Quarter-Life Confessions of a Gay Christian

I recently published a book. My first. You might have heard. It’s all about struggle and redemption, and I titled it Struggle Central: Quarter-Life Confessions of a Messed Up Christian.

But that’s almost not what it was called.

I spent many weeks brainstorming the perfect title. The “Struggle Central” portion emerged without much conscious effort thanks to last summer’s hearty camp experience hiding in bathroom stalls — my centralized Struggle Headquarters of four flimsy walls and a toilet.

The main title was easy; figuring out the subtitle, however, required more time and brainstorming.

Among many potential ideas, one was Quarter-Life Confessions of a Gay Christian. Ultimately, I switched out “Gay Christian” for “Messed Up Christian” since the book wasn’t entirely about my struggle with homo —

Oh, what’s that? You hadn’t heard?

Well then. Let me explain.

Ever since I published Struggle Central two months ago, it’s been the purple bedazzled elephant in the room that I’ve been desperately wanting to kill.

So, let’s kill that elephant already.

My name is Tom. I’m 26, and I’m a Christian.

And I’m also gay.

A Gay Christian from Youth

For 19 years, I didn’t tell a soul about my sexuality. Hardly accepted or even understood my elementary attractions myself.

I mean, I’d known since second grade — I distinctly remember innocent childhood desires for a male “best friend” I could see outside school and perhaps hold and fall asleep beside at night. But as my emotional desires grew more sexualized throughout my teenage years, I started realizing my harrowing situation.

I was gay; I was Christian. I supposed that made me a “gay Christian,” if ever there could be such a thing. Nobody else knew — never even suspected anything. Despite never dating a girl, I never received verbal attacks or labels.

Apparently, I was the straightest gay Christian there was.

After all, I was a Christian; Christians don’t struggle with that. Good heavens. Rather than label me gay, I imagined everyone in my perpetual Christian bubble simply assuming I was a quiet coward when it came to girls.

If only.

At 19, I first came out to my parents. Over the last seven years, I’ve shared this part of my story with siblings, close friends, and eventually my church group.

Then two months ago, I finally “came out” in my book — a moment four long years in the making.

A Gay Christian Meets Other Gay Christians

Four summers ago, I attended a conference hosted by Exodus International in Wheaton, Illinois. It was my first time being around others who shared this tension of faith and same-sex attraction.

That week awakened me.

It showed me I wasn’t alone. It gave me friendships. And it planted a seed I couldn’t ignore:

What if I told this story someday?

That question stayed with me for years.

And eventually — I wrote the book.

A Gay Christian Holds Back

For a long time, I felt like I was only telling part of my story — especially here. I’d write about “struggles,” but not the struggle.

At camp, it was especially difficult. I wanted to say it out loud so many times.

I’M GAY.

But it wasn’t the right time.

Later, though, something shifted. The hesitation started loosening. The vision from years before resurfaced.

So I wrote.

And I didn’t hold back.

A Gay Christian Steps Forward

Since publishing the book, I’ve intentionally held off writing about this here — giving space for readers to encounter that part of the story on their own.

But now, it’s time.

Time to step into the next layer of honesty.

Time to bring more darkness into the Light.

A Gay Christian’s Confessions

For brevity’s sake, here are a few things that define my current reality:

• Yes, I’m still attracted to guys.

• No, I didn’t choose this.

• Yes, I use terms like “gay Christian” or “same-sex attracted.”

• No, I’m not pursuing a gay relationship.

• Yes, I believe God’s design for sexuality is something I’m still wrestling to live within.

• No, I don’t view myself as needing some caricatured version of “fixing.”

• Yes, this can be incredibly hard.

• No, it’s not without purpose or meaning.

• Yes, I still desire marriage and family — though I hold that loosely.

There’s more to unpack here, and I will. But that’s the foundation.

A Gay Christian Anew

Four years after that initial spark, I’m heading back to that same conference this week — now in California.

Full circle.

A “God thing,” if you will.

I didn’t choose this path, but it’s the one I’m walking. And along the way, I’ve seen redemption — real, tangible, unexpected redemption.

If you’ve read Struggle Central, you know this already:

My story isn’t just about struggle.

It’s about redemption.

If you’re walking through something similar — or wrestling with any kind of hidden struggle — I’d genuinely love to hear from you.

Because one of the biggest lies I believed for years was this:

That I was alone.

I wasn’t.

You aren’t either.

And so, the journey’s just getting started.

Travel well — and please excuse the dead, bedazzled elephant on your way out.

Visit my books page and order your personalized paperback or hardcover copy of Struggle Central! And read my friend Joseph Craven's fantastic response to this post — "Hating My Roots: A Post About Identity."