Recently, two articles appeared on this website from Miss Danielle Pollock. In it, she told of hurts she faced regarding the likelihood of having children.
I truly valued her honesty. Those articles nearly brought me to tears, because, though I’m not in her exact situation, I can empathize with the effects of this sin-stained world.
I am a Christian who struggles against homosexuality. Oof, shocker. Daily I duel this part of my flesh and I have actually likened my Old Adam and New Adam fighting within me like a wizards’ duel from Harry Potter.
Even at 19, I look around and I see my college friends dating and even that hurts. It’s stupid, really. Some of those relationships don’t even last very long. Though my flesh wants to be in a relationship that God’s Word forbids my mind resists. It feels like I’m being torn in two. I know I cannot be in certain relationships, and the relationships I can be in are, for the time being, not open to me.
Thinking back, I’ve always wanted to be a husband and a father. I’ve been told I’m a product of my culture, in that I have a romanticized view of relationships. Basically, I’m a sap. I long for a family, a wife I can dote on and children that I can love and teach (and baptize).
I’ve looked into my future and want small things, like eating breakfast with my wife, or sitting around together reading and discussing books. I imagine going to church with her, kneeling at the Lord’s Table receiving the forgiveness of sins together. I imagine stuff with my kids, like playing baseball with them, or teaching them the Apostles’ Creed and saying the Lord’s Prayer with them before they go to sleep.
I can see it. It’s so clear. But it kills me to think that I might never have this. It’s a deep ache in my heart.
This cross that I bear seems so unbearably heavy at times, stripping away from things that I might otherwise enjoy if not for this curse.
This isn’t something I can just do away with. I can’t remove it from me. I wish I could. I have spent many nights, praying, crying, weeping for God to take it away. Crying because I keep failing. Weeping because I don’t know that I will ever be able to have the family and life that I so desperately crave, and instead the feeling of impending loneliness descends on me.
It could be that God, in His mercy, will one day deliver me from this thorn. But it could be that He chooses not to. It’s why I take comfort in His words to St. Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
I don’t mean to be overly depressing. I have really good days and really bad days. But this is a constant part of my life. This is why I appreciated Miss Pollock’s words so much. I’m reminded that the cross I bear isn’t the only one. It’s not heavier than someone else’s. All in Christ still duel their flesh, whether it be in their physical bodies or spiritually.
She reminded me that life still goes on. I still serve in my vocations of student, son, friend, and God willing, one day, pastor. We serve a God that keeps His promises. And He has promised to make all things new at the resurrection. Even this sin-corrupted body of mine. And therein lies my hope.