Whew! I was asked recently to write out my testimony, and after several days have finally come up with a rough draft. I told him I felt it was simultaneously way too long and left out 90% of the details.
Anyway, I hate proofreading, so you can do it for me. (note - I did proofread. a little.)
On the outside my childhood was similar to many average Dutch kids from Pella. I grew up in a Christian home, went to church and Sunday school, and received my education in the Christian schools. From a distance I looked like a good Christian boy like any other. Inside things were quite different. The popular boys were assertive, confident athletes; I was the textbook geek – uncoordinated, buck-teethed, lover of dinosaurs and all things science fiction. When it came time to pick teams, I was always last, enduring years of cruel tauntings and deliberate exclusion. Inside I began to believe I was weird, different from other guys, and could never fit in.
Unfortunately my dad didn’t do much to change this perception. I looked at him – hunter, fisher, outdoorsman, craftsman – and saw a person with whom I had nothing in common. As years went on we spent less and less time together, and his silence confirmed my growing dread of his profound disappointment. Did he love me? I needed to know, was desperate to know, but in the void I started to believe I’d never be good enough to earn his love.
The devil would also use my own foolish choices to set the stage for what would come. At the age of 10 I was exposed to and involved in homosexual activity. I’d never heard anything about being “gay” or homosexuality, and with knowledge other boys I knew were doing it curiosity got the best and I gave in. I remember at one point something in my head telling me, “Don’t do this, it’s wrong!” but the pleasure of the flesh was too much to resist. At this point my sexual behavior was completely separate from who I thought I was; I was very attracted to girls and had more grade school and junior high crushes than I can remember.
At about the same time I really began to struggle with my faith. By junior high I perceived a huge chasm between what people said they believed vs. what they actually did, especially when it came to love. We were supposed to be like Jesus, but in particular the men in my life seemed nothing like him, or remotely interested in Christianity at all outside of going to church on Sunday and reciting a list of things “we don’t do!” One day I decided God was a joke; I’d play the whole church game when necessary, but decided I didn’t believe any of this whole Christian nonsense.
High school brought radical change to my life. The summer after my freshman year I attended a huge Youth for Christ convention in Washington D.C. One of the youth pastors in town had invited me, and I found myself drawn to his enthusiasm for Jesus – he was the first guy I’d ever seen truly excited about his faith. One of the speakers issued a challenge to go back to our schools and “make a difference for Christ”, but said we couldn’t do that if we had never given our lives to the Lord. An invitation to receive Christ as personal savior was extended, and in tears I accepted.
I would like to think giving my life to Jesus would have solved all my problems, but instead I found life got far more complicated. During my freshman year the sense I didn’t belong or fit in intensified, and soon I found strong feelings of romantic and sexual attraction towards other guys had developed. The word “gay” started to pop up in my head, but I still had little idea of what that truly meant. It was the 1980’s, and in being gay meant you were evil, going to hell, and cursed by God to die from AIDS.
As high school progressed, I publicly lived as an enthusiastic disciple of Jesus, while secretly suppressing my battle with homosexuality. I was terrified to tell anyone, even my youth pastor, and figured if I just prayed enough and lived a good life God would take it away. While I had stopped acting out, the problem simply shifted to the world of fantasy and compulsive masturbation.
By my senior year I had come up with a solution – I would go to Bible school, become a missionary, and save the world for Jesus! In return, he would make my problems with homosexuality go away. It seemed like a pretty fair bargain, except I hadn’t bothered to actually seek the Lord or ask for wise counsel. The devil must have been grinning ear-to-ear. I figured Bible school would be Christian utopia, filled with men and women of God who had conquered sin, were filled with the Spirit, and had a bulls-eye on the Lord’s will.
Off to Bible school I went, and it took all of two days to find a guy on my floor who not only had not conquered sin, but was also struggling with homosexuality. I would encounter many, MANY more like him in the coming years. So much for utopia! Soon after that I got a job off campus employing a number of openly gay men and women. I quickly made friends, with one man in particular quickly become my best friend and confidant. My head was soon filled with advice about how to live my life. “Just do whatever makes you happy! God doesn’t care, as long as you are happy.” (Note to self – never take advice on happiness from people who are miserable!)
