Author Archives: Bryan

7 (More) Happy Movies

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1.  Lost in Austen — This miniseries is an absolute treasure. Pride and Prejudice plus time travel? Yes, please! If I’m ever at home sick, I’m watching this. It’s medicine for my soul.

2.  Signs — OK, maybe it’s not the happiest movie ever (it was marketed as a horror) but it’s happy for Calvinists like me. The spiritual themes are just so… predestined. And the score is AMAZING!

3.  Henry Poole is Here — Another movie that could be considered “magic realism,” my favorite genre. It’s about how neighbors become family when an apparition of the Virgin Mary appears in a water stain. The Mexican-Irishman in me loves a splash of Catholic.

4.  Sister Act 2 — Back in the day, kids made fun of me for loving this movie, but it’s kind of a cult classic now. So there, suckas! I was SO ahead of my time. Oh, and don’t act like you haven’t sung along to “Oh Happy Day” and tried to hit that high note: “When Jesus waaaaaaaaaashed my sins away!”

5.  Beauty and the Beast — On film or stage, Disney doesn’t come any closer to perfection. I’m primarily attracted to men, but seriously, Belle is a certified hottie! And that opening sequence is GENIUS.

6.  School of Rock — Love me some Jack Black. Everything he says and does is HILARIOUS to me. Plus, the cute little cussing kids just melt my heart.

7.  Troop Beverly Hills — There’s a touch of nostalgia here, as this aired pretty much every night on TV when I was a kid. But there’s so much fun and humor, too! Not to mention that catchy song, “It’s Cookie Time,” which makes you want to dance and gorge on Girl Scout cookies at the same time!

Oh, and for my first seven happy movies click here.

When Did You Realize You Were Gay?

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If you dig through my memory box, you’ll find a piece of paper decorated with hearts and a stick figure named Josh. This was a kindergarten art project where the teacher asked us to draw our best friend. But Josh wasn’t my best friend, he was just the boy who sat across from me in class. I guess you could say I was attracted to him. At five years old, “best friend” was the only phrase I had for that feeling. Of course, as a child, the feeling wasn’t overtly sexual, but it was a sign that my same-sex attraction started early on.

I don’t know when (or even if) I “became” same-sex attracted. What I do know is that I’ve been gay for as long as I can remember — before I met Josh, before schoolboy crushes became sexual fantasies, and before I’d ever clicked on porn. The reason I say this is that many Christians tie same-sex attraction to sexual immorality or addiction, as if you can’t experience SSA without also being a full-blown sexual deviant. Some people think being gay means you’re somehow more prone to sexual sin than your heterosexual counterparts are. We’ll talk more about the difference between SSA and active sin in future posts, but suffice it to say that I was gay long before I wrestled with (much less knew about) the sexual temptations I face today.

I’m not saying I was born gay — although that’s not outside the realm of possibility or even sound theology — but it’s something that reaches so far back it might as well be true. If not scientifically, then experientially. Being gay didn’t so much “begin” for me as much as it became evident. I realized from a young age that I was different from most other boys. I played with My Little Pony; they played with G.I. Joe. I preferred playing house to playing sports. On the playground, you’d find me with the girls (maybe because they had better toys). Later, those differences manifested in other ways, namely how we interacted with the opposite sex. It wasn’t until about middle school, when hormones changed how my attractions looked and felt, that I attached the term “gay” to my experience.

But this isn’t a universal narrative. Not all boys who played with “girl toys” are gay, and some of the gay men I know were (and still are) very masculine. This is just my story. Other people have different experiences, including when they realized they were gay. Among the people I know, it’s split about 50/50 between those whose SSA reaches so far back it seems as though they were born gay, and those who “realized” they were gay (or came to terms with it) much later, either during puberty or in their teens. Of course, there are also people who trace their SSA to sexual or emotional abuse, and their sexuality doesn’t fit neatly into any one narrative either.

Ultimately, the timeline isn’t terribly important to me. What matters is what I do with the experience of same-sex attraction. As a Christian, part of realizing you’re gay is asking how you will live in light of this reality, especially as it relates to God’s will for marriage and sexuality. How do I love, worship, and become more like Jesus in the midst of ongoing SSA?

Happiness And Joy: What’s The Difference?

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Christians have given happiness a bum rap. You’ve probably heard something like this from the pulpit: “Happiness is a temporary emotion based on circumstances, but joy is an ongoing contentment based on our relationship with God.”

Sounds nice, but is it true?

As someone with a master’s degree in English, I appreciate nuance, and I’d usually agree with making such thoughtful distinctions. I once heard a poet say “a stone is not a rock.” A stone is something the river glides over and makes smooth — something you hold in your hand, or skip across the water. But a rock is something that stands tall against crashing waves; it’s what you build on and break things against. I’ve always stood by these distinctions: a stone is a stone, and a rock is a rock.

