The Myth – Parenting/Environment Causes Homosexuality

My recollection is that I presented a most intriguing dilemma to the leadership of New Hope Ministries. They had all these ideas for what caused men to be attracted to other men … and I seemed to defy them all.

Gay men were never very good at sports … but I had played baseball and basketball all growing up, played Varsity basketball and on the Varsity swim team and LOVED football with a passion.

Gay men hadn’t had a very close relationship with their fathers … but my father was my coach for little leagues all while growing up. We hiked, and camped, and wrestled and played practical jokes all throughout my childhood years.

Gay men had “unnaturally” close relationships with their mothers … well, THAT part was true! But my mother developed cancer when I was 7 and died when I was 11. So I had never had that sort of doting maternal presence they were describing through my teenage years.

I HAD been molested at age 13, however, and after my mother died my dad and I grew further and further apart when he remarried and devoted his time to work and his new wife. Things got so bad between us during my high school years that I had even asked him to let another family from church legally adopt me.

So this was what leadership at New Hope Ministries latched onto … THIS was the reason for my gayness (because it couldn’t POSSIBLY be natural in their minds)! Healing would come for me through working on my relationship with my dad and letting go of the bitterness I harbored toward him about the years after my mom’s death.

That doesn’t sound like a typical “Dad” thing to do … endless talking and processing about what “turned” their son gay.

I give my Dad credit though … he showed up and we talked, a lot!

I remember visiting him in San Jose, where I had grown up, and we were sharing breakfast at our favorite old time breakfast joint on Saratoga Avenue. It looked like a giant Wienershnitzel restaurant with a large A-framed, red metal roof … and they had the best pancakes in town!

Pancakes had always been a bonding thing between us … even in our bad years, my dad spent every single Saturday morning making various types of pancakes for me and my siblings: blueberry, banana, chocolate chip, etc. It was a tradition that I am sure he got from his mother, as my Grandma Hall was famous for her killer pancake recipe!

We were talking over pancakes and my dad opened up to me about his own insecurities and regrets around parenting. He deeply regretted how he felt he had let me down after mom’s death … but he shared with me how much more he regretted not having been a better dad to some of his older children. That with me he had actually been able to be a good dad, but that he had failed some of my older siblings who had become estranged.

I will never forget the vulnerability he showed … and I could look back at my childhood and truly appreciate and cherish the fact that he HAD been a wonderful dad. He was like a super-hero to me. I had looked up to my dad so much, and it was healing to be able to remember that.

My dad and I spent many hours talking like that during my time at New Hope, and I do give them credit for initiating that and the improved relationship we have as a result. It did not, however, “take the gay away”. I still was just as attracted to men as I had always been … their “cure” in theory was exactly that, a theory.

My dad had a hard time around me coming out as a gay man. I remember we had a conversation where he repeated some of the teachings of New Hope Ministries to me … how if I had no attraction to women I would just need to be celibate. I think he was surprised by my defensive response. I said,

“That’s interesting, Dad, because according to the Bible you weren’t even supposed to have gotten married again. You had a divorce for reasons other than your spouse’s infidelity … so if I have to be celibate then so do you.”

Silence echoed over the phone line … and my dad never spoke to me about this again. I know he had a very hard time with the church over being a missionary who had been divorced … my hope was that perhaps this gave him a new perspective.

Over the years, my dad and I have had many more meaningful conversations. There was one family Thanksgiving where I became incredibly angry at one of my brothers. My dad and I had a car ride and I vented,

“Dad, sometimes I feel like I just don’t FIT in this family. Even as a kid, I always remember being different … that I had to TRY just to fit in!”

I had expected my dad to be defensive … instead all he said was,

“I know, son … I know.”

We drove in silence for a while … and strangely that was exactly what I needed right then. His understanding and acceptance of where I was. I never thought silence could be so bonding.

Just a few years ago I had a dramatic spiritual transformation. I remembered that my dad had been a highly successful engineer and he left it all behind to become a missionary. So I asked him what had been his moment … that transformative moment that caused him to devote his whole life to God. We talked for well over an hour and he told me all about his past … what his life had been like.

Moments like these are interspersed with the playful joshing and wrestling that returned into our connection once we had worked through those painful high school years. I am grateful for these moments, even if they aren’t as frequent as I might like any more.

My dad has his faults, just like I have mine. He lives in an “out of sight, out of mind” world where we rarely have any contact unless we are face to face. I look at my partner and he is an incredibly involved father to his kids still, and they are all older than I am. He talks to them on the phone weekly, spends holidays with them and so on.

The tendency to compare, and wish that my dad would be like that, exists … I do wish that. I would love nothing more than to have that kind of a relationship with my dad.

However … I am grateful for my dad. I am grateful for the childhood he and my mother gave me. I am grateful for the time and effort he put into working through the various issues we had between us … and, when we are in the same space, I am grateful for the big, playful smile splayed across his face and the bear hugs he still dishes out.