Ironically enough, the devil used my best friend at Bible school to introduce me to gay pornography. My friend from work unknowingly helped as well when one day I accidentally stumbled upon a hidden cache of videotapes. I imagine the sensation was not unlike a heroin addict taking their first hit. My fantasy life and masturbation compulsion kicked into overdrive. To make matters worse, my friends from work began sneaking me into gay bars and clubs. I convinced myself I would go along to “be a good Christian witness,” hoping my Christian character would rub off. I refused to acknowledge my own burning curiosity and true motivations.
Another event would take place during that first year of college having profound implications. Through the Bible school I had opportunity to intern at the youth group of a beloved spiritual mentor and friend. As my melancholy attitude grew during the year, he began to suspect the cause and one night asked point-blank if I struggled with homosexuality. I confessed, and shortly thereafter noticed a marked change in our relationship. He started to withdraw, and then one night dropped a bomb, telling me I wouldn’t be needed that summer to attend the youth convention, and that he didn’t think I was cut out for youth ministry at all. I’d always felt like a total failure to my real father; now this surrogate father figure was telling me I was worthless, too.
For the next several years I stumbled through Bible school, changing majors several times in an attempt to discover God’s calling and find purpose in life. My split-personality existence continued; the good Bible student on campus, but in the outside world a lost, confused young man fighting a battle he couldn’t seem to win. I found myself with my non-Christian gay friends more and more, hanging out in gay bars and clubs. On occasion I would share my struggles with a friend at school, and thankfully while almost everyone was supportive, no one seemed to have any answers except “I’ll pray for you”. Even the counseling staff seemed to offer little hope. The silence from the church was deafening. Meanwhile the gay community seemed so warm and inviting, waiting to embrace me with open arms.
By my third year of Bible school I was completely burnt out, finding the bulk of my energies devoted to the issue of my sexuality. An imperceptible but fundamental shift in my thinking had taken place. No longer did I ask, “How can I best serve the Lord?” Now my thoughts were consumed with, “How can God make me happy?” In my opinion, when it came to happiness God stunk. By then I was getting drunk, using drugs, using pornography, sexually active, lying, stealing money from my employer, and breaking numerous student life regulations at school – but it was God’s fault I could never be happy! Showing up for class hung over one morning, I decided shortly thereafter I’d had enough. I was gay. There was nothing I could do about it. I had no choice but to embrace my sexuality, quit Bible school, and find happiness elsewhere.
Not long after I officially “came out” to my parents. I didn’t see my dad cry his father’s funeral, but he cried then. It mattered little to me, my heart was so filled with bitterness and anger towards him. My mom started hitting me over the head with her Bible, but years of Bible school had equipped me well to cleverly fight back.
Unsure of what to do next, I decided to enroll at University of Iowa, mostly because I’d made a number of gay friends there via the Internet. I just wanted to find someone to love, or at least that’s what I thought. Looking back I must have walked into town with a huge target painted on my chest. My immature mind couldn’t distinguish love from the heated emotions of sexual intimacy, and my heart was quickly broken. I quickly figured out the game – do whatever it takes to get what you want – and became and expert player. Heading to the gym, I started lifting weights to increase the strongest currency in gay life – physical beauty.
My time in Iowa City was not happy, and I assumed a better life could be found in the greener grass on the other side of the hill. In this case, the hill would be California. People were more open-minded, and I just knew things would be far superior to backwards Iowa. After graduation I packed up my belongings, and along with my boyfriend at the time headed out west.
To my dismay, I found life in California to be much like life in Iowa. The scenery was a lot more interesting, and I had great places to snowboard, but inside nothing had changed at all. I was still nursing all the wounds from my youth, still carrying all the baggage with my dad, Bible school, and the church. Instead of fading away, my problems with drunkenness, promiscuity, and infidelity only got worse.
