I must confess that I grew up with a kind of grid for envisioning how my life and relationships would look like. At every stage, I thought I knew what I wanted and looked for in a man and in romance.

I thought I desired commitment and predictability, something straightforward and blissful. Life has not been like that.

Perhaps it’s because all my life I have longed to be brave. And what are frightening, risky, faith-testing situations, but God honouring our desire to experience courage?

My desire to be brave has been met with opportunities to be brave – opportunities to wrestle through fear, vulnerability and uncertainty.

And me taking those opportunities, in fumbling baby steps, has been met with the presence and person of God, and renewed conviction that His goodness carries us through all circumstances.

When I first met my boyfriend, Aaron*, I felt that God shone a spotlight on him. Not in a romantic sense, but enough for me to want to know his story of meeting the Lord more. I felt there was so much to learn from it.

At that point, I didn’t know he had identified with and lived a homosexual lifestyle for a large part of his life. It was only when he shared his story, quite transparently, that I became dumbfounded by the epic transformation his life had undergone.

It was not only his previous lifestyle that he left behind when he encountered Christ, but also years of depression and other issues he had struggled with.

“So when I realised that heterosexuality should not be my goal, it was so freeing. The thing is, if I did become straight, I would still deal with lust. Therefore, I knew that I shouldn’t focus on homosexuality or even heterosexuality, but on the one thing that God calls everyone to: holy sexuality…

“If a man is married, he must devote himself to complete faithfulness to his wife. And if a woman is married, she must devote herself to complete faithfulness to her husband. The idea that I might marry a woman had seemed like an impossibility – though God could do the impossible.”

“But the truth was, I did not need to be attracted to women in general to get married; I needed to be attracted to only one woman.”

– Christopher Yuan, Out of a Far Country

Aaron and I became close friends, and a little over a year later, we started dating. When he first asked me about entering a relationship with him and I could not give him an immediate answer, he smiled and told me: “Liking you has already been a blessing.”

The Holy Spirit showed me quite pointedly that my insecurities had nothing to do with his baggage and everything to do with mine.

After I said “yes” to Aaron, I immediately found myself wanting to dodge the bullet of my own weaknesses. I was constantly insecure about his attraction towards me, which I kept telling myself was natural. In essence, Aaron’s past became a convenient scapegoat for all my deepest insecurities.

This went on until the Holy Spirit showed me quite pointedly that my insecurities had nothing to do with his baggage and everything to do with mine. I would feel, as I had felt, this way with all men: not good enough, unworthy, unwanted.

The moral position of being the person who’s pulling someone out of a pit is easy, self-righteous deception to swallow. What’s less easy is confronting the fact that we have all fallen into a pit, collectively, and that God is using various situations to pull us out.

Looking back, Aaron was always the brave one. There was so much I had to work on.

Throughout knowing Aaron as just a friend, I did not have any expectations or agenda with him. But once we got together, ironically enough, I felt the impulse to ensure that what we were embarking on conformed to my selfish, iron grid of what a relationship should look like and give to me. 

The centrifugal draw towards self-preservation can deflect us from the upward call of God to understand love, life’s meaning and His plan for humanity.

This includes the preservation of our earthly life, our mortal bodies and our souls. It also includes preservation of “face”, reputation and the image of our own goodness we adore holding dear.

After meeting Christ and reading the Bible, Aaron had decided, on his own volition, to no longer pursue any sexual or romantic relationships with men. I knew that would not undo years of real experiences with and sexual feelings towards men. And I did not have any intention of having them undone either.

A copious need for validation made me want to be the glorious incentive for breakthrough, until the Holy Spirit convicted me that I was worth more than that.

At the same time, there were still other corollary struggles in his life he wanted to work through, past hurts and traumas he wanted freedom from.

A copious need for validation made me want to dangle myself like a carrot in front of Aaron, the glorious incentive for his breakthrough, until the Holy Spirit convicted me, again, that I was worth more than that.

Pride manifests in both offence and defensiveness, in concern over people knowing we’re right and they are wrong, rather than what God’s views are and what He’s trying to say in and through the situation. His perspective and ours can be on jarringly different planes.

Yes, it’s a big gap. And humility is our helium in searching His thoughts, seeking His ways. Even in this journey with Aaron, God wants to grow me in my knowledge of Him. Our understanding of Him always needs a good stretch, which is why the path to maturity is lined with tensions. Tensions mean something is stretching.

So, I will be no one’s impetus or saviour, and elevate myself to Jesus-level. Neither do I need to be affirmed by another person’s inadequacy or reliance. Ultimately, I’m not the centre of this or any narrative. God is.

During my visit to Israel, someone mentioned to me that in the Jewish Torah, we can see printed in its margins multiple interpretations of the text, as Jews acknowledge that what is correct could be one of these, or two, or all, or none.

“Liking you has already been a blessing.”

My mind still travels back to that profound statement. At that crossroads between the safe harbour of our friendship and the uncharted waters that lay before us, Aaron and I each wanted to go somewhere. But more than anything else, we wanted to grow towards God the way plants lean towards sunlight.

To this day, he pursues me unswervingly, with gentleness and graciousness. And having shared the bedrock of a Christ-centred friendship with him, I continue to yield to the journey, to yield to the magnetic north of God’s steady, quiet reassurance in the core of my being.

More than anything else, we wanted to grow towards God the way plants lean towards sunlight.

I look down the margins of this deep and sincere love between us and acknowledge that what is correct might be this, or that, or all, or none. I don’t know with absolute certainty what the future holds for us.

It’s a mystery why God has led us here and where this road will lead – but I’m okay with mystery.

In fact, the more I open myself up to God and let go of the pictures I have painted for myself, the more I snatch glimpses of my future. Funnily enough, they are still hazy and ambiguous, not clear like they used to be when I was a younger Christian.

And I stand back and think, maybe this is the path to maturity. Sometimes it’s not seeing more but seeing less, and in the midst, seeing God.

*All names, including the author’s, have been changed for confidentiality.