My Homo-Erotic Relationship with Jesus

I was still learning my ABCs and watching cartoons on a black and white TV when I experienced the most abusive relationship I would ever have.   I wasn’t sure who this man was that needed me to accept him, but I knew my parents were profoundly proud when he entered me.  Entered into my heart of course.  What did you think I meant?  In the beginning, the rules were simple.  I couldn’t put anything before him, steal, lie, hurt people, and had to obey my parents.  Sounded reasonable.  What if I fall short?  I’m 5, and sometimes my brother and I didn’t get along.  ETERNAL DAMNATION!   I was thinking I’d get a time out or a spanking, but being burned alive was the cost of crossing him.  Here’s the kicker, if you get on bended knee and tell him you’re sorry, he’ll will forgive you.  So I’ve been on bended knee hoping to feel his hand on my head to receive comfort and relief for a long time.

I was to have a personal relationship with this man.  He knew my every thought and knew my heart.  Just in case I forgot, I was to eat his body and drink his blood.  We gleefully danced while singing about his physicality and personality all the time.  I bowed before this man to give him everything. I was told he was angry but just, loving yet jealous, and merciful (today it’s called bi-polar).  This was just the beginning.

Grade school flew by and I began to have a better understanding of my situation.  Apparently this guy wasn’t here, but he could come back at any moment.  My every moment was like a kidnapping movie where the victim quickly uses a cell phone or finds a knife (to cut the ropes) before the assailant returns.  The message to me was becoming more intense.  It was made abundantly clear that he should be the only man in my life.   No one should come before him.  I kinda understood, but I just shed my awkwardness and started to get some attention from the fairer sex.  And that is when things started getting complicated. 

Her skin was smooth and eyes wide as we touched.  The emotional aftermath was painful and disconcerting.  I would quickly return to him on bended knee to confess my unfaithfulness.  It was demanded I never touch myself or lose my sacred virginity.  We are the bride and he is the groom.  Upon marriage would be the only time he’d allow my human desires be fulfilled.  Marriage was a model that embodied the union of the Church and Christ.  So if I never got married I could count on that church marriage deal.  The foreplay would be over and someday, somehow I would get to consummate this thing.   Isn’t that kinda…anyway…

Homosexuality started to Will & Grace it’s way into our culture, and 10 verses (that mostly only talk about male homosexuality [if at all]) started blasting from the Soap Box.  I co-signed the rhetoric to avoid any volcanic pitfalls that might spontaneously engulf my soul.   Again, my experiences differed significantly from the poorly represented man I was bowing to.  The complete avoidance of the human experience is impossible.  All of it can’t be bad?  Can it?  I started to veer from the strict teaching of human emotional sacrifice and constant obedience to the inconsistency of skewed man’s interpretation of truth.  I got free in a new way.  Free to be sexual, and develop by own set of moral boundaries.  Free to receive the touch of a woman, and listen to a more broad understanding of right and wrong.  Free to intertwine naked skin with consensual understandings of the morning’s light and act like a person not drudging through theology.  I couldn’t help but reflect at the relationship I had with that man and the manipulation of my emotions, thoughts, ideas, spirituality, and my body.  The complete castration of my sexuality began before I could tell you how many letters were in the alphabet.  Hedged on a promise from a ghost, I was manipulated into the most homo-erotic actions I have ever known to occur.  It’s not that they are against homosexuality.  They are against all sexuality, unless you are receiving it while prostrate from the man on high who will save you from the fire.  From where I sit;  Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.  Will you be gay for Jesus?  If you are gay,  Jesus isn’t interested.  He’s only converting the straight. 

BR Shooting - Response worse than the Violence?

As a Broad Ripple resident I was horrified to learn about the violent shooting that took place Friday, July 4th at 2am.  No one wants to live somewhere they fear their safety is in jeopardy.  I viewed multiple media outlets on the news and social media.  For some reason I started to get a little uneasy and wasn't sure why.  As I drove home from a UFC fight (July 5th) with my 15 year old nephew and his buddy at 12:30 AM; I started to reflect on the situation and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  Will the response be worse?  Broad Ripple Avenue was flooded with police cars overlooking the sparse streets and vacant clubs.  Obviously, the heavy police presence was an appropriate response to deter crime after this incident.  But how will the community respond?  What about the neighborhoods and businesses?  What about the people?  How will we respond?  These questions have created a burden within me that is more terrifying than this random shooting.  My nephew is a 15 year old black teenager that lives with my wife, myself, and ten year old son.  He's brilliantly inquisitive and captivated, and loves to ride his bike around his uncle's proclaimed safe neighborhood.  He loves music, video games, dance, video games, art, sports, chatting on his iPhone, and every once in a while is a little rebellious.   Even in moments of obstinance he finds his smile.  He is just a kid trying to find his way.  Race issues are constantly discussed in our home.  It is necessary to understand your culture, what is going on, and why.  It is our job to arm him with the facts.

So when I read about the Broad Ripple Neighborhood Association citing that "outsiders" were the culprits I get a little scared.  What do you consider an outsider?  A black person?  A non-white?  When News Feed responses (of the News Media Posts) generalize certain clothing styles, hairdos, tire/rim sizes, and shades of skin as "thugs", I am petrified at how you would like my nephew to present himself as he rides his bike.  When we as a community (predominantly Caucasian) feed into the fear instead of working towards educational, social, and professional solutions I start to wonder about what to tell my nephew about why.  Why do we get looks in public?  Why can't I wear my hair a certain way?  Why can't I go out past dark?  Why? 

I don't condone this violence.  I won't begin to understand why you need to bring a gun to go dancing or meet girls.  I used to fight with my fists and that served me just fine.  There are reasons.  There are explanations.  The music didn't do it.  Can't blame it on the alcohol.  Maybe it was gang related.  I don't know.  How are we going to respond as a community to ensure our fear doesn't turn into misguided, ignorant, complacent, generalizing, racism?   I said it.  Far be it from me to have an answer today, but hopefully this produces a glimpse of clarity and reduces your fear to sympathetic concern for the community as a whole.  If I'm living in Indianapolis, I'm living in Broad Ripple.  I fear that these types of incidents change our perceptions in drastic ways.  So when you see a young, black teenager blazing down Broad Ripple Avenue on his bike I hope you don't see a thug, or an outsider, or a gangsta.  I hope you see a kid whose uncle just kicked him off Xbox, and needed to feel the air in his face on his way to BRICS to grab a scoop and muster up the courage to launch his beautiful smile at a pretty girl.


S. Cooley