You can’t imagine what it must have been like for me as a child, knowing I was different, unable to articulate how I was different, yet different nonetheless. This was made even worse at church, where hellfire and brimstone could get you and you could burn for all eternity.  

I think the following quote encapsulates my experience at church very well.

“The church was everything: our social engagements, Sunday morning, Sunday evening. 

Wednesday night was the hour of power.  We had Bible study on certain days. Saturday afternoon was choir practice.  I wanted desperately to be a good Christian.  You had to have grown up in the church like I did to realize 

how dark it is to be a kid and be told that God hates you, or that there's something wrong with you."

— Leslie Allen Jordan

Yes, this, from the good christians of Citronelle, Alabama and that of every other religion in every little country town and big city all over the world.  Just like Leslie Allen Jordan, “I grew up in the Baptist church and, honey, they baptized me about 14 times…  It never did take.”  

He went on to say, “I firmly believe that God made me this way.  I'm not a mistake.  This is not my cross to bear.  It's part of what I am and I want to celebrate that, but when you grow up and you're just so scared…”  

Leslie didn’t finish that sentence, but let me tell you something, hearing that God hates you or that something is wrong with you and that you will burn in a lake of fire from the leaders of the church, people you liked, even loved, looked up to, and respected, makes a huge impression on a small child.  This isn’t, “Be good, or you’ll get a lump of coal in your stocking from Santy Claus.” It’s the fucking flames of Hell.  That fear is real, and it’s abuse to scare and scar a child like that.  Y’all remember that!  Ya hear?  Can I get an Amen?

It is for this reason, and many others, I’m not a very religious person.  The level of hypocrisy I witnessed growing up was more than enough to turn me off of religion. I do feel the spirit move me from time to time, particularly when I feel I am one with nature.  It is then, I can’t help but know there is a God.  I can’t, however, in good conscience believe in or support any organized religion, and honestly, I’m skeptical, at best.  

We were all raised in different homes with different traditions.  We attended different churches, synagogues, temples, and or mosques with differing beliefs. What we learn in our formative years will inform our choices and beliefs in adulthood.  There’s no escaping it really.  However, when one questions that tradition, it leads to a sort of enlightenment of its own.  Perhaps I should let the song “Save Us All” speak for me, because it says what I’ve been thinking for some time now.

I've heard that your God's older: Buddha, Allah, Krishna.

Manifest with many faces, worshipped the world over in foreign places.

I assume your God must love you.

I know Jesus loves me and my God is good and great and true.

But if pride goeth before the fall, I hope someone's God will save us all.

Save us all, and love the sinners too.

—Tracy Chapman (from her eighth studio album “Our Bright Future” in 2008)

While I was raised in the Southern Baptist tradition.  I was taught that Jesus loves me. As an adult, I’ve also studied several of the world’s major religions and they all have this one thing in common:  Put very, very simply… There is good and there is bad.  Choose the good!  If you choose badly, well, next time choose the good!  It’s simple and it’s not hard to get on board with that.  It’s what I believe and how I approach life.  I too think “But if pride goeth before the fall, I hope someone's God will save us all.”  Because 70% of the known world can’t be going hell just because they aren’t Christian.  “Save us all, and love the sinners too.”  

I have faults, but who doesn’t?  I strive to be good, do good, and choose good.  I believe in kindness. My chosen profession allows me to serve others, I donate of my time and resources to those in need and to organizations that serve those in need.  I genuinely try to do the right thing by my friends, neighbors, and strangers on the street.  

I also believe that, if there is a Hell, it’s here on earth.  I’ve been subjected to it and made to walk through it.  Heaven is here on earth as well.  I’ve got a little slice of it right now.  Life is what you make of it.

Before you go go trying to pray the gay away or start praying for my mortal soul, you’re too late.  My parents already prayed long and hard enough and they and God came to terms with me being gay years ago.  God knows that being gay is as natural as being left-handed.  There was a time not long ago, folks were persecuted for being left-handed too.  Things change, it just takes time and tolerance.

"There are two or three ways to combat homophobia - one is through humor. The second is to put a face on it.”  

— Leslie Allen Jordan

Given the content, I’ve done my best to make this post entertaining and humorous as best I can, As for the face, the face is mine, and if you know me you know that the Right Reverend Glenn L. Vernon and Sister Sylvia Vernon, my dad and mum, raised me to be God-fearing, polite, respectful, and a Southern Gentleman with the stiff upper lip of an Englishman. While I’ve certainly got the fortitude of the British, I’ve never quite understood the stoicism of the upper lip, and find that my face will betray me more times than not. So other than that, and fearing a God that is supposed to love me, I got the rest of what they taught me down pretty well.  

Part of being a gentleman, Southern or any other persuasion, is knowing when to speak up for those whose voice is not always heard or when it’s impossible for them to speak for themselves.   I’ve also learned that there are times one must say what needs to be said.  Because If I don’t speak up for myself, who will?  When those who are persecuted do not stand up for themselves, take pride in themselves, celebrate themselves as individuals and as a community, how can they ever expect to be heard or to affect change in the world?  Sometimes this means calling someone out when they say something hurtful or ugly.  Sometimes it means calling out intolerance when it rears its ugly head.  All of the time, it means doing what I feel is right without regard to what people will think of me.  This is such a time.  

By their actions, in most cases, my parents taught me to be curious, adventurous, kind, thoughtful, giving, and most importantly, tolerant of people, places, and things that are different in the world around me.  Indeed, they taught me how tolerance can lead to acceptance, understanding, and celebration of those differences. And while they never quite got through that entire process with me, given time, I believe they could have not only understood me, but celebrated my life with me.  Moreover, if you really know me, you know that underneath my 6’6” tall and extra large exterior, I’m a big teddy bear with an even bigger heart. I have good intentions, and if you’re my friend, and you have the ability to entertain and respect the differences you see in the world, you’ve got a friend for life.  

I guess I say all of this because I want you to feel reassured that the only thing that being gay changes about my upbringing and my character is that I can host both Southerners and Brits with ease, knowing how each will take their tea (Iced and hot respectively) and the appropriate vessel in which to serve them.  Now … Sweet or unsweet?  One lump, or two?