I am also grateful to know that I am a beautiful creation … that my dad’s decisions had absolutely nothing to do with my attractions. I have always been different, my sister Lynda told me she knew I was gay when I was a kid. Such a burden is not for my dad, or any parent, to bear. God loves me and every L, G, B and T … JUST AS WE ARE. We are already whole and complete in that love and there is nothing that we can do, or change, that will have us be more loved.

I sincerely hope that my dad, and any other parent out there … if you are wrestling with that fear or doubt … just let it go. Give that one to God … because it wasn’t you. It was God.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pancake pic from butterfryme.com

Gift Giving … Ex-Gay Style

 Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

One of my favorite experiences while at New Hope Ministries was called Affirmation Night. I have been threatening to get this going again with my own group of friends for many years … and this year, I think I actually WILL accomplish it! It’s at least as cool as a birthday, and probably moreso!

So here is the structure of Affirmation Night, as it took place during my two years in an ex-gay program.

• One person is chosen to be Affirmed for that evening and every other person must buy or make a gift for them.
• Whatever the gift is, it must symbolize a trait that you admire about that person.
• There can be NO hint of negativity attached to your gift. It cannot be some sort of sarcastic gift like, “You’re SO good at cooking I got you this cookbook.” (loud buzzer going “EHH!”). Every gift giver must find something about the person that they genuinely like, admire or value and focus solely on that.
• The gift must be wrapped or in a bag or box.
• When the gift is presented the giver either says or reads aloud what it is that they genuinely admire about that person. This could be a written poem, a paragraph, or just spoken off the cuff … although I have found that the written versions are more powerful as the recipient can keep what was written to read again in the future.
• This continues around the room until every gift giver has given their gift and said what they want to say.

So basically, the recipient of all these gifts basically gets an hour or two of time that is simply spent praising and affirming them. You would be surprised at how powerful this can be. When is the last time you can remember this happening? No joking, or sarcasm (however affectionately intended), nothing back-handed or LOADED with guilt-tripping expectations. Just 100% LOVE and AFFIRMATION.

I STILL have some of the gifts that I received for my Affirmation Night almost twenty years ago now. From a hand-painted cross with a verse on it that specifically pertained to me to the Dr. Seuss book “Oh The Places You’ll Go!” to a simple painted rock.

This was the ONE time that hand-made items actually are awesome … because each one was something specially made for and about YOU. However, if the purchased gift truly was symbolic it held power as well. That’s what each Affirmation was supposed to be about … finding a metaphor for what you like about the other person, and embodying that in the form of a gift.

Once the holidays are over I am going for it … my nephew, other family members and friends have a Monday Funday tradition that has been going most Mondays for three years now. I can’t wait to introduce this idea!

For all of the damage that ex-gay “therapy” has caused (and believe me, it is a LOT of damage) this particular event truly demonstrated the heart of the man who ran New Hope Ministries … Frank Worthen; as loving and affirming a man as I have ever known. I might disagree with many of his ideas, but I have never doubted his heart.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pic from Oprah.com

Practical Jokes and Life Lessons

Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

Growing up as the youngest in a family with seven siblings at various stages in life … a very large part of my social graces when I entered New Hope Ministries at age twenty consisted of getting attention. Practical jokes were a form of affection, and speaking with a loud voice was the only way to get heard!

These were not negative things in my experience to date. My sister Kathy used to get chased around the kitchen and living room my older brothers AND my dad, all threatening to give her a “swirlie” … putting her head down in the toilet bowl and flushing it so that her hair would swirl and swirl about.

Kathy had straight blond hair at the time that went nigh down to her waist and it sure was a sight to see it spinning about. lol

Kathy got this treatment by being the bossy oldest sister so she was no innocent, however swirlies, “wet willies” or many other forms of retribution were all viewed as a viable and perfectly acceptable way to either get even or just to show affection. It was all done in fun.

Fast forward a few years and all my older siblings had moved out, except for my brother Joe. Joe is two years older than me and the two of us used to fight like cats and dogs. There were times where Joe took the “joking around” into bullying, but there were also times where I initiated for attention.

Our mother died after I had just turned eleven after four years of battling cancer. All of our older siblings had moved out and our father married a woman who was woefully unprepared for what she was stepping into. I viewed her as a horribly abusive woman for many years, and truthfully she was. If I shared the stories about what occurred, you would probably agree with me.

What I didn’t learn until later was that she was having a nervous breakdown due to the pressure and stress she was under. My father worked all the time and she, who had been a single woman up until thirty-five, was in a strange home trying to play mother to two fighting, grieving teenagers.

That isn’t to excuse the abusive things that she did … but that insight was more than enough for me to be able to understand and forgive her later in life.

Suffice to say I did not have any real parenting from the about the age of thirteen.

Enter New Hope Ministries, where I learned a great many lessons that I probably would have learned in a “normal” upbringing.

