Transformations
Volume 3

By Rev. Maureen Patrick
During a women’s morning Bible study, a question was raised about my thoughts on a particular televangelist. I, very quickly explained that I didn’t wish to make any public statements about individuals I wasn’t well informed about. What I did say was that from anything I knew the preacher was a godly man who was well thought of in any circles I was aware of.
However, I had just heard a sermon on television recently, when on vacation, by this preacher. His topic was about how revolting sin was to God and he used the sin of homosexuality as an example. He made it plain that God hated this sin and no one practicing such abomination would ever enter the kingdom of heaven. My point was that I knew that was truth and most of the world in North America know Christianity has always believed homosexuality to be a sin and the scriptures plainly teach such. However, there is hope for the person who either is a practicing homosexual or struggles with same gender attraction and feels trapped by their confusion about their sexual identity.
In Christ we can conquer; isn’t that also what the Word teaches. So…teach away about the standards of holiness, but not without love or without hope. The new covenant gives us freedom the Law and we are now under grace, not grace to sin, but grace to fail, when we repent and try again. The homosexual very often has been sexually abused and desperately needs to understand the love and forgiveness and longsuffering of this Holy God that we serve. So, let the church of Jesus Christ represent the love and sacrifice of our Lord, by loving and caring and coming alongside, not with judgment but with truth well wrapped in love, with a clear message of hope.
The best example I can think of is the response Jesus gave to the men who threw the woman caught in adultery in front of Him. Jesus must have seen a repentant heart, an open heart. Let’s look for open and repentant hearts and share the hope of the gospel and power of our conquering Saviour.

Rev. Maureen Patrick,
Calvary Pentecostal Church
P. O. Box 657
Peterborough, On K9J

