The Truths I Tell Myself

Back in February, when anxiety suddenly ached in my body and my soul, I went to work in Teddington (so south-west London, it’s not really London) with my door keys to home in Southend. I honestly thought during that week I would break down at my desk. And when I did, it would be OK, because I could speed straight back home to Essex and Mum without stopping-off in my depressing Putney flat.

With the love of my colleagues, I made it to the end of the week and went home for a long weekend. The doubts and struggles have changed and continued throughout the year, of course they have. But since that moment in February, I’ve started discovering and reminding myself of these truths. I hope you share them (well, most of them) with me.

Exciting things happen to me

My day job, for now, is pretty humdrum. I answer phones and emails while school friends are playing Super League rugby, touring with their rock-band and creative social media pioneers.

They’re living their dreams, and mine are coming true too. This year I interviewed bestselling author Matt Haig and met the Queen of Breakfast TV, Lorraine Kelly. They were dream-come-true moments that inspire me to keep meeting people and keep telling stories.

No one has it ‘all’

Social media is a rose-tinted world, an endless parade of what’s great about other people’s lives. Don’t mistake it for a reality that every else is living full of holidays and sunshine instead of heartaches and struggles.

It’s OK to ‘miss out’

Life is still awesome when you don’t watch that TV show, don’t eat at that restaurant or stay in one night instead of going out with friends.

I’m doing OK and I’m working towards ‘better’

At my lowest moments, when I questioned my choices and was resentful of anyone ahead  in ‘The Game of Life’, people reminded me there was and always is some unquantifiable hope. A hope that I would feel better and life would be better.

‘Life’ isn’t a linear race between myself or anyone else. Hope doesn’t smooth out the what lies ahead. It powers you onwards.

Hobbies are transient and don’t define me

I adore signing in a choir, and I’ll return to it, hopefully soon. But it’s not for now.

Find ways to feel

Read. Walk. Watch a film. Sing a song. Sport and culture offers a magical realm that takes us both into ourselves and away from our ourselves.

Take time to look after yourself

Physically and mentally, that takes time and compromise. But there is always, always help so take that too.

People will save you and carry you through

Don’t talk about the importance of friends and family. Talk about love and compassion and recognise how those qualities go far beyond neatly-labelled relationships. You don’t need to love someone through friendly or familial ties to care for them. You just need to be there and be in their moment.

A thousand 'Thank Yous' to everyone who was there for me, with their ears, in a thousand different moments this year.

#TacheTalk: Time

‘Work/life balance’. An empty phrase we’re all meant to achieve. I thought it meant keeping your job on the desk and working a 35-hour week.

When my friends work long hours, I worry. Ali is a commodity trader who views an hour lunch break as a ‘luxury’. Nathan is a personal trainer seeing clients 45 hours every week. Chris travels across Essex to cut hair at home and in his barbershop. Other friends are ‘really busy at work’ so we weren’t able to have a #TacheTalk.

Nathan, a personal trainer in Essex

 

Those working styles are alien to me. I clock off at 5pm, forget about work and go home to bake a cake, do the washing, blog, catch up on Lorraine, have a friend round for dinner, buy Christmas decorations, run, race through the latest read for book club, spend half an hour writing a birthday card and sleep.

 

OK, that’s more accurately one week rather than one day. I’m not busy with long hours at work, but busy with long hours after work and you probably are too. How we use our finite time is dominated by demands to keep living, the pressure we place on ourselves and a fear of missing out. The clocks we set ourselves can feel constraining.

Allow your passions and priorities to guide your time. The passion Ali, Nathan and Chris have for their chosen careers is obvious, inspiring and beautiful. They love their work, and are appropriately rewarded for it. ‘Long hours’ aren’t the burden or worry I painted for them. Inevitably there are overlaps and compromises. Nathan recently won a men’s regional physique competition, but turned down his place in the final as his family came first at that time.

Let’s ditch work/life balance. It’s a poor shorthand that suggests a false dichotomy and a divide between the ‘balanced’ and ‘unbalanced’. I want to stop judging my friends for how long they work and focus on my own busyness. If it’s not a passion or a priority, if it’s not helping me stay happy and healthy, why am I doing it?

John with his American Football

My friend John has a good outlook. When I talked with him about being busy, he offered this view: ‘What do I do with my time? This is my chance to leave more than just DVDs and books for my children to take to charity shops.’

