He was in the waiting room when I was born with an elaborate, hand drawn banner to welcome me into the world. Before I could read, he would help me sound out the letters written in my birthday cards. He came up with fun games for us to play when I would visit his house. He introduced me to Recess and Furbies and all things ‘90s.

When we grew older, he came to every play, every performance, every award ceremony. He was always there to give me insight into the strange world of the teenage male mind. I watched him take the stage in theatre and use a newspaper story to shut down an illegal business in our town. He lived life fully and did so many interesting things in high school. I wanted to be just like him.
I wouldn’t have joined newspaper and discovered my passion for writing if he hadn’t. I wouldn’t have known how much power I had to impact the people and places around me if he hadn’t done it first. I wouldn’t have known how to turn my aspirations into a reality if he hadn’t. I’ve spent my entire life looking up to him.

For some reason, people expected that to change when he came out.

They thought that because I wear a cross around my neck and he’s in love with a boy, I would automatically stop loving him.

But he’s still my family.

And he’s still crazy talented.

And he’s still incredibly sweet.

And he’s still him.

The fact that he’s gay doesn’t erase those memories I have of us; it doesn’t diminish his incredible success; and it certainly doesn’t change the fact that he amazes me everyday. I consider myself so lucky to be in his life and to have him in mine.

We live in this church-saturated culture in the middle of the Bible Belt. Everyone seems to have a different take about homosexuality, gay rights and every other hot topic. And yet, somehow when I tell people I’m a Christian, they automatically assume I side with the members of Westboro Baptist Church. As if that’s the only option as a Christian.

The other day, I was out shopping with a friend from church, and I mentioned that I hadn’t chosen a college because I was still praying for God’s direction. Suddenly, a stranger cut into our conversation and said, “If you’re a Christian, what do you think about gay people?”

The interruption confused me and I froze. Not because I was afraid to stand up for what I believe, but because it’s not a simple answer, and the question seemed to be asked with the intention of stirring up an argument. I’m not sure she even cared to hear my answer. Nevertheless, the words she used were “What do you think about gay people?” The truth is, I love gay people. I love all people.

There’s this myth that Christians are intolerant, prejudiced people who think they’re better than everyone else because they own a Bible.
Unfortunately, like all myths, it’s based in a tiny bit of truth. There are many people, who claim Christianity, but treat those in the LGBT community like second class citizens.

Many of these people believe that the community is destroying the sanctity of marriage, while they hypocritically continue to engage in extramarital affairs, view pornography, and file for divorces. But those people are only a portion of the Christian population.

I wish people would just ask me. Ask me what I believe instead of just assuming. Ask me because they really want to know, and not because they’re looking for a fight. Ask me, so I can tell the whole story, and they can see that I think my opinions through. Ask me so I can talk about him, and how much I love him. Ask me so they can see that there are some of us that aren’t consumed by hate. Then they could see that these outliers don’t represent us all.