After three years of fighting, cheating, lying, and poor communication, my boyfriend and I split up. A few months before a good friend had talked me into trying the drug Ecstasy. The experience was mind-blowing – my whole body pulsated with pleasure, and every word, touch, and feeling seemed filled with love. Instantly I was hooked, and dove headfirst into the San Francisco gay party life with wild abandon. It was 1999, the dawn of the new millennium, and who knew, just maybe I would find true love.
At a party in August I met the man who would be my partner for the next four and a half years. He was smart, attractive, confident, and as a doctor in training seemingly bound for a life of happiness and success. That he liked someone like me was in my mind amazing! In a matter of weeks I was completely swept off my feet and head-over-heals in love. The intense pleasure from the drug Ecstasy kicked everything up a notch. For a brief moment in time I forgot home, forgot the Bible, and forgot God. I had everything I’d ever wanted or needed.
The fantasy didn’t last long. As good as my partner was, he never satisfied the all-consuming lust in my heart. Secretly I began sleeping with other men, telling myself it didn’t matter because I really only loved my partner. The drugs soon betrayed me as well. All heavy users of Ecstasy soon find the more you do it, the less it works. Once a month became once a week. Then once a week turned into twice, then one pill a night to two, then three, then four. I started mixing E with other “designer drugs”, some of which were notoriously unpredictable and potentially fatal. I consoled myself with the old standard – “Everyone else is doing it, and they’re not getting hurt.” It might happen to someone else, but never to me.
Many of my friends had already started down the far darker path of crystal meth. Along with it often came sexual addiction. I was instinctively afraid of meth, but the other drugs weren’t getting the job done anymore, and my partner promised we’d be ok. The first hit was a rush of power and energy. I loved it, and started finding ways to do it when my boyfriend wasn’t around. Any restraint around my sexual behavior went out the window, putting me at a huge risk to contract HIV or other diseases.
My draw towards the gay club scene was fueled in part by the unhealed wounds of my teen years. In high school I felt like the invisible wallflower, especially among my classmates. To cope, I created a fantasy world where I was a celebrity singing sensation, up on stage while my peon colleagues looked on in awe and jealousy. In San Francisco, I could walk in a club, take off my shirt, and usually get all the attention I wanted. It didn’t take any talent, just a decent physique, blue eyes and a big smile.
I loved taking pictures in clubs, and somehow one of the big gay club promoters saw my photos from one of his parties and asked me to work for him. Now I was really in the big leagues, on the guest lists for all the big events and my name on flyers in the city and magazines across the nation. Still, strangely enough my mind was consumed on almost a daily basis with the high school celebrity fantasy.
After another blowout weekend of partying I went to the bathroom early one Sunday morning and looked in the mirror. I thought of my parents back home, rising from their slumber to get ready for church. Through dilated pupils I stared at the reflection in the mirror and heard the word “addict”. I was an addict – a functional one, staying sober during the week and doing my job – but on the weekends, and uncontrollable drug and sex fiend. It was now February 2002. In the almost three years I’d been doing drugs, I’d gone through several “scares”, deciding I needed to stop. At best I could last for a few weeks before the pig went back to wallow in its own filth. It was hopeless. I could never stop. Ever.
A month later I received news of a friend who had committed suicide. Hopelessly addicted to meth, deeply in debt, and tripped up by his own web of lies, one day he took a gun and put a bullet in his head. The irony was palpable – this young man was physically beautiful, the apple of everyone’s eye in the gay community. He was the one everyone wanted. At his memorial I collapsed in a chair and sobbed – there was no comfort, no hope. He was just gone; would I be next?
Six months later a good friend died from a drug overdose. Again, outward appearances would be deceiving. He was smart, successful, head charge nurse at a large hospital, had just bought a condo and new SUV, and was in a committed relationship. For reasons I will never understand this man filled with knowledge of medicine and pharmacology would make a choice that would end his life. At this memorial I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel anything. My life of freedom had become a prison, and I had turned into the living dead, an empty shell of my former self. It was almost impossible to experience feelings at all unless it involved a bottle, pill, or random sexual encounter.
