| About the Church | | Prodigal Fellowship is a community based outreach focused on living out ministry in every day life. Our goal is to be among those in need, that we might be able to share our lives as part of an active and living faith. |
| | About Pastor Owens | 
Click to enlarge | | At 27, I came to a realization: God loves me. Did that make life any easier? Did I hate myself any less? No, but, the journey to self acceptance could now begin.
As the youngest of 7 children, I remember the anguish I went through when my father left home leaving my mom to raise all 7 of us on her own. I was only 4 when he left, but, like so many other young people like me, I blamed myself. Caught in the crossfire of a degrading marriage, I remember the fighting and screaming. I remember hiding in the backseat of the car while they fought, literally being pulling me in two directions, a parent on each arm, as I tried to curl up while screaming in tears. I remember my mom taking me and my next youngest brother, and going to stay in a smelly little motel to get away from the pain. I remember so much I wish I'd forget.
I remember as a small child, being held at gunpoint by a brother who, I truly believe, knew no better. I remember falling victim to his fists every time my mom's back was turned. I remember him chasing me through the yard, threatening, screaming, and when he caught me, beating me. I remember running, always running.
I remember when I was five, a boy in his late teens, whom I knew very well, had come to me and initiated an intimacy that I should have never known at that age. He garnered my attention using a "laughing bag", a toy sack displaying a clown's face that made sounds of laughter, and once my attention was had he would take advantage, and convince me to do many things.
I sit here now in disgust, but, not as you might imagine. I sit here looking at a society that creates within us a victim mentality. My experiences were unacceptable, tragic, overwhelming. But, even more tragic, was that for the next 22 years, I would be told by society that I was a victim, defective, destroyed by what I had experienced. I was indirectly forced to believe that I was somehow toxic, and that I would never be "normal". Society would convince me that I was worthless, horrible, and a monster that should be hidden away. I had been convinced that if anyone found out, I would be treated like some type of side show animal, and that all who knew, believed that I would grow up to be an abuser, manipulator or rapist. Society forced me to outwardly deny what I had experienced, and inwardly suffer alone. I could not express my feelings. I could not show my emotion. I could only close myself off from all hope of ever being accepted.
In my life, the real damage was done by a society that, in the name of protection, had encouraged in me self hate, doubt and loathing.
The one thing I could hold onto was my faith. With everything I had witnessed in this world, I knew that there had to be something beyond. At times, I lost my footing. At times I doubted. And, in my darkest moments, I would catch myself whispering a prayer to a God that I wanted so badly to not believe in. And, in this deep rooted faith, came many more struggles.
Growing up, I had known of a calling on my life, one that to this day has not been fully realized. I have always felt a moving in my spirit to be able to help others, to reach out to those who have also been neglected by society. To simply let people know that they are not alone. And, I made steps. I was a Sunday school teacher, youth leader, volunteer with youth from the inner city, vocalist with worship teams and a music ministries, transitional housing and service unit directors, and served as Christmas fundraising director for a large non-profit. But, even with all of this, there it was, tearing at me from the inside. What if they found out? What if they knew that I was gay?
And, my struggle with my faith grew stronger. I was taught that God was love, but, it seemed, only if you fit into the right set of molds. I was encouraged to go into the world and preach the gospel, but, discouraged from bringing those who truly needed it, into the church. I was shown that outward appearance is far more important than inward salvation. And, that because of the temptations that I kept hidden, I was cursed, evil and a disgrace to the God I so dearly loved.
So, I fought. Every day I prayed that God would take away the "curse". Every night I would cry myself to sleep hoping that the next morning would find my body cold and lifeless. I worked so hard to keep my feelings hidden away in fear that those around me would find out. And, I truly believed that there was no one in whom I could confide; no one who would understand. Through years of pain, I was encouraged to believe that I couldn't go to other christians because of their intolerance and hate toward homosexuals, and I could not go to the homosexual community because of their intolerance and hate of christians. So, there I was, like so many others, who are totally alone in their own inner hell.
At 19 came the first attempt at "release". I was on my way to church to help prepare for a large youth rally, and decided I could no longer hide but, I could also not admit to anyone what I was going through. So, on a back road between home and church I pressed the accelerator, removed my seat belt and pointed my car toward the telephone pole. Impact! Then nothing. When I finally looked up, my car was resting against a tree on the opposite side of the road from the pole, and I was able to crawl out of my drivers window. No broken bones. Not a scratch, except for a small cut on my had from climbing through the broken window. I was furious. I felt so lost. I could not even do that right. And, I would tell noone. As far as they knew, it was an accident. And I would continue on living life, afraid to admit what I was going through.
7 years I would continue. 7 more years it would take for me to admit to anyone what I was going through, and only then would I finally open up. To 1 friend, then 2. Only to have it be used against me. Accusations from a "friend", none of them true, but, it did not matter. 27 years old and I could no longer survive. My body, my mind, my spirit totally exhausted. I lost my job, went bankrupt and secluded myself from family, friends, everyone who could help. I was broken. I was forced to admit to myself, my family, and my church what I had been through, and what I struggled with. And, what I found was love. Not just love from those around me, but, the reassurance that the God whom I loved, had never left my side and loved me far more than I could have ever accepted before. There were those who turned their backs. There were those who spread rumors. There were those whom I had lost forever, but, those, I discovered, were not true friends at all.
There is much before this time that I can not remember, and many effects that I continue to work through. I no longer walk with my head up, rather, with my chin tucked far into my chest. I am afraid of everyone around me. I avoid public situations, confrontation, new experiences. But, I can no longer hide who I am or what I feel.
And, the struggle continues. I fight my way through depression and anxiety. I work at preparing myself for whatever new paths God is preparing, and in this preparation & through these struggles I am strengthened and constantly reminded of God's unconditional love. Regardless of what others around me may claim, or what they may preach from behind the safety of their pulpits, I am His child, His loved one, exactly as He created me. Special, Unique and entirely His creation. My deepest desire is that God can somehow take my trials, my struggles, my pain and use them to reach others who may be experiencing similar. To use the music he has placed on my heart to touch the lives of the lost and forgotten. To take my life, as tragic as it may appear, and make something beautiful from it. |
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