The Pat Lawrence Story

By Mrs. Pat Lawrence
From an early age, I sensed the hand of God on my life. Living in Guyana, South America, with my missionary parents, I remember accepting Jesus into my heart as a five-year-old. That experience was very real to me.
Unfortunately, another memory from my early life is not as pleasant. One day in a grocery store, a man came up to me and began molesting me. I ran outside and told my father, who dashed in to find the man. His search was unsuccessful; when he came out, he was very angry.
On the drive home, my father didn't explain that he was angry at the other man -- not at me. That must have been really wrong, I thought. I must have displeased Daddy. I think from that day on, I began rejecting men.
Another time, I overheard my father talking to Mom. "I have a hard time loving Patty. I see all my bad qualities in her." Although I knew my father loved me, I never felt as loved as my two younger sisters.
By the time I reached adolescence, my family had moved back to Canada. I'd long since forgotten about the molestation when I was six. Then I was raped by an older cousin. During the whole episode, he told me, "You're ugly and fat. No man would ever want you."
Afterwards, his wife held me in her arms. "I feel close to you," she said soothingly, "and I love you. I think you're very beautiful."
This bizarre event began to draw me into the lesbian mind set. I started to masturbate and, even though I'd try to repent, it kept happening.
I'm not repentant, I though, so I'd better stop talking to God. He doesn't love me any more. My prayer life soon dried up.
I went to see my pastor. "How are you doing, Patty?" he asked.
"Do you really want to know?" Then I exploded. "I'm doing awful. I... I hate this church... and everything about it!"
Rather than finding out what was wrong, he gave me a lecture. "You should be ashamed of yourself! You have good parents, and a church that teaches you the Bible...."
After a few minutes, I'd heard enough. "I know all that," I retorted, and stood up to leave. "Good-bye. I'm not coming back."
I went home and told my dad I was walking away from God. Rather than being shocked, he said, "Patty, may I pray with you?" Then he asked God to take everything I did and turn it to ashes until I made Him Lord of my life.
Soon after, I quit high school and found my first job. I became sexually promiscuous with men, but didn't know why. It all seemed so empty.
Then Karen, a friend from work, took me to a gay bar. When I walked in, my first words were, "Now I know where I belong." It felt like home. I was only 17 years old. Karen and I became lovers, and I was with her for the next five years. Initially, I tried to copy the loving relationship I'd seen in my parents' marriage. "Karen, I love you," I told her one night. In response, she slapped my face. I said it again, and once more she hit me. She couldn't receive my love. It was a foretaste of what lay ahead in our relationship.
I soon discovered our commitment didn't stop Karen from fooling around with other women. To survive, I learned how to play the game.
"If I act jealous, she'll be gone," I reasoned, so I pretended just the opposite. At the bar, I'd ignore her and flirt with other women. She'd hang around me all evening, to make sure nothing happened. I had her right where I wanted.
I was a heavy drinker and gained quite a reputation as a street fighter, although I never fought other women -- only men. Some bars had a lot of straight men coming in "to have fun." All it took was a guy asking me to dance, and I'd attack with full fury. I hated men.
Karen and I broke up three times during the time I knew her. After the second time, I moved back home. One evening, I tried to commit suicide.
My parents had left at six o'clock to go out for the evening. I swallowed some pills and went to bed. The next morning, my mother found the empty pill bottle in the garbage and ran to my room. She and Dad rushed me to the hospital.
Twelve hours after I'd taken the pills, the concentration of drugs in my body was still above the lethal level. "It's only a miracle that you're alive," the doctor told me later.
Miracle or not, I wasn't happy. "God, I just want to die," I screamed. "You won't even let me do that!"
I was soon back to my old ways, living with Karen, hanging around lesbian bars and taking acid. No one understands what I'm going through, I thought. If anyone does, they're as stoned as I am and don't care.
One night Karen and I were drinking at the bar. Somehow I got in a fight and she found me unconscious in my car, covered with glass. When we got home, Karen confronted me: "Listen. If you don't shape up, you can just ship out of here." I glared at her. "You've said that one too many times. You've kicked me out before, then asked me back. This time, I'm leaving for good."
I went to stay with Pat, a straight girlfriend who was separated from her husband. She was very understanding; we were both grieving over our broken relationships. One evening, we talked about God's unconditional love. Pat was a new Christian, and she encouraged me to talk to God about my messed-up life.
I took her advice. "Lord," I prayed later that night, "I haven't walked with You for the last seven years. People are telling me to clean up my act and love You, but I don't know how. If You want me, You can have me."
Then I told Him: "But if You take me, I don't want to be a Christian who just keeps a pew warm. I want to move mountains."
Then I saw a picture in my mind. I was down in a pit, with chains and filth all over me. And Jesus was there.
But He wasn't standing over the pit, saying "Come on, I'll help you up." He came down into that pit, threw His arms around me and said, "Patty, all I've ever wanted was you. I love you for who you are." That was eight years ago, and my life has never been the same.
I didn't change overnight, though. For the next six months, I still went out on dates with Karen. Then my friend Pat went back to her husband, and I moved home with my parents.
About six months later, I was sitting on our couch at home. It was New Year's Eve. I'd sat there every day for a week, looking out the window and trembling all over. "Pat, what on earth is wrong with you?" Mom finally asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "All I know is that God and Satan are fighting in me. My body is the battleground and I don't know who's going to win." Unknown to Mom, Karen had asked me to move back with her.
"God," I screamed inside, "I need a miracle!" I'm not sure what I expected in response, but nothing happened. So I gave in to the enemy and went over to Karen's apartment.
"Hi," I said to her, walking in the front door. "I've come back." To my amazement, my atheist lover scowled at me. "You love your God too much. Get out of here!" I instantly knew that God had answered my prayer. I went back home. The phone rang, and it was my pastor returning an earlier call I'd made to the church.
"Pat, you asked if you could sing at church tomorrow? Yes, that would be fine. We'll look forward to seeing you then."
I hung up and the phone rang again. It was Karen. "I'm sorry, Pat. Please come back."
But I'd already made a new commitment to go back to church, back to God. "It's too late now," I told her. "Our relationship is finished."
My New Year began the next day with my solo in church about God's wonderful grace. That day -- January 1, 1980 -- was a fresh start in my life.
Through the previous six months of battling with Karen, I'd lost my job. Then I heard about an opening at the Inter-Varsity office in Toronto, Canada. I went to interview, and got the job.
After working for several months, I took my boss out for lunch. Karen was beginning to phone me at work, and I wanted him to know about my background. "Pat," he said, "when I interviewed you, I knew there was something you weren't telling me, but God stopped me from asking." He said they would stand beside me in dealing with Karen.
Working at Inter-Varsity was a time of healing, as I learned to relate to other Christians, basking in their friendship and acceptance. Even in the midst of my fears, I prayed that I would love God enough to risk loving other people. Eventually, I went to Ontario Bible College. After graduating in 1985, I was approached by three missions to go overseas, but I had only one burden: ministry to homosexual people.
I threw out a fleece. "Lord, if you want me to stay in Toronto, bring one person into my life who is gay." The next week, my sister told me someone in ex-gay ministry had preached in her church. I called him up, and he invited me to the group. Ten days after my prayer, I was sitting in a room surrounded by twelve people coming out of homosexuality.
The leader was planning on going overseas, and I soon took over the group. A Baptist church in downtown Toronto donated office space, and I began putting together a ministry board. Since then, God has really blessed our outreach. Although there is still more healing to be done in my life, God has already done miracles. I no longer have any sexual attraction to women. As well, I am now sexually attracted to men. I'm much more in touch with my feelings and have a new openness to marriage.
My responsibility is to be obedient before the Lord, to do my best. God will do the rest. Whatever the future brings, it's reassuring to know I'm in His hand. There's nowhere I'd rather be.

(Pat is currently the coordinator of Exodus Global Alliance)

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