But pitting happiness against joy? I’m not feeling it.

Only in church settings do we perpetuate the myth that happiness and joy are different. In his excellent book Happiness, which I review here, Randy Alcorn writes, “an ungrounded, dangerous separation of joy from happiness has infiltrated the Christian community.” Until very recently, he says, happiness had a place right alongside joy in the Christian faith. From Church Fathers to Puritans, Christian writers have used “happiness” and “joy” in the same way the dictionary does, and in the same way we do in everyday conversation: synonymously. Even the Bible itself makes no distinction. In a chapter devoted to this very topic, Alcorn gives a couple dozen examples of where Scripture uses forms of “happiness” and “joy” side by side — pairings that occur more than 100 times in various translations!

Even so, church folks continue to say happiness and joy are different emotions and experiences. I think there are two reasons for this “great divorce.”

1.  They want to make a clear distinction between worldly pleasures and godly pleasures. So they attach “happiness” to worldly pleasures, which are shallow and fleeting, and “joy” to godly pleasures. As a result, well-meaning Christians say things like, “We’re not supposed to be happy; we’re supposed to have joy!” Although the intentions behind it are good, this false dichotomy has consequences for both believers and unbelievers.

For believers, we begin to fear happiness. Instead, we search for joy — something we’ve been told isn’t an emotion and therefore (not surprisingly) doesn’t FEEL joyful. We start to believe God doesn’t want us to be happy, which simply isn’t the case. The Bible is filled with commands to be happy. Dare we tell Christians NOT to pursue the very thing God desires of us?

For unbelievers, the separation of happiness and joy can be a roadblock to believing the gospel. Imagine telling someone, “Jesus can’t give you happiness, but he can give you joy.” That makes no sense to me, much less to an unbeliever. (I imagine it makes no sense to God either!) Happiness is the ONE THING every person is searching for, and Jesus is the ONE PERSON who can offer it. Why on earth would it not be part of our message?

2.  They know God calls us to rejoice in suffering — to “consider it all joy” when we face various trials — and they try to describe this tension using terms that the Church has deemed appropriate. So, for example, when a loved one dies someone might say, “I’m grieving, but I still have joy in Christ.” That’s because they’ve been told joy isn’t an emotion, it’s something more like peace or hope. But we could just as easily say, “I’m grieving, but I still have happiness in Christ.” Does that change the meaning? For me, the paradox of Christians being called to rejoice in suffering isn’t a good enough reason to redefine happiness and joy — as though they’re not what the Bible says they are, and what we, deep down, know they are: one and the same.

If Christians continue to believe there’s a difference between happiness and joy, we’ll lose out on both. We need to reclaim happiness — not just the word, but also the experience — as a vital part of the Christian faith.

Review: Spiritual Friendship

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Talk about being behind the curve. Most Christians who identify as gay or same-sex attracted devoured this book and tweeted their reviews months ago. Luckily, Wesley Hill’s Spiritual Friendship is pretty timeless; after all, its themes are rooted in the musings of a 12th-century monk and, as the author suggests, the Bible itself. So there was really no rush. (Not like the rush to binge-watch Fuller House on Netflix, which I did.)

As he makes known in the subtitle, Hill is a celibate gay Christian. His first book, Washed and Waiting, started the conversation that launched a thousand other conversations (and blogs) about how those who experience same-sex attraction can live faithfully as Christians. Spiritual Friendship is a sort of sequel, fleshing out some of those ideas, raising more questions, and presenting friendship as a way for gay people to find love in the Church.

Part one explores friendship’s role in culture and Church history. Hill notes that, until very recently, friendship held an honored place among Christians, most notably in the long-lost tradition of “vowed friendships” between people of the same sex — ceremonies that bound two friends together, making them accountable to each other in the sight of God and man. Hill believes we should recover this practice, although it’s unclear how that would look in modern churches.

The concept of vowed friendships is what’s getting lots of buzz — and some beef — especially in Protestant circles, where tradition takes a backseat to the Bible. (Sola scriptura, you know.) We simply don’t find such ceremonies in Scripture. What we do find, Hill suggests, is a robust theology of friendship. He gives several examples of profound friendships in the Bible: David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, Jesus and his disciples. Friendships that look a lot like family. Friendships that model the love and devotion we’d expect of God’s people, but that we don’t often see in the Church today. Even if he can’t persuade us to revive certain (some would say, obscure) traditions, Hill does convince us that Christ-centered friendship is something we MUST pursue and promote.