You can see everyone I’ve talked to and donate to Movember here
Tomorrow: Fantasies and realities

A New Timeline

Grief superglues a date on your mind. For me, that date is today. My mind takes me straight there when someone mentions ‘seven years ago’. Or I’ll read about a different day in November 2008 and remember what emotions were living alongside me.

On 12th November 2008, my Dad died. It sucks. It sucks today as much as it did then. The grief doesn’t dominate me, but sometimes guilt and ‘what ifs?’ sneak in. I feel his absence when I’m playing with my five-year old nephew, the beautiful grandson Dad should be here to love as much as me.

Today is not a day I move on from. It’s a day I move on with. But it’s not baggage I grudgingly drag along. It’s experience that, though painful at times, enables me to talk about cancer, empathise with others grieving and appreciate ‘being’.

I still wish it hadn’t happened, that November was no different from any other month and everything I’ve learnt in the last seven years had been learnt another way. But it did happen and it started a new timeline, one that I’m proud to embrace and continue. This last year especially I’ve recognised how in the most painful and distressing times, there is joy and peace that will come out of it.

Today I’ll reflect more than most. I don’t know when joy or grief will give me another date to focus on. Until then, I’ll continue with the timeline I have because I trust it’s the right one.

Some things are more important than my facial hair

Recently, I've had family members jokingly not recognise me, friends genuinely not recognise me and Grandpa mis-recognise me as my brother the moment I told him 'I'm gay'. Why? I’ve grown a bushy beard. Not to boost my hipster credentials, but because I was bored of shaving.

Then I received a phone call from Movember, encouraging me as a 5-time veteran to sign up for 2015. I’d already made my choice. I couldn’t sacrifice the last six months and completely shave off my ‘distinguished beard’ (other people’s flattering description, not mine). This year, no mo for Joe.

But some things are more important than my facial hair.

The sickening feeling when a friend shares he has testicular cancer.

The grief and humility of returning to your school hall for a memorial service.

The confusion and failure you falsely see your life descending into.

Movember isn’t about facial hair. It uses moustaches as talking point and fundraiser for men’s health. I’ve enjoyed spending each November grooming a moustache and talking to people through my blog about cancer, mental health and my Dad’s legacy.

This time I don’t need to talk at people. I need to talk with them. I’ve challenged myself to have 30 conversations with 30 guys throughout Movember.

It could be a daring dating strategy, but the focus will be health and wellbeing. Influenced by Britain’s most quotable author, Matt Haig, I’ve learnt that ‘talk breeds talk’. The power of normal stories from everyone will break the secrecy and silence that still defines men’s health. Thankfully, through the work of Movember, CALM and Professor Green amongst others, it’s a shrinking silence.

Will you join me for a chat? I’d love to talk to any guys to hear their story and views. It won’t be a formal interview that I publish to the world. Instead, I’ll share what I’m learning each week on this blog. It’s my biggest Movember challenge yet; too big for me to worry about growing a moustache at the same time. That’s disappointing news for my Mother, who hoped the bushy beard would go.

Some things are more important than my facial hair. Chatting about men’s health is one of them.

If you’re interested and can join me for a face-to-face chat this month around London or Essex, please contact me. I’d also love to speak to people through Skype and other online platforms.

You can donate to Movember through my Mo Space and tweet me @JoeyKnock.

Would you #BleedForEngland?

'If you have supported England on the pitch - your job's not done.' You might have thought it is, given our early exit from the Rugby World Cup, but the NHS is still asking people to 'support England in a way that matters' and become a new blood donor. The #BleedForEngland campaign features Jonny Wilkinson and the winning Class of 2003 donating blood for the first time, as well as this highly-emotive ad you might have seen on TV.

I had conflicting views when I heard about the campaign. There is a desperate shortage of blood donations across the UK, but I'm not sure if sports and patriotism is the answer. So I asked some of my friends who play rugby and donate blood for their thoughts.

Photo: Jack Smale

George is an amateur rugby player from London who's donated blood 5 times

I first decided to give blood because I was interested to find out my blood type, After that I did work experience in Southend Hospital’s haematology labs which drove home the importance of donating blood and the impact of the shortage at the moment.

Using rugby heroes brings a more down to earth feel to the campaign, and makes it much more relevant to fans and players. It’s a shame it focuses on the men's rugby team. Our women's rugby team are more successful, and it's a fast growing sport in the UK.

