Coming Out Is Always a Question

Wrestling with Identity, Discernment, and the Sacred Journey

Admitting I am not straight

In Spring 2022, I hit a breaking point. As much as I tried to busy myself into oblivion with the hope that *this thing* would go away, the sleepless nights made facing my sexuality unavoidable. I typed up a short email to my therapist, very much trying not to let my mild panic attack seep into the keyboard. “Hey, next time we talk, I want to discuss sexuality.” I hit send. I was locked in to having That Conversation.

About five years prior, I had started to notice a pattern in my life. Though I had considered myself straight, there was an aberrant pattern. Maybe…sometimes…occasionally I was attracted to women? Ah but that was when I was a teen – pay no attention to the current allure of my lesbian coworkers! And so I forgot about those little strands of “not-straight.” They faded into the background until my grad school crisis. What I had thought was just a phase was inescapable. My first step – at age 30 – was admitting to myself that not only was I attracted to men, but I was also attracted to women.

During the last minutes of the scheduled therapy session, I briefly described the confusing nature of my attractions. She responded calmly and said we would talk more in the next session. Except that next session never happened, due to medical emergencies in her life. I just dipped my pinky toes into the “coming out” waters, and then that person became unavailable to me. I waited.

The next month, I helped a friend prepare Easter dinner for our church, and I came out to her. I had a feeling she would respond with compassion – she was in the school’s counseling program and had previously expressed grace and compassion towards LGBTQ+ people in general. With this second coming out experience, I received an embodied reminder that I was loved, I wasn’t alone. My friend gave me a hug, which spoke volumes since a hug from a woman communicated to me that my queer sexuality was not a barrier to friendship. After having this conversation, I remember thinking that no one else ever needs to know.

Counting the Cost

From the beginning of this journey, coming out has always been a question. Even with trustworthy people, there is no way of knowing exactly how they will respond. I am eternally grateful that these first two coming out experiences were positive – zero judgment, lots of reassurance of love and support. Since that Easter, I have come out way more than I expected. These times range from excruciating yet good to casual and no big deal. And while the amount of people who know about my sexuality is too large to count, I am still not publicly out. There are some individuals I have not shared this information with, and I am not publicly out at my church.

Occasionally, I will get the urge to rip the band-aid off all at once and come out in a public way. It can be so tiring discerning what relationships would benefit from me disclosing my sexuality and which relationships would be strained. But this is the framework I use for coming out. There are some relationships I have determined would be too strained at present if I shared about my sexuality. But there have also been contexts where a group conversation was heading towards the sexuality topic, and I felt that coming out would be beneficial to the group. It was a risk (remember, coming out is always a question) since there were individuals present who previously didn’t give off “safe” vibes, but there was no worst-case-scenario fallout. Those people treated me normally. Maybe there will be further conversations with them, but for now I am happy to interact with them in the same ways I did before – I am, after all, the same person they knew prior to my sharing about my sexuality.

When I was in grad school and in the midst of my sexuality crisis, I was meeting with cherished friends for lunch. Prior to lunch, I thought that this might be the time to come out to them, because I really needed people who loved me to care for me as I was going through difficulty. I was prepared to share. But as the lunch got underway, they began talking about how the fall of America will be because of gay people. This was a screaming alarm to me that these friends would not respond well to me coming out, so I wisely chose to not share about my own experience. The reality is that some people—even people who are a good and loving presence in my life in so many ways—are not able to receive the most tender parts of me. I wish that all my relationships were strong enough for me to come out to all the people I love, but not all of them can. I grieve the dissonance in these relationships. I am learning how to love them deeply while withholding big parts of my life.

While I was in talks to intern at my church, I had to weigh the pros and cons of coming out to my church leadership team. On a one-on-one level, these were not people I was in close relationship with; if they hadn’t been my leaders, they would not be people I’d come out to. Why did I have to share this personal information with people I didn’t know that well? I was frustrated at the unfairness – the previous interns surely did not have to disclose the nuances of their sexuality journeys! But in time, I realized that the short-term stress of disclosing my bisexuality to my leaders removed the long-term stress that would have come with staying in the closet. The closet would have anxiously nagged at me: If the leaders knew, would I lose my job? Being vulnerable with them in the early stages freed me from worry in the long-term. I am proud of my younger self for coming out in a challenging context, and I am grateful for the positive experience with my leadership. I know that many faithful, queer Christians have not had this grace and support from their church leaders.

