Same-sex Attraction

As a child who never experienced love or affection from this father, I was easily marked for victimization. But more than that, I gravitated toward any male who showed me affection. Mr. Lee, the pedophile who molested me, intuitively grasped my neediness.

For a long time I struggled with an attraction for any man who reached out to me. As a young adult, I didn't yield but the feelings and the temptations were there. Of all the residual effects of sexual abuse, same-sex attraction has been for me the most shameful.

I blamed myself for being needy and vulnerable.

As an adult, I've learned to say that I had what someone has called "a father wound" and another refers to as his "father hole." It's that inborn need for a healthy, significant male figure in my childhood. I needed affection and the loving physical touch of a caring man.

If that hole isn't filled in a healthy way, acting on same-sex attraction is one way to get a temporary fix—a very temporary fix.

I think of a woman who came to my office years ago. She had gone through countless affairs and said, "I wanted love and I settled for sex."

That's the sad story of too many abused men.

The things that have an unhealthy attraction for me 

point to those unmet needs of my childhood.

(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)

What I Don't Know

I don't know the answers to every problem—even though I may sound as if I do. I don’t understand why some of us gain victory almost immediately and for others it takes years. I don't know why some male survivors fall back in their old patterns and some never do.

I wish I could give perfect answers to every dilemma and shine a bright light on every dark path. I don't always have enough light for my own path. Even when I know the answer for myself, I sometimes fail to live up to my convictions.

I do know this, however. It’s shameful to admit we’ve failed, especially after we’ve determined not to repeat our wrong behavior. And that can refer to anything that impedes our progress.

Almost as bad is to fail and deny it. We're ashamed and try to hide the fact. Or we make excuses for ourselves by blaming circumstances or saying, "Yes, but if he hadn't . . . " Such negative responses mean we by-pass a chance for healing.

Admitting each tiny step in the wrong direction 

can be one positive, 

small-but-powerful step toward full recovery. 

(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)

"You Did So Much for Me"

"You did so much for me." Monroe ran up to me, embraced me, and thanked me.

He thought I had done so much; I felt I had done so little.

"You listened," Monroe said and hugged me again.

In terms of my doing something, I felt inadequate.

For Monroe, I did the one healing thing I could do: I allowed him to talk and didn't judge him. That’s all he needed—someone to listen and not to tell him what a terrible failure he was.

That incident happened many times when I was a young pastor, and it took me a few days to process. Each time I had kept quiet—not out of wisdom, but out of not knowing what to say. I didn't want to offer advice out of my discomfort, or say something to make the situation worse. So I did the right thing—and, only in retrospect, understood it was correct.

Monroe and the others who came to me didn't need answers, sage advice, Bible verses, or a lecture on healthy behavior. He needed me to care, and I proved I cared by listening and accepting him in his dark moments.

If we want to help but don't know what to say, 

we wisely say nothing.

(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)

Your Addiction

I've never been stimulated by or addicted to pornography. I suppose the major reason is because it wasn't available during my growing-up years. Today it's easy to make a few clicks on the keyboard or press buttons on the TV remote and the porn is in front of us.

A few men speak with disdain over others' bad decisions. They're repulsed when they learn that a friend has sneaked back (even temporarily) into old habits. Roger visits his friends Norm and Stan for dinner and ends up drunk or smoking pot again. "He should have known better," Stan says.

Perhaps it gives the speaker a sense of superiority or he feels smug because he doesn't do those things. He can talk dismissively about others who are still caught with their addictions or weaknesses.

I think of a verse from the Bible that urges us to help those who have failed and adds, "Humbly help that person back onto the right path. And be careful not to fall into the same temptation yourself" (Galatians 6:1).

I may not have your problems, but I have my own. I'm not better than you (or worse). Each of us faces our own weaknesses.

Your addictions or problems are yours; 

I must not forget that I struggle with my own issues.

(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)

Happy New Year!

When Does It End?

I've jokingly said that if I knew how long and how painful the healing journey was, I wouldn't have started. Some days that's how I feel, and I ask myself, "Why did I start this journey?"

In my worst moments, it seems as if the healing takes place one day at a time, or perhaps even one small step a year. And yet I know I'm moving forward. My healing is taking place.

The intense anguish and sometimes stinging feelings tell me that I am moving forward.

On my best days (and they're becoming increasingly more often) I tell myself, “I’m glad I struggled and fought for my healing. It’s been worth re-experiencing the pain."

The pain is still real; 

The pain would be worse if I didn't deal with it.

(This post is adapted from Not Quite Healed, by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)

Merry Christmas!