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Donnie McClurkin's story on his past life as a homosexual
Sorry if this is old news about Donnie McClurkin
Transformed Lives
No Longer a Victim
Pastor Donnie McClurkin was raped at the age of 8 and spent years wrestling with homosexuality. Today he's telling the world that true freedom can be found in Christ.
By Donnie McClurkin
At the age of 8, a child's mind should be on school and play, on trucks and toys and growing up to be whatever catches his or her fancy for the moment. Preadolescence should be years of innocence, naiveté and blissful ignorance. But when a child is thrust into adult situations that he is not mature enough to handle, that child will fall into a downward spiral of confusion that is not easily reversed.
At the age of 8, I was hurled into a chasm of confusion by a violation of rape. This Pandora's Box was opened in my prepubescence and introduced me to adult sexualities, issues and perversions far beyond my years and definitely beyond my ability to escape without damage.
On June 6, 1968, a tragedy struck my family that would change our lives. While playing in the yard with my six siblings, I made a neglectful mistake. I was supposed to be watching my 2-year-old brother, Thomas, but I left him in the ungated yard to cross the street to retrieve a ball. Unbeknownst to me at the time, he was following me.
Watching from the living room window, my mother screamed for me to get the baby. I turned around just in time
to see my baby brother struck down by a speeding car--killed with my mother helplessly watching from the window. My mother got to him just in time to hear his last word: "Mommy."
My family had never experienced this kind of trauma before, and my mother was devastated. After seeing that tragic event in front of our home, my mother had to get away. After a few nights at my grandmother's house, my parents sent all of us children home to be cared for by our Uncle Clarence. What they had no way of knowing was that this family member was a pedophile.
It is not necessary to recount the horrid details of this invasion, but that night I was sexually abused and raped by this uncle, and it caused great hurt and confusion in my life for many years to follow. I realize now that this happened because he himself was a broken man. He was unhealed with no one to help him. In spite of the damage done to and in my life, I understand and forgive him wholehearted
dly.
But a seed had been planted--a seed of homosexuality that I would struggle with for many years to come. I was not born with these sexual tendencies. It wasn't chromosomal and had nothing to do with my DNA. These tendencies surfaced because a broken man thrust an 8-year-old boy into this whirlwind. Thus my first sexual relationship was with a man. Before I could ever know the purpose or pleasure of a woman, have my first date or even my first kiss, the wound was inflicted, and the seed was planted.
I received Jesus a year after the rape at the age of 9, but the struggle was just starting. I had feelings and thoughts that I knew weren't right. I had compelling desires that made it difficult to interact with my male best friends or any males at all. Attractions started to develop that were seemingly beyond my control.
There was a war going on to determine my purpose, and I didn't even know it. And the war zone was in my mind. My mind was in daily turmoil--in school, in church, at home, at play, alone or with a crowd. Watching television was tempting and lust provoking and the sexual innuendo in music only made things worse.
My only relief from this turmoil was church. There I could escape the thoughts and feelings, and hear stories of how the power of God changed others' lives. It was another world--my world, where I felt at peace, like I belonged. In the daily scheme of things, I was a total misfit. My taboo, secret homosexual desires made me shy and reclusive. I was raised in a sea of women and didn't know how to adequately interact with men. And because of what was done to me by men, I couldn't relate to men without some type of sexual thoughts and feelings.
My escape was music. I had just started playing the piano at age 11, and I was consumed with gospel music. I didn't sing that well, but loved to sing all the same. I would listen for hours to Andraé Crouch and the Disciples and fantasize about singing in the group. Church and music allowed me to escape my "issues." Somehow those perversions couldn't bother me there. Church was a safe haven that seemed to remove me from the grasp of the temptation--but only temporarily.
A Deceptive Underworld
I was 13 when I was sexually molested again. This time it was by my uncle's son, Clarence Jr. If the seed of homosexual lust and desire was planted with my uncle, it was surely fertilized and deeply rooted with his son's sexual violation of me. I was devastated and told that I couldn't tell or he would do much worse. I believed him and remained silent for years.
The only place for me to express myself without total fear was in church. But it wasn't long before I discovered that there were many more in the church with these problems who wanted to be free but had to remain silent because this was a taboo issue. They came to church week after week, looking and yearning for deliverance from this desire. They, like me, were thrust into this before they had a choice in the matter by someone who took advantage of them.
