[Q]Out of Homosexuality: A Pastor's Story
By John Howard as told to Bob Davies
"God, please help me," was my frequent prayer. It felt like a giant magnet pulled me into the wrong places. I felt angry and guilty but I couldn't stop.
Growing up, I was always the smallest kid in my class, and was very self-conscious about it. Mom made it worse by always begging me to eat bigger meals.
"John, look at all these people staring at me," she whispered to me one day on the bus. "They're wondering why I don't feed you more."
When I was 13, my father got a job transfer from Calgary, Alberta to Thunder Bay, Ontario. That was a rough transition for me. I was just starting high school, and it was frightening.
The first day in my new school, a guy named Bill invited me to his church. I'd gone to Sunday School sporadically, and knew it would be a good place to find some new friends. So I started going every week with him to the United Church just down the hill from our school.
Later, in our Grade 10 Sunday School class, we were invited to a special six-week series of classes, to be followed by a special confirmation service for those who wanted to join the church.
I'll never forget the sermon that Sunday morning, as I sat in the front pew with my class. "You're not joining a club," the minister told us. "What you're really doing is giving your lives to Jesus Christ, asking Him to come in and take control." I'd never heard that before.
"God," I prayed, "if You're really there, I invite You to come into my life. Please forgive me for my sins, and help me become the person You want me to be."
As I prayed, something happened. Deep inside came an assurance that God was real, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling of being loved. I knew for sure that God loved me, little John Howard. It was an amazing experience. After that service in April, 1963, I went to every possible church activity. I had a new hunger to read the Bible and pray. Church was suddenly a very important part of my life.
But at the same time, something else was happening, something hidden and troubling. As a young teen, I discovered a pile of old sporting magazines down in the basement. Flipping the pages, I was drawn to the Charles Atlas ads. Looking at the muscular body-builders, I thought: Now that's what a real man looks like. I wish I could look like that.
I found those photos sexually arousing, and started masturbating while looking at them. Later, I accidentally discovered another magazine in a corner store, filled with handsome men in swim suits and jock straps in seductive poses. I felt fascinated and turned on. Somehow I knew these feelings were wrong and I felt guilty for looking, and yet the sexual excitement was strong and powerful.
Thus, an inner conflict began that would continue for almost 20 years. On the one hand I prayed that God would take away these feelings, while on the other I continued to find them enjoyable. I was too ashamed to tell anyone else what was happening inside me.
I had a lot of girlfriends during high school and felt very comfortable around them. Despite the increasing sexual desire for other guys, I assumed I'd eventually get married.
Then through school and church I met a girl named Vicki and we started dating. We married when we were both 21, but the conflict inside of me only increased. Often I'd have homosexual fantasies while I was being intimate with my wife, and secretly sought out magazines and books to feed my homosexual desires.
By this time, I was in seminary, training for the ministry. Vicki and I had our first daughter in 1972, then adopted a son. Later we had another girl. I deeply loved my wife and children, but the lustful thoughts were out of control. Although I didn't want to lose my family, I felt an increasing desire to act out my homosexual feelings, to see if reality was the same as fantasy.
In the summer of 1974 on my way home from a conference, I was delayed in Winnipeg. Instead of staying with friends, I went to a hostel which had the reputation for homosexual activity.
Another man approached me that night. After he left my room, I headed for the showers. I felt so guilty and dirty and also afraid that I might have caught some kind of venereal disease.
Later that night, I knelt beside the bed and prayed. "God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for this awful sin. I promise I'll never do it again. And please take away these wrong feelings."
By this time, I was on staff at Collier Street United Church in Barrie, Ontario. I had to travel quite often to Toronto, running errands and doing hospital visitation. On these trips I had trouble staying out of the adult bookstores.
"God, please help me," was my frequent prayer on the drive into Toronto. But once I got there, it felt like a giant magnet pulled me into the wrong places. I'd browse through the gay magazines and memorize the pictures, later fantasizing about what I'd seen. I felt angry and guilty but I couldn't stop.
Then I started driving past cruising areas and reading graffiti on bathroom walls. I knew if this behavior continued, I'd get drawn into homosexual activity again. Eventually, I'd get caught and lose my job and family.
Meanwhile at church, I was meeting regularly with ten small group leaders. Discussing problems in their groups as well as any personal issues, we got to know one another really well.
After one of these meetings, two of the women approached me. "John, we can sense you're really struggling with something," they said. "If you ever want to talk, we want you to know we're here for you."
I brushed them off. "Oh, no, everything's fine. Thanks a lot." Inside, I was scared. Other people can tell I have a problem, I thought.
During the next trip to Toronto, I ended up in an adult bookstore again. On the drive home, God spoke to me: "John, I've provided these people for you to talk with." I called one of the ladies that night and said I needed to meet with them.
The following Friday, I talked to them all afternoon, pouring out my soul. They loved and accepted me, often crying with me as we shared together. We committed ourselves to meeting every two weeks. During the next year, the Lord worked in my life in a beautiful way.
At each meeting, we asked God to reveal what needed to be discussed, then waited for Him to reveal an incident or feeling to talk and pray about. Gradually we uncovered the roots of my behavior and God began the process of restoration in my life.
These women became my support group. When I was going to Toronto, I could call them up and ask for prayer. That accountability made a real difference. The addiction to pornography and masturbation began to wane.
God showed me these sinful habits were unhealthy ways I dealt with negative emotions: stress, loneliness, anger, hurt feelings. He also helped me accept my body, to realize that it was His gift to me, not something to be ashamed of.
After a few months, I knew my wife had to know what was going on. One night before we went to bed, I finally confessed to her my struggles with homosexuality.
Vicki was hurt that I'd kept this part of me from her for so many years, but she supported my search for healing. And, although she was dedicated to our marriage, she knew any overt homosexual activity was adultery. If I chose that behavior, she'd leave me. Knowing her limits was added motivation for me to never fall again.
The healing process continued over the months. I gradually told more people what I was dealing with, and they were very supportive. My senior pastor discovered a book with Love In Action's address in the back. I wrote for materials and gobbled up the information.
In the spring of 1985, I attended a conference in Vancouver, Canada on the healing of homosexuality. It was so encouraging to meet and share with other ex-gays. "God," I prayed that week, "if you want me to start a ministry to homosexuals, I'm willing."
Then one morning on the news, I heard about the arrest of a man who'd been a Sunday School teacher in a United Church in another city. He had been caught in homosexual activity. After saying good-bye to his wife and children, he'd gone out and killed himself.
I wept, knowing that, except for God's grace, that could have been me. I also knew there were so many people struggling with homosexuality who had never heard there was hope for change.
"God," I prayed, "if going public with my story can help prevent that kind of tragedy in one person's life, I'm willing to do it."
So, in January 1986, I started an ex-gay support group that is still going strong. It's been exciting to see the changes that God has brought about in the lives of the people who have come.
God has continued to work in my marriage. Now I really enjoy the physical part of my relationship with Vicki, no longer needing homosexual fantasies for stimulation.
Compared to five years ago, my struggles with homosexual lust are virtually gone. I'm not afraid of temptation when it comes; I've learned how to successfully deal with it.
For so many years I struggled to deal with my homosexuality between just me and the Lord. Then I discovered that all along He had wanted to bring me healing by means of His people. I praise God that He led me to two loving Christians who were willing to be His instruments of healing and change. And so it is true, as James wrote: "Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." (James 5:16) Praise God!
Copyright 1988 by Bob Davies.[/Q]
