Magic.

I remember the way her lips tasted, and I remember the way that stupid boy pointed his finger at me when he dared me to kiss her. It was direct, no guts, no glory. I remember her tasting the exact same way a boy tasted but at the same time due to the fact that at my entire soul was brimming with finally understanding what fireworks felt like, completely, different. I remember pulling away and all at once feeling completely and utterly alone. It was a party trick, the oldest in the book. For me it wasn’t just a trick, like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, it was magic. And magic is something powerful, like when Harry Potter’s wand chose him and his hair flew back and all at once everything felt real and right. Unfortunately magic can also be dangerous, and when placed in the wrong hands it can divide us all, between the light and the dark, and between love and lost. But as I mentioned earlier, no guts, no glory, and sometimes, you just might have to dance in the darkness to realize the value of the light.

Telling my pastor I was bisexual was the scariest thing I have ever done, even scarier than going to college all the way in Iowa when I grew up in Virginia. I guess I was worried that I would get excommunicated or something drastic. I think a lot of times we hear about how judgmental Christians can be and I was no exception. I had newly discovered my faith after attending a college ministry and had not only fallen in love with the community, but with Jesus. Christianity was so new and sparkly to me, but at the same time completely overwhelming. I had no idea what I was doing, and doubted if I even deserved to be part of this wonderful slice of my Midwest campus. Most of this doubt culminated into the shame I felt surrounding my sexuality. I had always felt ashamed of my sexuality but around this group of people I looked up to, my disgust in myself grew into a ball of self-loathing and hatred.

We sat at Noodles & Company as I cried into my Pad-Thai and confessed my horrendous sin to her. I blabbered about how I knew God would disapprove even though I felt like I couldn’t stop how I felt about girls and begged her not to stop being my friend.

Her first response to me was, “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Now remember, Christianity was new to me, and so was my pastor. Her immediate acceptance of me was a blessing I never imagined, and a revelation to someone who had always been afraid that loving Jesus might mean she couldn’t love anyone else. She left me with this simple truth, and as I’ve grown in my faith, her statement has allowed me to separate the reality from where warped magic may have blurred the lines.

“Your sexuality doesn’t define your identity. Your identity should define yourself, and you are so much more than just your sexuality.”

Everything I do, I do with God in mind. For me, it was never about whether I could eventually marry or whether I had to be “freed” from my sin, it’s always been about my relationship with God. I’ve learned that my sexuality isn’t going to make or break my faith, and some answers are just bigger than our earthly existence. With the current social climate surrounding faith and sexuality, it’s hard to watch as people divide between the idea that who you love defines who you can be loved by. I never would have expected to be standing on my imaginary soapbox, attempting to explain how faith is supposed to bring people together, and not tear them apart. I know that I am loved no matter what, and ultimately, only God will be able to decide what is truly considered light or dark. Throughout my journey of faith, I’ve learned that we all have the capacity to wield magic, but it up to us to decide how to use it.