When I was a single man during the 90s, I worked a third shift, dead-end job at a glue factory. I was grateful to have the job, but it was a difficult place to work. There were about thirty employees, three of whom were practicing lesbians.
You may want to read:
- Understand My Culture Before You Rebuke Me
- I Had Breakfast with a Prostitute
- The Gay Guy Said, “I Was Born that Way”
One of the lesbians was my enemy, not because she was a lesbian, but because she was an angry woman, who seemingly hated everyone. Another of the lesbians was medicated, mostly incoherent, and hyper-insecure. The third lesbian was social, easy to like, and fun to engage.
I immediately struck up a relationship with her. My goal, of course, was to get to know her so I could spend more time with her. God was merciful to me; we hit it off and enjoyed being with each other.
She was curious about my religion, and I was curious about her lesbianism. It was one of those rare moments in my life where I had unlimited time with a lesbian, at least while at work.
After a few weeks, I mustered up the courage to ask her on a date. She said, “Yes,” praise God. We dated three or four times. We went on a picnic, played basketball, ate at the Pizza Hut and Ruby Tuesdays.
We not only got along well but there was no temptation to sin sexually with her since we both liked girls. Ironically, though I was not her type, she wanted to hang with me. I was grateful to God for this mercy. I intrigued her and she most definitely intrigued me.
My ultimate goal was to understand her. I wanted to figure out what was going on inside of her head while giving her a better perspective on religion. Her only understanding of Christians is that they hated her.
I could not accomplish what I wanted to with her while working on the production line because we needed undistracted downtime to chat. And the Lord was merciful with that too.
On one of our last dates, she told me the story of her life. It was not a surprise to learn that she had been molested multiple times by her uncle. This is not always the story of people who choose a gay lifestyle, but her story was not an unusual one.
The abuse began around her eighth birthday and continued into her teenage years. She was in an unsafe place with no help to work through the turmoil in her soul, as well as the physical trauma that her uncle foisted on her.
He destroyed any hope of her having a correct interpretive grid for processing life, relationships, and God.
Having no place to go for help and no rescue in sight, she reached out for the safest relationships she could find. With no theology to guide her, she found solace with sympathetic females, who were safe, kind, non-condemning, and willing to show her the way to a new lifestyle (John 14:6).
It was on our last date at Ruby Tuesdays where I presented the gospel to her (John 3:7). We spent two hours walking through the complexity of sin, the choices we make, and why there is a Savior.
She was as open as any person that I had ever talked to about the gospel. But she was more caught (Galatians 6:1) than most of the people I talk to about Christ. After we finished, she decided, at least for that time, to choose her sin over Christ. I understood.
The Lord was a too much of a risk, more than she wanted to take. It was “safer” to dance with the devil you know than to take a chance with God.
I’m like that too.
I have thought about my lesbian friend often and have prayed for her some. She was a pretty blue-eyed blond, who was as twisted in sin as I was before the exploding power of the gospel began its transformative work (Romans 1:16). Her name is Laurie.
My hope and prayer have been for the seed that she understood that day at Ruby Tuesdays to take root in her heart and for her to walk away from all her sin, not just the one that gave her safety from the abuse of her uncle.
Also published on Medium.