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CNN posted a tragedy recently, as part of their effort to promote the sexual revolution. The story is as instructive as it is appalling.

The article’s headline read: “I was married with 2 kids when I realized I’m gay.” Immediately following came the editor’s note, which stated with tragic predictability that “Melisa Raney is a freelance writer and editor who lives in Atlanta with her two children.”

What happened to the husband? Between title and editor’s note lay the story of a marriage destroyed by the sexual revolution. The article itself confirmed this. But what justification could be offered for this betrayal of marital vows? What could be more important than loving the man to whom this woman had united herself? What could trump the importance of providing a stable home and family life for their two children?

Finding herself. Self-acceptance.

For here was the problem, in the young woman’s mind: “there I was, at 36 years old, realizing I didn’t know myself at all.”

What explains this sense of lostness? What was missing from her life, that she had this sense of alienation and incompleteness of identity? “I had everything I thought made my life perfect. I was married to my best friend and we had two beautiful, healthy and hilarious children, with successful careers and a beautiful home.”

If that’s the description of what she thought would make her life complete, the diagnosis seems fairly clear. There is someone missing from the picture, but it’s not herself. The tragedy unfolds from her misdiagnosis of the problem. She bought the lie that desire is identity, and accepted the prescription of self-acceptance for salvation. “A part of myself wasn’t living. And by not letting that part live, I was slowly dying.”

It’s easy, then, to see why others had to be sacrificed. The gospel of self-acceptance quite naturally demands sacrifices, and one’s children and covenant partner are likely candidates for the altar. “My family was being shattered and I couldn’t stop it. I constantly had to remind myself, ‘You get one life. This is your life and no one else’s’” (italics hers).

The sacrifices were made, but ineffective. “I was finally figuring out who I was. Now I was ashamed by that answer.” Shame, the need to hide ourselves—first consequence of the open eyes in the primordial fall. How do we deal with the shame of true self-realization? Adam and Eve tried to cover up with fig leaves, but God showed them that something must die to cover their sin.

Self-acceptance is a fig leaf. No amount of supportive community and group therapy will make it adequate. The goal is an illusion: “We were on a path that feels impossible to navigate until one day, you can live your truth and be perfectly fine shaping a new life.” Truth is not a matter of personal subjectivity. Shaping a life to suit your own desires will never work out to joy, because you were made to shape your life around God and His desires.

That’s who was missing from her picture of the perfect life; and joy was missing too, because joy is His gift. Sacrifices to self-acceptance and sinful desire cannot bring what God alone possesses. So she ends with a mistaken moral for this heartbreaking tale: “I want people reading my story to know that it’s OK to be the person you’re meant to be—no matter what your age is when you finally get to know yourself and love who you are in the process.”

The real moral, of course, is that only Christ brings true life and meaning. There is a price to believing the lies of the sexual revolution, the especially heavy price of what those children have and will continue to suffer. The mask falls, and we see clearly how little the LGBTQ+ movement has to do with love. Broken homes and broken lives are its results.

Having a private, personal ‘truth’—my truth—sounds very useful indeed. It legitimates my desires and makes them utterly immune to criticism. But it is only a cloud of smoke, poisonous smoke; for the supreme tragedy is that personal ‘truth’ keeps us from finding Him who is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). And He is the only adequate covering for our sin and shame.  He is life, and He alone brings salvation.

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