How I Lost My Faith . XV - Off The Streets

The switch from hedonistic homosexual to anti-gay, moral Christian happened almost instantaneously; I embraced "The Truth" with a fervor.  I had no ties to the gay community in Denver, anyway—unlike D.C., where I'd left behind a number of really good friends—so it was easy to ignore those feelings and focus solely on remembering and gaining as much Bible knowledge as I could.

For the next several months, Ted and I studied as often as we could, especially publications about Bible prophecies; I was a sponge and eagerly soaked in everything I'd missed over the past four years and everything deep, deep Bible study would reveal.  After leaving the hotel, I was picked for a 30-day stay at the Catholic-run Samaritan Shelter, which got me off the streets for a while.  I specifically remember sitting at a desk there one day studying the All Scripture Is Inspired publication, a book-by-book in-depth study of the Bible, highlighting parts in yellow and orange.

At some point during my stay, some business representatives came by the shelter to talk to some of us about jobs.  There were two I found interesting: staffing a print/copy shop, and telemarketing for a carpet cleaner.  I almost took the former, but the latter promised more money faster, so I chose it, instead.  That turned out to be the wrong choice, as I discovered a couple of months later that the actual cleaners were scamming their customers by offering one price then, once at the home, adding 'this room' and 'that couch,' resulting in a bill over twice what they expected.  I witnessed this first-hand when I switched from the phones to the field, and I quit within a week of learning the truth about their business practices.

During that first month, however, I made enough to move out of the shelter into my own place, a dorm-like room in a converted house on Capitol Hill with weekly rentals.  It wasn’t the Taj Majal, but it was a place to sleep that was all my own.  I remember the landlady teaching me to play cut-throat acey-duecy backgammon; by the time I moved from there, we were quite evenly matched, and to this day I play very aggressively.

Finally, I was no longer homeless.  I had no car, but it didn't really matter.  Even if I'd had one, I couldn't have afforded the insurance, so I just relied on public transportation.  I remember riding the bus down Federal Boulevard one day in February and staring at the crisp, snow-covered mountains and being in awe of Jehovah's creation.  Back then, you could actually see the mountains perfectly, there being virtually no air pollution blocking your view.  Sadly, today that view is not so pristine; Denver has grown exponentially since the early 1980s, and with that growth came commensurate levels of smog, creating an ever-present brown cloud.  I miss those days.

This house had a common kitchen and bathrooms, but no refrigerator.  Fortunately, it was the dead of winter and my room was on the north side, so I would hang my perishable food out the window in a plastic bag to keep it cold.  In this way I could store milk, cheese and other items without spoiling.

While there, I met a young Witness couple and their baby who were also in survival mode, and we became instant friends.  We studied the Bible and Watchtower articles together, and relished in each others' spiritually-uplifting fellowship.  They were into furniture restoration; I remember a cane-back chair they were repairing for an antique shop.  

Not long after we met, Richard returned to Houston, determined to resume his Bible study with the older couple he'd talked about.  There was a pay-phone on the first floor of this house, so he and I were able to keep in touch.  Strangely, whenever I was down, depressed, unsure of myself and my resolve to be faithful to Jehovah, Richard would call me out of the blue on that pay-phone—and the exact opposite was also true: when he needed support, I would inevitably call him out of the blue and we'd talk for hours.  This went on for years, actually, whenever he would move to Houston or I back east (which occurred in 1986).  This bizarre connection between us convinced both of us that our meeting was Jehovah's will; that he'd brought us together so that we'd each have the support we needed to change who we really were so as to please Him.

After making the decision to serve Jehovah, there were a couple of loose ends that needed tidying up: my books on the occult, and my box of porn, which amounted to $300-worth of magazines. There were a couple of used-book stores in town that would buy them for resale, but doing that would simply be propagating an immoral lifestyle...so I threw them all in an alley-way dumpster and walked away from them for what I thought would be “for good.”

I continued to progress in my Bible study with Ted and was anxiously anticipating enrolling in the weekly Theocratic Ministry School, where students learn public speaking, reasoning from the Bible, and how to engage in the ministry of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I’d been to numerous meetings where the School was conducted during my teenage years, despite early opposition from my family, and knew that joining the school was a privilege, one that heretofore I had not earned. I wasn’t going to bars drinking or hooking up with other guys; I strove to not even think of those things. The only issue I had, that I really struggled with—that would prove to be my undoing—was masturbation.

For me, this unclean habit was the one thing preventing me from proving that I was finally “good enough” to join the School and put my talents to work for the congregation. Remember, for four years I’d been sated with sex and masturbated at least five times a day. This was not a habit that was going to go away as easily as swearing. If I could make it through a day only masturbating once, it was a monumental achievement. This habit was deeply ingrained, but I was resolved to overcome it.

One result of my upbringing was the nagging feeling that I was never good enough to please those in charge of my life, and would never be good enough for anyone, ever. It was this feeling that largely fueled my promiscuity in the early '80s; I wasn’t worth anything, anyway, so why the hell not? 

 

If these feelings were already present prior to my return to “the Truth,” can you imagine how I would feel if I could not overcome this one habit of self-abuse? Is my faith in prayer and holy spirit strong enough to overcome fleshly thoughts and actions? Jehovah knew how badly I wanted this, and would give me the strength I knew I didn’t have—I just couldn’t keep my hands to myself, so-to-speak. 

 

I placed everything I had, all my hope and resolve into this one thing: overcoming masturbation. Everything hinged on proving that I could do this, that I could stop this one habit that served as a constant reminder of the past I so desperately wanted to leave behind.

I fought like hell for weeks, until finally I managed to go two weeks straight with no setbacks. For two weeks, I fought the urge to play with myself, praying constantly, tearfully each time I became aroused until the urge went away, or reading the Bible out loud.  I would even wake up in the middle of the night to find myself already “engaged” and would force myself to stop, praying until I went back to sleep.  It was, quite literally, the most difficult thing I’d ever done, and I was so proud of myself for a change; two weeks for me was synonymous with ascending the peak of Mount Everest! I was anxious to share my success with Ted, and perhaps discuss my desire to finally join the Theocratic Ministry School.  Didn’t this prove that I was able to control my desires and rely on Jehovah to help me overcome sin?

Ted arranged a discussion with me and another elder after the meeting one day, and I remember feeling the best I had in a long time, and really enjoying the meeting. This was my day! Surely they’ll see how hard I’m working to do what’s right and let me join the School, the first step on my way to the baptism pool! 

 

Surely...