I’m Noah. I like to write sometimes, particularly about beautiful things, things that make me cry, whether from happiness or sadness and especially when I can’t tell which one. The writing helps me sort it out. And sometimes makes me cry again.

I am gay. I am also a Christian who is increasingly convinced that what the Bible says about sex and marriage is true, good, and beautiful, even for people like me. A lot of the happiness and a lot of the sadness come from trying to find Jesus in the middle of those two facts. A lot of the crying usually comes back to Him somehow. I expect much of this blog will be related to this topic.

I am stubbornly, naively optimistic, despite all the talk of crying. My favorite accessory is my set of rose-colored glasses.

And I hope some of my thoughts are of use to you. One of the beautiful realities about our time and place is that I am far from alone. In fact, I am someone who sits on the shoulders of giants in the faith who have been at this much longer than I have, and have written about this in ways far more beautiful than I ever will. Their blogs had to be anonymous. The fact that mine does not is a testament to the work they’ve done to make my life exceedingly more livable and less lonely. Wherever possible, I will do my best to defer to them on what it means to live a celibate life as a Christian who is gay. (For people who are new to the conversation, the short-hand term for this extremely-niche group of people is “Side B Christians.” This is to differentiate ourselves from both “Side A Christians,” who believe that God blesses same-sex marriage and sexual relationships, AND from people who believe that same-sex attracted Christians should expect and pursue orientation change, which we usually refer to as “ex-gay” thinking/theology).

The quote at the top of this blog is a reference to one of my favorite books, Till We Have Faces, in which one of the main characters says, “The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.”

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