For instance, standing behind doors to scare people after they walked through them was not acceptable behavior. Neither was tying a rubber band to the kitchen sink sprayer so that whoever turned on the faucet would get sprayed with endless amounts of water until they got over their shock.

I also learned simple lessons like I should always wear a belt with pants and that hugging other men from behind, however innocent my intention, was not kosher … I really was extremely naïve.

On the practical joking front I DID however have a partner in crime, one who often took things even further than me … Larry.

For instance, in our first month of “the program” we all engaged in surprise water fights … water balloons, etc. By the time all of us had moved on to other activities Larry just could NOT give up the fun. He would dump water on unsuspecting guys who were cleaning the carport down below. No one was safe from his H20 shenanigans … let’s just say he was DEFinitely into water sports. LOL

One day we all, even me, had enough and I happened to mention my sister Kathy … how my family used to chase her around to punish her behavior by giving her a swirlie. Sure enough, we didn’t have to wait long for Larry to strike. When he did four or five of us grabbed him by waist, wrists and ankles and carried that writhing North Carolinian into the bathroom, holding his head straight over the toilet.

Larry had put quite a bit of effort into having a California accent at the time, but under pressure that Southern twang rang true!

“There’s DOOKIE in that bowl!!!!” Larry screamed.

We couldn’t take it … we just HAD to laugh hysterically and that meant setting him down and sparing him from his swirlie.

A southern accent, properly timed, is a powerful thing. 😉

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pic from AARP.

Tattoos and Sangria

Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

Larry and I were on a mission. We were out to prove a point … that no person on God’s green earth could take away our faith; our spiritual connection to our Maker. That was the message we were left with after our time at New Hope ministries … that if we “chose” to be gay our relationship with God would be severed.

So we decided to get tattoos.

It might sound silly, but for me this was my own kind of a religious experience. I knew what I wanted … a Celtic cross right smack dab in the middle off my chest.

We were a couple of years or so removed from New Hope ministries and in many ways we were still struggling to find our way. We had moved in to our top level apartment on Eddy Street, we were waiting tables at Max’s Café and we were exploring.

Coming out as a gay man meant SO much more than simply calling myself “gay”. It meant that I was defying most of my family and friends up until that point. It meant that I was declaring that I didn’t believe what I had been raised to believe was true.

It also meant that I had no clue what was right or wrong any more … which way was up, and which way was down. Through all of that upheaval and not knowing what to believe in … I held on to my personal relationship with God like it was a life preserver and I was in the middle of a tempest!

So in our exploring, adventurous, searching-for-the-meaning-of-life quest … we found ourselves at Cha Cha Cha’s on Haight Street in San Francisco.

Cha Cha Cha’s is a Carribean joint that had become a favorite place to eat because of their RIDICULOUSLY good friend plantains with black beans and sour cream, and their Sangria. The décor ranged from Catholic Santa Maria’s to Dia de los Muertos skulls painted in psychedelic colors on the walls all around. Larry had introduced me to the place, as he used to eat at their restaurant in Los Angeles before coming to the Bay Area, and New Hope Ministries.

Larry sat across from me at a booth with a brightly colored, floral print tablecloth … he had a child-like grin of anticipation spread wide upon his face. A pitcher of deep purple Sangria with oranges, apples and lemons was half empty between us … some of which was now marinating the pot brownies we had already consumed.

We didn’t want to feel the pain of the needle … so we decided eating a pot brownie and downing a pitcher of Sangria would do the trick! 😉

Unfortunately, none of the tattoo places on Haight Street would do the custom tattoo jobs we wanted … somehow I doubted they got a lot of customers wanting Christian iconography inked on their bodies. So we got a referral to go to this place South of Market … which seemed like an ETERNITY away to two nervous gay boys who were getting their first tattoo and becoming ever increasingly stoned.

Finally we got to the tattoo studio. I laid out flat and felt like I was having open chest surgery as my spectacled, skinny tattoo artist scratched his custom design into the skin above my sternum. It felt like one long, continual cat scratch … but really wasn’t too bad! I guess the THC took care of me.

Larry got a Christian fish with a cross through it on his ankle, and I had my Celtic cross. This was it … I felt pleased as punch (Sangria perhaps?) and have never since regretted that metaphoric gesture. It was a commitment of sorts … that for the rest of my life I would be dedicated to God, no matter what happened or who said what about me.

That commitment remains … and every time I look at that tattoo I feel a sense of gratitude … a Thanksgiving if you will. God WAS there for me, through ALL things. I was not cut off from God for being gay, in fact my relationship with God has become more deep than I could have even conceived of back then … and that Love has seen me through.

So I give thanks … to God, and every person who has played a part in bringing me to where I am now. I wouldn’t be the same without you. 🙂

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pics from theculturebite and dylanstours.

Sordid Lives – dealing with life after living in an ex-gay program

Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

The biggest factor I noticed after leaving the whole “ex-gay” world behind was the uncertainty that I went through.

