When I finally managed to drop out of the Nazarene church, my parents told me, "You don't have to be a Nazarene, but you can't be a heathen! Find another church to go to!"
So I tried Presbyterian and Lutheran churches, and, during my senior year at Augustana College, the Baptist Student Fellowship.
My parents were not pleased.
Nazarenes thought that Baptists were the most evil of the "so-called Christians." At least the Lutherans were open about worshipping idols, and the Presbyterians about tearing apart the Bible, but the Baptists were almost identical to Nazarenes.
The only differences that I could see:
1. Baptism. The Nazarene Manual mentioned baptism, but in all my years as a Nazarene, I had never seen it done. Baptists required it for everybody.
2. "Once saved, always saved." Nazarenes believed that after you got saved, you could backslide -- commit more sins -- and have to be saved all over again. For Baptists, once was enough -- after you were saved, you would go to heaven no matter what you did.
When I was a kid, the older boys at church whispered that due to "once saved, always saved," Baptists had no morals: hey would "put out" for anybody. So if you wanted a "sure thing" on a date, ask a Baptist girl.
What about Baptist boys? I joined the Baptist Student Union to see if they were also "easy," willing to "put out" for anybody. Willing to get a BJ from a dude.
At first glance, they seemed nearly as strict as the Nazarenes, exhorting each other to "stay pure" and "resist their urges." Like the Nazarenes, they taught that God hated homa-sekshuls, plus premarital sex and masturbation, any sexual act that wasn't intended to make a baby.
The main project of the Baptist Student Union year was putting on a musical about a guy who makes obnoxious come-ons to every girl in sight, until one of them invites him to church, where he gets saved and vows to "stay pure" until his wedding night. I only remember one song:
The Devil is alive and well on the Planet Earth.
The Devil is alive and well, and he can make you feel like hell....
Feel like hell was code for Having erotic desires or giving in to them. But church elders disapproved of the bad language, so we changed the line to "send your soul to hell."
Beginning just after Christmas, we performed for youth groups at various Baptist churches in the area. Not only in Rock Island, but in Kewanee, Galesburg, Princeton, cities up to an hour's drive away.
Then one Sunday in the spring, we were booked by a church in Naperville, about three hours away -- too far to get home after the evening youth group. So we car-pooled on Sunday afternoon, and after our performance, church members gave us dinner and put us up for the night.
The four boys in the cast stayed with an elderly couple whose sons had grown up and moved away.
I got one of the twin beds, and Chuck, a rather buffed business major, the other one. A slim, blond chemistry major named Jens slept on a sleeping bag between us and beneath a large window, and the fourth guy, whose name I don't recall, received a cot on the other side of the room.
Just like a sleepover when I was a kid, except I was 22 years old, and interested in some Baptist sex. Or at least seeing some Baptist cocks.
Grab the guy next to me?
Pull out a gay porn magazine? Did any exist?
Say "Hey fellows, does anyone want a BJ?"
Frustrated, I put a pillow over my head and tried to drown out the other guys' conversations about "girls! girls! girls!"
Eventually the conversation gave way to mild snoring. I peeked out from under my pillow. If I turned my head slightly, I got a perfect view of Jens, his slim pale body bathed in the moonlight.
Wait -- was that a tent in the moonlight? Was Jens getting aroused under the covers?
I continued my vigil, half watching and half drowsing. It looked very much like he was working on his dick -- sowly, deliberately, stopping at every sound, any shift or creak from the beds around him.
Eventually he finished with a sharp exhaled breath. A wad of Kleenix appeared next to him.
One down, two to go. I turned my attention to Chuck, also lying on his back in the moonlight. I had a clear view of his shoulders and chest, but anything below was lost in shadows. But I persevered, and sure enough, a few minutes after Jens began breathing evenly, I saw a slow, rhythmic movement that must have been Chuck giving in to temptation. Had he been waiting for Jens to finish? .
The motion became quicker and quicker, and then Chuck, too, finished with an exhaled breath and a wad of Kleenix.
The third guy was too far away to make out in the darkness, but no doubt he waited for the others to finish up, then started on business of his own.
I imagined it happening every night, in bedrooms and college dorm rooms all over the world. Thousands of Baptist boys and men waiting for the midnight silence, then beginning an act that they believed God hated, that they couldn't admit even to their closest friends, that made them feel guilty and unclean. Perhaps begging for forgiveness and promising themselves that they would never do it again. But, being overpowered by their desire, night after night.
