Many churches believe it would never do this. And yet, it happens — quietly, without malice, often by people who genuinely believe they’re doing the right thing. This is a true story from a member of our own staff, told in his own words, about what it looks like when a church’s stated beliefs and its actual posture toward a person come into conflict. We share it not to shame a church, but because we believe stories like this one are exactly why posture has to shift.
_______
I recently left the church that was my home for 15 years. I didn’t find a place I liked better, I didn’t follow friends to a church that’s become trendy in my city, and I didn’t encounter some insurmountable difference of theology or doctrine. I wasn’t kicked out, and I wasn’t running away from potential discipline. I left because I was no longer allowed to belong.
Fifteen Years of Faithful Service
For most of those 15 years, I served and showed up wherever I could manage. Some commitments were weekly, while others were monthly or on some other rotation, but a particularly busy week might have looked something like this:
- Sunday Morning: Volunteering in the tech booth or singing on the worship team during the service, followed by teaching Sunday school for the 9th–12th grade boys.
- Monday Evening: Community group.
- Tuesday Evening: Music rehearsal for next Sunday’s worship team.
- Wednesday Evening: Volunteering at Youth Group.
- Friday: Hosting the high school guys for pizza & games.
- Saturday: Driving all over town for a Youth Group photo scavenger hunt, or taking a bus several hours away on a Men’s Ministry outing.
In my free time, I made up excuses to spend more time with the people I was serving alongside — many of whom were also in my community group — because I believe the local church is meant for sharing our lives with one another. I’m not saying everybody needs to invest 20 hours a week in volunteer ministry like it’s a second job in order to be a “good Christian.” I’m saying I lived a large chunk of my life that way because it brought me joy. I don’t know how to be a member of the Body of Christ except by using my gifts to strengthen the local body.
The Conversation That Started Everything
I had never made a secret of the fact that I experience same-sex attraction. The youth pastor asked me from the beginning not to discuss my sexuality with students or their parents, and I agreed; after all, I was there to teach the teens about Jesus, not to talk about myself.
So every month or so, when I invited high school students into my home for some bonus fellowship, I would dutifully gather my ever-growing collection of books on faith, sexuality, and shove them into a closet (I promise, the irony was never lost on me). In nearly eight years, I only missed a book once — and at the time, I never would have guessed it would be the pebble that started a rockslide.
I had approached our youth pastor with this thought: “I think I’m going to start describing myself as ‘gay,’ and I’d like you to consider if it might be appropriate for me to share about my experience the next time sexuality comes up in the youth group curriculum.” This wasn’t a surprise to him — it was part of a conversation we’d been having for years. He already knew the only reason I habitually described myself as “SSA” instead of “gay” was to avoid complicated interactions at church.
He knew I had a growing conviction to invite more people into conversations about faith and sexuality, and that it was safe for our students to bring their own questions to our church. I had submitted to his pastoral authority on the “whens” and “hows” of that effort — even if the when was years away.
Two weeks later, while eating lunch together, we talked about movies, about what books we were both reading, about his kids, and about the game night I had hosted for the high school guys that weekend. The conversation turned serious, and I was informed that one of the students had found a book in my house bearing an endorsement from an LGBTQ+ organization, and had reported it to him, asking why I would have something like that. I replied, “Oops, I guess I missed that one when I picked up my other books. I wish he had asked me directly so I could answer him.”
The youth pastor asked me to explain myself. So I shared the explanation I had been preparing and polishing for years, just in case such a conversation ever came up with a student. No personal disclosures, no discussion of sexuality or morality — just an honest answer rooted in historical persecution, the Imago Dei, and a biblical response to the pressures of our times.
We talked more about the book and other things, and when it came time for both of us to go back to work, he stopped and said, “Based on where you’re at right now, I have to ask you to step down from student ministry.” He clarified that he’d made the decision himself — it wasn’t based on pressure from parents or other outside sources — and that it wasn’t an easy decision, given our relationship and my history of service. He clarified that this wasn’t disciplinary; I wasn’t in trouble, and I wasn’t suspected of any misconduct. I was too stunned to ask questions. After reflecting on the conversation, one thing became clear: the decision had been made before he asked me any questions.
Removed From Ministry, Never Told Why
I was later removed from the music schedule without explanation. When the senior pastor invited me to play a round of disc golf, he spent some time questioning me about a shirt I had worn once, which read, “A gospel of exclusion would have never reached me.” He explained that there was an “unwritten policy” against wearing clothing with text or logos while serving in roles on the platform during the worship service. I suggested it might help if he wrote the guidelines down and shared them with everyone, so that I wouldn’t risk violating an unwritten rule out of ignorance.