I had lived in the program for two years and then another half a year at one of their “ex-gay” halfway houses. So as a 20-23 year old I had two and a half years of complete celibacy, no alcohol, no drugs of any kind except for caffeine, no partying, nothing … a monastic type of existence WAS my early twenties.

So when I actually came out and all that structure was basically yanked out from underneath me … it was like a “polar bear plunge” where crazy people run and jump into ice cold freezing water.

I am sure that is the exact reason why the administrators of these types of churches and programs have the policies they have … they instructed everyone in both the church and the program to completely ostracize me. My Assistant House Leader, Jake, told me that I was no longer a Christian … that I might as well just go make up my own religion because that would be just as valid as whatever I was claiming was my own personal relationship with Jesus.

They believed that was the most “loving” thing they could do. Why??

Because if they yanked the carpet out from underneath me … I’d come back to the fold that much quicker. In that way they truly believe it to be “loving” … “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” This type of treatment is witnessed with horrifying effect across the country.

Gay youth are completely ostracized so that they will “come back to the fold” … and many of them end up either killing themselves or doing STUPID things that they regret later on. These are the combination of events that I either experienced or witnessed after accepting myself as a gay man who is loved by God just as I am.

My suicidal years were behind me, so I thankfully never went back there … however I did dabble fairly heavily into the domains of anonymous sex and drug experimentation in my mid-twenties. I honestly believe that this experience would have been different had there been a community of friends and family who was supportive of me for who I was.

But that was not the case at the time. Of my entire gigantic family I had only one sibling, my sister Lynda, who had always told me that she loved me for who I was. This certainly has changed over time and I thank God for that. Almost twenty years later and all of my siblings are close and jovial once again … and they accept me and my partner … and I am SO grateful for that.

At the time though … I honestly felt like I had lost everything that had ever mattered to me … my family had been everything to me growing up.

Larry and I both went through some of these years together. When we were roommates on Eddy Street, after we both had come out, we both waited tables at the same restaurant, Max’s Café in Marin County. We carpooled to work together across the Richmond Bridge, with Larry usually making me late because he wouldn’t even jump in the shower until ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. (lol)

During our off time we hosted FABULOUS parties at our top level of an old Craftsman home, three bedroom apartment. We used to just leave the front door unlocked so that whoever came could simply let themselves in. At the top of the stairs we left a dinner plate stacked high with pot brownies. People would come in around noon and not leave until well into the evening. These were wonderful, decadent, vibrantly color-splashed parties with good friends, good foods and plenty of merriment to go around.

If any of you ever read Tales of the City … Larry and I were the local Mrs. Madrigals.

I was lucky though. I ended up experimenting with quite a lot of different drugs … but for whatever reason, I never got addicted. I honestly thank God for that. Through it all, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I always took that deep spiritual relationship with God with me … a relationship that had deepened tremendously during my time at New Hope Ministries actually.

I did a lot of things that I look back on and think were incredibly stupid. However, I know a lot of other people who happened to go through ex-gay programs … and you know what? Their experiences really weren’t that dissimilar!

Larry and I have both very much related to the movie Sordid Lives (although maybe Larry a bit more than me with his Southern roots) ;-). Even though I never grew up in the south … I discovered that fundamentalist Christianity really ain’t that different wherever you go in the good ol’ United States of America.

We all were told that we would be cut off from God if we ever “chose” to be gay … and that simply wasn’t true. But we had to learn that for ourselves, after being excommunicated and ostracized … and in the doubting and troubled wondering, a great many simply wandered away or had to deal with the repercussions of it.

One of my best friends had a horrible time after leaving the program … his family disowned him. He ended up turning to anonymous sex as a way to drown out his sorrow and explore his true feelings … and he became HIV positive … when he hadn’t even had sex before he entered New Hope Ministries!

While I have love and respect for Frank Worthen and the leaders of this ministry. I often wonder if they ever consider how many lives have gone down torturous paths after leaving their doors. I wonder if they ever feel any sense of responsibility for that.

For myself, I am grateful for my two years at New Hope Ministries … mainly because I was not trying to “de-gay” myself, but I rather focused on having as deep a connection with God as I could. THAT is what saw me through the following decade of uncertainty, experimentation and exploration.

Once I was through that? My relationship with God was SO rock solid that my spiritual life has literally just shot through the roof. I am so amazingly grateful for this path that I am on … and I know that I couldn’t be where I am without my time at New Hope Ministries. So I give thanks.

I just wonder about all those others who lost their way … who lost hope as a result of these teachings.

It makes me incredibly sad to think that ANYONE would feel they have lost their relationship with God … that anyone could actually teach such a thing is abhorrent to me.

We all, every single one of us, are loved by God … JUST AS WE ARE.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pic from cineplex via the movie “Sordid Lives“.

A Communion To Remember

 Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

One of the funniest memories I have from my time in an “Ex-Gay” program was at our church, The Church of the Open Door, one Sunday.