Becky from Coventry has donated blood 19 times

I remember getting a letter from the NHS blood donor service when I was 16 and immediately signing up because it was a great and easy way to contribute to saving people's lives. I still do it knowing that someone out there has been helped through my donation, although donating has become special to me in another way. My Dad had non-hodgkins lymphoma, a kind of cancer which prevented him from producing his own red blood cells, so he was kept alive through weekly blood transfusions. That would not have happened without the donors of A- blood and my gratitude to those people is a precious thought, as well as the thought that I could be doing for someone what those others did for my Dad when I go to donate.

My top tip for a first time donor, especially if they're worried about the pain or needles, is just to remember what an amazing thing you're doing. It's about ten minutes of discomfort which pales in comparison to the fact that you are saving a victim of a car accident; a new mother; someone undergoing major surgery; a cancer patient... Another human being. I had more years with my Dad than I would have had if he hadn't been able to have transfusions, and they could not have happened without ordinary people donating.

Photo: London Broncos

Sean from Oxford is a professional rugby player with London Broncos

I haven't donated blood before, because it hasn’t fitted with my rugby schedule. However, it is something I intend to do when I get a long enough break or stop playing seriously.

There's an interesting separation between people's awareness of the need for more blood donations, and the number of people who give blood. It seems that at present, it's all too easy to give excuses, myself included! The more that is done to break down these barriers to participation, the better the conversion of public awareness into action will be.

The campaign is pretty effective. It normalises the process and makes it seem more accessible. Using rugby players like Jonny Wilkinson makes it easier to relate to the process as having watched these guys playing rugby, you feel you 'know' them on some level.

Rhianna from London has donated blood about 10 times

There was nothing in the #BleedForEngland campaign that resonated with my experience of donating blood. I give blood because I am privileged enough to be able to, and because I care about the people who need it and I want to help them. I don't do it for 'England', I do it for people, and I wouldn't care if the blood I donated wasn't used in this country. It’s turned something that to me is simple, happy, peaceful and altruistic into something showy, self-righteous, divisively patriotic, and exclusive.

I imagine there is a minority of nationalistic right-wing types who will love the campaign and be encouraged to donate. But thankfully, they are a minority. I think most people will think it's a stupid, thoughtless and insensitive campaign and be slightly sickened by it. Instead, I’d encourage people to donate blood by showing them testimonies of regular donors and footage of donation centres. There is such a nice, friendly atmosphere!

Sam is an amateur rugby player from Essex

I would like to donate blood but I’m squeamish with needles. The #BleedForEngland campaign has certainly made me think if I could overcome that phobia I would want to donate. Rugby fans like myself will obviously see legends of the game and may follow their example, but there’s no guarantee. I think ads that are more hard-hitting would be good, like with road safety ads. If no blood donor is available, the consequences should be made clear; the ‘shock factor’ is key.

Chris from Billericay has donated blood about 15 times

I decided to donate blood as I felt it was a service that I might depend upon at any time in my life, and as I would then depend upon donations made by other people, it was only right that I donate to help others in return. It also helped that both parents had a history of blood donation. I’ve continued to donate because it's very simple, straightforward process and I'm now aware that I have O-negative blood which can be given to anyone and is particularly important.

I should really talk to more people about my experience. I don't think I've ever had any conversations about it in the workplace. One of the most powerful motivating factors I've seen for myself and others is knowing someone else who can talk you through it and allay any fears new donors may have.

Louise from Southend has donated blood about eight times

I decided to donate when I was 17 when I was first allowed to. I wanted to help people that needed it and this was an easy way to do that. The video definitely matches my experience, they just need to add some biscuits at the end! It's a friendly environment. The hand movements and chair set up is all exactly as I experience when I donate.


If you’re considering donating, give it a go. If it doesn't work for you you never have to go back but it's a simple thing to do, only takes an hour and you'll be saving lives. I often discuss giving blood with people and encourage them to try it. Just explaining what happens seems to help.

Tom is an amateur rugby player from Brighton

My first time giving blood was five years ago. My mum was going to our local town hall to do it and I thought I would go along too. I was surprised at how simple, quick, painless and easy the whole process was. It gave me a sense of pride afterwards as I knew that somewhere down the line my small amount of blood could potentially save someone's life. I honestly don't know why I haven't done it since. Seeing some of my rugby heroes doing it has encouraged me to do it again and reminded me how easy it is.

Hannah from Switzerland has donated blood 4 times

I decided to donate blood because I thought, "Why not?" I was the right age, weight, and was healthy so I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't use that to help someone. My experience of donating blood isn't one where you sit around with mates having a chat like in the campaign video. The nurses are always friendly enough but it's not like a pub gathering, nor does it need to be.

