves each and every one of you.

We don't understand tragedy and we probably never will.

The One we can always trust in is God.

God is always faithful and always in control.

Whatever happens in life, we can always move forward. We can always pick ourselves back up and choose to live for a purpose so much greater than our own. It's not a life of faking it or having to be strong all the time, no; in fact, it's a life that requires being real and honest, both in the good and the bad, admitting your strengths and your struggles, and depending on God and others. God comes first and is our everything. But we're also called to live with each other. We're to carry each other, sharpen each other, and support each other. If there's anything you get from this post I hope you know that there is hope. Trust and believe that there is hope. You are loved and valued more than you may ever know. Live for God's purposes and God's Kingdom and everything else will fall into place. Again, it doesn't mean life will be easy or perfect--in fact, it most likely will be the opposite--but Christ is the Solid Rock on which we stand.

And it is on that Rock that I share my story.

To GOD be all glory.

Month One.

It has now been one month since I left the United States. One month prior to this moment exactly I was enduring the longest plane ride I have ever been on. Now that's just crazy.

The last couple of weeks have been a wild ride. College in and of itself feels extremely long as there is so much going on, all the time. It's no different here in Africa. A day feels like several and a week feels like a month. Time is a confusing concept.

Last weekend we went on a battlefields tour, traveling for hours in two buses (one a charter bus and one a "baby bus") to see various battlefields here in the province of KwaZulu-Natal. I thoroughly enjoyed learning more about the history of this beautiful country. Not only was there tension (war, etc.) between whites and blacks (Anglos/Boers and Zulus) but also amongst the whites (the Dutch whom were called "Boers" and the British). The picture above is a memorial that was set up for several British soldiers who died in the particular war that happened at that battlefield. Underneath the stones are the bones of several soldiers as the British had fled the area and couldn't retrieve their dead until days later.

Overall the weekend was a great one. We learned a lot and stayed at an aged hotel characterized by the wars that have happened here. Flags, spears, and other items decorated the entire building filling it richly with history. On Saturday night, the night we stayed at the hotel, we had an amazingly delicious three-course, buffet-style dinner. It was one of the best meals I've had while I've been here, that's for sure! After dinner, sipping on tea and coffee, all 53 of us gathered around Reg Codrington, our director, to ask him any and every question we could think of. The amount of wisdom and grace in that one man is mind-blowing. He is certainly one of the greatest men of God I have ever met.

This last week was a rough one. Everyone was exhausted after being gone all weekend and having been pretty busy in general. On Wednesday for my biology class we went to Treasure Beach: a rocky beach with an abundance of wildlife and "treasures" to be found. We got to swim in some of the rock pools and had a total blast. The Indian Ocean is so warm! (In case I haven't mentioned it before. :P)

On Thursday we visited a sangoma--a witch doctor. In the case of the one we visited he was more of an herbalist but a witch doctor nonetheless. He uses traditional medicine to heal those who come to him; he calls upon the ancestors for healing as well. Ancestral worship is a prominent part of many African religions; even within African Christian circles many of the practices surrounding the ancestors are still continued. Needless to say visiting the sangoma was an interesting experience; my mind continues to be opened every day.

On Friday we went to a Bible Institute and shared the entire day with them. Their chapel service was filled with plenty of worship and song; every transition had a song to fill its place. The worship "leaders" sat in the crowd and sang from their seats; how cool this was! They did a dance and sang some songs for us and we did the same for them; we taught them the Cupid Shuffle (dance) and sang "Bless the Lord (Son of Man)" for them. They certainly loved it!

The rest of our time was spent playing games and getting to know the students there. I met a man named Luzuko, a former pastor and current professor at the Institute. He had taught there from 1998 to 2005 and then left to do pastoral work for a number of years. He then returned to UBI (Union Bible Institute) in 2009 and has been teaching there ever since. He loves what he does, and as it turns out, has family in Washington State--small world! The games we played were plenty: relay races, bobbing for apples, tug-of-war, and soccer. Their soccer team had uniforms and cleats that they wore which was a lot more professional than any of us expected. Unfortunately we lost the soccer game but had a lot of fun playing with them! It was raining the whole time too so we were soaked by the end of it.

God has been doing so much in and around me over the last month that it's difficult to put it all into words. Feelings of loneliness were common during the first several weeks. I noticed within this last week that something shifted, however; I haven't felt lonely anymore and I feel that I've finally reached that point where I'm comfortable with everyone here. I've been able to be myself and not worry about holding back or being concerned about what others think; it's been so freeing! What I've had to remember about myself is that I take time to open up to people; I tend to be more observant and quiet at the beginning but open up as time goes on.

I've also had to remind myself to give myself a break. While I've been here the things I have been struggling with seem to be things that I haven't dealt with in years. The other day a friend and I had a great conversation and she made a really good point: "just because you're dealing with something here that you haven't dealt with in a long time doesn't mean your regressing. It's a completely new environment with a new group of people and the challenges are going to be different from what you deal with back home." There is a abundance of truth to that statement and it has relieved me of a great burden. I know more than anything that I want to keep moving forward and seek God in all things--my prayer is that my life reflects that pursuit. Not for me, but for Him. For His Kingdom.