I wonder how it would have been if there were someone--anyone--who I could have confided in before this seed took root. But instead of finding a mentor, I discovered that there were vultures also in the church--predatory men who would soon attempt to take advantage of a broken boy and his confusion. My world of security was invaded when other broken men, in need of healing, revealed their secret lifestyles and introduced me to a deceptive underworld in the church.
Singing on Sundays after weekend rendezvous was commonplace. Seeing other "Christians" in compromising places, yet faithfully, hypocritically and deceptively at their posts in church as though nothing was wrong was typical. Those involved became bilingual because this lifestyle had its own "language." They would converse one way with people in general and a completely different way with the members of their secret inner circle.
It was something like radar. No matter where they were they could detect others with the same lifestyle, as well as be detected. Unhealed ministers, singers and those in leadership--married and unmarried--involved people who looked up to them with respect. Those brothers and sisters were looking for help from these men and women, but found themselves victims of the broken leaders in a vicious cycle.
Yet in spite of all of this, my love for Christ continued to grow. And in that growth God sent people to my rescue to help with my deliverance. Ironically, it wasn't the men of the church who helped mold my masculinity. There really weren't enough of them there. It was the sisters and mothers of the church who became active in breaking this curse. Although these older mothers did not know exactly what I struggled with, the Holy Spirit revealed to them that there was a struggle.
They would pray with me, talk with me, and a few of them--Sister Kitty Braizley in particular--would even teach me how to carry myself like a man. When I wanted to sing soprano, they'd say things like, "Get some bass in your voice!" or, "Men don't sing soprano!" Sister Braizley even taught me how to walk. If I held my hand up in a feminine way, she'd hit it and say: "Put your hands at your side. Men don't hold their hands like that!"
These small things played a part in molding and making me, but none of these things could have helped me without my desire and determination to be completely whole. I personally do not believe that there is any such thing as an "unwanted" change. There has to be a sincere desire for change in order for it to be real and complete. If a person is changing solely for others, the change will not be genuine and lasting.
Sorry if this is old news about Donnie McClurkin
Transformed Lives
No Longer a Victim
Pastor Donnie McClurkin was raped at the age of 8 and spent years wrestling with homosexuality. Today he's telling the world that true freedom can be found in Christ.
By Donnie McClurkin
At the age of 8, a child's mind should be on school and play, on trucks and toys and growing up to be whatever catches his or her fancy for the moment. Preadolescence should be years of innocence, naiveté and blissful ignorance. But when a child is thrust into adult situations that he is not mature enough to handle, that child will fall into a downward spiral of confusion that is not easily reversed.
At the age of 8, I was hurled into a chasm of confusion by a violation of rape. This Pandora's Box was opened in my prepubescence and introduced me to adult sexualities, issues and perversions far beyond my years and definitely beyond my ability to escape without damage.
On June 6, 1968, a tragedy struck my family that would change our lives. While playing in the yard with my six siblings, I made a neglectful mistake. I was supposed to be watching my 2-year-old brother, Thomas, but I left him in the ungated yard to cross the street to retrieve a ball. Unbeknownst to me at the time, he was following me.
Watching from the living room window, my mother screamed for me to get the baby. I turned around just in time
to see my baby brother struck down by a speeding car--killed with my mother helplessly watching from the window. My mother got to him just in time to hear his last word: "Mommy."
My family had never experienced this kind of trauma before, and my mother was devastated. After seeing that tragic event in front of our home, my mother had to get away. After a few nights at my grandmother's house, my parents sent all of us children home to be cared for by our Uncle Clarence. What they had no way of knowing was that this family member was a pedophile.
It is not necessary to recount the horrid details of this invasion, but that night I was sexually abused and raped by this uncle, and it caused great hurt and confusion in my life for many years to follow. I realize now that this happened because he himself was a broken man. He was unhealed with no one to help him. In spite of the damage done to and in my life, I understand and forgive him wholehearted
dly.
But a seed had been planted--a seed of homosexuality that I would struggle with for many years to come. I was not born with these sexual tendencies. It wasn't chromosomal and had nothing to do with my DNA. These tendencies surfaced because a broken man thrust an 8-year-old boy into this whirlwind. Thus my first sexual relationship was with a man. Before I could ever know the purpose or pleasure of a woman, have my first date or even my first kiss, the wound was inflicted, and the seed was planted.
