rapidly. ... We are praying for both of you that God will grant you the needed strength to deal with your tragedy."

At the time, Stephen asked his father why no one from the church leadership visited. Matt didn't know what to say. He figured some people were afraid of touching his son. Maybe they were afraid any kindness could be translated as acceptance.

Matt Nevels and his wife Frances sit in the midst of the pews at Red Bank Baptist Church on Sunday, June 10, 2012, during their first time in the church in almost 20 years.

In 1991, a public battle was raging over homosexuality. The Chattanooga City Council debated whether to allow a gay pride parade through downtown. Students at UTC rejected, then accepted a charter for agay support group at the college. Gay men were being arrested at popular cruising spots. Pastors were weighing in. Church denominations were splintering.

When Matt and Stephen were alone at home, the two read the Bible together and tried to make sense of it. Stephen told his father that, four years before, when he found out he had HIV, he promised God he would turn from his sin if God would heal him.

He tried to change, he told his father. He even told Rick that he was moving out and that he wouldn't be gay anymore. But then he prayed again, he said, and a still, small voice told him to have peace.

"Am I going to hell after I die?" Stephen would ask his father.

"What determines if you go