As it had been every week, we the residents of New Hope Ministries were seated front and center. I still am not quite sure why it was so important to put us right at the front of the church, but I suppose it could have been misunderstood if they sat us in the back row.

I don’t recall who I was sitting next to exactly. I believe it was either Barry or Steve because the three of us shared a musical connection through singing.

Steve was a stocky guy in his mid-twenties who had a wavy shock of dirty blond hair and a ruddy complexion. He was a fabulously talented musician and a gifted singer as well. The two of us spent many a night in the prayer room after everyone else had left just singing worship songs and improvising. The bond between us was incredibly strong; there was never an attraction that I was aware of, we were just two old souls who loved music and had a passion for knowing God … having a relationship with God.

Barry, who I have described before, was my roommate. He had studied Voice in college and traveled with Jerry Falwell as a singer. The three of us shared a very mutual bond and in our second year all three of us sang on the worship team together for The Church of the Open Door.

That particular Sunday we had sung our hearts out, my spirit felt as if it was soaring around the community center that served as our church. We took our seats and the service continued into communion. As the plates of broken crackers and grape juice that metaphorically symbolized the flesh and blood of our Lord and Savior were passed we each took our portion and bowed our heads in prayer.

I prayed the same thing for each communion … that God would imbue me with the actual essence of Jesus. Even though I knew it was a cracker and grape juice, I asked God’s blessing on these edibles and that God would continue to make me more and more like “Him”.

I raised the cracker to my mouth, it’s dry starch adhering to the moisture of my tongue … and my eyes opened wide!

The flavor was very clear … it was BBQ!

I looked at Barry next to me and it was clear that he had experienced something similar. He was trying not to make eye contact with me because he would surely break into laughter. I leaned over and whispered,

“Does yours taste like BBQ??”

Barry began to laugh under his breath and he whispered,

“No, it’s French Onion.”

We both went into hysterics (in as quiet a manner as we possibly could) … our ribs ached from silently, gut-bustingly laughing so hard.

When we got back to the New Hope apartment I stood out on the balcony and announced to the next carload of our ex-gay lot,

“COOOME to the Church of the Open Door! Where you too can have the flavored flesh of Jesus!”

Jake, our assistant House Leader and surly stand-in for Mel Gibson if he was in a Mojave desert biker movie, was NOT amused … he was dead serious when he told me I had just engaged in blasphemy.

All I could do was roll my eyes … and keep laughing.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pics from imgkid and todayifoundout

Suppa-Suppa-Suppertime!

 Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

One of my very favorite things about the two years I spent living at New Hope ministries was dinnertime.

Each of us had to find a job that was strictly 9-5, so that we could be home in time for the group prayer meeting, then dinner and then nightly class after.

Each night a different resident was in charge of dinner, with a measly budget of $25 … to feed FIFTEEN people! I always went over budget! A big reason for this is that cooking was always a big part of my life. I never really related with the whole gay stereotype of not being athletic or into sports … but would pass all of those activities up to be in the kitchen with my mom or sisters. When I was younger I mostly liked to cook desserts … so this was an opportunity for me to “spread my culinary wings” a bit.

The most elaborate, and expensive, dinner I ever prepared was homemade calzones for our House Leader Damon’s birthday. Each person in the entire house, plus the staff of New Hope, had their own giant calzone. I made the dough and filled them the night before so that all I needed to do was put them in the oven when I got home for work! It was a TON of work, but making delicious food that has people feel good has always been something I have loved.

Along with an assigned cook for each evening there was also a rotating clean-up crew of four guys for each meal as well. We all would eagerly wait for the new calendar to appear with our assignments because certain cooks were NOT cooks we wanted to clean up after … I admit that I was one of those cooks.

I wasn’t too pleased when the cleanup crew, after my calzone dinner, bitched and moaned about how much work it was to clean up the kitchen. I had literally spent 3-4 hours preparing the meal that they had all enjoyed AND I had cleaned up ALL of the dishes from the prep work I had done the night before. However, that WAS my “claim to fame” in the house … most everyone loved the food I made (or most of it), but they did NOT want to be on cleanup crew for one of my nights!

I admit … I was 20 years old, so I probably didn’t give any thought to the slightest bit of cleanup … after all, that’s what the cleanup crew was for, wasn’t it?? lol

One person who NEVER went over our $25 meal budget was Larry, or as we began calling him in time … the Poodle.

I remember one night Larry had wanted to make salmon cakes because he said his mom made the best salmon cakes ever. However, when he priced the salmon it would have put him over budget … so he went to the canned section and bough canned MACKEREL instead!

When it was Larry’s turn to cook he began opening up all of his cans of mackerel … the fumes of nasty cat food permeated every living space in the house. Jason and I began teasing Larry by going into the kitchen and “meow”ing while rubbing up against him.