A month later, with my calendar still void of any service commitments, he asked to meet and talk about my new job at Posture Shift. What followed was a long interrogation about my beliefs, my new role, and Posture Shift’s beliefs and ministry. He listened to every answer and replied, “I agree.” After 90 minutes, the questions finally ended. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief — into which he added, “Now, the real reason I needed to talk to you today is to inform you that the elders have decided it’s best if you don’t serve in music ministry anymore.” This, too, was not discipline. I wasn’t in trouble; I was simply ineligible to serve.
That jarring shift from “I agree” to “the real reason we’re meeting” told me this decision, too, had been made before he asked any questions. I was, again, too stunned to ask why in the moment. I was barred from serving in areas of ministry I’d been faithful in for years, and I felt like I was being punished without being told what I’d done wrong.
The Silence That Followed
They weren’t going to remove my membership, but it felt like they were washing their hands of my care. Once they made me invisible, I was no longer a priority.
I requested a meeting with the elders to discuss the whole situation and heard nothing for over a month, until I bumped into one of the elders away from the church. He explained that he’d meant to call but had misplaced my number.
After we talked, he promised to bring my questions to the next biweekly elder meeting. I heard nothing for another month. That was the point when I finally withdrew my membership. After the better part of a year of daily suffering — of evenings spent home alone, banned from the community I love, uncertain whether to fill the time with new activities or wait for restoration — I buckled under the weight of it. The hope that whispered, maybe the next email will finally tell me what I did wrong; if I’m patient enough, we can fix this, had died.
Even now, I wrestle with guilt about the decision to leave. Shouldn’t we have been able to resolve this? Shouldn’t I have kept pressing until I got some kind of answer? Shouldn’t I have offered more grace to men who carry the needs of hundreds of people, not just mine?
But I had simply run out of strength. I could no longer sit under the teaching of a pastor who preached compassion while showing me none. I could no longer pray without weeping. I could no longer read God’s words about dignity while none was offered to me. I had grown so depressed that I could barely move from my bed several days a week, and my physical health began showing the effects of long-term stress. The community that had been a wellspring of life for most of my adulthood was now draining me of it.
Why I Finally Left
I didn’t leave because I disagreed with my church. I agree with their statements about marriage. I agree with their statements about sexual ethics. I listened to the senior pastor say “I agree, I agree, I agree” as he questioned me for hours, across multiple conversations, about my own beliefs.
I didn’t even leave because of how unfairly I was treated each time I was restricted from serving. I left because, by refusing to let me serve my community, they excluded me from participation in it. And while I lived in the distress of not knowing what I’d done wrong for over six months, they forgot I existed.
As we often say in our work with local churches: a gospel of exclusion has no power to reach already banished people. I left because their gospel excluded me.
This real-life story is exactly why we offer the Posture Shift Intensive — designed to help your church navigate LGBT+ inclusion with both biblical conviction and genuine care.
If this story resonates with you, or you have a feeling this could be your church, we’d love to talk. Because you read this blog, we are offering an incredible discount for a 1-hour personal consultation with our founder and director, Bill Henson. Use code: BLOG26 at checkout.
Paul Organ
Paul Organ is a work in progress from western Ohio with a passion for life-on-life discipleship. The life he invites his fellow sinners-made-saints to share includes a lot of board games, media criticism, icebreaker questions, and the occasional afternoon of volleyball.
13 Responses
I have so many thoughts…
First, your patience! Wow! You offered such submission and respect, and you were *so patient* with them.
Second, your commitment to the Body but also to the the individual people and the community. Your steadfastness is so evident and so beautiful!
But finally, the overpowering feeling of sadness. I’m so sorry this is part of your story. I’m so sad that years of relationship was treated with so little care; that your heart was broken and you weren’t treated with compassion and love.
Writing this must have forced you to relive the hurt and my heart hurts with you.
I hope you’ve found a loving community that can see and appreciate how wonderful you are! Thank you for sharing.
Paul! Thanks for sharing your story here. Really appreciate your vulnerability. I know navigating next steps after all that might be challenging, but hang in there! We have our own struggles with belonging in the church. Had some good experiences and some not so good. Still trusting God to sort it out for us.
I have struggled on and off with SSA for decades and don’t understand why you would want to label yourself as gay? Also, as someone who understands the struggle, even down to the level of emotional dependency, I wouldn’t recommend anyone who calls themselves gay to minister to and socialize with high school men.
Yes, the church needs a posture shift, but there were a lot of red flags that popped up for me in the reading of your article. The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, and we fool ourselves sometimes, thinking we can minister to those we are attracted to but the emotional attachments are just as unhealthy. If I labeled myself as gay, I would spend more time in discipleship, finding healing and putting myself under accountability relationships rather than spending hours a week ministering to, and “looking for excuses” to spend time with the ones I’m attracted to. That’s not exclusion, that’s wisdom.