After the suicide I managed to give up crystal meth – one of the few positives to come out of such a dark episode. Regardless, my relationship was on very rocky ground, and my partner and I soon found ourselves in couple’s therapy for the second time. Several times a week I had the same nightmare – lying in bed, unable to move, a dark cloud would slowly envelop my body, gradually wrapping itself around my neck in a choking death grip. As the end neared, the throne of judgment would appear, and I’d wake in a state of terrified panic. My therapist latched on to my Christian background, blaming my problems on the “religious abuse” I’d experienced in Pella and Bible school.
Time dragged on, and so did everything else in life. I had a great paying job with incredible benefits, but it left me feeling cold. As I made more money, my level of anxiety and discontent always increased. I decided to try volunteering, first with a program to visit elderly people in their homes, then at a hospital. Doing good things was supposed to fill your life with meaning and purpose, but my heart wasn’t in the right place and it quickly became more tedious work.
One Sunday night in March of 2003, something happened I’d never forget. One of my favorite DJs was in town for a gig, and three of my party friends were going. As usual, we got really high and I spent most of the night happily hallucinating and dancing. Then, all the sudden it seemed as though the music had stopped, and a shaft of white light appeared just in front of me. I stepped into the light, and a voice began speaking clearly, “Ryan, your life is going to change. All these things are going to pass away.” My mouth said nothing, but my heart said, “Yes, I know.” Drugs. Drunkenness. Sexual immorality. Homosexuality. I would become a new person. As soon as the moment had come, it passed, and I shook my head for a moment. Did that really just happen? I blamed it on the drugs, but something inside knew I had just experienced a profound moment.
The next several months certainly bore no evidence anything in my life had changed. My 30th birthday came in April, and I spent the entire weekend high out of my mind. When it was all over, I just felt really, really old. My partner and I then traveled to Costa Rica for a week to celebrate, and while I loved the adventure, I knew a change of scenery couldn’t overcome the nagging sense that something in my life was hopelessly out of order.
Back in San Francisco, one positive development took place which would later play a huge role in God’s plan for my life. Through a series of events which merit a whole story of their own, sometime that year I started attending a solid, Bible-preaching church called Cornerstone. Years before I tried the Metropolitan Community Church, but the “whatever you believe is true” mantra just left me hungry for something real. The first time I walked through Cornerstone’s doors I felt the presence of the Lord. I thought I was going to burst out into tears, but managed to hold myself back. God was simply not an acceptable topic of discussion among my friends, save to bash the Republican Party. I’d never resolved the deep moral conflict in my life; the drugs numbed my conscience to a certain point, but when they wore off I was back to facing the man in the mirror. On the outside I was all smiles, hugs, and kisses, but inside I was falling apart. How much more of this could I take? What choice did I have? Things had to get better.
My parents had also become an influence in my life again, another tool used by the Lord to call me back. The previous year they had suddenly dropped the Bible-bashing and just started loving me like crazy. They came out to San Francisco and met my partner. They flew to San Diego to watch me run a marathon, and met my partner’s mom. Later my mom and younger brother would come out for some outdoor exploring and whale watching. I loved telling story about my evil ogre parents, but I couldn’t handle ones that loved me. My heart slowly began to soften.
In August of 2003, a series of events took place, turning my life upside-down. At the beginning of the month my Grandma died. Now she was a wonderful woman of God, filled with love and devotion for Jesus. She lived a simple life serving the Lord, and died peacefully in her sleep. Her funeral in Michigan was more a celebration of a woman who was now with her Savior than mourning her loss. I thought about my own life. I was only 30, and already several friends had died. If it were my funeral, what would people say? Would they be filled with joy, or overcome with grief? I knew it would be no celebration.
Several weeks later I received a call at work from a former partner and close friend. He immediately broke down sobbing and relayed the bad news – he had tested positive for HIV. I was absolutely stunned - HIV had always been something that happened to other people; what had always been abstract was now gut-wrenchingly concrete. Once again I faced the prospect of death. I knew if he died, that was it – he was gone, lost forever.
The final blow came towards the end of the month. One Friday night I was preparing to fly back to Iowa to visit family when my partner suddenly complained of chest pains. I told him he was just a hypochondriac doctor and just needed to relax. Minutes passed and his anxiety increased; fortunately the ER was a block away, so we walked over. The doctors immediately knew something was very wrong, and a quick EKG confirmed the unbelievable truth – he was having a major heart attack. I was absolutely shell-shocked. How in the world could this be happening?