Larry served those cat food patties and after one bite … we all decided to order in for dinner that night. I believe we got bags and bags of McDonalds instead of those nasty fish gut burgers.

Sorry, Larry … you know I love you more than my luggage. 😉

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pics from Betty Crocker (who else?!) lol

BEGINNINGS

I have always felt different – especially growing up in a small town. As old time southerners would say: “there’s something peculiar about that boy . . . he’s about as queer as a three dollar bill”. When I look at photos of me as a child now – limp wristed or hanging on to a doll – I chuckle. Even then it was obvious that I was different. I used to be ashamed of those photos . . . not anymore.

Now I find the silly poses amusing.

My childhood was bittersweet. To some degree I did bond with the other boys in my neighborhood, but I think perhaps it was by default that I was invited to hang with the gang because of my brother’s popularity. While I did enjoy my neighborhood buddies, I was generally an outcast among my same-sex peers at school – there I surrounded myself with girls. In their company I found comfort and was able to enjoy unconstrained freedom to be myself.

But on my block – albeit “different” – I was for the most part one of the guys.

I grew up in Thomasville, North Carolina, a small town of about 27,000 – half that size in the late seventies and early eighties. We lived in a lower middle class neighborhood with small modest houses grouped close together. There was a sweet innocence to life then. It was safe to leave the doors unlocked. Parents didn’t have to worry like they do nowadays. When we were kids, it was normal to get up on a Saturday morning, kiss mom on the cheek, and run out the door while she called out after us, “Back before dark”. She could rest assured that if our mischief crossed the line, the phone would ring, and she’d get a full report from one of the other mothers on the block. We were a tight knit community, and everyone knew just about everything about everybody. It seemed nothing was unseen or unheard in our small town . . . except early in the morning when everyone was sleeping.

I’m not sure whose idea it was initially, but whoever made the suggestion was able to get us all on board. Here we were, a bunch of rowdy boys, giving no thought whatsoever to anything beyond our own childish desire to wreak a little havoc and discontent. It must have been about five in the morning – we had spent the night camping out in Graham’s backyard and were now tagging along with Ronnie as he fulfilled his duties as a paperboy. It was eerily quiet and the only sound I recall was the noise the tires of our bikes made as they rolled across the pavement.

The concept of a cell phone in those days was unfathomable – there was no quick way to dial 911 when out and about – we had actual fire alarms scattered throughout town. A quick pull and bam wham – the fire station was alerted. I think it was my brother Charles who got cajoled into doing the deed. We stood poised on our bikes, ready to bolt away as fast as we could once he succumbed to the peer pressure heaped upon him.

Once the alarm was pulled we pedaled hard and fast to a patch of woods and hid as best we could. Within minutes the blaring sirens and flashing lights roared to life. We crouched low to the ground, stifling our laughter, watching the fire truck race down the street in pursuit of a fire that didn’t exist. Eventually the sirens silenced and after a long while we decided it was safe to venture out again.

“That was fun”, Ricky declared, “let’s do it again!”

So we did. Same drill. Pull. Run. Hide. Watch. Four more times we did this, each of us taking a turn.

Finally after the final pull and after hiding for what seemed like an eternity, we decided it was safe to head back to Graham’s house. Then we saw it. Maybe I saw it first. A police car was slowly cruising down Sunrise Avenue. All I know is in that moment my heart did a back flip, and in a second I was transformed into a version of Forrest Gump: I dropped my bike to the side of the road and ran like I’d never run before, jumping fences, bushes, whatever was in my way, until I reached Graham’s basement. There I hid. There I waited. I didn’t know my friends’ fate, but hell, they should have run too.

Once they were caught my friends thought maybe – just maybe – they could lie their way out of trouble and proceeded to invent some cockomany story about some roughneck guys who were the true culprits. “Yeah”, Ricky stammered, “you see, sir, they was driving this red mustang – they did it, sir – they rode by us and laughed. One of the boys told us we better run ’cause we was going to get blamed. They drove that way toward Main Street. Ya’ll should go look for them ’cause they was the ones who did it. Ya’ll better hurry before they get away – they’s prolly already in High Point by now. Honest to goodness, sir, I ain’t tellin’ no lie.”

I’m sure the cop was thinking, “Sure, yeah, right, whatever” . . . and herded the four of them into the back seat of the police car. They continued their lying and begging. The officer remained calm and ignored their pleas. Eventually the fire chief arrived with an ultraviolet light that could pick up the residue of a powdery substance placed on the alarms, naked to the bare eye. Their hands and arms up to their elbows glowed iridescent hues of purple.

Because it was a small town and the juvenile probation officer was a deacon at our church, we got off with a stern warning, and it was recommended that we be punished at home. As far as Charles and me, we were grounded for so long that the guys eventually starting coming to our bedroom window and yelling in unison: “Hey chain and shackles boys, when they lettin’ you out?”