Part two explores practical concerns for celibate gay folks in the Church, including an entire chapter on suffering for the sake of friendship. Hill doesn’t gloss over the disappointments and struggles that celibate gay Christians face — especially the fear of losing friends due to marriage, relocation, or our own weaknesses (i.e. codependence). He also talks about the problem of falling in love with your friends — something many gay Christians have experienced (and some straight ones, too, I imagine). Although I relate to Hill’s realism and raw emotion, I did start to worry that Spiritual Friendship would be a repeat of Washed and Waiting — a book I loved but felt lacked a certain hope. Thankfully, the final chapter eased my fears. The last pages are filled with hope, along with stories of how Hill has found healing through the gift of friendship. He rounds out the book by giving us ways to redeem friendship in the Church — advice I’d encourage all churchgoers to heed.

This book is thoughtful, often beautiful, but not everything I dreamed it would be. I think that’s because this conversation is still so new. The Church has really only begun to talk out loud about the complexities of living faithfully with SSA. That’s where I hope this blog and others like it will be of some help, as we continue to explore everyday ways to find happiness in our pursuit of holiness. For anyone who wants to better understand the hopes and fears of celibate gay Christians, Spiritual Friendship is a good place to start. And, Lord willing, there will be many more conversations, books, and blogs to come.

Home Is Where We’re Happy

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I’ve got a robust imagination when it comes to envisioning Heaven. Ask my friends: they’ve heard all my crazy theories about our future home — from how old we’ll look to what kind of dinosaurs we’ll ride. Looking forward to Heaven is one of my favorite pastimes, and a not-so-secret way to be happy in Christ.

Jesus told his disciples he was going to prepare a place for them. Maybe with his own hands! He was a carpenter, right? I’ve heard some people say he was a stonemason. Either way, he’s qualified. He made the universe, too, so I have no doubts about this house:

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and I will take you to myself, that where I am there you may be also. (John 14:2-3)

How could we not wonder about this house? Did he design it room by room? Did he consider our tastes? That’s what a good designer does, after all, and Jesus is the best. Did he build the frame, hang the molding, lay the carpet? Does he keep the light on in the hallway?

I love to imagine!

Rooms with beds as real as the one I’m sitting on right now, as I type. Rooms where we feast, hold hands around the table. Rooms where we meet at the piano, sing, and try to write music that hasn’t already been written. Rooms where we gather by the fireplace and talk into the early morning hours, maybe about some of the stupid things we did. The foolish things we believed.

This is the stuff of happiness.

Where does your imagination take you? Will you live close to me? To Jonah? To Nicodemus? Are pets allowed? And if so, will my room be big enough for a stegosaurus? Maybe the walls will be made of paper, like in Japan. Or maybe they’re stucco, coated with bright colors, like in Mexico. Some might be lined with logs, like a cabin in the Rockies. I think there will be hints of every culture throughout the house to reflect the diversity in which God delights. Especially if it’s going to be a house for those “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Revelation 7:9).

This house isn’t a symbol. It exists in time and space — made from matter. It’s where we’ll live with the saints and God himself, when Heaven and Earth become one — the thrill of the new, fused with the familiarity of the old. Even better than Eden. I can’t imagine, and yet I still try.

But no matter what it looks like, no matter how he designs and decorates it, and even if I don’t know for sure whether we’ll be able to teleport, or fly, or walk through walls, I know the most important thing: Jesus will be there. “That where I am there you may be also.” For that reason, the house will feel like home — and home is where we’re happy.

Tell Me Jesus Is Worth It

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About a year ago, a friend took me out for coffee and asked what he could do to help me when I’m struggling with faith, sexuality, or singleness. It was one of those moments you hope for — a friend who not only prays for you but also asks, “What more can I do?”

I fumbled over a few words (between gulps of white mocha) but couldn’t quite articulate what it is I really need during times of struggle. I’m not sure anyone had ever asked so directly, so genuinely. Whatever the reason, I was a bumbling mess in that moment, so I reached out to him a couple days later with a follow-up text:

“You asked how you can be a better support to me. Of course you already are, but I’ve been thinking about it more. Because I didn’t answer very well the first time. I think the best thing people can do is to remind me that Jesus is worth it. Tell me out loud, ‘Jesus is worth it.’ Because we so often forget — at least, I do. But the catch is, people have to really believe that themselves for it to be any real encouragement to me. Does that make sense? We don’t persevere in the faith because we like Christian values, or because we want to please our family, or even because we want to go to heaven. But because, in the end, we get to know and love and BE WITH Jesus! If he’s not worth it (or, more accurately, if we don’t remember that he’s worth it), then we have every reason to give up. So… That’s one way. Hugs and coffee dates and [your wife’s] amazing lasagna are a few of the other ways.”

My friend took his question — and my answer — seriously. I know because, since then, he often texts me with that precious reminder: Jesus is worth it. The phrase has even inspired its own hashtag. He’s always quick to respond with encouragement when I tell him, “It’s a #JIWI kind of night.”

