Faith, Sexuality, and the Closet: Why the Church Must Confront Its Silence
Growing up in a Christian household during the 80s and 90s, I was immersed in a world that professed love, community, and grace. But when it came to understanding myself - my sexuality, my identity - the church was a barren, silent place. It offered no language, no guidance, no safe spaces for exploration.
This was the era of the AIDS epidemic, a misunderstood crisis that bred fear and stigma. For those of us who didn’t fit the narrow mould of heterosexuality, the atmosphere was suffocating. Silence about anything outside ‘normal’ was pervasive, and that silence was not passive - it was enforced.
As a young boy, I didn’t fit the traditional expectations of masculinity. I was creative, sensitive, and uninterested in sports. These traits set me apart, but I found a temporary refuge in the church. It was a space where I thought I could belong, where my differences might be accepted. But as I grew older and my sexuality became impossible to ignore, that refuge became a battleground.
When I joined BodyBuilders, a discipleship course at Soul Survivor in 1997, I believed I was stepping deeper into my faith. What I didn’t realise was that this world, which promised freedom in Christ, was in many ways designed to contain and suppress anything deemed inconvenient or unclean.
At 18, I confided in my course leader about my sexuality. It was a terrifying act of vulnerability, an attempt to reconcile the deepest part of myself with the faith I held dear. Their response was gentle, but their message was clear: Pray the gay away. Suppress it. Don’t express it. My sexuality wasn’t something to be embraced; it was something to be fixed.
That conversation didn’t lead to healing or peace. It led to shame, self-doubt, and years of internal conflict. I was told to hide who I was, and in doing so, I was forced to explore my sexuality in secret, away from the church’s judgmental gaze. This exploration, detached from love or understanding, left me feeling more fractured than ever.
The Church’s Legacy of Suppression
The church’s inability to engage with sexuality has deep historical roots. From early Christianity onward, church leaders have struggled to reconcile human desire with spiritual purity. Augustine, one of the most influential theologians in Christian history, famously described sexual desire as a consequence of humanity’s fall. This framing turned the body into a battleground—a site of sin to be controlled, not celebrated.
Over the centuries, this legacy has hardened into doctrine. The church has reduced sexuality to a narrow set of rules: heterosexual marriage is holy; anything outside of it is sin. But this reductionist approach ignores the complexities of human identity and love. The Bible itself offers a far more diverse picture of relationships and intimacy, from the deep bond between David and Jonathan to the sensual poetry of the Song of Songs.
Why, then, has the church clung so tightly to its restrictive views? The answer lies in control. Sexuality is powerful, intimate, and deeply human. To control people’s sexuality is to control one of the most fundamental aspects of their identity.
Leaders and the Shadows of Repression
When the church suppresses open and healthy discussions about sexuality, it creates a culture of repression. This repression doesn’t just affect the congregation; it affects leaders as well. For centuries, church leaders have been expected to embody an ideal of purity, denying their own desires in the name of spiritual authority.
But suppressed desires don’t simply disappear - they find other outlets, often in destructive ways. This brings us to the recent scandal surrounding Mike Pilavachi and Soul Survivor. Pilavachi, once a revered leader, has been accused and found guilty of spiritual and sexual abuse. While investigations continue, the allegations have raised uncomfortable questions about the culture of silence and repression that permeates many Christian institutions.
Was Pilavachi a victim of the same system he perpetuated? Did the church’s refusal to engage honestly with sexuality leave him, like so many others, with no healthy way to understand or express his desires? These questions don’t excuse his alleged actions, but they do highlight a deeper problem.
When leaders are placed on pedestals and expected to suppress their humanity, the results can be catastrophic. The church has created a system where vulnerability is dangerous, where leaders must present a façade of perfection while their unmet desires fester in the shadows.
The Consequences of Silence
For me, the church’s silence forced me to explore my sexuality in isolation, without the guidance or affirmation I needed. For leaders like Pilavachi, that same silence may have created a double life, a space where unacknowledged desires turned into harmful behaviours.
But the damage doesn’t end there. The church’s refusal to embrace the full spectrum of human sexuality has alienated countless individuals. It has driven people away from faith, leaving them to wrestle with their identity alone.
How many young people have been told to suppress their truth, only to be consumed by shame and self-loathing? How many have left the church because they couldn’t reconcile their identity with its teachings? And how many have stayed, living in fear that their truth will one day be exposed?
A Theology of Liberation
It doesn’t have to be this way. The church has the opportunity to reclaim a theology of liberation - a vision of faith that celebrates, rather than suppresses, the diversity of God’s creation.
What if, instead of viewing sexuality as a threat, the church saw it as a gift? What if it recognised that love, in all its forms, reflects the divine? The God I believe in is not limited by our narrow prejudices. God is vast, inclusive, and capable of holding the complexities of human identity.
But this requires courage. It requires the church to confront its history of harm, to admit that it has failed to love its people fully. It requires leaders to step down from their pedestals and enter into the messy, beautiful reality of human life.
A Call to Action
The church must ask itself: Who are we excluding? Whose voices have we silenced? And what would it look like to truly embody the radical love of Christ?
These are not easy questions, but they are necessary. For me, the journey toward reconciling my faith and my sexuality has been painful but ultimately healing. I have come to see myself as beloved by God, not despite my identity, but because of it.
The church has a choice to make. It can continue to cling to its fear and its silence, or it can step into a fuller understanding of God’s love - a love that is expansive, inclusive, and transformative.
The question is, will it have the courage to do so? Or will it continue to force people into the shadows, only to reap the consequences of its own repression?
Faith is meant to set us free, not lock us in closets. The time to break the silence is now.