Mervine 1

Tyler Mervine

Writing and Speaking Studio

Mentor Application

20 January 2023

There Is No Hate Like Christian Love

It was a routine, every Sunday morning for as long as I can remember, my bedroom door

squeaked as my mother slowly emerged out of the dark doorway turning on my bedroom light. I

rose slowly, covering my eyes to adjust, it’s eight a.m. time to get dressed, it is “almost time to

go”– when in reality, we never left until nine o’clock at the earliest.

Sunday service started at ten a.m., but as very active members of our church community,

my mother always had us arrive at least 30 minutes early to do our rounds before our pastor

began his sermon. Standing by my mothers side for what felt like ages, she would always strike

up a conversation with what felt like every member of our congregation. Held in a local middle

school, the Calvary Chapel Church community was small yet carried so much weight in my life.

Stuck in a small Sunday school classroom down the hall from the cafeteria where the

service is held, I met some of my best friends whom I essentially grew up with. Outside of the

church I hardly knew what to expect with my parents always working and no real friends to

really help me guide my way; church was the only thing in my life at the time that was

consistent. Surprisingly, in those dimly lit classrooms with desks half falling apart, I felt seen for

the first time; the community allowed me to feel valued for simply being myself. Within those

poorly painted concrete walls, I learned what it meant to be a Christian and devoted my life to

Jesus Christ. In a building that could not have felt less like a church, I created my sense of

morality and understood the concept of equality. The days spent just coloring bible themed
 Mervine 2

coloring books and singing the catchiest worship songs at the top of my lungs created a feeling

of safety like I was free from the hatred that lied beyond the walls of the building. Having always

been seen as ‘different,’ church was a place where I felt whole in a community full of love and

support for anyone, just like the bible says: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither

slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28).

These words formulated my understanding of religion and created what I felt to be a sense of

love and security, like I could always be my true self. I understood that as a human being created

in God's image, I was bestowed dignity, equality, and freedom to which I was divinely ordained

(at the time, I just knew to ‘be nice to everyone’). This understanding formulated how I saw the

world, and what I learned instilled within me a drive to do better.

Over the years, the church began to grow, and with time our congregation had to relocate.

From that small local middle school, the once tiny Calvary Chapel blossomed into a newly

renovated space in an industrial complex that made room for the quickly growing population.

But as the community grew, so did I.

When I started 8th grade, this magic benchmark within the church forced me out of the

Sunday school, where I was comfortable, and into the ‘sanctuary’ with the rest of the adults in

the building. Initially excited, I began to feel overlooked as the world around me changed. No

longer with my friends in the small classroom, I was not able to openly express myself. Instead

of actively sharing my feelings and freely forming my moral understanding, I was expected to

simply listen and obey because “that’s what it meant to be mature.”

Destined to be heard, I pushed myself to better my relationship with God, opening up and

actively trying to grow. As I opened up and began to listen, however, I became confused as the
 Mervine 3

basic principles that had helped me establish my morality and understanding of Christianity

started to crumble.

The day that doubt first crossed my mind was like every other Sunday morning. As we

arrived at the brick industrial building we called “church,” we walked through the black metal

door and, per usual, were greeted by the doorman. After making our rounds like always, worship

began and we proceeded into the sanctuary as our pastor began his teaching. The teaching that

day was the story of Sodom and Gomorrah– the biblical tale of two cities destroyed by God for

their wickedness. A story to which I was unfamiliar but eager to learn, or so I thought. Enthralled

in the story, as opposed to my usual day dreaming throughout, I sat and listened because for once

it wasn’t a story I had already heard for what felt like a million times before. However, there was

one verse in particular that stood out to me: “If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman,

both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their

own heads,” (Leviticus 20:13). Pulled out of what felt like a trance, I was forced to confront my

understanding of Christian teachings unable to understand the violence and betrayal within the

story being taught to me. The God I knew was a merciful and loving one that would welcome

anyone with open arms.

Still puzzled after the conclusion of the teaching, I remember asking my mother what a

‘queer’ was on the way home from that Sunday service. I pondered the question as to why such

people were damned to hell when everybody is considered equal in God's eyes– were they

murderers? Thieves? I longed for a reason. Finally, my mother replied, explaining what it meant

to be ‘a homosexual’ and that it was a ‘lifestyle’ I had yet to be exposed to and if I were , I was

expected to always stay away from. The way in which my mother described what it meant to be
 Mervine 4

‘a queer’ left a feeling of betrayal that still lingers deep within me, but at the time I failed to

understand why.

Although I was beginning to feel doubtful, I continued within my church every Sunday,

attending the occasional bible study through my sophomore year of high school as I felt it was

almost an expectation of my mother’s whose opinion I valued greatly. Deep down I simply just

did not want to let go of a community that had shown me so much love: however, overtime I

slowly lost the little bit of faith that I was still holding onto. As I took the time to look deeper

into these stories, like those of Sodom and Gomorrah, I failed to understand why these ‘queers’

were such a problem? As they were discussed week after week I simply could not understand.

Why did those specific verses carry such importance? As I searched for answers I was always

left wondering why did neighboring verses banning tattoos, pork, shellfish, and mixed fabrics

seem to bear no consequence within the church?

As I neared the end of my sophomore year of high school, I realized why this rhetoric left

me feeling uneasy. I finally understood that I may be one of those ‘queers’ they always talked

about. But, unable to embrace it, my queerness became a hidden part of my identity as I tried

harder and harder not to succumb to the “temptations.”

I was ashamed as I could no longer find a place within the community I was raised in.

Every Sunday began to feel more like a chore; my mother no longer woke me up as it was an

expectation that I would be ready to go on time, but I lacked the motivation to waste another day

in that ‘sanctuary.’ I stayed in the church because on the inside I felt as though I was broken and

in need of fixing but, I could no longer bear being the image of something wrong in the eyes of

those that I admired so much. They said they would love me for myself but I knew deep down

that there was indeed no other hate like Christian love. I knew they wanted to love me by trying
 Mervine 5

to fix me. They wanted to love me by trying to change who I was. It was out of love that they

told me I was wrong. And it was out of love that I left and never looked back.