Trust in the lord with all your heart and
lean not on your own understanding.
(Proverbs 3:5)
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Double Exposure
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-- Susie
Gen 3:8 And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden
in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the
presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.
The garden is where it all began -- the first 'cover up.' And it was a
husband and wife 'duo' at that! But I'm not here to point a finger of
judgment in the direction of our first parents. I know all about
hiding. I was involved in a masterful 'cover up' for over 20 years.
The pattern began even before Jay and I were married. Some months
prior to our official engagement, when he told me that he had been
troubled by transgender tendencies, I covered up the fact that I had
no idea what he was talking about. I was 19 years old and very naive;
I have never heard the term "transgender." His tone was serious, so I
responded accordingly with an innocuous "Oh, you have." He assured me
that he was getting counseling with the campus psychologist, and that
it was nothing to be concerned about.
Later that night, back in my dorm room, I looked up the word in the
dictionary. I was dumbfounded! He must have had a 'mild dose' of it
somewhere back in his childhood, because he was as masculine as they
come, with no hint of effeminacy in his stature or mannerisms. (The
first time I saw him in swimming trunks, I secretly admired the dark
curly hair on his chest.)
We had been talking about marriage, so that in it self obviously ruled
out any current problems. This 'condition' had to be totally
incompatible with marriage. [Unknown to me, Jay believed that entering
into marriage would finally rid him of every vestige of this problem
that had plagued him throughout his life.]
Then one day, some months later, we were out for a ride, trying to
find some privacy away from the small Christian college campus we were
attending and the all-seeing eyes of the Dean of Students. As I cozied
up next to Jay (in the days before seat belts), I laid my hand on his
thigh. Then I felt it ... the outline of a garter! My hand froze in
place and I looked up in shock and disbelief. He hurried to explain
that the psychologist had suggested this as part of his "therapy." I
felt repulsed at the imagery of this man I was falling in love with
wearing a girdle! I withdrew to my side of the car, and asked to be
taken back to the campus. I was confused and scared, but I dared not
share my discovery with anyone.
Why didn't I consult the campus counselor? Why didn't Jay and I go
together to talk to our pastor? He was a loving, openhearted man who
would have responded with compassion. Why? Because exposure was too
frightening a prospect. It might have jeopardized Jay's student
standing at the college. And, after all, wasn't God sufficient to take
care of all our problems? Why share this with others and put a 'blot'
on Jay's reputation?
We'd work it out together.
Just we three.
Jay and God and me.
The pattern of the next 20 years was beginning to take shape.
Not long after this, Jay and I had a talk, and he assured me that he
would no longer use this "therapy" if it caused me such distress. I
felt somewhat relieved, yet still unsettled about the whole issue. But
I loved him and already had envisioned myself walking down the aisle
someday. And he had shared with me the call of God on his life for
ministry, maybe even on the mission field. I had also felt the tug of
missions on my heart. It seems that God had brought us together. So in
time the incident was put behind me, and I looked toward the future
with expectation and joy.
We were married a year later on July 15, 1970. The ceremony was all
I had envisioned it would be. As I walked down the aisle on my
father's arm, I knew that my Heavenly Father was in attendance,
joining the hearts and lives of two of his children in the bond of
marriage. I knew that He had plans and purposes for our life together.
They would unfold step by step, and hopefully take us to the mission
field one day.
If I had any hidden doubts before marriage regarding Jay's sexual
orientation, they were quickly dispelled in the days following our
wedding. He was aggressive and amorous in the marriage bed. I felt
loved and desired by this husband of my youth.
And then it happened.
One morning I opened the bathroom door just as he stepped out of the
shower. He grabbed a towel in an attempt to 'cover up,' but it was too
late. I had already seen. I stared at his chest. Where was the dark,
curly hair I loved? My eyes traveled to his arms, his legs. They, too,
were shaved clean. Shaved!? What was going on?
I looked into Jay's eyes. There was shame ... fear ... pain. "I can
explain," he stammered.
Then shock waves of reality began to hit. I remembered that day in the
car ... feeling the garter hidden beneath his trousers. It wasn't
over. It wasn't a thing of the past. I was here ... now ... staring me
in the face. I turned and stumbled out of the bathroom, closing the
door behind me, wishing I could close out the truth of what I had just
seen.
