Many years back, just a couple of years after we moved to KL, when I was 13-14, I had major fights with my parents on the subject of church. At that time, my SSAs haven’t come to full bloom yet, but I wanted to go to a church where I wouldn’t be “so-and-so’s son” or “that-person’s brother”, but as me.
I still do, actually.
My disillusionment with church revolve mainly around the fact that my family is actively involved in it. My older brothers are active in the music ministry, my father was once the head of cell leaders, and now a deacon, my mother was the superintendant of the children’s church, right under the children’s pastor. And church seemed like a chore, more than anything else.
I tried to get involve. I tried to learn the drums, but instead the music coordinator said, “Hey, your brother is really good at the drums, you are better off learning from him!” Uh huh, when he teaches me (or shows any act of kindness for that matter), cows would fly and astronomers would declare the moon is indeed made out of blue cheese. So I wanted to learn the chords of a song I really like, I still remembered the title, “Church on Fire”. I asked. “Oh, your (other) brother knows the chords, ask him”. I’m better off asking the wall - I’ll get better answers.
Wanted to quit the children’s ministry? “Ask the person who forced you into this, a.k.a. your mom”. Ask her, she’ll ask me to ask the children’s pastor again. It is an endless cycle. My first gay experience, well-planned for weeks, happen mere hours after I taught a children’s church class, two days before my 18th birthday (I told Try it was one day prior, but I remembered wrongly, it was definitely a Sunday, my 18th birthday fell on a Tuesday).
And I can’t turn to church - anyone in church - from the countless youth pastors that held the post to any elder. Why? In my very Asian family, you simply don’t wash dirty linen in public.
I once almost told my ex-pastor from my old town at a youth conference here my struggles. Almost. Couldn’t. That pastor and my parents are very close - we even travel up north a couple of hours drive away from KL just to visit him for Chinese New Year. How could I tell him and have the assurance my parents not knowing?
What’s wrong with my parents knowing? Half a year ago, I was in my deepest pit. I was depressed. I was angry. I was hopeless. And the problem I have had nothing to do with homosexuality, and it is even then not even as close to being as major as that. I talked to my mother, she for the most part ignored me. Then I was alone with my parents in the car, I built up the courage to talk to my parents. Horrible mistake. They demeaned my problem, make it sound as it is completely my fault. They refused to listen to me completely, let me finish speaking.
Then I made a even horrendous mistake - couple of days later, I brought the topic back up. I demanded for an apology and for them to act at least the slightest bit concern. Me, a nineteen-year-old, got spanked (and pretty bad too) by my father. I ran out of my house, my mother found me by the car. Neither of them brought the topic up after giving half-hearted “I’m sorry but I did absolutely nothing wrong”.
The thing is that isn’t the first time that has happen. And it gets worse the more bigger the burden, the more serious the problem. They lack any compasion whatsoever when I have problems they can’t relate, what about this problem I doubt neither of them could ever relate? Its worse when they can counsel near-strangers, give them a shoulder to cry on. Once, a brother and sister, just slightly older than I am, came over for help in their family problems. The way my father counselled them - why couldn’t he put at least 10% of that effort into one of his sons?
A couple of months ago, I was watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and my mom joined in. Soon after, she was making disparaging remarks at the homo’s. As if they rolled out of their beds one morning and decided to be gay. So what happens if my parents find out? Would everything from the way I walk to the way I speak would become a target of ridicule?
I could never tell my parents about this problem. And by extension, I could never tell anyone in church about it either.
I still have the urge to tell my (new) youth pastor about my struggle. But I have a greater urge to find a new church. With no family there.