Embracing Spirituality Beyond Religion
The golden days
I grew up in the Lutheran church — Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Pemberville, Ohio, to be exact, from 1994 to 2015 — 21 years.
I have so many great memories here. From the Sunday morning routine, trying to rush out of the house to make it to the early 8:00 am service and always running 5-7 minutes late, shuffling in the back door to find the most open pew for our family of four as the old ladies in the front would give us the stink eye and we’d respond with the “bless your heart” light smile…
to my mom teaching Sunday school in-between services…
to listening to the off-key congregation sing the most beautiful hymns…
to trying not to fall asleep during the pastor’s far-too-long sermons…
to trying to make eye-contact with my friends across the sanctuary…
to trying not to laugh while my sister and I made jokes to each other.
When I take a look back at my childhood, this was one of the four buildings I spent the most time in — the other’s being my house, my grandparent’s house, and my elementary school.
I remember being so inspired here. I remember the way the music hit me was like a beacon to my soul. There’d be plenty of times where I’d start crying, overwhelmed by emotion at the sound I was hearing, like it was angels speaking to me. The summer sun would pierce through the massive stained-glass windows (something the church was known for), and I’d feel safe, connected, and loved, especially surrounded by my family.
My church was my safe haven for years.
The complex days
As I started realizing I was gay (which, ironically, happened within the church building — I learned I was gay when I found myself crushing over a boy in my preschool class, and my preschool was church-led), that feeling of safety started getting mixed.
The church slowly became more political, and as I entered into middle school and became more aware of my surroundings, I began to learn the church-goers beliefs about “people like me.” They’d talk about the abominations that gay people are. They’d mention how gay people are wrong and don’t deserve to live. They’d talk about how gay people are immoral sinners who are going straight to hell.
Going to church became more complex, and I grew more reserved and hesitant. I began to feel conflicted feelings during the services — I’d still feel the safety and love from the hymns, and in my heart, I still felt loved and welcomed by the presence of God that I’d feel within the building, but I’d look around to see the looks of the congregation who seemingly appeared to silently say, “we know about you, Kevin. We know the secret you’re hiding.”
The older I grew and the more I continued to attend church, I’d take note of who was talking about gay people and who was making which comments. In my head, I’d mark them as a “safe” or “unsafe” person so I knew how to interact while in their presence. Even though I wasn’t out yet and had no intention to be, I still felt like I was walking around the congregation with a massive blinking red light that screamed “FAGGOT,” so I did all that I could do to protect myself. And this protection looked like keeping an eye out for who was safe and who was not.
This caused a major side effect though — one that I didn’t discover until adulthood.
I became a huge people-pleaser.
At that time, I learned that if I’d make everybody happy in their own individualized way they were needing at that time, that’d keep them quiet and it’d keep them from potentially talking about me in a negative way. Or, they’d be less likely to talk about me behind my back and talk about my sexuality (Lutherans in our church loved to talk behind each other’s backs).
For years, this worked. And if I didn’t come out on my own, I’d venture to guess that this approach was going to continue to work.
In the years since I’ve left religion (coming on 10 years), the lessons I’ve learned have continued to follow me, both the beneficial and the unhelpful.
The beneficial:
Belief in the goodness of humanity.
Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Everything happens for a reason.
Spirituality — being part of something larger than myself.
Purpose.
Love.
The unhelpful:
People-pleasing — to a fault of keeping myself quiet.
Shame.
Modesty.
At times, self-hatred.
It’s been a while since I’ve realized the impact religion has had on me, but over the past few days, it’s really been hitting me.
I recently turned 30, and that has me in a self-reflective headspace. I’ve been thinking over “what do I want for my life? Where am I heading? What goals do I have? What am I living for?” and naturally, these questions align with a self-explorative mindset — even further, an existential one. Being raised religiously, existential questioning goes hand-in-hand with faith, so it’s no wonder religion has been on mind more lately.
Even more, I’m doing a lot of deep diving work with my business coaches, and I’ve made some powerful realizations within myself. These big awakenings are brushing up against my childhood beliefs, and I’m needing to go back to my core foundations to spend some kind quiet time with my childhood self and begin to let go of what I’ve been holding onto that isn’t mine to clench.
My spirituality now
I’m not religious anymore, but I am spiritual.
I believe we are inextricably interconnected and part of a larger network that we might not be able to comprehend or fully understand as humans. I don’t know what’s operating it — if it’s God, if it’s many gods, if it’s energy, idk?
But what I do know is that each and every human life matters. Every single person is important, valuable, and loved. Our purpose on this planet is to love each other.
I believe that we are energy — and when we die, our energy gets transferred into its next form.
Sometimes I pray to God.
Sometimes I listen to hymns.
Sometimes I lean on the wisdoms and teachings of Buddha.
Sometimes I read tarot cards.
Every day I meditate.