I am grateful for these early childhood memories because when puberty hit, my life changed dramatically and took a vicious turn for the worse. Words like “faggot” and “sissy” were hurled my way without mercy; and while my male peers became enamored with girls, the object of my affection was another boy. I fell hard and fast. I hated it. I begged God to change me, and I solemnly vowed that I would never tell another living soul about my secret longings.

Not by choice this vow was broken my senior year of college. I was twenty two years old. Horribly depressed and nearly at the breaking point, I sought out counseling with a Christian therapist. At the first session I had barely sat down when he uttered the words, “You struggle with homosexual feelings, don’t you?”

I was absolutely speechless. Several minutes of uncomfortable silence followed his brazen assumption. Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t hard for him to figure it all out – surely the signs were there, obvious in my walk, my speech, and overall demeanor. Nonetheless his words were shocking – no adult, no authority figure, had ever been this forthcoming with me about any suspicions they may have had that I was gay. Looking back now, I wish I would have come back with some smart ass comment. At the time, however, all I could do was nod my head in shame and mumble, barely above an audible whisper, “Yes sir”.

This so-called therapist put in me in touch with the leader of an ex-gay support group. The meeting was held in the basement of a local church. There must have been about fifty of us crammed into the windowless fellowship hall. The collective purpose of this group of men was to change. The collective belief was that if we just prayed hard enough, and believed with all of our heart, God would deliver us.

This was the beginning of a long road.

____________

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

An “Ex-Gay” Halloween

Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

I had a flashback last night to Halloween for my first year at New Hope Ministries. I was over at my brother’s house and his kids were carving faces into pumpkins.

Flashback to 1996 (cue Scooby Doo music and the shimmering, wavy lines indicating “FLASHBACK!”).

Larry, Jason, myself and several other housemates in “the program” had bought some pumpkins to carve for Halloween. For the most part, we had a very fun year full of camaraderie. Frank Worthen often said it was the best year he had ever had in terms of spirit, commitment and intention.

So those of us who had bought pumpkins were very much looking forward to sharing what had always been a fun holiday experience with these new friends. Some of these friendships, as Larry and I can attest, ran so deeply that they would last for decades. We were like family to each other in a way our own families weren’t at the time … we loved, accepted and supported each other JUST as we were.

Enter the Halloween Grinch (BUM-BUM-BUUUUUUUM … cue the villainous theme music).

Gruff, bearded, sun-weathered Jake sauntered into our holiday merriment like a dour sourpuss villain shouting something about “those darn kids”.

Jake actually protested that we were going to carve faces into our pumpkins, saying that it was celebrating something Satanic. We protested and took the issue all the way up to Frank.

We were not allowed to carve faces into our pumpkins … we could only carve something of a Christian nature (a Bible verse, a cross, a fish, etc.). I was furious about this! I don’t know why, when you think of all the other things that were denied to us … but this just seemed ridiculous.

I argued that I had been raised in a Christian missionary household and we had ALWAYS carved faces onto our pumpkins … were my missionary parents engaging in something evil???

All to no avail. We were stuck with it … grown men being dictated to all the way down to what you could carve on a freaking pumpkin! I definitely had a grudge toward Jake for the next few weeks. What the point of it all was I really, truly had no clue … it occurred to me that it was just an opportunity to exert power over people.

Frank had winked at me when I talked with him about Jake’s ridiculous pumpkin carving decree … he just chuckled his jovial laugh and shook his head. He thought it was silly too, but he felt that he had to support what his Assistant House Leader had decreed. Two things I have always loved about Frank Worthen … his honesty and his sense of humor. Frank and I had a very special bond and I often talked with him one on one that year.

Frank’s direct honesty was actually extremely instrumental in my choosing to “come out” and to accept myself as a gay man. I had asked him about something new I had discovered, that there were multiple translations of the Bible verses pertaining to homosexuality.

“How can this be?” I asked, “A translation is a translation … how can there be multiple versions. One has to be right and one has to be wrong, don’t they?”

Frank openly acknowledged that there were in fact multiple translations that have been debated for centuries … and that nobody can prove which is right or which is wrong. That it is up to each of us to decide in our hearts what we feel is God’s will.

A light bulb went off in my head on that day like never before … no one had every said something like that to me before! All I had ever heard was that homosexuality is a sin and that is all there is to it … no debate. I have Frank Worthen’s honesty to thank for that light bulb … and God’s love for me, just as I am, to thank for the continuing illumination.

On Halloween though, all I had to show for that honesty was a pumpkin with three crosses carved onto a hill.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pics from Clean Techies and daringdaughters.org

Thou Shalt Moisturize

Stories of faith, hope and healing on the road to self acceptance as gay men.

It really is a trip to look back almost twenty years and see where we as a society have come. My brother Eric, who was instrumental in convincing me to be a part of New Hope Ministries, now cracks jokes with me about being gay. In my family, joking around and kidding are the currency of affection … what was once taboo to even talk about or acknowledge is now commonplace and the source of a unique brotherly bond that has developed between us.