Fear siphoned off any anger that might have erupted. I was afraid for
Jay, afraid for me, afraid of what our future together held, afraid of
... exposure. What if someone found out about this? It could ruin our
lives and the lives of those we loved.
Later we talked together. He shared some of his struggles [only as
much as he felt I could handle at the time]. He assured me of his
love, and told me that I was the last person in the world that he
wanted to hurt. [How many times in the years to come would I hear
those same words. And each time I heard them, I would know that he
meant them, and hope for change would again be rekindled ... until the
next episode.] I assured Jay of my love and commitment. Together, with
God's help, we would work through this and find healing and freedom.
But we wouldn't le anyone else know about it. Remember the pattern?
We'd work it out together.
Just we three.
Jay and God and me.
The words of John 3:19,20 described our condition: This is the
verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead
of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates
the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds
will be exposed.
Even as I write, I see more clearly how I loved my own brand of
darkness even more than Jay did his. In the years to come, unknown to
me, he would expose his secret to those the thought might offer help
-- help to either adjust to it as "incurable" or help in escaping from
its clutches. In contract, I fled from every thought of exposure.
Only once (during our second year of marriage) did I expose our secret
to someone. It was the day I came home from work and found Jay "fully
dressed." This was the one and only time in all of our marriage that I
saw him like that. The horror, the repulsion, the anger, the terror,
the betrayal I felt at that moment was enough to send him out of the
house in a hasty retreat, and send me lurching to the phone, dialing
our minister, and with sobs, 'spilling my guts.'
But even as I talked, I made the pastor promise not to tell a soul,
and especially not to tell Jay I had called. He was sympathetic and
kind, but had no remedy to offer; and, having been sworn to secrecy,
could not violate my confidence by approaching Jay about getting help.
In the days and months that followed, I never called again, nor did he
ever approach me about it. And eventually we moved to another state.
As the years went by, the cost of exposure spiraled, until, for me, it
became unthinkable. What about our two children? What about Jay's
position in the church? What about our family and friends? What about
our "Christian witness" to unsaved relatives and acquaintances? What
about our marriage? How could it survive such "high treason" on my
part? Those were my conscious thoughts.
But now I know there was another question concealed in my heart: "What
about me?" I knew that revealing his secret even to a 'select few'
would be a double exposure. As his wife, I would share in the shame
and the disgrace. As much as I hated his sin, there was one thing I
hated more -- the exposure of it!
But there was a hidden cost [there always is with sin] that I had not
considered. It was the high price of keeping the secret. 1 John 1:6
says that If we claim to have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the
darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. In refusing to live by
the truth, I had become an accomplice -- defined by Webster as "one
associated with another in wrongdoing." In my complicity, I was
protecting the very thing that needed to be exposed.
By the time we moved in 1984, we had separated and our marriage was in
shambles. Someone has said that we are often moved to action not so
much be seeing the light as by feeling the heat! In our desperation,
we were finally ready to come out of hiding. In Ephesians 5:11-13,
Paul says, Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness,
but rather expose them, for it is shameful what the disobedient to in
secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is
the light that makes everything visible. In Romans 13:12, we read: The
night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside
[King James says "cast off"] the deeds of darkness and put on the
armor of light.
We were ready to break the old pattern of "working it out together,
just we three -- Jay and God and me." We knew that if real change was
going to occur, we had to begin walking in the light with members of
the Body of Christ. As we did this, God placed in our path people who
were willing to listen to our story, love us unconditionally, speak
the truth, and persevere with us on the rocky road to recovery. [Lest
it sound too idealistic, we also encountered some who just didn't
understand and recoiled, but this is to be expected. We were too
desperate to allow these experiences to deter us from getting the help
we needed.]
Today we are so grateful for what God has done in rescuing us "from
the dominion of darkness." But more than that, we have a deepening
appreciation for why He did. Was it just to put our marriage back
together and give us a 'happily-ever-after' life? As precious as that
is, it is much too short-sighted. According to 1 Peter 2:9, we are a
chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging
to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of
darkness into His wonderful light.
As in a kaleidoscope, it takes exposure to the light to turn the
broken pieces of glass into an endless variety of colorful patterns;
so, His ultimate intention is that our lives will reflect His glory
and bring praise to Him as we bring our brokenness "into His wonderful
light."
In this we see God's intended double exposure. The very things we were
ashamed of, when brought to the light and redeemed, compose the
message of hope and restoration we have to pass on to others.
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