Related articles and links |  1 of 3

Angry. Curious. Guilty. That's how I felt after watching the preview of Brokeback Mountain, a movie about a homosexual love affair between Wyoming ranch hand Ennis Del Mar and rodeo cowboy Jack Twist.

Ennis, played by Heath Ledger, and Jack, by Jake Gyllenhaal, begin their affair as 19-year-old sheepherders one summer on Wyoming's Brokeback Mountain. Except for telling each other they aren't queer, Ennis and Jack never talk about their sexual involvement, and at the end of the summer, they part ways, marry, and become fathers. Later, they reunite and renew their secret homosexual relationship, which lasts for the next 20 years.

Ennis's wife, Alma, played by Michelle Williams, discovers that her husband and Jack are involved sexually and for years keeps it to herself for the sake of their two daughters. It isn't until she divorces Ennis that Alma tells him she has known all along. Ennis, afraid that others believe he is gay, progressively isolates himself emotionally from everyone but his two daughters and Jack. Eventually, Ennis meets a cute waitress who falls in love with him. Unable to respond to her love, he pushes her away and breaks her heart. Jack is killed a short time later, and Ennis is left with little more than memories of their relationship.

Perhaps if I had known what Brokeback Mountain was about, I would have reacted differently to its preview. During those five short minutes, I unexpectedly relived the bumper-car ride that had been my own secret struggle with homosexuality. That angered me. But I also identified with the bond between Ennis and Jack that seemed to defy who they really were. I, too, had known the forbidden fruit of a secret homosexual relationship when I was in my early 20s. It was a relationship driven by desires, feelings, and emotions I didn't understand or want. Yet they were there. Watching Ennis and Jack took me back to my own Brokeback Mountain, which made me curious to learn more about Jack and Ennis's relationship. That curiosity made me feel guilty. Fully aware of my past, I knew going to see Brokeback Mountain could be risky business.

I wish I could say that I prayed to get God's okay to see the movie, but I didn't. Against my better judgment and what the Lord may have thought, I went. I entered the theater one afternoon on a day I took off from work to go Christmas shopping. I hoped to avoid running into someone I knew. But there was one person I couldn't avoid—God. He knew I was there in the dark, buried in my seat. And I was about to learn in a new way just how far his grace can extend.

I became a Christian in 1966, during my sophomore year in college. Six years earlier, at the age of 14, I had been molested. It was then my homosexual feelings started. Ashamed of what happened, I told no one. During high school and college, I made plenty of friends, hung out with the jocks, and dated the prettiest girls. No one knew that I was secretly attracted to men.

After becoming a Christian, I got involved with Campus Crusade for Christ and had dreams of joining the ministry fulltime. It never happened. As I filled out the customary application, I stopped dead cold when I came to the last question: "Have you ever had homosexual tendencies? If so, please explain."

How could I do that? I didn't understand and couldn't articulate those feelings myself. Frustrated, hurt, and confused, I tore up the application and threw it in the garbage can, along with my dreams of serving the Lord through Campus Crusade. Right after that, I visited my own Brokeback Mountain.

next page... |  1 of 3

share this page

April 2006, Vol. 50, No. 4