In a recent moment of contemplating coming out in a public way, I read an entry in Henri Nouwen’s The Inner Voice of Love where he wrote about “hiding the treasure.” Although Nouwen was contextually describing privately nurturing the treasure of God’s love, I heard in Nouwen’s words the wisdom of continuing to let my sexuality be “hidden.” I had a lightbulb moment that being “hidden” is not the same as “hiding.” Actively hiding my sexuality involves fear and shame. Letting my sexuality be hidden to the public empowers me to choose when and how I talk about my sexuality. While He may lead me to come out publicly later on in life, for now strangers do not need to know about my sexuality. Though I am not in control of what might be said about me by people who hear about my experience, not being publicly out is a way for me to have ownership of this part of my life. My sexuality is a place of vulnerability with God, first and foremost. Being “hidden” is a way for me to protect this secret place.

Walking it Out

If I could go back in time, I would talk to younger me about the expectations I had in my various coming out conversations. What are the motives and reasons behind me sharing this information with this person? An unspoken expectation I had in my early experiences was that I hoped the other person would disciple me and walk with me in the realm of my attractions. Upon the subsequent feelings of frustration when those people never had a follow-up conversation, I had to adjust my expectations and also find relationships that were able to hold the weight of long-term discipleship. Though those relationships were not established overnight, my support net is wide and strong. The relationships include the person I live with, a mentor I meet with monthly, and an online Revoice group. Once those relationships were in place, coming out was no longer a desperate need. At the same time, these relationships provide safety and security if the broader community were to find out about my sexuality and respond negatively. The faithfulness of these relationships remind me that these are the people who have my back.

I would also tell younger me that there is a spectrum of vulnerability in coming out. Not everyone I come out to needs to know the same amount of details. On one end of the spectrum, most people know generally that I am bisexual. On the other end of the spectrum, a few people are the ones I share everything with. And there are many people that fall between those ends! You can be honest with people without having to be transparent about everything.

Coming Out: Still a Question, but Not so Scary

Over the years since that initial panicky email to my therapist and subsequent Easter conversation with my friend, I recognize the valid desire for my queer sexuality to be known and handled with care and respect. My sexuality does not need to be known by everyone, because some people do not know how to hold these vulnerable parts with care and respect. In not being fully out, I accept the limitation that there are some contexts and relationships where I don’t talk about my sexuality. As frustrating as those limitations can sometimes be, they remind me that there is more to me than sexuality. With the many relationships where I am out, I have the freedom to talk about this part of myself.

At first, coming out—to myself, to my therapist, to my friend—was following God into the unknown, no longer living in denial about these patterns. God was inviting me to take a hard look in the mirror and be honest. Following Jesus meant sharing about this others: as I was letting others in on my bisexuality, so I was letting Jesus in. Flash forward to the present: following Jesus is not so much about coming out to new people but is more about being honest with people I’m already out to, about the ways I’m experiencing my queerness. Jesus is inviting me to a deeper level of honest vulnerability about the grief, the crushes, and even the joys of being bisexual.

As I worked on this post, I reread journal entries from those early months of grappling with my sexuality. One of the entries was a prayer: “God, make my chief desire be to glorify you. May my singleness point to you. May my non-straight attractions somehow glorify you.” Minutes after reading these words from 2022, I received a text from a peer from grad school, asking if they could connect me with a current student who is navigating her same-sex attraction while getting her degree. It was not even a question for me! Of course my friend could give her my number! I am happy to help other people know they can do this, that these difficulties are not difficult for Jesus. Younger me could not see the road in front her. Everything was scary, every instance of coming out was scary. Current me is so grateful that I followed Jesus on this straight and narrow road (pun intended) of coming out, and I continue to follow his lead in navigating the discernment questions for future coming out conversations.

I do not believe every queer person needs to be out publicly. I believe it is wise for some of us to be “hidden.” I also believe that for God to work within the realm of our sexualities, each of us must come out to some people. To stay isolated is to make yourself an easy target for shame and temptation. God does not want us to bear our burdens alone, and finding the people who can share these burdens is crucial. Find the people who exhibit compassion towards others, humility when tough topics come up, and a willingness to be vulnerable about their own weaknesses. They don’t need to be super informed about sexuality, though that often helps. But, in my opinion, they should have a proven track record of the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and the qualities of love (1 Corinthians 13). These are the people who are likely to hold your story well. Jesus loves to care for us through His body – the Church. Let yourself be known, but remember that not everyone needs to know.