Last week, PARSE highlighted an important story from Aidyn Sevilla—a gay Christian in a straight marriage, asking what discipleship looks like for him. Today, we share a response from Aidyn's wife Joy, who has had a difficult path of her own to walk. I hope that read together, their stories impact your heart as redemptively as they have my own, and prompt you to consider implications for your ministry.
I'll say again: open cultural conversations about sexuality highlight our need to listen well, walk humbly, and skillfully navigate complex stories. Leaders—how good are you at joining a fellow disciple in the tensions of real life? -Paul
When I was asked to share my experience being married to my husband, I wrestled, agonized, and eventually created a raw narrative of my journey through the past year. This piece isn't it, but I read it to my husband—invited him in, something I'd rarely done. He graciously accepted my words and encouraged me to think about what I wanted to communicate more than anything. "Hope," I said. "There's hope for us, for others, for the world." This is the story of where we found hope.
Cries for help
During the past year, I became aware of the true state of my husband's heart and desires. I'd always known he was sexually attracted to men. Now, he was deeply struggling, floundering, being tempted on every side to leave our marriage. I was hurt and angry. I was also pregnant with our first child. What a difficult time it must have been for him—adjusting to so many new uncertainties. Our relationship was changing.
We talked mostly about the baby, about the birth, about names. My body was changing; I was tired and working full-time. We rarely had sex, and when we did, it tended to be awkward.
After our son was born, he told me he needed to have his needs met—asked me if he could start a relationship with a man. Would I be open to that? I was devastated. With as much love as I could muster, I said no. All I heard was lust and sin. I didn't hear his cry for help.
A still, small voice whispered: Pray for him. I had no idea how to pray for him. I didn't want to pray for him.
Perusing our bookshelf, my gaze landed upon The Power of a Praying Wife, by Stormie Omartian, a bridal shower gift. I sighed. It's pink and it has flowers on it. I remembered thinking that when I received it, too. This is going to be fluffy but I'll give it a whirl.
I was floored. The author shared her marital struggles and scripture-filled prayers. I'd never prayed scripture, but it seemed so nourishing. Her stories were filled with hope, repentance, and healing—her marriage of 40 years was flourishing! Pray, she admonished, and watch the Lord change your marriage! Pray and watch your husband's heart change!
I couldn't see my husband changing, but sensed that I was. I was opening my heart to the Lord, binding the wounds with prayer. I reached out to a Christian counselor for help. I wanted God to change my husband. I didn't realize God needed to change me first.
Repenting, renewing
I'm self-centered—I like to blame it on being an only child. Really, it's because I'm a sinner. Despite going to church my whole life, asking Jesus to be my Savior when I was very young (which I do believe was legitimate), the reality of my innate struggle with God for control of my life was never brought to light until this point.
The counselor suggested a book: How to Act Right When Your Spouse Acts Wrong by Leslie Vernick. Deceptively titled—it should have been: How the Lord Wants to Use Your Difficult Marriage to Make You More like Christ.
I had never been challenged to view suffering and hardship in my marriage as a gift from God to grow me into Christ-likeness.
Ann Voskamp, in One Thousand Gifts, suggests that every moment is a gift, every good thing and every . . . not so good thing. Every hard, dark, seemingly evil thing is not evil to God, but a birthing of new life. Not a new life away from my husband, but a new life in Christ, living with my husband.
Among my weekly counseling assignments was the challenge to write my own prayers in response to the book chapters. The gift of channeling my hurt and giving it away.
As I turned the pages of my wounded soul, I realized I didn't truly want my husband to worship God. I wanted him to worship me. I wanted, needed, his love—unadulterated and unhindered. I wasn't getting that, so I felt threatened.
I've come to appreciate the word "idolatry." In Christendom it alludes to the over-desiring of someone or something above God. I had made my husband an idol by desiring his love more than God's. I sensed that still, small voice of the Spirit saying, You are wrong. Repent. Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
I began to understand my natural inclinations to withdraw from conflict or lash out in frustration. I couldn't just hear my husband or his needs. He couldn't trust me. Repent and be transformed.
I was challenged to keep a list of things I appreciated about my husband. This was difficult. Can I write the same thing every week? What if I can only think of one thing? Can I write it seven times? I wasn't thinking well of my husband at all. Repent and be transformed. As I faithfully sought the good things, I found them. This helped me choose joy, peace, love and gratitude in our relationship.
