Queer as Faith is a weekly column by Nathan Gunter.  Unconventional and thought-provoking, Nathan writes as a gay Christian struggling to live authentically in the real world.

Missed the first two weeks?  Visit our QAF archive.

Week 3:
In the Broken Places

He asked me, "Where is your faith?"

Here's the man who'd broken my heart, and I'm crying in the apartment we share and that I'm desperately trying to escape (and if you're in the New Haven area, by all means give me a call, it's a great place to sublet…), and after two months I'm still struggling to understand it all.

I am Nate's monstrously messed-up life.

And I'm thinking, "You're asking me where my faith is?"  It was almost funny, except that somehow God used it to present me a good challenge.  The implicit meaning in the phrase on the part of its speaker was, "Why can't you get over this all?  Why can't you move on and be okay?"

And I looked at him and said, "It's getting me out of bed in the morning.  It helps me eat when the thought of food makes me want to retch, and it helps me treat you with some iota of kindness when all I want to do is smash your face in."

I am Nate's not-so-deeply buried dark side.

And I had to go to sleep in prayer that night, for that was the only way I'd find a place of peace that would allow my eyes to close.  And I realize, my faith is the breath in my lungs, the dreams in my sleep, the countless stars of God's promise and the untouched Promised Land that my Lord has promised.

It is the only way I can survive, and yet is so much more than a simple coping mechanism.  It is the way I see myself, the way I see love and the world, it is the still, small voice that whispers, "He who has begun this work in you will be faithful to bring it to completion."

I am Nate's new life.

And I know that God isn't looking at my failure to finish school, or my complete inability to fulfill the highest commandment in any sense, or my scarred forehead, or any of the things that this world will use to assign me my value, but that God will afford me the value that a Parent affords a child.  The tenderness, intimacy, and deeply-rooted caring in that relationship is present to me in the places where I've been broken.  Where is my faith?  It's in the broken places.  The Gospel isn't evident to me on the mountaintop, and it doesn't shine in my good deeds, my kindness, or the moments when I feel strong and superhuman.

I am Nate's faith.  I am a still, small voice, a tiny mustard seed.  I am a beautiful gift.

Comments? E-mail Nathan or discuss this column on our message boards.