The Catholic Struggle Against Same-Sex Attraction

All Catholics are called to chastity in their state of life. I know how hard that is as a straight male. I cannot even begin to imagine the difficulty for someone who suffers from SSA.

From One Peter Five

By "Henry Williams"

I am no longer Catholic

It was one of the hardest phone calls of my life. A day that I had predicted would come years ago, but always hoped and prayed that I was wrong.

“I don’t have control over anything right now. This is the one thing that I can control.”

Liam and I had first met in 2017 at a Courage meeting. We recognized one another from passing each other at our local TLM, but it was the first time we had spoken to each other. It was a bit of a comfort to know that someone else who loved the Traditional Mass was in the same boat as myself: we both experienced same sex attractions (SSA), and we had both returned to the faith of our youth in recent years, turning away from shameful lives and trying to live for Christ. I was a bit more outspoken about my past. Liam was far more reserved. Myself and one other person in our friend group (who also experienced SSA) were the only ones who knew his secret.

For years, I was the late night phone call, I was the shoulder to cry on, I was the support in the hardest times for Liam, all while trying to figure things out for myself in a confusing world and a confusing church with a confusing pope. 

There were, however, some great moments, some incredible memories, some victories. One that will stick with me is the time that I gathered a bunch of guys together to stand outside of our local pride festival to pray and converse with attendees. We offered them bottled water, and started deep conversations. I printed out a bunch of copies of the Litany of the Sacred Heart. We prayed it with people. We talked to them about their experiences with faith. I believe we may have opened some hearts in those conversations, but we will only know in Heaven. On Saturday, I brought a bunch of guys from my Bible study group. They were all very nervous going into it, as was I, but by the end, I think everyone understood a little better the misery these poor people live in on a daily basis. I know some of these men still today pray in a special way for these “prideful” souls as a result of this experience. And these people certainly need a lot of prayer.

On the Sunday, it was myself, Liam, and my dear seminarian friend Joseph. Compared to the nervousness of the previous day, Liam was ready to encounter these souls and bring them the good news of Jesus Christ, and the love offered to them in His Sacred Heart. That day, Liam was also able to tell Joseph about his own experience. It was an inspiring and therapeutic experience for everyone. I will never forget the enthusiasm Liam had that day.

When Liam wanted to pursue further studies out of town to advance his career, he was equally determined. Knowing the delicate state of Liam’s heart, I admonished him to reconsider. I knew that if he left, he would subject himself to a loneliness that he feared more than anything. I predicted that by the time the program was complete, he would lose the faith and return to the gay lifestyle. He was undeterred by my warnings, saying that he knew he had to do this, and besides, his support team was only a phone call away.

Several years later, Laim seemed fine. He seemed, in fact, to be on an upward trajectory to many on the outside. He was in a relationship with a woman. He smiled so big. He had completed his studies. But the warning signs began to appear. Supporting him became very difficult. I dreaded the phone calls as they became more and more frequent. I often didn’t know how to counsel him as I got more and more pushback on the advice I was giving.

In the fall that year, I knew the phone call was coming. I knew the relationship with his girlfriend was not all that it seemed to be to those on the outside. With significant medical issues in his family, moving once again to a different town to do further training, and many cracks in the relationship, I knew it was only a matter of time.

A friend had warned me earlier in the day that the call was coming. I had already cried many tears, offered so many Hail Marys, and many more would come.

“I don’t have control over anything right now. This is the one thing that I can control. I am no longer Catholic. I am going to have a boyfriend and be happy. I can no longer accept the sentence of loneliness in this life.”

In the conversations that surround SSA in the Church, we often hear or say things like “we are all called to chastity in the same way.” Indeed we are, but the burden of that chastity can fall differently on different people. For those who experience deep-seated SSA but also accept the truth of the natural law, the yoke of chastity can at times feel like staring into a black hole. Some of us will marry women and have families, but a great many won’t be able to. We fast forward in our heads to the day where a close friend gets married, and the tears that we cry on that day are truly bittersweet as we hand over one of our greatest treasures to his bride. We see the future where all of those that we rely on presently are carrying a child in each arm, and they cannot give a moment’s thought to us. We see ourselves in old age, laying in a hospital bed, with no one by our side except sterile medical personnel. We see a Requiem where few will mourn our departure from this world. We see these things and feel the yoke of chastity to be nearly impossible to carry.

When I brought my friends to this pride event, I made it clear in my pep talk that taking June as Pride Month is indeed a diabolical attack on Our Blessed Lord and His Sacred Heart. The call came from Satan himself to co-opt this month and dedicate it to these shameful things. But I also made it clear that Our Blessed Lord, in His Divine Providence, took what Satan made for evil, and gave the homosexual and the gender-confused soul the very medicine that he needs to heal his soul in this month: devotion to the Sacred Heart.

For what Heart can better understand the depth of sorrow that the souls afflicted by these maladies experience than the Heart that was pierced and bled for our sins? What Heart knows loneliness more than the Heart that cried from the cross, “Deus, Deus meus, respice in me: quare me dereliquisti?” And is our God not close to the broken hearted? Will He whose side was pierced by St. Longinus abandon the soul that cries and wails for His aid? Indeed not! But we find ourselves so often shunning His aid, running away from our Lover as He cries for us to return to His loving embrace. We lose faith in He who moves the mountains with a simple word. We place our trust in feeble men to give our pathetic lives meaning, and we pretend to be shocked when they fail. But God does not fail, He is incapable of it! But the soul that seeks Him and finds Him, the soul who finds his own heart captivated by the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ has a faithful Lover indeed who shares with us His Divine Life not always by ecstasies and enduring peace of soul, but also by trial and the cross.

We often hear about taking up our cross and following Christ, that the cross is the way to salvation. It took me years to understand what this means in my life, how to invite Jesus to be in the midst of my loneliness and pain, and I am still learning more everyday what this means for my life. This June, pray fervently the Litany of the Sacred Heart for all those affected by SSA and gender dysphoria.