I read a post a relative shared on Facebook recently, and it stuck with me all day. I kept turning it over in my mind. He said that “sin is sin,” and that homosexuality is just as bad as murder — and vice versa. Though it pained me a bit, I understand what he was trying to say, but I have a serious problem with that ideology.
To equate being gay with taking a human life is absurd. It’s the same kind of thinking that lumps homosexuality together with pedophilia. It’s not only inaccurate — it’s insulting. Are there gay people who are pedophiles? Yes. Just like there are heterosexual pedophiles. Sexual orientation has nothing to do with predatory behavior.
A murderer is someone who has lost so much conscience and empathy that human life means nothing to them. They see a person the way most of us see an insect. That is not remotely comparable to being gay. Many gay people are respectful, loving, kind, and they contribute to society in countless ways. And yes, there are terrible gay people — just like there are terrible straight people.
I think a lot of people reduce gay relationships to nothing but sex. They can separate heterosexual relationships from the sexual component, but when they look at gay couples, all they see is the bedroom. They miss everything else — the companionship, the partnership, the shared responsibilities, the emotional bond, the dreams and the daily life built together. The fulfillment of being with someone that you truly love and to reciprocate those feelings.
Inside a gay man is the same longing any heterosexual person feels: the desire for connection, for love, for meaning, for someone who understands him. He doesn’t just want sexual gratification. He wants a fulfilling, healthy, committed relationship with someone who meets his needs, his hopes, his dreams. The same things everyone else wants.
There’s another part of this discussion that I think my relative is overlooking. I know he was trying to be helpful. He was criticizing people who elevate homosexuality as a “worse” sin than all others, and in that sense, he’s right. Religious circles often latch onto whatever topic is culturally hot at the moment. In the 80s it was satanism and rock music — every Christian had something to say about it. Now the focus has shifted, but the pattern is the same.
Still, there’s something he’s ignoring that matters deeply: the struggle so many gay people go through just to accept who they are. The years of torment, confusion, and self‑hatred they endure before they can finally say, “This is me.” That struggle shapes a person. It scars them. It also strengthens them.
In my own life, that battle lasted more than thirty years. It wrecked my mental health. I reached a point where I couldn’t keep pretending. I was lying to myself and to the people I loved. The decision to live honestly wasn’t easy — it was necessary. I was standing at a crossroads: accept myself or die. And I chose to live.
Not everyone was happy about that choice. Some told me I’d “split hell wide open.” Some said God couldn’t love someone like me. What they didn’t know was that I had begged that same God to change me. I prayed, I cried, I pleaded for decades. Nothing changed. The emptiness stayed. I tried to fill it with scripture, prayer, fellowship — but the hole remained. Deep down, I knew what I longed for: a meaningful relationship with someone who fit me, someone who met the needs I had spent my whole life trying to deny.
People told me that any relationship with a man would be shallow, temporary, unable to compare to a “real” relationship with the Creator. But I never felt whole in that spiritual relationship because I always felt like a mistake. A disappointment. A lie. That feeling stalked me for most of my life.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that struggle cancels out sin, or that someone’s trauma automatically excuses every choice they make. A murderer is still a murderer, no matter what they’ve endured. That’s not my argument.
My point is that homosexuality involves consenting adults making choices about their own lives. Those adults will answer to your God, if you believe in one. Murder, on the other hand, requires the absence of consent. One person’s will, life, and autonomy are taken from them. To equate these two things — one rooted in mutual consent, the other in violence and violation — is not only inaccurate, it’s morally incoherent.
So I made a decision that many in my former circles believe I’ll regret for eternity. Maybe they’re right — maybe they’re not. But that’s between me and God. If He exists, then I’ll answer to Him. What I know for certain is this: I will finish this life with a happiness and a wholeness I never had before I chose to live as I truly am.