I was reminded that my husband is not my enemy. The Bible calls the Christian's true enemy the deceiver, the father of lies, and a prowling lion seeking those he can devour. He sought to destroy my marriage by planting seeds of fear, bitterness, doubt, secrecy, and self-righteousness. As long as my husband was my enemy, I was forced to bear their fruit. Repent and be transformed.
My sense of control shattered. I knew I couldn't control my husband. I'd never realized I wanted to control God. My heart still beat for what I wanted: a perfect, peaceful marriage, family, and complete fulfillment. I wanted God to change my husband for myself. I had to answer God's questions. Child, what about what I'm doing? Will you still trust me even if your marriage never changes? Will you repent and be transformed by the renewing of your mind?
Eventually, I discovered the gift: restored communion with God Himself. Hope in suffering, joy in trials, calm in the storm. I have relationship with the Creator of the universe through repentance and faith in the crucified and risen Christ. He knows and loves me. My only identity is in Him. I need nothing more. I can accept my husband where he is because I don't need anything from him. I can give him everything because I've been given everything.
Would I be satisfied in God? If everything fell apart, would I be satisfied knowing that God is good, even when I am not? Yes, my heart breathed with a long and ragged exhale. Then repent and be transformed.
I feel like I'm born again. Isn't that what Christians say? I think back to the night our son was born—everyone slept, I labored. My husband supported my weight for hours. His strength created a space for the birth of our son, quietly reassuring me. Inside, my body retched. Inside, I knew this was good work and submitted to it. Our son was born peacefully, from darkness into light.
I often reflect on this, as I answer questions about our marriage. People ask me why I married my husband if I knew that he was attracted to men. My answer is: I loved him.
I still love him. He is my best friend and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. We both seek to walk in the light. He desires to love and follow Jesus Christ. My rebirth has supported his, showing him by example that God can change anyone, even a sinner like me. He is encouraged, challenged, and seeks redemption. Our marriage is not unique. In many ways, we're very traditional. We are one man and one woman, with one child and hope to have more. We have sex, but not as often as we'd like. My husband works outside the home and I work at home raising our son. We grocery shop, go out for coffee dates, and take our son to the park.
I've heard the term "mixed-orientation marriage" used to describe us, but I disagree with that. I prefer "sin-oriented marriage" because that's what we have. We're sinners, both of us, forgiven with the hope of redemption.
We're two people who love each other and are committed to staying together. We disagree and work it out—even if we still don't agree. We hug it out. We submit to each other and seek to fulfill each other's needs. We dance in the living room. We love Jesus and want to see Him glorified in our lives.
When our son is mature enough to understand, we'll share our stories and explain that everyone's sexuality is broken in different ways. God can redeem anyone.
The hope of thorns
I use the word "sin" a lot. As I read scripture, I understand it to mean both the actions we do and the intentions of our hearts that are out of line with the revealed nature of God. Do I believe same-sex attraction is sin? I don't know yet, but I know that what one does with it might be.
This, I confess, is far too encompassing to entirely grasp—but I can't ignore it. We're blessed with a church community to walk with us. Our elders, pastors, and friends persist in prayer and dialogue with us, to know how to love, support, and understand us.
They are learning with us and welcome us in fellowship. We gather weekly with several families and singles to eat, pray, and study the Word. I meet with two dear sisters for discipleship, prayer, and life-sharing. The women I surround myself with I invite to teach and admonish me. How to love and serve my husband and family, how to speak of the Savior and love His Word—these are things I glean from our times together.
I am encouraged by writers like Rosaria Champagne Butterfield and Daniel Mattson, author of the Letters to Christopher blog. They invite readers into their experiences with same-sex attraction with unashamed grace.
In everything, I try to remember we all have a struggle—a "thorn in the flesh," as St. Paul calls it. Maybe God's given victory over it, maybe not yet, maybe never. When I meet a brother or sister who struggles with something monumental, perhaps even disgusting to me, I remember my own thorn, how real and penetrating it is, and it gives me hope.
In all things grace,
Joy Sevilla
Joy Sevilla is a servant of Jesus Christ, wife to one and mama to one. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family where she makes music, supports pregnant mamas, and learns to love all things that grow.