The campaign doesn't change how I feel about donating blood, but it does add to already uncomfortable feelings about the amount of things we try to connect to patriotism. A lot of nationalism already makes me uncomfortable, because I believe that the whole world is ‘part of one team’. It also seems to mean by default that if you can't donate blood, whether because of illness, and/or being a sexually active gay or bisexual man, that you are not part of ‘the team’, which I imagine could feel very isolating, particularly to groups that are already a shunned part of society. I would prefer the message to be more inclusive.

John from Coventry has donated blood 21 times

I decided to donate blood because I think it's helpful and helps saves lives. It's made a lot easier by how lovely, friendly and appreciative the staff always are. I dislike giving blood and it’s a mental battle every time not to freak out and faint at the needle and blood.

I'd recommend to anyone donating for the first time to drink loads of water or squash beforehand and after, rather than tea or coffee and don't look at the needle! Be friendly and chat with the nurses as they're often very happy to chat and keep your mind on other things. When giving blood comes up in conversation I do encourage others to go, if I can do so without making them feel guilty.

#BloodBuddy

The campaign seems to be succeeding. So far 72,000 new donors have registered, the pre-step before booking an appointment and donating blood. But the nationalistic overtones sends a poor message to those who want to but can't donate blood as if you're letting down you're country by being gay. You don't choose your health or sexuality.

Like many of my friends interviewed above, I believe the passion to donate doesn't come from patriotism but personal stories of lives saved, friendly staff and knowing how to cope with a needle sitting in your arm. I'd start a new campaign called #BloodBuddy to encourage donors to share their experiences, explain exactly what happens at a donation appointment to their friends and go along and support them. Both John and Rhianna looked after me when I almost fainted after donating blood in Coventry.

I'm a #BloodBuddy. How can I help you?

I Love Lorraine

Five years ago, during my students days, I fell for a girl and I’m still crazy about her now. I structure my days around seeing her. I evangelise to my friends about her perfection. I feel my heart skip a beat everytime she tweets me.

That girl, or more accurately lady, is Lorraine Kelly. For 30 years she’s been the sunny Scottish presenter of ITV breakfast, the channel for people who enjoy their morning news softened by anything but the news.

Image: ITV

I’m not the first student or gay guy to fall for Lorraine, but I’m yet to meet anyone else who watches her daily morning show every evening on catch-up. It’s an obsession my friends quickly learn about, accept and tolerate. Now I hope this list will help them understand it. Here’s why I love Lorraine.

1. Lorraine is a brilliant interviewer. Her interest is always genuine, whether talking to Dr Hilary about make-up on the go, method-actor David Oyelowoa on his true-story film Captive or a tearful Michael Pattimore describing his first year as a widower. That was just last Thursday’s episode.

2. Her TV house is sublime. Perhaps I won’t model my dream house on white walls and fake windows, but I’d buy the chairs in a heart-beat.

3. I can cook what they cook. I’ve already got the ingredients in my store cupboard, I know it’ll be simple, nutritious meal to make and chefs Dean and John always look as stunning as their food.

I made John's Aussie Crunch cake, one of the less nutritious recipes on the show

4. Lorraine knows about life. She’s an experienced journalist who’s reported on the gravest tragedies and lived through setbacks. The diversity of guests, alongside a strong support for various charities off camera, is testament to the power and conviction of conversation.

5. Lorraine is an ever-present and welcoming friend. Throughout the last five years, when I’ve moved between five jobs and five homes, watching the show has become a rare bit of routine and consistency. In my loneliest moments earlier this year, when I lived in a desperately unsocial and unhappy flat-share, I always knew there was one joy waiting for me at home: watching Lorraine.

If you’ve never watched Lorraine before, why not give it a watch? You may not enjoy the inane and fluffy chatter that seeps into every daytime TV show. But I hope you’ll recognise the craft behind it, learn something, anything about the world and feel just as welcomed as viewer by Lorraine as I do each day.

Confessions of a twenty-something 'Songs of Praise' viewer

Back in November, Songs of Praise refreshed it's format in a bid to keep itself on the air and better represent Christianity in the UK today. There was a lot of noise about the changes back then and even more noise this month.

When this new SoP started, I was thrilled by the expanded range of topics and diverse churches, but slightly worried. Nine months, and one front-page splash later, now seems like the right time to answer my own question - has it become The One Show with added hymns?