Now my mind was really racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about life, death, what would have happened if my partner had died, and more importantly, my own destiny if my life were to end. No answers offering any hope came to mind. My friends had no idea what to do, offering little advice outside the standard “Everything will be fine; call if you need something”. The answer of my best friend at the time was to put a hit of Ecstasy in one hand and a drink in the other.
In November, my former partner and I headed to Hawaii over Veteran's Day to visit his sister in Honolulu. We both had a great time swimming with dolphins, sailing on a catamaran, and climbing to the top of Diamondhead, but the stinging news of his HIV status hung like a dark cloud over the entire trip. One of the nights, asleep on the hide-a-bed downstairs at his sister's, I had perhaps the most terrifyingly real dream of my entire life. About a month before my partner and I had traveled to Vancouver for a weekend of drugs, sex, and partying in an attempt to relive the heady days when we'd first met. In my dream, I standing alongside our car on the streets of Vancouver after leaving a club. On the pavement before me was the lifeless form of my partner, blood running down the sloped concrete towards my feet. I screamed, yelled, threw my hands in the air - but it did no good. He was dead, gone forever. I awoke, utterly alone in the darkness of night, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Life sunk into a deep, dark pit of despair from which escape seemed impossible. It felt as though the very blackness of hell itself was closing in. I grew bitter, angry, cynical, tired of skin-deep friendships, drunken nights I couldn’t remember, endless discussions of who had slept with whom, and drugs that didn’t work anymore. In short, I became a very unpleasant person to be around! One night I told my partner the unthinkable – “I’m tired of being proud of being gay. I want to be proud of being me.” To the gay doctor who had built his entire identity around all things gay, this was out-and-out heresy. From that moment on we drifted further and further apart.
Then, as quickly as things had begun so many years ago, they ended. On a Tuesday in late January my partner dropped the bomb – he was ending our relationship. Inside I was completely torn apart – how could I ever life without him? I couldn’t survive! Then, for the second time in my life I heard a voice loud a clear speak the following – “This is the out you’ve been waiting on for years. Why are you waiting? RUN!” My mouth said “let’s keep trying,” but my heart screamed “get out!”
I vacillated for a few days, paralyzed with unbearable pain and indecision. A friend on whom I had a big crush lived just down the street, and he invited me over to visit. My past told me what would probably happen, and soon enough we lay in bed together. Then, something inside snapped. The inner voice screamed, “No! I’m not doing this anymore! I’m finished!” I got up, said goodbye, and walked out the door. Shortly thereafter I got on the computer and wrote my mom and e-mail, telling her I had broken up with my partner, and that I’d decided I needed to get right with God.
Much like the end of winter in Narnia, so a rapid change of seasons quickly began taking shape in my own life. Immediately the Holy Spirit filled me with the power and courage to share the gospel with my now former partner! I needed a new place to live, and the Spirit led me to a website called Craigslist to search for a room. I typed in “Christian,” and found one listing for a Christian community looking for one single male.
To get in, I had to interview all three current housemates. I was nervous, but felt the Holy Spirit telling me clearly to not be afraid, and to openly share my background, struggles, and what God was doing in my life. At the end of the first interview, my potential future roommate asked if we could pray together. Pray together! I hadn’t done that in almost 10 years!!! I soon found through the Spirit prayer came naturally – kind of like riding a bike. J
Big changes started coming at warp-speed. Almost overnight the Lord set me free from drunkenness, drug use, pornography, and masturbation. After one small stumble in February, he set me completely free from sexual immorality. This in itself was a wonder! I thought this would be the hardest thing in the world – I still struggled with attractions to men, but for whatever reason the Lord had taken away the desire to act on those feelings. Praise God it hasn’t come back!