A funny example occurred over this past year when my brother’s beautiful wife was trying to convince him to regularly use special skin cream for his face. The look on his normally congenial face looked as if he was having a tooth pulled. I asked,

“What’s the big deal? I’ve been using skin and eye cream since I was twenty-five.”

Eric’s immediate retort, followed by exuberant laughter, was,

“Yeah, but you’re GAY.”

For some this might seem offensive, but they do not know my family. To laugh at things, joke and kid is how we communicate that the other person is “one of the family”, accepted and loved.

Eric and I actually look very much alike … in some ways. He is more blond than I am and has blue eyes … and we both are six feet and four inches. If you saw pictures of us when we both were children it is almost impossible to tell us apart at those respective ages. We have different fathers and if you looked at a picture close up you would not think us identical, but we get confused all the time.

Except this one time I was working for him and the person he was talking to asked if I was his son. I never let him live that down! So when he made his joke about my being gay and using skin cream I immediately threw it right back at him,

“Good one … but that’s probably also the reason people think I am your son instead of your brother.”

He avuncularly nodded his head upward at me in what is a standard acknowledgement in our family and all three of us had a good laugh.

I share this simply to serve as a metaphor for how drastically things have changed in the world and minds in general toward gay men and women. Eric even asks me sometimes why gay activists are so headstrong still because in his mind they’ve already “won”.

Here’s why this isn’t true.

Being gay is still not considered “normal” much less an “equal” or even “positive” thing. I don’t know a whole lot of parents out there who are totally fine with the thought that their child might be gay.

Ex-Gay Therapy is one of the results of that mindset. Christians supporting this mindset choose (oh yes, it IS a choice) to believe that God did not create gay people … they believe that being gay is a product of their environment, not God’s creation.

THIS is what is so hurtful. THIS is why there are so many more gay and lesbian youth who end their lives. They aren’t just told that they are different … they are told that their difference is an abomination … but it is a difference that they cannot change. They have no control over it and this combination mixes a lethal cocktail of hopelessness and self loathing. I know because I actually WAS a suicidal teenager and desperately keeping the secret of my attractions was a big part of that headspace.

So yes, times have changed … but the mindset persists.

Many of the people I know who went through New Hope Ministries went on to very destructive patterns afterward. One former leader told me that had consciously chosen to end his relationship with God. I couldn’t believe such a statement! We were sitting in his living room when I asked him why and he said,

“I KNOW that actively gay men and women can’t have a relationship with God … but I can’t change my feelings. I am gay and there is nothing I can do about it. So I simply walked away from my relationship with God.”

He said this matter-of-factly … as if it was the TRUTH; totally rational and not horrifying at all. So deeply engrained was the BRAINWASHING that fundamentalist Christianity instilled into him from the time of childhood. To me it was one of the saddest memories I have around this issue. My relationship with God was and continues to be the MOST important thing in my life. To not have that would be … well, not living!

There are other stories too … ex-gay men, disowned by their families, who became so distraught that they ended up doing destructive things to themselves, depression, etc.

I honestly believe that the anxiety attacks I experienced in my twenties and the psychological experiences Larry has shed light on are much more a part of these mindsets we were raised with than we can ever truly know.

So I give thanks for how far we have come … but this “battle” is one that sadly will not be won in my lifetime. Racism still exists … and people of color won their legal battles a while ago … hateful thinking still goes on and is taught to children. As long as that is the case there will always be a need for vigilance … and stories.

***

Two friends, Larry and Chris, whose joint stint in New Hope ministries, a communal “reparative therapy” (or “ex-gay”) program, has sparked a friendship lasting almost twenty years. Through those years Larry and Chris have struggled to discover who they are as spiritual gay men whose relationship with God could never be taken away or denied.

They’ve fought, they’ve laughed, they’ve loved and somehow, through Guidance neither could have foreseen, they’ve found their way to loving and accepting themselves as gay men … gay men who are loved by God, just as they are.

These are their stories.

CHRIS ANDERSON was born in San Jose, CA and raised in a Christian missionary family as the youngest of nine children. Chris moved to New Hope Ministries when he was twenty years old. He lived there for two years, and began being mentored to be a Youth Pastor by the pastor of the church that supported the ministry, Church of the Open Door. When Chris began asking questions and then ultimately “coming out”, he was excommunicated from the tight-knit community. Feeling rejected by virtually everyone, at age 23 Chris decided to follow his dreams. He quit his corporate job and began waiting tables with the hope of becoming a singer. A year later he was discovered by a voice teacher, and later accepted into The San Francisco Conservatory of Music as a Voice Major. Chris has performed opera in venues throughout Europe, China and the United States.

Currently, Chris is working on furthering his original dream; composing and performing his own original songs, in the form of Collaborative Composition: a music project where anyone, anywhere in the world can contribute their ideas for accompaniment to the “a capella” vocals of his original, spiritually focused songs.

– pic from WebMD