For me, I currently find my deepest connection to spirituality in nature. When I go on my favorite hikes and I watch the sun set across the North Pacific Ocean, I’m reminded why I’m here on this planet at this point in time. When I was a child and I worked on the family farm, I’d find this reminder as I baled hay, harvested tomatoes, picked pumpkins, drove the tractor to town, and fed the cattle. I still remember after my Grandfather passed away, I saw him in the eyes of my favorite steer. I see my best friend from childhood who died in a plane crash in the stars when I look up to them each night (hi Joel).
I might not actively practice religion, and that’s because I have mixed feelings about it. I’m still spiritual, and I always will be, but I can’t align myself with a religious practice that has brought me (and millions of other LGBTQIA+ individuals) a mixed bag of hope, compassion, and deep dark trauma.
My work is spiritual healing
Much of the work that I do now is to help support other spiritual gay men through their wound-healing by embracing sexual confidence, body positivity, relationship empowerment, self-acceptance, and self-love.
The religion I grew up in taught me that modesty is pure in the eyes of the Lord. So, each time I share a shirtless picture, I'm redefining that lesson. Instead, I'm embracing the psychological understanding that healthy pride in oneself and one's actions can foster self-confidence and inspire others to do the same for themselves.
The religion I grew up in taught me that marriage is between a man and a woman. So, each time I talk with my partner, give him a kiss, send him a text message, or tell him “I love him,” I’m redefining that lesson. Further, since we are in a polyamorous relationship, I’m rewriting that message even more. Instead, I’m embracing the psychological understanding that love has the potential to take many forms, and that there is no one correct way to “do relationships” as long as everyone within the relationship structure is in agreement with how that relationship looks.
The religion I grew up in taught me that divorce is not okay. So, each time I continue to take a breath, I’m rewriting that lesson. Instead, I’m embracing the psychological understanding that abusive, harmful, and toxic relationships are unhealthy and should not be continued or maintained if the individual has the opportunity to leave.
The religion I grew up in taught me that sex outside of marriage is not okay, sex outside of procreation is not okay, and sex between men is definitely not okay. So, each time I explore my sexuality by masturbating, having sex with my partner, ethically sexting, and having sex with others, I’m rewriting those religious lessons. Instead, I’m now embracing the psychological understanding that sex is a function of human behavior and that sex can hold a number of different purposes — it can be a tool for emotional self-regulation and stress management, it can be a tool for relational growth and stimulation, it can be a tool for pleasure, it can be a tool for connection, and it can also be simply fun because humans experience hormones that can cause us to be horny and flooded with biological stimulation.
Moving forward
I don’t hold any resentment for religion, and I don’t judge anyone for their religious practices today. In fact, I celebrate it. If it’s helpful to them and their well-being, then go for it!
At the same time, there’s much healing that needs to be done for gay men who’ve been negatively impacted by religion and who now struggle with their body confidence, their sexual orientation and attractions, their sexual practices, their relationships, etc.
This is the specialization I take within my coaching work and why I love to do what I do. I love to help gay men heal through their unhelpful religious messaging to hold respect for the benefits that religion brought them while also letting go of and unlearning that harmful lessons that have impeded their life’s progress.
As I look across my lifespan, religious has stunted my growth. It’s kept me quiet, it’s kept me small, it’s kept me from making the impact I know I want to make and I know that I’m here to make. I’m grateful to have been awakened to this notion, and I’m honored to support other gay men in learning this for their own selves.
At the same time, it’s made me the man I am today, and that’s someone I love, even if it’s taken me some time to be able to say that.
I’m so grateful for my religious background and for the values, purpose, passion, and wisdom it’s instilled in me.
Yet, I’ve also realized the negative impact it’s had on me and countless others. And so, with the work that I do, I hope to help one person at a time compassionately let go of the messages that are no longer beneficial to them to replace them with ones that celebrate, honor, uplift, and support themselves, their relationships, and their well-being.
How I can help you
Course
If y’all are interested in support for your sexual empowerment, check out my Celebrating Sexuality Course.
This self-guided course takes you through a personal exploration of your sexual beliefs, sexual history, and current sexual mindset as we work to develop your sexual goals, desires, and interests moving forward.
Further, I teach skills of sexual self-care and sexual mindfulness and how these can enrich, enhance, and strengthen your personal sexual expression.
NSFW Content
The Backroom is a paid space where I share my personal sexual mindfulness exploration with you through pictures and videos.
Here, my intention is to provide you with an example of what healthy sexual expression can look like, especially from the lens of healing from religious backgrounds and upbringings.
Coaching Sessions
If you’re interested in individualized support, I gotchu.
Through my coaching work, I specialize in helping gay men move from sexual anxiety to sexual confidence, and I also specialize in helping couples navigate the stressors of open relationships.
My coaching sessions are 45-minutes each, are held virtually, are open to anyone around the world, and you can schedule online here.
Let me know how I can be of support to you. If you have any questions or concerns, send me an email any time. I’ll respond as quickly as I can.
Thank you for being here, and I can’t wait to see how you continue to grow through the beautiful challenges life has bestowed upon you. In case no one has told you today, I’m so proud of you.
I love you.
All my best,
Kevin