At first I didn’t want to deal at all with the whole issue of being gay, but the Lord had plans in that area as well. After a week or so, I felt him telling me very clearly I needed to give up the false security I found in being gay and trust him to lead me into true manhood. All the pain from high school and Bible college came rushing back, and I became furious with God. Alone in my apartment, my former partner out at a gay club, I fell to my knees and inbetween nearly uncontrollable sobs I cried out, “How Lord? How can you ask me to do this? After all I’ve been through, how can you ask this of me?” For the third time in my life I heard a voice speak clearly – “I’ve taken you this far. Trust me.”
Trust me. Could I really go down that path? I’d repented of my sin, and the Lord had already turned my life around, but emotionally my heart was broken in a thousand pieces and still attached to my former partner. The pain inside at times literally left me breathless. I couldn’t see how I could ever follow God’s call when I couldn’t get past the longings of right now.
Months before my former partner and I had planned to attend a weeklong gay ski and snowboard event in Canada. Our travel arrangements had been paid for and were non-refundable, and we didn’t know what to do. I really wanted to get away and do some snowboarding, but knew I was heading from the frying pan of San Francisco into the fire of parties, drugs, and sexual immorality. The Holy Spirit led me to do a search for churches in the area. I found a listing for a Christian group that held a Bible study on the mountain every Wednesday.
The morning of the Bible study I showed up, shaking with fear. What would these people think? Would they accept me? Would I be rejected? A blond-haired woman with a giant grin on her faced showed up. I knew she was one I had talked to on the phone, her reassuring voice filled with love and joy. Walking over, I introduced myself and sat down. We studied a passage from Mark, and then broke up into groups for prayer. At first I was too scared to say anything, but then one of the guys in the group started praying, “Lord, I know it’s gay ski week. Please help us to understand these people better so we can reach out with your love.” By now I was crying once again, and somehow managed to get out my own prayer of thanksgiving. Afterwards I shared my testimony, and everyone was completely floored – here they had asked the Lord to help them understand the gay community better, and sitting right before them was a man who had lived almost 10 years in it!
I had no magical formula for how or why things like this happened. Basically, all I knew was to ask for God’s help, and the Holy Spirit responded, leading me to the right places at the right time. The guys at the Christian home accepted me as a roommate. One of them hooked me up with an amazing home fellowship and Bible study, a place where I would connect with amazing brothers and sisters in Christ. I got plugged in with a solid church that had support ministries for men and women coming out of homosexuality. Through Cornerstone I found an Exodus-affiliated therapist two blocks from my office specializing in men coming out of homosexuality.
The day I moved into my new home, it felt as though a million pounds had just lifted from my shoulders. The emotional turmoil of losing my partner subsided, the vanished completely. Through the Lord my faith grew stronger day by day, and for a season he gave me numerous opportunities to share the gospel with my old friends. They may have thought I was crazy, but they all listened, and I know seeds were planted. Like the gospel of Mark says, who knows when God may choose to make it grow.
God chose some very unique ways to confirm my masculine identity. One of my roommates was a big wilderness camper, and enthusiastically invited me to join him and two other men for a 3-day trek up the South Fork of the Merced River outside Yosemite. Having never done anything like this before, I was scared but intrigued. I said “sure” and started preparations. Then, at the last minute, my roommate dropped out and I freaked. I barely knew the other guys – what if I looked like a complete idiot? What if the lies the devil whispered in my ears were true, and they saw what I really was, just a weak sissy?
I tried backing out, using every excuse I could think of, but my roommate insisted I go. He even got my gear together, letting me use a bunch of his, and helped me pack! Off to the sticks we went, and immediately started having a blast. To my surprise, the only thing the other guys saw was me, another man created in God’s image who struggled with sin. The word “gay” never entered their minds. On the second night I woke up, put on my glasses, and gazed at the stars. I stared to pray and was overcome with emotion, tears running down my cheeks as I thanked God for what he had done in my life. It seemed unreal – only months ago life was misery and pain, and now the Lord had filled me with life!