I received Jesus a year after the rape at the age of 9, but the struggle was just starting. I had feelings and thoughts that I knew weren't right. I had compelling desires that made it difficult to interact with my male best friends or any males at all. Attractions started to develop that were seemingly beyond my control.
There was a war going on to determine my purpose, and I didn't even know it. And the war zone was in my mind. My mind was in daily turmoil--in school, in church, at home, at play, alone or with a crowd. Watching television was tempting and lust provoking and the sexual innuendo in music only made things worse.
My only relief from this turmoil was church. There I could escape the thoughts and feelings, and hear stories of how the power of God changed others' lives. It was another world--my world, where I felt at peace, like I belonged. In the daily scheme of things, I was a total misfit. My taboo, secret homosexual desires made me shy and reclusive. I was raised in a sea of women and didn't know how to adequately interact with men. And because of what was done to me by men, I couldn't relate to men without some type of sexual thoughts and feelings.
My escape was music. I had just started playing the piano at age 11, and I was consumed with gospel music. I didn't sing that well, but loved to sing all the same. I would listen for hours to Andraé Crouch and the Disciples and fantasize about singing in the group. Church and music allowed me to escape my "issues." Somehow those perversions couldn't bother me there. Church was a safe haven that seemed to remove me from the grasp of the temptation--but only temporarily.
A Deceptive Underworld
I was 13 when I was sexually molested again. This time it was by my uncle's son, Clarence Jr. If the seed of homosexual lust and desire was planted with my uncle, it was surely fertilized and deeply rooted with his son's sexual violation of me. I was devastated and told that I couldn't tell or he would do much worse. I believed him and remained silent for years.
The only place for me to express myself without total fear was in church. But it wasn't long before I discovered that there were many more in the church with these problems who wanted to be free but had to remain silent because this was a taboo issue. They came to church week after week, looking and yearning for deliverance from this desire. They, like me, were thrust into this before they had a choice in the matter by someone who took advantage of them.
I wonder how it would have been if there were someone--anyone--who I could have confided in before this seed took root. But instead of finding a mentor, I discovered that there were vultures also in the church--predatory men who would soon attempt to take advantage of a broken boy and his confusion. My world of security was invaded when other broken men, in need of healing, revealed their secret lifestyles and introduced me to a deceptive underworld in the church.
Singing on Sundays after weekend rendezvous was commonplace. Seeing other "Christians" in compromising places, yet faithfully, hypocritically and deceptively at their posts in church as though nothing was wrong was typical. Those involved became bilingual because this lifestyle had its own "language." They would converse one way with people in general and a completely different way with the members of their secret inner circle.
It was something like radar. No matter where they were they could detect others with the same lifestyle, as well as be detected. Unhealed ministers, singers and those in leadership--married and unmarried--involved people who looked up to them with respect. Those brothers and sisters were looking for help from these men and women, but found themselves victims of the broken leaders in a vicious cycle.
Yet in spite of all of this, my love for Christ continued to grow. And in that growth God sent people to my rescue to help with my deliverance. Ironically, it wasn't the men of the church who helped mold my masculinity. There really weren't enough of them there. It was the sisters and mothers of the church who became active in breaking this curse. Although these older mothers did not know exactly what I struggled with, the Holy Spirit revealed to them that there was a struggle.
They would pray with me, talk with me, and a few of them--Sister Kitty Braizley in particular--would even teach me how to carry myself like a man. When I wanted to sing soprano, they'd say things like, "Get some bass in your voice!" or, "Men don't sing soprano!" Sister Braizley even taught me how to walk. If I held my hand up in a feminine way, she'd hit it and say: "Put your hands at your side. Men don't hold their hands like that!"
These small things played a part in molding and making me, but none of these things could have helped me without my desire and determination to be completely whole. I personally do not believe that there is any such thing as an "unwanted" change. There has to be a sincere desire for change in order for it to be real and complete. If a person is changing solely for others, the change will not be genuine and lasting.
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I'm so sorry this happened to him. 
This just confirms that "homosexuality" can be overcome. 
I'm glad God delivered him. 
.
"
