Coming out at Imago Dei

All coming-out stories are complicated, and mine would take a long time to tell in full.

I realized I was gay in the early 80s, and even though my family and church were very loving, I never even considered coming out. I didn’t believe being fully myself was an option. I was convinced that I was the only gay kid in the entire Midwest. On the rare occasions, I saw a gay character on TV, they didn’t look or act anything like me. I wanted to be a husband and a dad someday, and back then, gay men didn’t have that option.

So, I tried to ignore that one part of who I was. I dated around, found an amazing woman, and told her about my struggles in the clumsiest Christian language possible. We built a wonderful life together, and I tried to keep the gay part of myself buried. I thought it was a separate part of me that would go away if I just fought hard enough.

But the truth is, you can’t bury who you truly are. My secret was eating away at me. And then we found Imago Dei.

When my family first came here, Imago didn’t have an official policy for the LGBTQIA+ community, but the foundation for affirmation and celebration was already in place. The church soon began wrestling with the issue of affirmation, and I was sitting in most of those leadership meetings, firmly locked away in my own little closet. There were many awkward moments, but I was glad to be a part of the conversation. 

During the entire process, I never heard a single dismissive or derogatory word about anyone because of their identity. There were debates about marriage, but the baseline for everyone was, “Of course, our siblings in this community can serve in any capacity at Imago.” There was no talk of hell, restrictions, or anyone being broken or less valuable.

Eventually, the Leadership Team worked through the side issues tripping people up, but we didn’t do a good job at first of being as direct as we needed to be. It took too long for us to say, “Yes! You are welcome here. We aren’t just putting up with you. We’re better because you are here.”

That conversation was valuable, but something else at Imago finally helped me come out of the closet. It was the honesty and courage of the people I met here. This is a place where people don’t pretend they’re okay when they’re not. When they’re falling apart, they admit it. Time and time again, I sat with friends who were pouring out their hearts about incredibly difficult things, and I listened and loved them but kept my own struggle locked away. Their examples challenged me, and I reached a point where I couldn’t hold my struggles inside anymore. 

Laura was wonderful and loving beyond anything I could expect or deserve. From the moment I told her years ago, she was relentlessly kind, compassionate, and strong. And after telling my closest family, I began to come out to the people of Imago. I started with friends in our small group and then worked my way out until finally, Laura and I wrote an open letter to all the people of Imago Dei. I was astonished by the outpouring of love and support, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.

But coming out is only the beginning. Everyone’s path is filled with different challenges and hurdles. Despite the many triumphant coming-out movies, books, and television shows we have today, my journey has involved a lot of soul-searching, questioning, and feeling out of place. In the midst of all of that turmoil, Imago has been a safe place. This is a place where I can be myself in all my stereotypical straightness and stereotypical gayness, and that’s okay. I can be gay. I can love God. I can grieve things that I’ve lost. I can shakily hope for something good on the horizon. I can be a huge mess, even sitting in front of the entire church on a Sunday morning. And that’s okay.

I thought I was alone for so many years. I was convinced that no one could understand the battle I was waging on the inside. But that’s not unique to people in the closet. We all feel that way sometimes, don’t we? We all carry pain. We all have scars. We all have moments when we feel like no one could possibly understand us. Here at Imago Dei, you can let those things out.

We won’t handle it perfectly. We won’t say the exact right thing. We’ll drop the ball sometimes and won’t always be there the way you want us to be. But we’ll love you. We’ll listen to you. We’ll tell you the beautiful things we see in you and in your story.

That’s how we reflect the image of God for the LGBTQIA+ community and everyone else. That’s how we extend God’s love to the people who need it most. That’s how we walk together out of the closet, out of heartache, out of whatever chains hold us down.