It was a little sad. But at least I saw some dicks. For a 22-year old in a small town in the 1980s, that was iconic.
What about Baptist boys? I joined the Baptist Student Union to see if they were also "easy," willing to "put out" for anybody. Willing to get a BJ from a dude.
At first glance, they seemed nearly as strict as the Nazarenes, exhorting each other to "stay pure" and "resist their urges." Like the Nazarenes, they taught that God hated homa-sekshuls, plus premarital sex and masturbation, any sexual act that wasn't intended to make a baby.
The main project of the Baptist Student Union year was putting on a musical about a guy who makes obnoxious come-ons to every girl in sight, until one of them invites him to church, where he gets saved and vows to "stay pure" until his wedding night. I only remember one song:
The Devil is alive and well on the Planet Earth.
The Devil is alive and well, and he can make you feel like hell....
Feel like hell was code for Having erotic desires or giving in to them. But church elders disapproved of the bad language, so we changed the line to "send your soul to hell."
Beginning just after Christmas, we performed for youth groups at various Baptist churches in the area. Not only in Rock Island, but in Kewanee, Galesburg, Princeton, cities up to an hour's drive away.
Then one Sunday in the spring, we were booked by a church in Naperville, about three hours away -- too far to get home after the evening youth group. So we car-pooled on Sunday afternoon, and after our performance, church members gave us dinner and put us up for the night.
The four boys in the cast stayed with an elderly couple whose sons had grown up and moved away.
More Baptists after the break
I got one of the twin beds, and Chuck, a rather buffed business major, the other one. A slim, blond chemistry major named Jens slept on a sleeping bag between us and beneath a large window, and the fourth guy, whose name I don't recall, received a cot on the other side of the room.
Just like a sleepover when I was a kid, except I was 22 years old, and interested in some Baptist sex. Or at least seeing some Baptist cocks.
After we stripped down to our underwear, prayed, and started talking about "girls! girls! girls!," it occurred to me that I had no idea how to go about it.
Grab the guy next to me?
Pull out a gay porn magazine? Did any exist?
Say "Hey fellows, does anyone want a BJ?"
Frustrated, I put a pillow over my head and tried to drown out the other guys' conversations about "girls! girls! girls!"
Eventually the conversation gave way to mild snoring. I peeked out from under my pillow. If I turned my head slightly, I got a perfect view of Jens, his slim pale body bathed in the moonlight.
Wait -- was that a tent in the moonlight? Was Jens getting aroused under the covers?
I continued my vigil, half watching and half drowsing. It looked very much like he was working on his dick -- sowly, deliberately, stopping at every sound, any shift or creak from the beds around him.
Eventually he finished with a sharp exhaled breath. A wad of Kleenix appeared next to him.
One down, two to go. I turned my attention to Chuck, also lying on his back in the moonlight. I had a clear view of his shoulders and chest, but anything below was lost in shadows. But I persevered, and sure enough, a few minutes after Jens began breathing evenly, I saw a slow, rhythmic movement that must have been Chuck giving in to temptation. Had he been waiting for Jens to finish? .
The motion became quicker and quicker, and then Chuck, too, finished with an exhaled breath and a wad of Kleenix.
The third guy was too far away to make out in the darkness, but no doubt he waited for the others to finish up, then started on business of his own.I imagined it happening every night, in bedrooms and college dorm rooms all over the world. Thousands of Baptist boys and men waiting for the midnight silence, then beginning an act that they believed God hated, that they couldn't admit even to their closest friends, that made them feel guilty and unclean. Perhaps begging for forgiveness and promising themselves that they would never do it again. But, being overpowered by their desire, night after night.
It was a little sad. But at least I saw some dicks. For a 22-year old in a small town in the 1980s, that was iconic.
I’m 62 and I was also raised Nazarene. Reading your about your experiences growing up Nazarene brought back so many memories about sin and back sliding. I would go to bed every night afraid that I had committed some sin I wasn’t aware of. If the Rapture happened, I wouldn’t be caught up. Then add in the impure thoughts about guys and being a homosexual!
ReplyDeleteMy 93 year old Nazarene mother recently moved in with my husband and I. She had to let me know this didn’t mean she approved of my living situation, but she still loved me.
Thanks for sharing your story. I guess I was lucky -- no guilt when I figured it out, just a vast relief. My sister didn't speak to me for about five years, but my brother was always fine with it --he knew before I did. My parents didn't seem to have a problem with it, either.
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