Here's some of the features they've had on the new SoP so far:

• Michael Ball performing The Climb, that teeny-bop ballad from Hannah Montana: The Movie
• Louis from GBBO baking epiphany bread
• An entire episode dedicated to the FA cup Final
• David Grant riding a tandem with the Bishop of Ramsbury
• Katherine Welby-Roberts, daughter of the Archbishop of Canterbury, discussing mental health
• The personal story of a transgender Christian playwright
• Carrie Fischer (her-who-played-Maria) learning about UK gospel music
• The annual School Choir of the Year competition

This week's much-hyped episode provided the perfect mix. It was parochial, as they went through the keyhole and examined door knockers at Shakespeare's church in Stratford. It was spiritual, as Matt Redman discussed what it means to be a 'successful' worship leader. And it was challenging. One migrant said to Sally Magnusson in Calais: 'If it's not right to go to the UK illegally, what are we supposed to do?' Perhaps the answer for the viewer came in the hymn that followed:

Father, hear the prayer we offer:

not for ease that prayer shall be,

but for strength, that we may ever

live our lives courageously.

Songs of Praise is not The One Show with added hymns. It feels like it when door knockers and Michael Ball pop-up on screen. But only Songs of Praise is bold enough to report from Calais, alongside the genteel and glorious spiritual and sacred music that remains at its heart. Take the show for what it is - a mix of music and features, rather than a great act of worship - and you'll enjoy it.

I am proud of a show that celebrates my faith through diversity, encouragement and compassion. That's why I tune in every Sunday, not because it's the spiritual highlight of my week. I hope many who watched for the first time stay with Songs of Praise and join the viewers' chorus, proclaiming: 'We are Christians. We care about the world, everyone, including them.'

I like you more than a thumbs up

Dear Friend

I am proud of you. 

Sometimes I let my jealousy blind me from that fact. Most of the time I only say it with a thumbs up. But a like on Facebook can never capture my joy and gratitude like words do. So here's what I want to say.

Yes! You've graduated! I am incredibly proud of what you've achieved and how you persevered through the self-doubt.  And you look awesome in a gown, please wear one everyday.

Congratulations on your new job! They picked the perfect candidate. Your new colleagues must make room in the office for the oodles of joy coming their way.

Please send me the recipe for that cake. Or make it again just for me. It looks incredible, how did you do it?

The words of your blog went straight to my soul. Just one suggestion, put 'warning: may cause goosebumps and tears' at the start.

You are a great parent. The utterly sacrificial love for your family is humbling and inspiring.

Your smile is beautiful. It's contagious, now I'm smiling.

Thank you for being honest. I feel the same and it's empowering to know I'm not alone.

I wish I had been there to see the show! Your talent and creativity is ridiculous. Thank you for sharing that passion with everyone.

You're engaged! Congratulations! What Disney song do you want me to sing at the reception?

I am so happy for you. You are winning at life because you're waking up everyday. I love being your friend and am so grateful for the encouragement and kindness you show me without even realising. I'm already excited for next time I see you.

7 coming out chats that didn't go as planned

When I told my Mum I was gay, I was nervous but not fearful. My brother had already come out four years earlier so I had the luxury of knowing my family would love me just as before.

But even when you know people will accept the news, you don’t know what they’ll say in that moment - and neither do they. Here’s some of the responses I’ve received over the last five years (slightly paraphrased, with names changed).

I’m gay

Mum: ‘That was an unusual place to tell me’

There’s no ‘13 Best Places To Come Out To Your Mom’ article on Buzzfeed. I did it in the cemetery, next to my Dad’s tombstone, because I wanted to tell him too.

My brother told me by email. James broadcast it on MySpace. Eric told me before a night out. I’ve realised the obvious: the best place to come out to someone is the one you choose. To the friends I told off for coming out ‘in the wrong way’, I am sorry. I was insensitive and petty. I know you thought about how to say it.

I’m gay

Zac: *Laughs*

My friend Zac doesn’t say much. When I came out to him, he just giggled. But that’s Zac, with his standard ‘I don’t know what to say so I’ll just laugh’ response. Later that day, he apologised for laughing in my face, even though he couldn’t help it.

I’m gay

Robin: SORRY?! WHAT DID YOU SAY!

When your friend is hard of hearing at the best of times, don’t tell him in a crowded chicken shop at the end of a night out.

I’m gay

Steve: I have a girlfriend

Some guys translate ‘I’m gay’ to mean ‘I fancy every straight guy, especially you and I will turn you gay so we can be boyfriends’. Their blunt, defensive reaction struck me as homophobic and self-conceited. How do I challenge that? By being open and firm in my identity.

I’m gay

John: Why are you telling me?