Speaking of His Kingdom, the spiritual manifested in a profound way last night. We watched a documentary called "Furious Love"--a documentary where a guy went around the world in search of seeing God's love overcome the powers of darkness. It wasn't where he intentionally provoked demons or anything of that sort; he simply went to places where God was working. For example, the documentary starts off at a revival meeting in Tanzania. Several people (in the documentary) ended up getting possessed by demons and delivered by God through much prayer and His power. The documentary moved us in a prominent way; we ended up spending a lot of time in prayer, rebuking the powers of darkness and declaring God's victory over ourselves and this campus. We know that He has a lot of good things in store for us and we are ready to fight as soldiers of His army. I am so incredibly blessed to be a part of all of this and I cannot wait to see what is to come. It may not be easy, but God is on our side and that is all we need. He is all we need.

This is Africa. Month One.

Chaos

Having been in Africa for almost two weeks now, I have had a lot on my mind these days. I feel like my worldview has expanded--become much more of a worldview, both literally and in the abstract sense--and I am very grateful for it.

Recently I have been reminded of the brokenness of this world, the struggles we go through as human beings, and the sense of hopelessness that we could easily feel if we try to take it all on by ourselves.

I have been reminded of the need for money, but more importantly, the need for God--Jehovah Jireh, the One who provides and "owns the cattle on a thousand hills." (Psalm 50:10)

I have been made more aware of the significance of social media in this generation; and although we can try to "get away from it all", in many ways, we cannot. It is something that will not go away and we will have to learn how to best deal with it and use it in a way that is beneficial.

I have been made more aware of the negative effect your emotions can have on you--and that you should not be ruled by them for they can be extremely misleading. For example, you may feel alone, but are you really alone?

There's plenty more that has been going through my mind over these last couple of weeks; it would be impossible for me to put it it all into words. The good thing is that I do not have to. God knows it all and is in control of all things. He will reveal to me what needs to be revealed, let me wrestle through what I need to wrestle with, and lead me to the people and experiences that He wants to use to shape me into the man He wants me to be.

Whatever you may be going through, be encouraged. Remember that there is a big world out there, and that in light of God and eternity, there are a lot of things that may not matter after all. Of course, there is a balance to this as there is with anything. God does care about the little things. But beyond that, He wants the best for you. Trust that that is true, because it is.

He has overcome.

Through Him, we have overcome.

We. Can. Overcome.

Homosexuality

I'm constantly amazed at how my generation as well as previous ones have handled the issue of homosexuality. I'm even more amazed (and not in a good way) with how the Church has handled it.

To the LGBT community, I just want to say that you are loved and cared for. Personally, I don't think any less of you. I'm not going to tell you what to do, how to live, what to think, or anything else, because frankly, I'm not in the place to do that. Will I tell you about Jesus? Of course I will. What good would it do to not tell you about the best thing that's ever happened to me, about the One who's changed my life? Do I expect you to accept it? Nope. Do I expect you to believe in God, as I do? Nope. I do believe, however, that there can be a mutual love and respect between both parties, whether they agree or not. That means you and me.

The Church has told the LGBT community many lies (note that this doesn't include the entire Church, just some of it). "If you only pray hard enough, God will change your sexuality." "You're going to Hell." "God hates you." "You're despised, unloved, hated."

Let me come against those lies.

Truth #1: You're not going to Hell. Whoever decided to be God and make the judgment call that gays are going to Hell is in need of a serious reality check.

Truth #2: God does not hate you. In fact, He loves you. He cares for you, wants the best for you, and wants you to experience the life He has for you. It's up to you to discover what that is and seek it out.

Truth #3: Although some do not respect you or treat you the way you deserve, there are many who love you, see value in you as a human being, and want to be there for you. I personally want to be there for you, being someone that you can trust and confide in. I want to be your listening ear, to hear you through the hard things, to help you through them. I want to and do support you.

As to the topic of "God changing your sexuality", I think that many tend to go towards one of two extremes. They either say that He can and will change your sexuality, or they say that He won't and can't. Frankly, I believe we limit God when we make either of those claims. I don't have the experience to testify to the former, nor do I have experience to affirm the latter. I do know that my God can do anything. I know He's changed my heart and set me free from many things, including condemnation, depression, and self-hatred. I know that when I seek Him, my life begins to change. Although He does not prevent me from going through any hardships, He does walk through them with me.

It saddens me that the LGBT community kill themselves (in many instances, literally) over the issue of changing their sexuality. I think that it is the wrong thing to be pursuing. As with anything we deal with, we should pursue God. Whatever we focus on, we give power to. If I focus on the thing I'm trying to change, whatever that may be, it's going to consume me and ultimately have power over me, in which case, it could potentially destroy me. If I focus instead on God, and seek Him with all my heart, He'll take care of the rest. The ways in which He changes me are to some extent outside of my control. All I can do is surrender and trust Him with all of it. Am I saying He will change your sexuality? I'm not affirming it or denying it. I am not God, so I am unable to answer that question. What I do know is that LGBTs deserve the love and respect as do any other human being. And that's nothing short of what I want to give.