The weeks and years ahead would hold many more such experiences. There’s a great song by Audio Adrenaline that goes, “This is the good life, I lost everything.” That was certainly true in my case. When I put my faith in Jesus, I lost most of my friends in short order. Along with it went all the fame and popularity I had coveted for so long. Quite the contrary, I now found myself the object of ridicule and scorn! More than anything, I had lost the relationship with my partner – the very center of my entire life. To perhaps put an exclamation point on things, I gave almost all shared possessions to my former partner. My last week in our old apartment I had almost nothing – I literally had to sit on the bare, cold linoleum kitchen floor to eat!
The love of Jesus kept me through those dark times. I prayed one night for Jesus to come and fill that part of me so desperately longing to be held and touched. I hadn’t slept alone in a bed for almost 8 years, but soon after that prayer I began sleeping peacefully. The nightmares also ceased, never to return.
By the end of 2004 I was involved with ministry once again, joining an evangelistic Bible study outreach to the poor, run-down hotels on 6th Street in San Francisco. As God opened doors, I kept sharing the gospel with old friends and reaching out with acts of love. God was definitely doing great things in my life, but I sensed he was calling me to really step out in faith by leaving my job and moving back home to Iowa for a season. For what I had no idea, but after much prayer and wise counsel it seemed clear this was what he wanted me to do. So here I am now, and the stories of why he wanted me back in Iowa would make for another really long tale!
I hold on tight to the promises of God. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! Indeed! Do I still struggle? Sure. Does that define who I am? The Lord gave me that answer; through the blood of Jesus showing me a more excellent way. I’m free – free in Christ to be the man he created, free to let God’s grace be sufficient when I feel I don’t quite measure up. I’m not chained to the mistakes of my past, or bound to the myopic view that feelings determine who I am. Grace saved me, and grace will keep me.
Hey Ryan,
I randomly came across your blog and I have to commend you for your honesty. It is quite long but your experiences and honesty captivated me even though I strongly disagree with some of your conclusions. I believe that if every person was able to speak openly like you have, the world would be a competely different place. Congradulations on your newly found contentment and happiness.
Posted by: Krystle | August 31, 2006 at 03:13 PM
I thank you for your honesty and testimony. I am very touched by this posting. God indeed has you in His hands. Continue to grow in your walk with Him. It may be tough, but it's worth it. He is always faithful.
I am so encouraged. Blessings.
Posted by: Traveler | September 01, 2006 at 12:30 PM
Wow!! You certainly have an incredible testimony. I just stumbled onto your site and couldn't stop reading once I started. Stay strong in the faith and continue to seek the Lord with all your heart and might and you will see greater things come to pass. May God Richly Bless you as you continue to do His will.
Regards from the Bronx New York!!
Posted by: Kelly | September 06, 2006 at 01:44 PM
The best is yet to come, Ryan.
I tried to post on the Intervention disscussion board additional comments to you--but, for some unknown reason, my postings are not processing.
I am referring your testimony to many others---I work as a corporate chaplain and meet many who are struggling with the same type of turmoil you've been through.
Your understanding, wise counsel and ministry to Daniel is greatly appreciated---and your prayers are as gold to his life.
I've cut and pasted below what I tried to post on the Intervention website so that you would know of my gratitude and continued prayers for you.
If you can still post on the discussion forum, please let the others know that I have not forgotten them, but have been inhibited from responding to respond to various updates and comments. (maybe I'd written to much and have possibly been "banned")
Thank you again, Ryan for being a vessal of blessing to help others--to have hope, delivered and restored purpose leading to abundant life. I look forward especially to meeting your grandmother one day in heaven---as well as you and all your family!
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(Intervention forum intended posting follows)
Dear Ryan,
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>Wow--Cambodia!!....Please let us all know how to pray for you during this next adventure!
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>Thanks for sharing your website info with us---especially for including your testimony. May the borders of your ministry be enlarged as your testimony is used to reach countless others...may God's hand be with you..may you be kept from evil! I encourage everyone to read your testimony.