Most people didn’t care I was gay and some friends didn’t care about me telling them either. It took me five years to be sure and comfortable saying ‘I’m gay’. It was a big milestone that I wanted endorsement and encouragement for. My sexuality is not important. Telling you who I am is.

I’m gay... I think I should go to a more inclusive church

Andrew: You won’t find a Church of England church that supports same sex marriage

I was in Wetherspoons with a trainee vicar, having a quick curry. I didn’t want all the answers on faith and sexuality. I didn’t want him to tell me same-sex relationships are OK if he didn't believe it. But I didn’t expect the immense diversity of our national church to be brushed aside in a single sentence.

New message to Josh: I’m gay

*Silence* No reply.

I bumped into Josh at West Ham station and wanted to tell him instantly, by which time he was on the opposite platform, so I BBM’d him, and then lost my signal on the Jubilee Line.

Telling people by text or Facebook chat is a torturous way to do it. You sacrifice control, as your message hangs around in cyberspace, begging to be read. Then you don’t know who else might read it or if they really mean what they text back. And sometimes the reply never came.

The silence is deafening and makes you retreat from telling other people. Say something.

Whenever I talk about being gay on Facebook, I’m surprised and overwhelmed by the likes and the messages of love from people who perhaps don’t realise I’ve been gay and proud for five years now. But it’s drummed home this point to me; whenever and however someone comes out to you, be it directly or on their social network, your encouragement is always awesome and appreciated.

How do you know what to say? Well there was another trainee vicar I came out to, this time on the phone. I still barely know her and I don’t know her views on faith and sexuality, but her response was perfect for any situation.

I’m gay

Thank you for telling me.


RUComingOut is a fantastic website with hundreds of personal, diverse coming out stories.
Inclusive Church and Diverse Church  support LGBT+ Christians.

My slow coming out

My name is Joey. I’m a gay Christian. I need to say that more often.

Five years ago, I went home from university for the weekend to tell my Mum that I’m gay. I’d spent my first year as a student embracing Warwick Chaplaincy life, where I was welcomed with tea and cake and made great friends. For the first time, I met gay Christians who showed me that no sexuality stops you from having a faith. How it all worked together I wasn’t sure, but I knew I liked guys and I knew I believed in God, so that was enough.

Then I graduated. The cosy Chaplaincy community I treasured was gone. I went back home to Essex, before moving to Liverpool and now London. I worked at a Church of England school and at a Christian charity but never came out to my colleagues. I sat in church as we were led in a prayer for the sanctity of heterosexual marriage. I carefully chose my language and talked about my brother’s partner, instead of his boyfriend.

Why did I stay silent? I’d reverted from being a gay Christian to being gay or Christian, depending who I was with. I feared that church members would judge me. They saw Joey the missionary doing the Lord’s work, helping the youth group, writing the prayers. If I told them I was gay, they’d see Joey the Sinner. This wasn’t my super friendly, super inclusive Chaplaincy. This was real-life church.

Most painfully, I sat in the prayer evening at my new church in London and listened to the guest speaker telling us that Britain was broken because we had welcomed the wickedness of assisted suicide, abortion and same-sex parenting. I walked out before her diatribe ended.

I think it’s obvious why one-third of UK church goers hide their support of same-sex relationships - I’ve only heard messages against same-sex relationships in church on a Sunday. For too long I told myself that the person speaking at the front knew more than I did, and believed that everyone else sat in the service silently agreed with them.

I was foolish to think that. Usually silence in church is a mix of agreement, worship, being polite, being British and thinking about what’s for dinner. By staying silent myself, I was part of the same make-believe congregation I feared. I was propping up the myth that all the church is against same-sex relationships.

Now I look to well-known Christians like Rev Richard Coles and Vicky Beeching who celebrate their faith alongside their sexuality. I go to SCM events and Greenbelt where diversity and doubt brings colour to the black and white faith too often presented from the pulpit. I read my Bible, trusting my interpretation is as valid as my vicar’s.

After walking out of my church’s prayer evening, I came out to the curate. He apologised for the insensitive speaker, but I decided I couldn’t continue to worship there. I found it too ignorant of diversity at a time when my faith feels wafer-thin. I’m now using the Inclusive Church directory to find a new church.

As I continue to come out in my faith life and my evangelical workplace, I want God’s grace to be at the heart of our local churches, building the respect, community and conversation that everyone can speak freely in. I want to continue showing people that you can be a gay Christian, especially when you still have doubts and questions about faith.

Originally written for the Student Christian Movement website in April 2015, www.movement.org.uk