As a single person committed to celibacy, but living in a world where sex reigns supreme, there are days when my mission to be happy in Christ comes to a screeching halt. I have fears about the future. Setbacks when I’m striving for holiness. Doubts about how long I can put up a good fight when the odds feel stacked against me.

During those times, I need someone to sit beside me — maybe even hold my hand — and tell me the old redemption story. Tell me about the God who became a man, walked among us, and built his kingdom. Tell me the truth about his death and resurrection, which I reenacted through baptism when I was a boy. Tell me he loves me, forgives me, walks with me, and is working all things for my good. Tell me you’re my brother or sister and you’re persevering with me, because that’s what saints do. Tell me Jesus is coming back and he’s making all things new — even now, as we sit here hand in hand.

On those nights when I lose focus and can’t seem to find joy in Christ, tell me what I already know: tell me Jesus is worth it.

7 Happy Books

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Besides Happiness, which I review here, I’ve got a handful of happy books for you! Anyone looking for lots of fiction will be disappointed. That stuff’s alright (and there are two on this list), but what REALLY makes me happy is Christian non-fiction. Here are just some of the books that make my happiness levels skyrocket.

1.  Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson — This collection of creative essays reads like a poem, strung together with the theme of wonder. Wilson has a knack for seeing eternity in the ordinary, and a gift for awakening the spiritual senses of his readers, causing us to marvel right alongside him.

2.  Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith — I read it before it was cool and before it was a movie. (You might also consider My Favorite Fangs, a tale of the Von Trapp family vampires!)

3.  A Case for Amillennialism by Kim Riddlebarger — This one’s a bit scholarly, but it helped change my end-times perspective. This was the beginning of a long, slow process of becoming an optimist (which I’m still working on). Meditating more on Christ’s current rule and reign certainly helps!

4.  Heaven by Randy Alcorn — My friends know I’m a little obsessed with the new earth. Our future home is always on my mind. Heaven matters in evangelism and everyday life, and here we have 500 glorious pages that stir my imagination and help me keep an eternal perspective.

5.  Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright — Another book about Heaven and how the resurrection changes everything!

6.  The Search for God and Guinness by Stephen Mansfield — “A biography of the beer that changed the world.” I love how Arthur Guinness’ devotion to Christ influenced his entire life, family, and company. Cheers!

7.  The Reformers vs. The Prosperity Gospel by Sean O’Brien. Sean is a good friend of mine who makes me edit all his books. (And I make him pay me with food and hugs.) This is the story of what happens when a 3D printer mishap brings Calvin, Luther, and Zwingli to life just days before a televangelist comes to town. Lots of laughs for the “young, restless, reformed” crowd.

Happy reading!

How To Be Single In Public

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I don’t exactly blend in with the crowd. I have a huge bushy mustache, borderline albino skin, and hairy legs à la Bigfoot. So you can imagine how going to a restaurant by myself on Valentine’s Day might have felt for me, the only single guy in sight. Like a Sasquatch hunt, and I’m the furry creature in the corner. Strangers staring wide-eyed, wondering if it could really be true — and if they should shoot me.

OK, it wasn’t that bad.

I’ve actually been practicing for a couple years — being single in public. It’s part of my journey to loving the single life. Every week or two I take a one-man field trip to Salt Lake City, where I grab coffee, tour a museum, hike the foothills, or wander around the cemetery (not creepy at all). I’ve learned to love going out on my own and yet being part of something bigger — the bustle and beauty of the city. As much as I love being with people, going solo every once in a while has helped me not only embrace being single, but also being SEEN as single.

This is light years from where I used to be. Back when I was nervous to go anywhere in public (except maybe the grocery store) without at least one friend to mask my singleness. But over the years I’ve learned that most people are too busy wondering what you’re thinking about them to give much thought about you. Ain’t nobody got time to scrutinize your love life (except trolls on the internet, of course). Nobody’s judging you for being single in public — even if you’re a mustachioed yeti, like me.

Besides a surge of starry-eyed lovers, Valentine’s Day wasn’t much different from any other day when I venture out on my own. After a few minutes, I even put down my beloved iPhone — the single person’s safety blanket. Instead, I enjoyed my meal, made eye contact with people, and brushed croissant crumbs from my mustache. You know, the usual. I also took a moment to appreciate being single — to thank God that I’m loved, even when I’m by myself, when people SEE me by myself. There’s freedom in those moments, when you realize your worth isn’t tied to anybody but Jesus himself.

That’s the important part. Remembering who you are in Christ: whole, redeemed, significant. A single person in a big love story. Even in a sea of strangers, there’s Someone who calls you by name and loves you beyond measure. So, go ahead. Go public with your singleness. Tell the world “Table for one.” Buy a movie ticket (singular). Take a trip and don’t feel like you need to explain where your friends are. Being single in public isn’t as bad as you think — it just takes a little practice and a lot of perspective.

And an iPhone doesn’t hurt!