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>Several years ago when Daniel was going through an attempt at rehab in Virginia at a place that Jerry Falwell's church operates for addicts/alcoholics, I visited him during a weekend when there was a huge protest by homosexuals because Falwell preaches that it is a sin--just like adultery, drunkenness, etc...Hundreds surrounded the church in protest..the church members provided coffee and donuts for them and welcomed them into into the services. When I drove up to the church, I began weeping and couldn't stop...as my heart was so burdened for the protesters...I told the ones who approached me that I appreciated their taking the time to share their concerns with me--and reminded them that God loves them and invited them to come into the services with me....I am so burdened for those whose hearts and minds have been blinded to the truth---and this concern has been magnified because of what Daniel's been through. I am so glad that you have experienced the evidence of God's love for you---and are being and becoming all the man God created you to be.
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>As I alluded to in the previous "Daniel Update"--your testimony is an example of how there has been a long and brutal assault on your heart by the one who knows what you could be and fears it. There is glory to your life that your Enemy fears and he is hell-bent on destroying that glory before you act upon it.
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>Your experience after your baptism reminds me of how when you have the approval of heaven, you are going to have the assault of hell. You must be doing something right for the enemy to be so intent to "take you out." But God's not finished with you---and Praise God-- He has never left you or forsaken you....
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>It's my prayer that God raises up thousands of people to pray for you as you "shine for His glory" and "in the light of His glory" throughout the world.
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>Thanks for writing to Daniel again and for the book and CD--probably the most encouraging element of his life right now--and the best help has been from the prayers and letters he's been getting from those who know him only through Intervention. He intially thought "the world" would reject him and he couldn't "face" anyone ever again after they saw the broadcast........but the letters have helped him realize that God has a wonderful purpose for his story to be known.....even when he "messes" up.
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>You are soooo right--Daniel NEEDS to be surrounded by brothers and sisters that flood him with love and support-----he really needs to be living amongst those who will encourage spiritual growth instead of challenging it...he's just not strong enough yet. (he mentioned to me how he needed to live with his sisters--but it's not possible right now). That's one reason I wish the house he lived in was a bit different...with other Christian men who are in recovery. The house where he lives has porno on the walls--and the usual movies the guys watch are generally the grotesque horror type.....not the kind of environment conducive to continued growth in the rehabilitation process. It almost seems that he may have needed to be in a more "protected" environment of Pac Hills for awhile longer than the 90 day program allowed.
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>You couldn't be more perceptive than to recognize that Daniel needs a strong, mature, older man to take Daniel under his "wing." It's what I've prayed for him to realize since his Dad died. The pastor who leads the worship team wanted Daniel to visit with him every wednesday---and Daniel regards him as absolutely great...but, the pastor had to take some time off for a few weeks..and the other wednesdays, Daniel has had to work...so, it hasn't really transpired as it should. I read once where Franklin Graham's family took in a young guy who was recovering from major problems--including drug addiction....and, I have prayed that in the same way a loving Christian family would embrace Daniel with love and care --with a Dad who can give important wisdom and guidance to Daniel-- Daniel really responds positively to whenever someone cares about him--it's just that people are so busy with their own families,jobs, etc...it's hard for someone to be able to take the time to care. At the Pac Hills center, he had someone there every day....it seems that's what's needed now. Thank you for praying for God to make a way to fill that need---and thank you for being a vital part of a much needed support system for a "stranger."
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>Rejoice---the best is yet to come!!
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>...Daniel's Mom
> TBBBAB
Posted by: Joy (Daniel's Mom) | September 16, 2006 at 03:34 PM
Thank you, Ryan for sharing your testimony. I am deeply moved by how the Holy Spirit has ministered in your life. Your story affirms the power of the Lord to change lives, to restore us according to the to His image and likeness.
I have struggled and am still struggling with homosexuality as well, but the Lord has led me to renounce the my desires and to give my heart for him to change. I haven't really actually lived the "full" homosexual lifestyle - the clubbing, the promiscuous sex, etc., but devil constantly taunts me that I have given up something I haven't fully experienced. This is something I have brought up with the ex-gay ministry group I have started joining.
Reading your experiences while in the lifestyle affirms to me that homosexuality is candy-coated on the outside as fun and liberating, but is actually consuming with immorality. I have to read yet the rest of your blog but do continue to be a blessing to us who are starting on this journey. Godbless!
Posted by: Jun, from the Philippines | July 18, 2008 at 04:16 AM