What is the difference between “ssa” and “gay”? The answer is: “Nothing”!
And how dare you insinuate that Paul is a danger to minors!
Carolyn,
You just made an argument for churches to restrict non-SSA male youth pastors from ministering to young female students. You also implied that their motives for wanting to do so are deceitful and desperately wicked and they are fooling themselves thinking they can minister to those they are attracted to without emotional attachments that are unhealthy.
I also don’t see how labeling it “SSA” rather than “gay” suddenly makes all of that disappear.
You are making unmerited accusations and judgments. Rethink your post and your religious spirit; it’s unacceptable.
Hi Carolyn,
Every adult should be cautious that we are serving youth and young adults in an honoring way. To care about the safety of youth is absolutely necessary – especially in our world today.
We live in a world in which a wide range of adult overseers are being charged with crimes for inappropriate sexual contact with minors. There are news headlines nearly every day.
Who are these adults?
Teachers. Coaches. Pastors. Doctors. Lawyers. Politicians. Neighbors. Family members! To pin “The Risk” on same-sex attracted or gay males? It is quite an unfortunate stereotype and accusation. It is misguided. It is defamatory.
That said, I share your underlying concern – that we take extra measures to ensure that children are safe. I am with you 100% on this goal.
At Posture Shift, if any of our staff are ever alone with a minor in any chat or video or in-person setting, they will be immediately terminated. This is a policy we implemented from the beginning of our work 20 years ago. It is an ethic that we strenuously maintain and enforce.
We take care of youth and young adults very seriously. We only care for minors with a parent, guardian, or counselor present – whether in-person or via Zoom. No exceptions.
You did not ask for these details, but I am providing because of the nature of your conclusions about Paul. He works for Posture Shift and cares deeply about the protection of all young people.
On your language comment, there are generational differences. I am probably closer to your age than Paul’s age. It is common for many my (our) age to be more comfortable with SSA language.
As we know across the board – language, style, dress, social media platform – every next generation prefers to do “life” differently in both subtle and not so subtle ways. Welcome to every next generation! There is nothing new under the sun – generational differences have always existed.
I encourage you to keep doing language your way. It likely plays a big role in helping you follow Christ with your whole heart, soul, strength, and mind. I would not let anyone take away something that it is meaningful for how you live out your faith.
Similarly, I would not ever want to lecture and moralize others based on their language preferences. Their language choice may be exactly what allows them to follow Christ with everything. The cross-language accusations just are unhelpful and fail to build one another up.
I build you up – go with SSA. Just don’t tear others down if they don’t. 🙏
As my then 80-year-old Grandmother once said: “Queer was a good word before it was a derogatory word – before it became a good word again.”
Language is different across generations because language changes over time. Not all of those changes are bad.
Sincerely in Christ,
Bill Henson, President
Posture Shift Ministries
Author, Guiding Families
This was a pretty brutal comment for you to make. Insinuating that Paul is a paedophile simply for being gay. I don’t think that this is super hot way to respond to somebody that’s already feeling attacked by fellow Christians. What’s next? Are you gonna suggest that mention your pastors to teenage girls because they’re straight? Why would that not immediately make them paedophiles in your eyes. I get that maybe you’re trying to encourage Paul to not label himself by something you see as simple, but don’t start compounding his problems for him.
I suggest for Carolyn to read Greg Cole’s book “Single, Gay, Christian”. Then maybe she could change her mind and her approach, and not just to terminology, but being missional in reaching people who the church has turned away with the love of Jesus, and not judgement.
This story resonates with mine. I am not SSA. I am transgender. I do not pass as me, so I present in the same fake way as I have for too many decades. Nobody would know my gender identity if I would just shut up and ignore it. I cannot stand before God and pretend that I am not me. I was active in the church until slowly I was managed out. The last meeting with the Pastor he looked at me like I was the most disgusting sexual deviate because I won’t renounce my gender identity. I am asexual. This is a church that hosted Posture Shift Intensive several years before.
With all that there was NO gemeinschaft. There is a time to leave. The Gospel of exclusion is rampant.
Hi Julie, Your story breaks our hearts. Our team is praying not just for God’s comfort to fill you and His protection to surround you, but also that church leaders will turn their hearts toward you – to genuinely love you and care for you. We are always here any time talking is helpful. Prayerfully, Bill
I’m so sorry, Julie. This is very sad. The Lord sees you and your situation and loves you.
Thank you for sharing your story. It moved me to tears. Christ is mighty in you, Paul. I envision a chair in the heavenly choir with your name on it. God’s got it ready and waiting for you. He’s bragging about you to the others in the choir. You bring joy to His heart!!