Why I (a Gay Man) Still Follow Jesus

I sat in the office of one of the wisest people I know, surrounded by mahogany bookshelves and priceless artworks. He sat there with his half-sipped tea. I sat there and wept. My perfectly manicured life was spectacularly falling apart and here I was, starkly aware of my own fragility. 

Patiently, he listened to my woes. Then he gently leaned forward to speak. His voice is kind, but sure. ‘Joel, I don’t know a lot,’ he said, ‘But I do know one thing: you can’t walk away from Jesus.’ 

I caught my breath. It wasn’t ‘you mustn’t walk away from Jesus,’ and it wasn’t ‘try harder to stick with Jesus’. It was ‘you can’t’. And now, years later, I can’t shake the feeling that he was onto something. Trust me, I’ve tried.  

I’ve lost track of the number of times that people have asked me why I follow Jesus, especially considering the fact that so many LGBTQIA+ people like me have abandoned (and been abandoned by) his church.    

Some days, I honestly don’t know if I do still follow Jesus. Some days, the absurdity of the incarnation just doesn’t sit well with me, and the veil between here and Heaven feels all too impassable. On those days, the most authentic prayer I can offer up is “God, if you’re there, you’re going to need to do better.” On those days, I trust that God (if God is out there) is big enough to handle my confusion.    

But then on other days, I find myself inextricably wrapped up in a deeper reality. When I find myself here, I discover that I still choose to follow Jesus because every time I’m tempted to look around at this world for some other fad to follow, I can’t help but exclaim like so many before me, ‘where else have I to go?’ 

When I’m in this space, this transcendent, Heaven-meets-earth kind of space, the person of Jesus is just so utterly enthralling. I find him so entirely captivating and so exuberantly life-altering that to stop following Jesus would be a momentous backward step in my mind. Jesus loved like no other, served like no other, taught like no other, understood humanity like no other, sacrificed like no other. He elevates the lowly and levels the self-righteous. Following him I have purpose and direction, clarity and conviction. 

In a world that would seek to define me by my successes and my failures, Jesus defines me by my status as a child of God. In a society that can’t find a box for me to fit in, Jesus declares that I am his and that’s all that matters. In a city that seeks love and acceptance in every crevice, Jesus arms are open wide. In an age that paints me as the victim of society, Jesus demands that I take responsibility for my actions. In a culture that won’t forget my past mistakes, Jesus wipes clean the slate and gently asks me to try again.  

On these days, when someone asks me why I still follow Jesus, I struggle to give an answer because in my topsy-turvy mind they may as well have asked me why I still choose to let gravity keep me grounded. The question doesn’t make sense because the premise is so foreign to me.  In the end, I guess I follow Jesus because Jesus is the one leader that I can actually get behind. As Rachel Held Evans so powerfully put it, “at the end of the day, the story of Jesus is the story I’m willing to risk being wrong about.” In a world that seems void of authentic, potently good leaders, Jesus stands out as the only option that actually convinces me. That much I can’t deny.  

So there you have it. On some days, I find myself staring into an abyss of doubt (because I’m a living, breathing human). But then on other days if you ask me why I follow Jesus, be prepared for strange looks and perplexed glances, because the honest truth is that I can’t see why you wouldn’t.